#i see the point he's trying to make about george having an edge

[petit-papillion]

Peter Windsor on YouTube as quoted by Planet F1.

Funnily he seems to be making a case the whole time that George would (initially) be better than Charles (if they were both at Mercedes), but then there's this quote at the end. Basically saying Charles is almost as good as the 8 7-time world champion.

[emeritusemeritus]

You Know What You’ll Get [Fred Weasley x Reader]

Title: You know what you’ll get.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader {Established relationship}

Timeline: Anytime after OOTP, Fred lives. No war.

Summary: Absolutely no plot, just breeding kink Fred.

Warnings: SMUT. PinV sex. Breeding kink. Mentions of other kinks jokingly. No kink shaming here. Playful sex. Swearing, banter. Mentions of pregnancy. Embarrassed Fred is fun to write.

Word count: 773.

Just a good old smutty breeding kink drabble with Freddie, as we all deserve 🖤

You'd been out of your mind with arousal all day, your legs pressing together with each and every thought of Fred as you tried to get through your working day. When you arrived home early and found him still working away at the shop with at least another hour until close, you knew you were being tortured.

He was dressed in your favourite suit, the brown with the coloured pinstripes- except that he wasn't wearing his blazer, just those tough fitting trousers that seemed to highlight all of his best assets. Your mouth ran dry and watered at the same time when you saw that his shirt sleeves were rolled up to the elbows and his tie had been loosened around his neck. You hurried upstairs to the apartment feeling like you were going to spontaneously combust at any second and impatiently awaited his arrival once he'd finished work.

George, beautiful George, had noticed you arriving home and had informed Fred that you seemed a little 'off' in his own words, prompting George to take over so that Fred could come upstairs and comfort you. It may not have been exactly what George had in mind, but Fred sure did comfort you in your time of need merely minutes later when you'd dragged him into the bedroom.

"Oh Freddie!" You cry out, feeling him hit that wondrous spot over and over again, your legs thrown over his shoulders as he pounds into you relentlessly, forehead glistening with sweat and cheeks flushed.

"You're so big!"

He falters for a moment upon hearing your words, hips stuttering out of sync as he grunts, trying to recover. You know you're pushing your luck for a spank when his eyes tightly squeeze shut, mouth opening into a little 'o' before he recovers, pushing himself back from the edge.

"Stop it or you know what you'll be getting," he warns with a dominant tone, a harsh thrust accentuating his point.

"Pregnant?"

He cums within seconds, hips faltering completely as he pounds into you with as much force as he can, holding you tightly to him, balls pressed against your slit as he shoves his complete length in you as he cums. His cock throbs within you and within second you are filled with blistering hot cum that seems never ending, his growl of ecstasy only increasing your pleasure. The force of his thrusts, the sounds he was making and the sheer ecstasy on his face is enough to catapult you to your own climax and you cling onto him in anyway you can as your pussy clenches around him.

"Merlin," he pants, sounding completely breathless as he climbs off you, allowing your legs to drop down and rest. You roll over onto your stomach, pressing your head into the pillow as you attempt to regain your own breath. His hand comes down into your bare ass with a defeating crack that seems to echo around your shared bedroom, a delicious punishment for the stunt you just pulled. There's no malice in it and you know for a fact that he was most probably smiling as he did so. You giggle, face shoved into the pillow as you feel the bed dip beside you, a big hand slipping over your naked back as he climbs in, cuddling around you. He pulls the duvet up over your lower half and rests beside you as you turn your head to look at him, seeing the smirk you'd guessed.

"So I think we just discovered something about you Frederick," you giggle, a squeal falling from your lips as he attacks your bare sides with his fingers, reaching out to tickle you.

"Shut up," he says playfully, slightly defensive as a brilliant pink blushes crosses his freckled cheeks.

"Wanna try mommy kink next time?" You jest, already knowing how he'll react to your mock- suggestion.

"Godric no." He instinctively scrunches up his face in disgust at the very notion, sickened by the thought.

"So it's just picturing me as a mum that gets you going?"

This earns you another harsh tickle and a loud grumble from the man beside you who shoves his face into your neck with embarrassment as you giggle. You drop it for now, having had your fun and throw yourself around him wanting a cuddle, which he graciously accepts. Thoughts of making dinner cross your mind but you quickly swipe them away, content to just lie there for a while with Fred.

[merlucide]

BLLK BOYS W/ A THEATER NERD S/O

notes: HELP I H8 THE DRABBLES..🥲 (og ask)

characters: Reo, Isagi, Rin, Bachira

warnings: cursing?, implied fem, cringe

bllk mlist

MIKAGE REO

oh, he just LOVES watching your performances. 

Wether your on stage or not- he comes to EVERY show (drags nagi w/him too LMAO)

Helps you memorize any of your lines / helps you gather stuff you’ll need backstage.

He loves seeing you thrive in theater, and how happy it makes you ><

He always listens intently when you talk about your favorite broadway show, amazed how you remember even the smallest details

Sings your favorite musical songs with you, he will even act out the scene with you

Brings you a BIG bouquet of assorted flowers when the performance is over— rambling about how just wonderful it was

He is really proud of the effort you put into you craft, and the outcome always amazes him

Everyone had gathered on stage for the final bow, the crowd clapped and cheered. You smiled when you spotted your boyfriend holding up a limp Nagi. Reo clapped with a bright smile on his lips— and Nagi squinting at the bright lights. Everyone headed backstage and the crowd cleared, most left but close friends and family stayed and came backstage.

“Y/N that was wonderful!” You hear the familiar voice of your boyfriend praise, him running to you and hugging you tightly. He pecked your cheeks and held onto your arms. “My love that might just have been your best performance yet,” You snorted at his comment “Reo, you say that after every performance.”

“Well every performance is perfect my love,” Reo quips, his face into a smooth grin. Behind him trailed Nagi, who slurred a ‘good job’ with a thumbs up. Reo pulls back a bit and hands you a beautiful bouquet you can’t help but smile at. It was so pretty, full of tulips and lillies and smaller flowers complimenting the main ones.

“Thank you Reo,” you smiled before kissing his cheek. “Of course my love, just doing my job,”  <3

ISAGI YOICHI

oh he is so cute

You 100% get him into the world of theater

Thinks that it’s really cool how you’re passionate about this

Super supportive— tells all his friends about your plays and all of the stuff you like

His favorite broadway shows are Dear Evan Hanson and Hamilton— he thinks King George is hilarious

He likes being involved with your plays anyway he can—he will be try to be involved if he is free

Tells his family all about your performance!!

The whole family goes to your shows (≧∀≦)

Tries to memorize your lines / the plays lines with you but forgets them 💀

(or) Tries helping you with props/technical stuff but doesn’t know what to do so he just stands there 😭

“Yoichi- can you pass me the yellow please?” You asked from sitting on the floor, paint brush in hand. On the floor was props you were tasked with making. 

“Here,” Yoichi hands the paint bucket to you as he watches you pour some on your pallet. You guys were supposed to go out tonight but you still had some props you needed to finish— so Yoichi offered to keep you company. “Uhm, are you sure you don’t need any help..?” He nervously asks. 

“Oh no I’m okay, thanks though,” you happily replied, you already felt bad for canceling date night and didn’t want to ‘burden’ him with helping you. “Oh okay,” he sits back down on the floor and continues to watch you. 

“…Did you wanna help?” You slowly asked. 

“I dunno,”

“Yoichi”

“Yeah..”

You softly sighed and handed him a brush. “Here, you can paint the moon,” You stood up and grabbed the unfinished moon set-prop. Yoichi nodded eagerly as he started painting. His strokes were in all directions— you’d have to go over them later but you didn’t mind too much. He looked so cute with his brow slightly furrowed when he concentrated on painting the edges.

“How’s this?” Yoichi asks, pointing to his moon with a little grin. “It’s perfection,” you praise, which he responds with a soft ‘thanks’ as he admires his work. <3

ITOSHI RIN

lmao he does NOT get it 😭💀

like you showed him a clip of your fav musical and he was like ??? Ppl ACTUALLY like that..?? (Ignore him he’s stupid)

but SUPER supportive of your performances!! he just lacks artistic appreciation, aaaand he has as much creativity as a wet sock, so yk

When he comes to your performances, he always brings a small but pretty bouquet (he’s beet red when he hands them to you >< )

You have desperately tried to get him into the arts— which just continued to confuse him🫠

He likes Shakespeare though??? which is probably like the only plays he will willing watch (aside for yours ehe:3)

You call him your Romeo ;) (he gets embarrassed and gets mad at you LMAO)

Lmao he should’ve never voiced his ‘like’ for Shakespeare bc when ever he asks you a simple question you’ll end up going “To be or not to be, that is the question” (que rin groaning)

“Rin, you need to put more emotion into it!!” You exasperatedly said, flinging your paper up. You had asked Rin to go over your lines with you, which was a stupid idea to begin with. He ticked his jaw, fingers firmly pressing into the paper.

“tch. This is stupid,” Rin answered, glaring at you. You sighed, “I can’t feel the scene if you sound like a robot!”Rin huffed, his pride clearly wounded. He groaned and flicked the paper back and examined it again.

“What. do. you. mean he’s. been. lying?” Rin reads, his voice flat. 

You internally sigh, “I’m not sure, but when I asked him he was acting strange..” you spoke, already memorized your lines. “Could. it have. something. to do .with his. sister?” “No- he wouldn’t tell her about something like that… Unless!!” You clapped your hands.

“YAAAY!! I FINALLY NAILED MY TIMING!!” You exclaimed, clapping your hands excitedly. You then tackled Rin, who was sitting on your bed, catching his lips in a fat smooch. “Thanks honey, I really appreciate you tryin,” you praise, hands resting on his shoulders. 

“Tch.. It’s nothing..” Rin muttered, his hand coming to rest on your waist. “I’m never doing this again,” you snickered at his mood change  (he’s gonna end up helping next time you ask <3)

help Ik that was so bad 💀

BACHIRA MEGURU

AJHSNJANANNRNE 

HE MATCHES UR FREAK!!!!

LIKE HE GETS IT FR!!!

omg you wanna binge watch Chicago, Six, and Heathers? WELL SO DOES BACHIRA!

yall sing musicals together all the time like- yall are in character doing the choreography and all

He loves watching musicals sm

And he LOVES watching you perform/work in theater

Like- seriously goes to all of your shows, even rehearsals if he can

Gets super immersed in your performances- thinks it’s 10x better than any broadway show

Loves seeing your/the costumes- will definitely try to try them on (before he gets caught and gets in trouble lmao)

After every performance he takes you to go get ice cream- a little ritual you guys have :3

OH. And he tries to match his outfit to what your play is >< (keyword, tries)

He brings his mom to your plays and she whistles and claps so loud when the plays over 😭💗

“Y/N you were friggin’ awesome!!!” Bachira exclaimed, hands swinging yours back and forth. “I wasn’t even on stage for 5 minutes,” you snorted. “Well you were the best one there! Being a tree takes a lot of skill y’know!!” He grins, pulling you along faster. 

You finally arrived at the sacred land, Benny’s Ice Cream Parlor. Bachira ordered for both of you, handing you one cone of (Fav Flavor). You sat down on the bench, already licking your cone. Bachira put his foot on the bench, “Ahem, Ahem,” He began, lifting his ice cream up. “I would like to make a toast!,” You smile at his antics, waiting for what he’ll say next. “A toast to the best play in the history of the plays!” You snickered, raising your cone “A toast!” You said, ‘clinking’ your ice creams together. 

“Ah, being Tree #4 is no easy task…” You dramatically sighed, licking your ice cream. Bachira shook his head. “Tut tut..,” you both snickered, finishing your ice creams and heading back home. <3

bllk mlist

taglist: @gigiiiiislife @sharkissm @luvingshidou @kurona-theshark @soleilonthesun @duckydee-0 @rinitoshisgirl @someprettyname @nikomelo

kanakakannakkkse ive rewritten the Drabble so many times bro 😭😭 ARGH AJSNSNANANA

made August 22nd 2024

[lovelytsunoda]

does he take care of you? // george russell

does he take care of you? or could i easily fill his shoes, but you say 'no'. yeah you said 'no'... and i'm not trying to stop you love, if we're gonna do anything we might as well just fuck

summary: they had always been walking a fragile, tender line between friends and lovers. they were bound to cross it at some point.

pairing: george russell x bonnington!reader

warnings: an attempt is made at angst, people can't properly deal with their feelings. minor drug use, insinuations and non detailed sex (but bestie bonnington can’t deal with her feelings properly so she bails when things get serious-) one small little insinuation that someone might jump off a building. loosely inspired by the song 'sex' by the 1975

it was dark outside, nearing ten pm at the track when peter bonnington came to find george. george was in his drivers room, looking over printouts of race data, trying desperately to figure out where he could improve the following weekend.

“I hate to bother you, mate.” peter started, “do you have a moment?”

thankful for the reprieve from straight line speed and throttle graphs, george folded the printouts back into their legal folder and turned to look at the engineer. “what do you need?”

there were lines furrowed on bonnos brow. the man looked stressed, and george had a feeling that it wasn’t due to the cars subpar performance.

“I need you to talk to y/n. she hasn’t been doing well these past few months and I’m starting to get really worried. she won’t talk to me and she won’t talk to her mum. toto tried to ask her about it and she threw her drink in his face. something is wrong with my little girl and she’s shutting me out.”

george frowned (although he had to admit that the mental image of babe bonnington throwing the icy remainder of her pink starbucks refresher onto the great toto wolff made him laugh). “when did all this start?”

“when she came back from wales a few months ago, that big work trip. I think it has something to do with that wanker matthew she was dating, he hasn’t been around the house since before she left.”

“do you know where she is?”

“the roof, I think.”

at the look george gave him, bono sighed, shaking his head. “she’s not gonna jump. she just wants peace and quiet. I think the inside of her head is too loud. besides, the motor home isn’t high enough off the ground for anything serious to happen if she falls.”

“still, why would you let her be on her own right now?”

“she didn’t give me a choice.”

after a bit of floundering (and a trip back down the stairs after he realized he’d forgotten a coat), george found his way to the roof. from here, he couldn’t quite see the track, but he could see the lights and hear the sounds of the paddock, watching the last few stragglers exit their team homes and head for the front gates.

y/n sat at the edge, feet pulled up under her and a halo of smoke around her messy hair. her clothes were baggier than normal, darker than usual. when she turned to face him, the driver could see that her eyeliner was smudged, a single mascara tear running down her cheek. in her hand, she shakily clutched a lit joint, the embers at the end glowing orange in the night.

“I thought you quit that?” george asked, concern evident in his tone as he moved to sit next to her.

“fucking mattys fault.” she grumbled, taking a long drag of the fragrant plant. “he’s set my anxiety issues back about five years, figured it was time to go get my cbd prescription refilled.” she stopped, taking another drag before exhaling the smoke and offering it up to george. “it won’t get you high, but if we share it, it will make this look less sad.”

george frowned, taking the joint from her hand and taking a shaky drag, choking in the smoke as it filed his lungs. “what did he do? did he touch you?”

she laughed sadly, defeat in her eyes as she looked over the paddock. “nope. what he did hurt a whole lot more. when I got back from wales I went over to his apartment to surprise him, since my flight had gotten in a few hours early. he was in bed with another woman. and this wasn’t the first time, either. he’s been seeing her almost as long as he’s been seeing me. apparently she didn’t know I existed, and he was thinking about marrying her. I was fucking humiliated, george.”

“I’m so sorry.” he didn’t know what to say as he passed the joint back. she took a long drag, refusing to meet his eyes until he had reached over to shake her gently by the shoulder. “you did nothing wrong. you are pretty and funny and smart and most of all worthy of love. if matty couldn’t see that, then he didn’t deserve you in the first place, y/n.”

it happened so suddenly it almost knocked the driver on his backside. they were just talking, sitting comfortably in the marijuana smoke and then suddenly the engineers daughter is kissing him. soft, guava lips pressed to his, pillowy from all the tropical lip balms she can’t seem to put down. her hands are hungry, extinguishing the joint against the metal motor home roof before pawing at george’s broad frame.

they had been friends for years, yn considered him one of her closest. it must have been the part of her that needed reassurance that said ‘it’s okay, cross the line’ because soon enough, he was kissing her back, tongue exploring her mouth with reverence, hands gripping her waist through her mom jeans, then slipping into her back pockets to cop a feel.

“is there anyone left inside?” she panted, resting her forehead against george’s, hand splayed against his clothed chest.

the driver shook his head.

“good. I want you.”

and then they were in his drivers room, everything happening so fast that it felt like a fever dream. and then it happened, her jeans and panties on the floor, stripped down the lacy camisole she’d had on under her sweater, back on the massage table as she wrapped her bare legs around george’s hips, his hands gripping thighs hard enough to leave marks as he pounded into her, sweat dripping off the tips of his brown hair.

“god, fuck, george, please!” none of the words leaving her mouth were coherent. it didn’t matter. this was about avoidance, a mere distraction, if you will.

she needed to be fucked so hard she couldn’t think about all the bullshit matty was putting her through.

when all was said and done, her mind blissfully clear as she lay prone on the massage table, feeling the sweat dry on her flushed skin as she watched george tuck his cock back into his jeans, all she could find it in her to say was “god I needed that.”

and from there, it was all too easy to fall into a dangerous pattern that didn’t help anybody. one that tord a line so fragile it might as well have been made of salt, intended to keep the deeper feelings out.

the night in george’s drivers room turned into a quickie the next morning in the airport bathroom, bent over the vanity in front of a mirror, panties around her ankles and a massive hickey tucked into her turtleneck as they sat across from each other on the private jet, sharing a glance and smiling at the secret they shared,

eventuakly, back on home soil, the driver became her coping mechanism. when she wanted to go out but her friends were busy, george was the first person she called, pulling up to his house in her toyota corolla, synth-heavy music that was popular on tumblr in 2014 shaking the frame of the car. she turned it down as george opened the passenger door, giving her an odd look as the guitar solo played quieter in the background.

“how can you think when it’s that loud?”

“that’s the point. I can’t. it keeps the thoughts at bay.”

that night had ended in the back of an empty parking garage, movie theater popcorn and a takeout box left abandoned on the passenger seat, y/n on her knees with george’s rock hard length in her mouth. hearing him moan her name was its own kind of drug, and hearing him call her ‘good girl’ was enough to have her clenching around air.

or when george would come over, and they would make a new recipe together, criminal minds playing in the background. how many nights did the dinner end up burning while george had y/n's legs spread wide on the dining room table?

and while the act itself brought him nothing but pleasure, it was the aftermath that left him feeling like shit. he knew this was never going to go any further, that y/n was just looking for a rebound. something to take her mind off just how fucked her last relationship had been.

george would never be anything more than a friend, someone she could fuck when she needed it and be platonic with when she didn't.

she deserved better, someone who could take care of her in teh way that her heart ached for.

someone like george william russell, he thought.

but who was he to decide what was best for her? maybe he could show her, treat her right and change her mind somehow. but he wasn’t sure how to do it.

it was a night like any other, over a game of uno and a bottle of white wine, reruns of coronation street playing in the background, the smooth jazz of the intro and outro music only adding to the atmosphere.

and of course, as nights like these do, the cards ended up discarded on george’s living room floor, bodies mushed together in a heap in front of the soft blue glow of the tv. he picked her up bridal style, deftly lifting her weight as if she weighed nothing, carrying her to the master bedroom.

the bedroom. a place so intimate and so forbidden. their relationship had subsisted on having sex anywhere but a bed, for a bed would make it too real. there would be too many feelings involved.

and yet here he was, taking a massive leap into the unknown, uncharted waters as he laid her down against the linens, caging her body in with his as he kissed her.

a kiss so different from all the others that they shared, this one soft and tender. no teeth and no tongue, just the soft caress of a man’s chapped lips, done with reverence, as if her body was a treasure.

he trailed his soft, open mouthed kisses down her neck, no words exchanged between the two as his hands began to slide up her black t-shirt, over her belly-button piercing and then coming to rest over the padding of her bra as his lips traced her collarbone. he was in tune to her every movement, every whine and gasp.

he kissed down her stomach, feeling it rise and fall with her every breath. listening to the way that her breath caught as he popped open the button in her skinny jeans, dragging them down her legs and watching the goosebumps rise in their wake.

“george,” she hummed as he kissed and nibbled at her inner thigh, so close yet so far from what she needed.

“george!” it was a shout this time, paired with her small hands aggressively pushing him away. “I can’t do this. what are we doing here?”

“what?” george was wide eyed an confused “I’m treating you like a decent fucking boyfriend would! I like you yn, and you mean a lot to me. you deserve more than some cheap fuck in the backseat. you deserve to be treated like a treasure.”

she shook her head, standing up from the bed and pulling her jeans back on, refusing to meet georges eyes as she faced the firestorm of thoughts in her head, each one telling her that she had made a horrible mistake.

“we can’t. there was a line, and we crossed it.” her voice was shaky, bottom lip quivering. she was doing the right thing, or so she kept telling herself. putting that boundary back.

because they were friends. nothing more, nothing less.

george laughed. an awful, grating sound in this context. “you weren’t worried about crossing lines when you let me fuck you on my massage table. or when you had my cock down your throat.”

“please don’t take that tone with me!”

“I know matty hurt you. and I know you needed a rebound, but I want all of you, yn. I want your good days and your bad. I want to take care of you.” he was getting desperate. they both knew that there was no such thing as ‘just friends’ after this.

“I can’t be what you need, and I can take care of myself.” she tucked her hair behind her ear before storming last george and back into the living room.

george would always regret letting her leave. somehow, as he watched her grab her purse and her leather jacket and the keys to her fucking toyota, that this would be the last time he saw y/n bonnington.

and he was right.

he didn’t see her start to cry when she got into her car, driving to an empty space of road so she could pull over into the shoulder and let it all out, the radio tuned so loud that she swore it was shaking the frame of the car. and that’s when she decided it was time to reevaluate her life.

george didnt see her again for months. he heard from bonno that she quit her job, moved out to the coast. somewhere on the water. brighton or blackpool or bournemouth. a new group of friends, a new job, a fresh start.

she sold the toyota, bought herself a mini cooper countryman, a car she’d wanted since she was a little girl. she stopped wearing tight, dark clothes and starting seeking out florals, pastels even. flowier clothes that made her feel good.

and she was happy. from time to time, she still thought about that night at george’s. in a way, she was thankful. it had forced her to change, to become a better person. a healthier one. but she hated that she had hurt him. played with his feelings and then stomped on his heart. but deep down, she knew she had done the right thing. she could never have been the girlfriend that george needed. she was too broken.

george saw her again a year later, in the paddock at silverstone. he hardly recognized her: new hair, wide smile. mom jeans and a floral crop top that looked straight out of the seventies. she looked good. happy. healthy.

but there was something else he saw that hit him like a knife to the kidney.

it was the man on her arm. he was conventionally attractive, if you liked surfers. his dark hair flopped around his face the same way hugh grants did in ‘notting hill’ and his sunglasses were hooked into the collar of his striped resort shirt, left open for the top few buttons of course. she looked at him like he’d hung the moon, and he held her like she was the most important thing in his life, always having an arm around her shoulders, tucked into the back pocket of her jeans.

his name was colin. of course his name was fucking colin. like he was a character in fucking love actually, and not the man dating the woman george had so vulnerably bared his heart to.

he’d pulled out his phone, open to her number even though he’d sworn to himself that he’d delete it but he never did.

the text was right there in the message box, waiting to be sent.

does he take care of you?

but when he looked over at them again, his arms around her waist and his head on her shoulder as she was pointing out different things on her dad computer monitor, george knew the answer.

colin took incredible care of her, and he seemed to be exactly what she needed.

and how could george fault the other man for doing exactly what he would if y/n had been his?

he deleted the message without sending it, quietly slipping out of the garage, with the intention of working out until he couldn’t feel the pain any more.

TAGS:

@magnummagnussen @libraryofloveletters @userlando @httpiastri @clemswrld @thatsdemko @diorleclerc @cartierre @lorarri @sidcrosbyspuck

[crazyk-imagine]

Married Off to a Beast?! (Or Troll)

Pairing: King George x Fem!reader Characters: Charlotte, Fem!reader, King George, Adolphus (briefly mentioned) Warnings: A memoriable scene, fluff, Charlotte doesn’t approve of running away, George is a simp, Reader and George are enamored with each other, Charlotte is a hypocrite, George regrets nothing, reader knows she can’t resist him now, reader showing skin O:O Word Count: 1,356

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You walk back and forth in front of the wall. You take a deep breath and step closer. "Charlotte help me." 

"No," she shakes her head, wanting little to no part in your escape. 

You spin around to look at her, your body visible for anyone to see if they walk down this path to the garden. "Your brother married me off without my consent, you will help me." 

She huffs, scratching the side of her head. Out of the two of them (her and her brother), she's always had a harder time saying no to you. 

"Fine." 

George watches as you call for her assistance and decides to walk further down. Neither of noticed him, not until he cleared his throat. “Hello, My Lady.” 

You glance over your shoulder to find a charming man standing a few feet away. 

He turns to your cousin. “My Lady.” 

Her eye twitches, you know it did; you didn’t have to look at her to know. “Are you in need of assistance of some kind?” 

“Uh, I am quite fine, thank you.” You return to your mission. “You can go back inside and wait with all the other gawkers.” 

Charlotte whispers your name. She understands your feelings about the situation but there is a better way to address someone. 

"I… will. What are you doing?" 

You huff, “nothing.” 

“You’re doing something.” 

You internally groan, not wanting to berate some man for something he had no control over. “I am not.” 

“You are.” 

“I am not.” 

“You are.” 

“I am not.” 

“You are!” 

You jump down from your place and spin around to face him. "If you must know, I am being shipped off into a marriage I did not give my consent to and one I had no prior knowledge of, therefore I am leaving before it can happen." 

"Oh," his brows shot up in surprise. 

“Yes, so I am currently trying to find the best way to climb over this damned garden wall so that I may live my life the way I choose to.” 

He mutters a few things, trying to understand this new information he’s been given. “Whatever for?” 

"For the love of-" She mutters, hearing the wheels turning in your head. 

"I believe he may be a beast.” 

"He isn't," she assures you. 

"How do you know? I mean, do you know what he looks like?" 

She rolls her eyes, knowing you’ve been on edge since... well, since you were informed of your future role. 

“You think he is a beast?” 

“Or a troll.” 

“Uh, who are we discussing.” 

You furrow your brows, “no one who concerns you.” You study the wall, sighing to yourself. “The King. Only because no one will speak of him. No one. So, he can only be a beast or a troll if that’s the case.” 

“Understood.” 

Charlotte shakes her head, lowering it so George doesn’t see the disappointment on her face. 

“If I grab there,” you point to an ideal spot. “You can assist me by lifting me up.” 

“One question. You do not like beasts or trolls? What he looks like matters?” 

You shrug, “I do not care what he looks like. I care about my sanity… and the not knowing. That, that is what I do not like. I do not like the not knowing. Now come here and help me.” You gesture for him to come closer. “She will not help me. You grab here,” you hold your waist, “and lift me.” 

“You want me to lift you over the wall so you may escape?” 

“That is what I said, is it not.” 

You shake your head, mumbling to yourself, “it’s as if he isn’t listening.” 

“Won’t people notice you are missing?” 

“Her brother will make her take my place, I’m sure.” 

“What?” Charlotte nearly screeches. 

“I have little care to worry about that. Now, if you please. I just need a little assistance from a more cooperative audience. Make haste.” 

“I have absolutely no intention of helping you.” 

You’re baffled. You step off the wall and march towards him. “Do you not see I am a lady in distress. You refuse to help me? Again, a lady in distress.” 

“I refuse when that lady in distress is trying to go over a wall so that she does not have to marry someone I think you'll find rather appealing." 

You furrow your brows, "and why's that?" 

"Because I am... his majesty." 

You take a step back, realizing the many errors you’ve made leading up to now. 

“Hello,” he says your name. 

"Oh, no," your cousin mutters. She takes a step closer, pulling you towards her. "Be quiet and bow." 

You start to apologize. “I am deeply s…” 

And then your training (from when you were a young girl) kicks in and you bow, "My King." 

"No, no. Just George." 

"Your majesty." 

"Not your majesty, George." 

"Your-" 

Your cousin rolls her eyes and sneaks away (not wanting to listen to you two anymore). She’s off to find her brother. Not to mention the fact that she needs to hide from her betrothed as well… which explains why she willingly followed you.

"George." 

"You-" 

"George." 

"Y-" 

"George." 

"Your-" 

"I mean, yes your majesty to you, just George… For you, I will be your George, I like that," he smiles. 

“I- I need you to accept my apology. You see, if I had known-” 

“You would have what? Not told me you were trying to escape?” 

“Yes- wait no, I mean…” You huff, “I do apologize your majesty.” 

“George… Your George. The “King” situation towers over us and I was hoping as my wife, I could be just George to you. I mean, that was of course, before I found out that you do not want to be married to me.” 

You furrow your brows, “I did not say that.” 

“You did.” 

“No.” 

“Many times, in fact.” 

You purse your lips in anger, knowing he’s right. “I do not know you.” 

He raises his arms, “I do not know you either… other than finding out… how terrible you are at climbing a wall.” 

You scoff, “you try climbing in this,” you wave to your outfit and lift the skirts of your dress, showing him your ankles. “These garments and shoes. They’re terrible, but if I don’t want to hurt myself, I must.” 

His constant stare worries you. 

“What?” 

“I- No one told me you’d be this beautiful. Perhaps, you’re too beautiful to marry me. People will talk… given I’m a troll.” 

“I believe I said beast.” 

He chuckles. 

Your face twists as if you’re in pain but only thinking of your future marriage. “Your majesty.” 

“George.” 

“George. I- I still do not know you.” 

“What do you want to know?” 

“Everything.” 

“Ev- fine.” He gives you information to help ease you into knowing more about him and potentially help your future marriage. 

“It sounds like you’re bragging.” 

He chuckles, “another to know about me is that… I am- well, nervous about marrying a girl I’m only just meeting minutes before our wedding. Only, I cannot show it and climb over a wall because I am the king of Britian and Ireland and that would, cause a scandal. But I promise you, I am neither a troll, nor a beast. Just your George.” 

The corners of your lips twitch. 

Charlotte’s voice interrupts you two. “My brother is on his way, so we must leave now.” 

“I-” 

“I have one question.” 

“Yes?” 

“Have you decided whether you wish to marry me? Or would you prefer to go over the wall?” 

You gulp. 

“As much as I would love to hear your answer, I have to go because I believe there are some anxious guards who think I’ve been kidnapped.” He grabs your hand and whispers your name as he places a kiss upon it. “I hope to see you in there.” 

You watch as he walks away. “Have you decided? Because there will be a scandal one way or another.” 

“I-” you take a deep breath. “Come with me, you impatient brat.” 

“I am not a brat.” 

“You are.” 

“Am not.”

[he-goes-down]

I'm gonna give it to you straight, i want smut. I want Izzy's face SAT ON by the reader.

That's it, thank you

You’re literally my twin omg - sorry if its dookie

Masterlist

Too Funky

Pairing: Izzy Stradlin x reader

Warnings: oralF! Recieving

Second Person POV:

Izzy laid on the bed on his back, as you were by the closet searching for clothes the wear. The bed was quiet close to the closet so you would take an occasional seat on the edge laying your clothes next to each other and throwing the best ones in one pile and the second best back into the closet. Izzy continued to rest in his back, his head close the edge resting next to your thigh, looking up at you from an upside down point of view. He watched everything you did quietly and intently. He was normally like that before doing something mischievous, but you didn’t pay much attention to his actions before he did something. You stood up again, putting a few hangers back and then getting new ones out, before sitting back down again.

You gasped as felt Izzy’s nose brush against the fabric that clothed your heat. You immediately tried to stand up straight so that you wouldn’t suffocate him. But he had his hands firmly placed on your thighs holding you down. You had thought nearly sitting in his face was an accident, seemed like he planned this. “Izzy!” You shrieked, trying to hover over his face and not plant your self on him with your whole weight. The feelings of his nose so close to your heat made your area start to pool with wetness. You had finally gotten out of his grasped, turned on your heel and looked at him, he was still lying down with a pleading look on his face. His eyes desperate and filled with lust. You looked back at him with the same lust and desire, telling him that he could continue his plans. He took a hold of your thighs again from the back and dragged you closer to his face again. He maintained eye contact as he squeezed your thighs and soon you could only see his neck as his mouth and nose were hovering so close to your wet core. “Sit.” He spoke, the words hitting of your clothed pussy and sending shivering through you. A small whine escaped you in response to the feeling. You had never actually really sat on his face before, you had hovered and had him devour you in different positions, but you were scared of putting your whole weight on him. “Izzy! Fuck… please, what if I hurt you.” You spoke in concern but still having that teasing feeling of him underneath you. “ I don’t fucking care.” He said. God he was so fucking crazy for you, especially when he got close enough to taste you, all his morals and self control were out the window.

Izzy began to press his face up into you, and start kissing the fabric of your pants, making you whine and moan at the amazing feeling. But shit it wasn’t enough for him. He got out from under you and started to quickly rip off your pants and start to kiss your clit through laced panties. It still wasn’t enough, he wanted you to suffocate him, he didn’t care, he wanted to be gasping for air but only taste you in return. He went to lie on the bed properly in the middle and beckoned you over. You kissed eachother passionately while Izzy’s hands trailed to your hips and began to take off your panties. “Please…” he spoke between kisses. You stopped the kiss in order to know what he wanted so bad. “Please, baby, just fucking sit on my face.” He said it straight to the point, all the while his hand was about to explore your pussy. You whined at the feeling of him touching you as he begged to give you pleasure. “What if I hurt you?” You said with worry. “ I don’t fucking care.” He begged. If he was on death row you would be his last meal. You breathed a shaky exhale and agreed to try.

Every piece of clothing was off, your legs next to his head, hovering over his face. Feeling his hot breath on you made you shiver, making you even wetter. “Sit.” He commanded. You lowered your self on his face, your core muscles working as you didn’t put you full weight on him. His nose pressed against your clit, his mouth parted and he licked in between your folds. His tongue teased your soaking cunt. You felt his breath hard on you, in frustration. Then inhaling before taking your hips roughly and pulled you down, having you fully use his face like a chair. It set something off in him and he began to ravish you. Sucking, kissing, biting,licking. Getting more and more aggressive and desperate at eating you as you moaned his name loudly. “Izzy…” you moaned, trying to get a bit further from his face as he hadn’t taken a breath in ages. But he pulled you back down with even more force. “I said sit.” You heard him growl under you. The vibrations sending to your clit making your hips buck and grind on his face. He groaned as you grind on him, his whole heart and soul quivered with list hearing and feeling you as he pleased you, to him that was the only thing that mattered.

“Izzy… Fuck…” you moaned, your hips bucked as Izzy’s skillful tongue explored you inside, licking up all your wetness. Your clit grinding on his gorgeous nose. You clenched around his tongue as you got close, he groaned again, knowing he was the reason you were feeling bliss. “I’m- Izzy… I’m gonna cum… fuck.” You moaned louder. Shaking under Izzy’s strong hands and on his perfect face. You moved away from his face again as you shook, feeling your climax about to burst. He brought you back to him face, wanting you to cum on his mouth, he wanted to drown in your sweet taste. He continued to eat you out like it was his last meal on earth. You gripped his hair, riding out your orgasm on his face. “Izzy!” You moaned in ecstasy as you came all over his mouth and face. “Fuck…” you sighed as your body shook softly. Trying to get off his face as you finished, but only to be brought back to sit on him for another time and he licked and lapped your cum and slick, licking you clean.

You soon did get the chance to get off from his face, him gasping for air as a string of spit and wet connected his mouth to your cunt. Him looking up at you with eyes of a man that just saw heaven. Licking his lips as he sat up and you moved to sit on his lap.

“Fuck, I love you so much… you taste so fucking good.” He said as he held you to his chest and combed his fingers through your hair. Your heartbeat slowly as you drifted to a sleepy state.

[carboysandbikemen]

can you write something about how easily the drivers get jealous, maybe because they saw you talking to another driver and flirting with them. but they won't say anything until you get home and show you who you belong to

please I'm desperate and love jealously-sex 🙏

This made us so insane we did it in two parts because we got so caught up in dom drivers getting jel (-🐝) and ALSO sub drivers getting jel about you flirting with other people (-🐻).

Part 1- Dom Drivers (see below for sub drivers)

Lewis- You'd be able to tell Lewis was jealous as soon as you made eye contact with him, his eyebrow raised as if to say 'Are you really doing this right now?' It's a bit of a game to you and it's fun to push him a little but not too far. Just enough to make him want to push you to your knees and make you choke on his cock until you cant help but cry, telling you how well you take it and how good you look on your knees for him. He wouldn't really expect you to tell him how good he is, he just needs to prove it to you while occasionally telling you that you were made to take his cock and no one else would satisfy you like he can.

George- George would look over at you, jaw clenched and eyes dark. Oh you'd know he was pissed off with you for sure, but you'd also know he was trying not to let it show, trying not to be that guy- but he just can’t help it. He just gets so pissed off at the thought of anyone touching you but him. Dom George would turn it into a bit of a scene, he'd clear it with you first of course, but then he'd make you kneel and be a good little slut for him. He'd tie you up and then edge you until tears are slipping down your cheeks, bringing you to the edge and back and making you repeat over and over that you don't need anyone but him until you can barely form a sentence. Only then will he finally let you come. Afterwards as you're snuggled up against him and he's giving you aftercare, you'd reassure him that he really has nothing to worry about and he'd smirk, cockily, and say: "Oh, I know that."

Charles- Charles wouldn't make a scene in the moment, he'd act like it doesn't bother him at all, like he's the most comfortable secure man in the room. Then, later when you're alone he'd play with you and fuck you until you come, then go again and again, overstimulating you to prove a point. Telling you while he does that no one can make you come like he can because no one knows your body this well, no one can take care of you like he can. You don't have to reassure him, he doesn't make you say it, but he needs you to hear it.

Fernando- Fernando, however, would not wait. He'd drag you into the nearest closet or bathroom or anything vaguely private and fuck you until you're almost crying, making you tell him how much you want him, how much you need him, how much better he is than anyone else you've ever been with. Everything he'd do to you he'd get you to tell him that he's the only one that gets you off like he can. He'd play with you and make you come on his cock, not caring about how much noise you make and who might hear, as long as you know (and tell him) who it is that can really make you scream. He'd also make you walk back out into whatever party you're at with his come dripping out of you into your underwear and not let you clean it up until later as a reminder.

Daniel- Unlike the rest of the time (when you can't shut him up) Daniel wouldn't want you to reassure him, he wouldn't make you tell him how good he is or feel the need to tell you how he's the only one he can make you come. Instead, he would just pull you into the bedroom as soon as he can, and absolutely fuck the shit out of you. It's the most intense sex you guys have and he would absolutely give you love bites along your collar bone so everyone can see you're his.

Sebastian- "You know he can't fuck you like I can right?" Unlike the others, Seb is really very secure as a person and in your relationship. He is, however, a cheeky fucker who will absolutely have fun with it He will pretend to be annoyed, but you can tell it's all a game to him and he loves it. It would be the most fun sex you'd ever have.

Extras:

Mark Webber: Mark would pin you to the bed and fuck you harder than he's ever fucked you in his life. He'd bite your shoulder and rail you while telling you "You're mine."

Carlos- Dd/lg vibes for days. That is all.

Part 2- Sub Drivers

Lewis- Let's be real, Lewis is really needy. Lewis loves the praise and the attention and knowing how obsessed you are with him. If he sees you even laugh with someone else he's frowning and you can't wait to push him gently into the sheets and reassure him. Call him your babygirl and tell him that you don't need anything but him laid out for you to play with and you've got him back again. Still, you cant help but continue with it, teasing him and kissing his body, worshipping him and edging him until he's desperate and ready all for you.

Charles- If he saw you flirting with someone else he would get a bit pouty and baby about it. You can tell he's upset by how he gets a little bit quiet. You'd try get out of him what’s wrong, and he'd try to insist that it's nothing, really it’s nothing at all. He'd be quite needy but still wouldn't tell you. You'd have to fuck him first, get him all needy and desperate for you before you get it out of him. Then, obviously you'd need to reassure him with lots of affection and touch and praise.

Twink!Nando- Nando is absolutely insulted that you'd even think to possibly flirt with anyone but him when he's right there ready to receive your attention. He'd grab your hand or come in a bit closer to you in the moment but when you're home he'd avoid you, brushing you off as punishment for your audacity. You'd have to win him over with praise and cooking etc, or take the easier route and pin him to the wall and kiss him until he's whining into your mouth, putting your knee between his thighs so you can feel him break and start to grind against you. He'd still be a bit bratty, so you'd have to fuck him well and good until he's chanting your name.

Twink!Seb- Honestly, the audacity that you would even think to fuck someone else, especially especially when you didn't also invite them along for a threesome, god. You'd let him have his fun pretending to be upset, letting him prove a point to you by letting him ride you and take what he wants, before flipping him and railing that boy until he's crying and sobbing into you as you praise him. He needs a lot of praise. He loves hearing how well he's doing and how good he's being for you and you can't help but slip in how you don't need anyone else when you have all of this, but really Seb knows that anyways.

Fabio- Fab would get really whiny and touchy, closing whatever gap there was between you so that he's crowded up into your space. He’d be all pouty and look at you with those big brown eyes and you'd just know that you need to look after him because he’s absolutely not discreet about the fact that he needs your attention right this second. Once you get him home, it's all about praise, praise, and more praise as you fuck him into the bed. He’s your good boy, and there’s nobody else for you. There would be lots of cuddles afterwards, obviously very important for him.

Nico Rosberg- Nico is such a little attention whore baby, so obviously he'd be so upset and jealous. He'd be such a little brat to cover it up though because he can't let you know he's upset about it. Simply couldn't possibly admit that to you. You'd have to rail that boy so hard and so well, preferably while edging him until he cries for you, until he understands that it means nothing. You wouldn't have to verbally reassure him, just fuck him and hold him close to you, but it also wouldn't help to throw some praise at him. Needy baby energy. Lots of physical touch.

[toki-hotel]

Can you please write more on sub bill? Like maybe a fic about female reader getting mad because bill keeps teasing reader in a interview or while around the band and reader gets mad and decides to punish bill and he’s very needy but reader absolutely refuses to let him touch her but gives in on all the whining and crying and also the 2008’s bill please!!!

YES I've got you ;)

Warnings: SMUT 18+, sub!Bill, dacryphilia, kind of public touching, spit, edging, fem!reader

It started early in the morning, at 6 to be exact. Before your alarm could even go off, there was incessant knocking on your hotel room door. Blurry-eyed, you stumble out of bed to glance through the peephole.

Bill is standing on the other side in a black top and flannel pajama pants. Bare-faced and hair undone, he somehow looks wide awake.

"Bill? What are you doing here? It's too early." You groan and attempt to rub some sleep out of your eyes.

"I wanted to see you, I woke up an hour ago but couldn't fall back asleep." He sighs and leans on the ajar door. Pleading brown eyes bare down into yours.

Glancing back at the red illuminating clock sitting on the nightstand, you groan again, knowing that Bill won't like your response. "I have to start getting ready, and you do too! We have interviews at 8."

"I know, but just for a little bit..." He leans closer to you.

"No. Go get ready and we can talk later." You stand your ground knowing that a little bit would turn into a while. You don't want to hear any more bandmates' complaints about taking so long to get ready in the morning.

With a 'fine' grumbled under his breath he slumps back to the elevators at the end of the hall. You can start to predict what the rest of the day will entail from this single interaction, having experienced it many times before. Bill has days of being needy. You try your best to be there for him, but it tends to get out of control if you don't put your foot down at certain times, and this was one of those moments. A day full of interviews was your guys' schedule so you knew that you would have to work your way around it to appease him.

~

As expected, Bill continued his antics. The car ride consisted of him squeezing in next to you, he tried to talk to you, but most of it was one-sided. The lack of sleep and sudden awakening had put your head in a hazy mindset. You listened and most of your responses were ones of few words.

The half hour breakfast break you had was cherished by the band. Tour managers still used it to discuss the upcoming interviews, but Bill didn't seem to care. His mind was elsewhere.

The entire group was sitting at a large table in the dining hall. With plates filled of breakfast food you sit by one another, Bill across from you. It started with him stealing food off your plate, knowing he's looking for a response you play along and tell him off, but go back to listening to the manager's rundown of the day.

He didn't like this.

You almost choke on the water you were sipping when you feel a foot bumping into yours, not so lightly too. You look up to the offender in front of you. Brown eyes are already pointed at you with mischief and an evil smirk. You give him the dirtiest glare you can muster, but this only seems to make his smirk grow more. The foot drags itself up your ankle and to the inside of your calf. Knowing that all he wants is more of your attention you look away again.

This only spurs him on more. The same appendage slowly works its way to your knee and inner thigh, but you hold strong and nod along to what George says. Bill seems to calm down and let it linger, minutes pass and you begin to assume that this is what he wanted: to touch you while he is forced to be distant from you.

The boot jumps to the front of your pants. A zing of electricity runs from your heat, up your spine to the back of your head. That asshole! You can't help but jump in your seat at the sudden movement and when you whip your head to Bill he isn't even looking at you. He's also nodding along to what the others are saying, his chin is resting on his palm, but his hand is barely covering the laugh that breaks through.

"Excuse me. I'm just gonna run to the washroom." Standing up the chair screeches behind you. Not waiting for a response from the others, you give a pointed look to the man who can't seem to leave you alone for five minutes.

Bill Excuses himself too and trails behind your fleeting form. Excitement is running through him and he can't help but picture all the things you could do to him. The dirty looks you gave him had his heart picking up. When you decided to ignore him AGAIN, he knew he had to up his antics.

He jogs to catch up to your body turning a corner into a quiet hallway. Once you know you guys are alone you whip back around. You knew he was following you, his jewelry clinked while he ran.

"What is wrong with you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Everything you were doing back there! Can you behave for a few hours? I told you we can talk once the interviews are done!" You cross your arms and look up at Bill.

"I don't know what you're talking about..." The tall man shrugs and crosses his arms as well.

A deep sigh is taken to calm the nerves brewing. "Don't play with me right now," you try to relax but the lack of sleep and anxiety about the interviews is making it hard, "please." With that, you cut around him and head back to the dining hall.

Bill is not satisfied though. Usually, you would do something to keep him satiated for a while. Hold his hand, give him a small kiss, or talk with him for a while. He isn't used to this lack of attention from you and he is starting to get mad himself. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. The conversation wasn't supposed to end here.

~

Time has passed and Bill seemed to cut it down a notch. Small touches were still made here and there, but nothing dramatic like before.

Until after the first interview.

The team had a small 30 min. break until the next one. Entering into the next room, Gustav and George crash onto the couch. Tom finds his way to the snack table and cracks into a bottle of Coke. You're currently discussing with one of your managers how the first interview went and what was to come with the next.

Bill found his way to the couch, but without taking his eyes off of you. Thoughts about your last encounter kept flashing in his mind. He loved seeing you heated and the neediness he felt since waking up this morning only seemed to grow. His eyes traced up and down your figure. A heat started in his lower stomach.

Memories of past times entered next. How soft you felt in his hands, the way you tasted, and how you touched him. Bill couldn't take it anymore. When you broke away from the manager and made your way to the snack table he saw his next opportunity. He jumped from his spot and trailed after you again.

Your discussion with the manager only helped a little to ease your anxiety. The bottle of water on the table seemed to catch your eye and you made your way to it. You noticed Bill coming up too and smiled at him. Maybe you were too harsh.

"Hey." He stood behind you and rested his head on your shoulder. You mumbled a response back and took a sip of the water. "I miss you," he whined and wrapped his arms around you.

"I know, but after this next interview we have a few hours to relax back at the hotel." You reach your hand back to pet the mane of hair.

"We have some time now..." Bill pulls the hand away from the back of his head and puts it between you guys. His cock is hard and pressing into the back of your hand. " I just need you so bad. I can't stop thinking about you." Your jaw drops at his sudden change of demeanor. A heat starts in your lower stomach as well, a reflection of Bill's. What you thought was an innocent interaction switched into something completely different.

"Bill! What have I been telling you all morning?" You glare back at him this time and that same smirk has crept its way to his face. Black-rimmed eyes burn into your E/C ones. He laughs right in your shocked face and the silver of his tongue ring glints.

You pull your hand away from his tight grip and walk away. Plopping down onto the couch this time, you cross your arms and try to ignore the burning in your cheeks. Gustav and George are a little shocked at the sudden third addition to the couch but shrug and carry on with their conversation.

Bill stands satisfied at the snack table. Picking up your abandoned water bottle, he takes a gulp of water and licks his lips. Yet, he is still upset that you haven't really touched him.

~

The final straw for you is at the second interview. After fuming for the rest of the short break, you and the band file into another room to start the questions. All seems to be going well until the last question.

"How does touring affect your relationships with one another? Do you fight a lot?" The bands' responses are all reasonable, but of course, Bill has to open his big mouth.

"Y/N does get into moods though, she likes to ignore us!"

Your jaw drops at this accusation. While Tom snorts at this you lean past him to shoot Bill another one of your dirty looks, but he just grins right back at you.

Thats it. You've had enough and decide to get your revenge back at the hotel.

~

The car ride went by quick. You decided to sit as far away from Bill to avoid any more interactions. Once you got back to the hotel, you started to take advantage of the next free hours. The other guys retreated to their respective rooms to get some more sleep, but Bill follows you to yours.

You shut the door and he is already reaching for you.

"No," you grab the wrists that are in front of you, "I think I'm in one of my moods right now, and that means I'm ignoring you." It's your turn to start grinning at him.

"I was only kidding!" He sighs and watches you walk around him. You start taking off your jewelry and set it on the nightstand. He reaches for you again, but you just ignore him and dodge his touch again. "I didn't mean it." He pleads to you, tilting his head down to catch your eyes, but you just shrug your shoulders and carry on to take off your earrings.

Clink. Clink.

"Please," Bill wraps his arms back around your waist and nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck. To be honest, you've wanted him since the moment you saw his pretty face on the other side of the door but you have to stay strong. He can't get away with not listening to you, especially when he is so boldly defiant about it. "I'm sorry. I just need you so bad it makes me crazy!"

You turn around with a sigh and cross your arms. His eyes are pleading to you and you try your best to ignore how cute he looks. "Are you really being this needy right now? I've tried to be reasonable with you, but you can't even wait a couple of hours! You keep acting out and then you expect me to give you what you want?" You move to take off your bracelets and rings now.

Clink. Clink. Clink.

"Please. Please. Please." Bill grabs your hand and kisses your finger and trails them to your wrist. You can't lie about how good it feels to have him touch you, his soft lips trailing up your arm, past your shoulder, into the crook of your neck. "I'll be so good from now on. I just need you to touch me."

"Ok, but you'll take what I give you." You pull his head to yours and slot your lips together. He sighs his promise into the kiss and grabs your waist, pulling you close. He's sloppy and quick with his movements. Hands grab at anything they can reach.

You turn Bill around and walk yourselves to the bed. "Strip," You pull away and watch him pull his black t-shirt over his head. A long and lean torso is revealed along with the black star on his hip. A studded belt is next along with his boots and jeans.

Bill can't hold back the excitement that is bubbling within him. He's finally getting what he needed from you and the throbbing is making his head fuzzy. His lips feel swollen from the heated kisses and his breathing is picking up.

You crawl over him and take in the sight before you. Bill's brown puppy dog eyes take in your features and you can't wait to ruin him.

"Do you want me to touch you?"

"Yes," he pants out.

"Where," your lean your lips down to his and let the question brush out against him. He moves to grab one of your hands that is holding your weight beside his head, but you refuse to let him move you. "No, tell me where." Bill lets out a small cry at this and finally tells you.

"Anywhere. Everywhere!"

You coo out at this and brush some of his hair away from his face. The touch trails down his neck and chest, brushing past one of his nipples that makes his breathing jump, it ends at the waistband of his boxers. You pepper kisses to follow the same path as before and work down his body.

Bill is trying his best to be good, but all the emotions are bubbling up inside of him.

"Let's take these off." you slip the boxers down and watch his cock jump back up to slap his stomach. You lean down to lick a long stripe from the base to tip and watch up at him to see his head tilt back and his hips buck into you. You loved to see him get worked up

"Please..." He whimpers when you sit back up.

"You said you would take what I give you, If you're not gonna be good like you promised then I will stop right now."

"NO! No. I'll be good, just please don't stop."

"Good. Now spit." You hold your palm out beside his mouth and he does what you say. You slip your hand up and down his hot length, enjoying the way his eyebrows scrunch up at the pleasure.

Small whimpers make their way out of his mouth and his hands fist the bed sheets. His breathing picks up the faster you go and you lean over once more to spit on his cock. Bill's hips jump again from this and a loud moan tumble from his mouth. You can see that he's getting close, but you're not done with him.

German swears are whispered under his breath and his eyes are rolling back. "Look at me," you call out to him and he does. Tears are starting to well up in them. "Awe, why are you crying?"

"Feels good." And it does. He just can't help it with how he has been feeling all morning. This release that is building up is exactly what he needs.

But it doesn't come. You pull your hand away at the last second and watch his head snap back up to yours.

"No, no, noooo." Bill cries out and the tears start flowing. Black makeup runs down his cheeks.

"You said that you would take what I give you."

"I know, but I need to cum so bad." Bill grabs your thighs that are spread out on either side of him. The painted nails press into the soft flesh and leave crescents in their wake.

"I know and you will...If you're good."

"Yes, yes, yes." He chants over and over, replying to you and your touch that has started up again. His whines break free like his tears and flow throughout the hotel room. His cock is hard and throbbing in your hands, the tan tip a red hue. "Fuck, I'm close again." It takes no time for him to be at the edge and this time you grant him mercy.

"Look at me, Bill." He lifts his head and holds eye contact with you. "Good, now you can cum." It drops back to the mattress with his eyes rolling into his head.

Swears that you have trouble making out leave his lips and his hips buck so hard that they jostle you. Bill's cum spurts out in white lines across his stomach and your hand.

As he comes down from his high you press soft kisses across his damp cheeks and lips, whispering kind words to him. You wait for the heavy breathing to settle before you get up and grab a wet cloth to clean each other off. After disposing of it in the hotel washroom you come back to see him curled up in the bed sheets on his side. You crawl in behind him and wrap your arm across his lean waist.

"Are you feeling better?" You whisper into the back of his neck.

"Mhm, just not looking forward to the rest of the interviews today."

"Oh God, I forgot about them." You sigh and he laughs at your reaction. Bill and you spend the next few hours cuddled up and enjoying your time together.

[cowboylor]

cabin fever

the studio begins to feel small with george and matty. 

wc: 4k

warnings: (18+) smut, oral (m. receiving), unprotected sex, threesome, voyeurism, degradation, thigh riding, teasing, smoking, consensual workplace relations? (matty and reader have an implied situationship)

note: this is only what i can describe as a doozy

You’ve asked Matty three times already if he wanted you to go on another coffee run and he’s dismissively waved you off with a grumble each time. This leaves you with no choice but to perch on the edge of the couch, picking your nails and listening to the same demo blast through the speakers for the past three hours. 

Matty’s brow furrows. “Play it back.”

George sighs but relents by pressing the playback button.

He runs his hands over his face, muttering, “’s not like it changed from the last ten times we’ve listened to it.” 

Huffing, you shift in your seat. 

You’re past trying to get comfortable and past the hopeful idea you could rest your eyes until they’ve finished editing. The repeated track gives you a headache and only reinstates the thought that you really don’t know what else Matty needs you here for.

Sparing him a glance, you watch him mouth along to both lyrics and rhythm, tapping his fingers against the desk as he searches for anything he dislikes about the track.

You lean back. This day really should be over.

Daydreaming about a shower and your freshly-washed duvet cover has been the only thing keeping you sane throughout the day. Your errand running has proved to be your least favorite thing about being his assistant but the most needed thing when it came to perfectionist musicians. 

You glance outside the hallway to see the darkening window. You have to be the only three left in the studio. Every other member of their congregation has gone home by now.

Matty and George have a hushed conversation five feet away from you. Their secrecy has you rolling your eyes.

You pick and rub your eyes.

“I think we’re in for it,” George says finally, fidgeting with one of the many buttons across the set up until the song is paused. 

You perk up. “I’ll get coffee.”

“Don’t need you to get coffee,” Matty huffs at your constant insistence. You’re moving to grab your keys and bag anyway when he turns his chair to look at you. “I need you here.”

You meet his stare blankly, clutching your keys in your hand as he scolds you. George turns to eye both of of you, then shoots you a pointed look as if to say Don’t push it. 

“Why?” You groan.

Matty lights a cigarette and waves it in his hand for effect. “Unbiased opinion, secondary source, untrained ear–” You don’t give him the smile he’s looking for. “–my muse.”

You chuckle sardonically, repeating his words syllable by syllable, “My muse.”

He exhales smoke, the corners of his mouth quirking upwards as you also fight off an amused grin. He looks handsome like this; with his under eyes slightly drawn out and his hair free of gel. You would’ve told him so if not George being in the room.

“Exactly, love.” He nods.

You want to argue that you can’t be his muse or unbiased opinion; you work for him. Your paychecks have his full legal name scribbled at the bottom of the slip. You get him coffee and equipment and pick up his dry cleaning on days he just wants to spite you. But you don't say this–you just watch him watch you.

Turning back, George shakes his head. “Christ.” 

You sigh as they both become preoccupied with the soundboard again. In metaphorically defeat, you drop your purse back on the couch.

+

The untrustworthy coffee machine is your safe haven. You would rather venture into the break room of the studio, under the flickering lights and all, than sit in solitude and listen to Matty and George mess about for another minute. Dragging your feet to the counter, you begin to make a pot. If anything, the coffee-making is for your sanity.

While flicking on the power button, you go over grocery lists, bills, and the dinner reservation you need to cancel for Matty tomorrow.

You watch the dingy pot begin to fill right as the door to the break room creaks open. 

You whip around to see George.

You raise your brow at his uncharacteristic leave. “Hi?”

He wanders into the break room like he’s unsure of himself. His grey sweats hang from his hips and you can make out a flash of skin from when he stretches his arms and his hoodie rides up because of it.

Your face warms.

George looks good. George looks really good. 

“I was going to piss,” He says like he's explaining his departure from the studio. “Then I saw you.” 

“Ah,” You rub your hands over your eyes in a half-hearted attempt to stop your gaze from wandering down to his waistband. “Piss break.”

He laughs and then glances at the brewing pot. His brow furrows: “Fulfilling your unsolicited desire to get coffee?”

“Can’t help it,” You mutter, agitated and sore. “It’s like I have fucking cabin fever or something.”

He nods but then eyes you carefully. You suddenly grow self-conscious over your appearance. Your makeup is bound to be smeared by your constant rubbing and you would say you’re in desperate need of an everything shower, but his eyes still skirt over you slowly–like he’s unapologetically checking you out.

Then he glances at his watch and you can breathe again. 

“Maybe you should go home,” He says sympathetically in a way that has you shaking your head. Then in reference to Matty adds, “He’ll get over it.” 

“Not at this point,” You huff a laugh, craning your neck to stare up at him directly. “I’m no quitter, George.”

A brief pause.

His eyes give you the up-down again. “I believe it.” 

Coffee filters loudly to make up the silence between the two of you. 

“Well,” You say, switching off the machine and gathering three cups in hopes of looking busy. “I hope you have a great piss.”

He chuckles wryly. “I’ll try my best.” 

You shake your head when he leaves, pouring questionable brew into styrofoam cups and muttering a string of “Fuck me”’s.

+

The coffee was left untouched by Matty and you know he’s purposefully ignoring it just to irritate you. George takes occasional sips from the small cup if only to humor you. 

Your eyes are closed by this point; listening to every word, pitch, and musical texture there is drone from the speakers of this godforsaken studio. 

“Shit,” Matty curses after the demo nears an end. “Let’s scrap it–Deal with it later.”

“Later is now.” George bites back. 

You hear a click and the track falls silent.

“Then, fuck,” Matty’s frustrated laugh rings out. “I don’t know. Maybe we need to try something new.”

For a moment, there’s silence in the room. Pure, unfiltered silence that makes your chest swell with satisfaction and gives your budding headache momentarily relief.

Wait. 

Your brow quirks up in confusion. Raising your head from the cushion you open your eyes slowly. When you see the joints in their hands, you roll your eyes so far back it aches.

“You’re joking,” You mumble, tucking your knees to your chest as you nestle further into the couch. “I’ll never get to leave.” 

“It’s called the creative process, love,” Matty quips without turning around. 

George stretches to pass you the poorly rolled blunt. “Don’t want you to feel left out.”

You accept it begrudgingly, pouting at his slightly facetious expression until he swivels back to the soundboard and you’re left blinking dully at their backs. You lightly suck air through it and then rest your head on the back cushion. 

The demo is being played over again and they bicker when it comes to the last section of notes. 

Another puff. You’re going stir-crazy. 

You watch the clock on the wall until your eyes burn and the ticking begins to sound like the song that’s being blasted through the speakers. 

“The hell am I doing,” You mumble to yourself. You brush your wrinkled clothes down and fix your hair before clearing your throat. “Can I do something other than watch you roll joints and bicker? Be helpful?”

They turn to eye you carefully, finally acknowledging your frustration. 

The corners of Matty’s mouth fight to twist into a smile and you glower at him–always taking the piss out of you when you get like this.  

“What?” You snap.

“Wanna be helpful?” Matty asks.  

George glances over, saying his name as a warning for whatever he might say next. Matty doesn’t acknowledge it, still looking you up and down with a familiar glint in his eye. 

He chuckles, “I know how you can be helpful.”

You grow silent, eyes narrowing and flicking between the two, feeling like you’re being left out on a joke.  

George sighs and shakes his head. “God, you’re a twat.”

“How?” You question, still mildly confused about what exactly he’s implying.

Because he couldn’t be implying that. And if he even is, you’ve never done anything in the studio. With someone like George there. You’re disbelieving; you want to draw it out of him, make him say it. “How can I?”

Matty taps his right thigh. “Take a seat.”

He absolutely could be implying that.

Your jaw hangs open for a second. 

But then, wanting to spite and wipe the shit-eating grin off his face, you wander over to him. Plunking down on his thigh, Matty spins you back into his chair, pressing you against the desk and his chest while he goes back to fiddling with buttons like this isn’t out of the ordinary.

Straddling your employer’s thigh definitely violates all codes of ethics. But none of them feel as entertaining as sitting in Matty's lap.

You try to share a look with George from beside you but he avoids your eyes, instead muttering, “Let’s get back to it, then.”

+

You’re flushed against Matty by the time they’ve moved on from the last demo. Now, they’ve moved onto the particulars and you’re growing a different type of frustrated. 

When Matty talks his breath courses down your neck and makes you feel warm in every way possible. You’re fighting the urge to nestle into him, bury yourself in his neck and be closer to him–until your face grows unbearably warm and you become embarrassed about how just sitting on his lap is drives to this point.

Because this is all a game to him. And you play into it perfectly every time he beckons you.

But George–

George can’t even look at you while you’re on top of Matty; avoiding your eyes altogether and talking brashly to his bandmate like you’re not even there. And you can’t help but subconsciously long for his attention again. Whatever that looked like before–however he was looking at you in the break room.

Matty brushes his hand behind your neck before tsking: “It’s rude to stare, you know.”

You avert your eyes from George.

“While you’re in my lap, too,” He scolds quietly.

He chuckles at the reaction, making shivers travel down your body. 

You shift on his thigh, your body growing intolerant of the compromising position he has you in. You grab onto his arm that holds you at the waist, dragging your nails across his forearm. 

“I’m still your favorite,” His lips find the crest of your ear again to murmur. “Right, babe?”

You bite your lip to silence a whine as his fingers toy with the hem of your skirt. Watching his fingers go lower until your mind starts to cloud.

“You–” You breathe out sharply, brow furrowing as you struggle to not yell at him. “–were never my favorite.”

His laugh even sends chills down your spine and you lean into him, pressing yourself against him in an effort to get any relief for the pooling heat in your stomach. 

“Stop fucking around,” George mumbles more to Matty than to you.

You watch him fiddle with the amp set up beside the desk; you can’t tell if he’s actually unhappy with the sound system they’ve been using for the past ten hours with no complaint or if he’s looking for any reason not to look at you. 

“I’m completely present,” Matty insists, removing his arm from your waist to make an example of being hands-free. “But she can’t help it; I think she has a crush on you.”

You sit up straight at the accusation but find that you have no reason to be embarrassed because Matty’s right–you are in another man’s lap. He toys with the tip of your chin as you do your best to sneer at him.

George glances at you quickly and your cheeks burn. 

“Matt,” He sighs. “Don’t be a dick.”

“’m serious,” Matty defends, looking at your poker face expression you hope comes across as disinterested. You may be sitting in his lap but you’re unbothered by all of it. You’re cool, you’re collected, and you definitely won’t give him the reaction he’s looking for– “Bet she thinks about you fucking her all the time.”

Fuck him. Absolutely fuck him. 

You shift your hips at the thought and roll them against his thigh. His expression remains the same. If not for a sly smirk at your physical reaction because it was a reaction nonetheless.

“Is it true? Think of our George like that?” He teases, tapping a finger against your thigh. “That's so naughty.” 

Heat spreads between your legs and the tips of George's ears turn crimson. 

But now, you can’t help but picture what George would look like when he’s in you. How he would sound, where he would put his hands while he's fucking you. And soon you’re moving against Matty in a way that you wouldn’t have fathomed an hour ago.

“Thoughts?”

Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me.

You blink at Matty. “About what?”

“The song,” He says.

You pause, staring at George and his slightly more readable expression as his eyes wander down to your thighs and the way they’re glued to Matty’s. Watching carefully as Matty slips his hand into your skirt to swipe his finger under the elastic band.  

“It’s nice, yeah,” You reply, gasping sharply when Matty prods at your folds. Your eyes flick back to George and he's not looking away this time. You whine when his finger teases over your clit. Arching back into Matty, you mumble through half-lids, “I fucking love it.”

His finger circles in ragged motions, making you jerk into him at an unrhythmic pace that has you uncomfortably screwing your eyes shut in frustration and grabbing him by the arm: “Matty.”

He smirks, knowingly. “Yeah, babe?”

“You're–” You sigh. “You're trying to be annoying.”

He barks a laugh at this, slipping his hand out of your underwear to give you a gentle slap on the thigh.

“Bein' so ungrateful.”

You mewl at the loss of friction but are too proud to beg for it. Your eyes wander back to George and his stiffened stature as he watches you with a slack jaw.

“Grab me that mic, yeah?” Matty says to you as your gaze lowers to George's lap. Sighing, he grabs your chin to redirect your line of sight. “Right over there.”

Right over there happens to be on the other side where George sits. Without thinking too much about it, you’re getting up from Matty's lap and leaning over George to reach it.

You don’t so much apologize for the reach before looking up at him.

“Need anything?” You prod.

His eyes run over you; his gaze dropping down to your disheveled skirt before traveling up to your blown-out expression. You plead with him through your eyes, glancing down to his lap to stare at the bulge in his sweatpants.

“Fuck it,” George exhales, pausing the track with one hand and beckoning you with the other. “C'mere.”

He holds your hand while guiding you on top to straddle him, mumbling in your ear something along the lines of you being a ‘minx’ as you settle in his lap. While your hands go straight to the neckline of his jumper, his go straight to your cunt.

Slipping his fingers past the material, you gasp into his shoulder, breathing out a pitchy ‘oh god’ as he’s quick to work against you.

“Good?” He says, making tight circles around your clit. Then to tease his bandmate, chides, “Better?”

Matty rolls his eyes. "Oh, fuck off."

Numbly, you nod into him, rolling against his fingers as he nips at your neck. Your fingers etch into his neckline, clutching the material like you're desperate to cling to him as he prods at your bundle of nerves.

“Are you going to fuck me?” You ask brashly, through ragged breaths.

You're tired of waiting; you've made it clear for the past three hours.

His chuckle is low against your ear. “Would you like that, sweet girl?”

You assure him you would through hurried moans and shifting your hips against him as he pulls the thin fabric of your underwear to the side. Letting him kiss down the side of your neck, you turn to look at Matty.

He stares at you through parted lips as he watches you get off with his best mate. He gives you a wink before he fishes for some packing paper.

“This alright?” George asks, guiding the tip of his cock into you.

“Yeah,” Your lips are on the cusp of his ear as he does, splitting in two when he pokes at your entrance. “Yes, yes.”

Matty busies himself by rolling another joint, only peering up to watch you sink onto George’s cock. 

A loud moan rips through you, prompting Matty to quip: “Everything alright, love?”

“Fuck off,” You repeat his words back to him through gritted teeth.

He chuckles. “Ever the professional.”

You don't care for his banter right now. Your mind is cloudy and the only thing you can focus on is George's grip on you as the way he raises your hips up to fuck into you.

“You’re huge,” You whine into his ear without thinking too much about it. 

His fingers dig into your waist as you wrap your arms around him. 

“'Told me you weren't a quitter," He mumbles though you can practically hear the smirk threatening to break on his face.

You watch your cunt spread around his cock, over and over again until everything feels white-hot and is searing through your body.

He stills his hands, making you hiss as you let him stretch you out fully. You begin to protest the lack of movement, shifting your hips forward until you whimper at the intensity of it all. Ignoring it, you lift your hips off him again. If George wants you to ride him you will.

But then he slaps your thigh. “Bend over.”

He wraps his arm around you to situate you as you look around the studio. Looking for a place where you could bend over in a practical manner. You furrow your brow, a choked sob buried in your throat as the ache between your legs grows more intense with every passing second of no one touching you.

"Need to be told everything?" George teases, turning you around to push your lower back down into the desk. Bend over meaning here, you think as you rest your burning cheek against the counter. He pushes his hips back into you with a groan. "Bein' so patient."

Patient, patient, patient.

You groan into the desk. You don’t want to be patient anymore.

“Shit.” You hiss as you feel your walls tug onto him greedily. "Please, please, please."

Matty's laugh ringing out makes you tilt your gaze over to him. Smoking surrounds him as he toys with one button on the soundboard (perhaps mockingly) by rolling it on the tip of his finger.

You whine, dipping your head down again as George's hips snap against yours roughly.

Matty whistles, lowly. "Soundin' a little pathetic, love."

The edge of the table is malleable in your grip. You gape at Matty who looks at you with interest. You plead for him with your eyes.

“Matty.”

“Yeah, babe?”

Your nails dig into the wood. “Need you.”

He hums like he's considering. "Need me?"

You don't respond; instead, you chant a chorus of 'please' to George as he grazes that one spot inside you. It makes your eyes roll back and gasp into your hand until you're blinking repeatedly in an effort to see straight.

Only then, Matty's convinced.

He makes a show out of unbuttoning his pants and pushing down the elastic band of his boxers but you can barely see straight as you bobble forward. 

You can make out him pulling out his cock, stroking himself a few times while peering down at your submissive state. You think he’s going to make you beg for him and you almost sigh in frustration at the thought because you really don’t have the energy for that right now. 

But he just grins at you and says, “Open up.”

And you do. 

When he juts his hips into your mouth, you’re steadying yourself with one hand and you’re feeling up his thigh with the other. He busies himself with your hair, tugging it forward roughly until your lips reach the base of his cock.

"My girl," Matty sighs as you hallow your cheeks around him. "My girl is so helpful–isn't she?"

George's hand presses down to your middle back–maybe in agreement with what Matty said–as your name falls from his lips.

"Gonna let me come in your mouth?" Matty muses while gathering a fist of your hair in his hand. His hips stutter, jerking back when he feels you moan around him. "Fuck, you always take it so well."

Your lips grow numb just as you feel your body build to a climax. You know George is close with the way he's grabbing at your hips as he plows into you. Your stomach coils as you push your hips into him–wanting him to finish, wanting Matty to finish as you work against them.

Matty's grip on your hair lifts you up so you can see him. His teasing smirk is vacant, just watching your expression as his mouth forms an o shape and he's bringing you roughly down on his cock until he's coming in your mouth.

Swollen and raw, you swallow (because you always do).

When you come you're arching into George and then pulling your hips away from him as you grapple with the sensitivity bundling in your core. His hand falls between your legs as you jerk against him.

His thrusts turn sloppy, lazily bucking into you until he's flushed against your ass and spilling into you. You breathe his name repeatedly as your body comes down; pushing up from the desk you move to stand, leaning back against George.

And then his hand disappears from in between your legs and he's pulling up your panties that stretched around your thighs. You let him mess with your skirt until he's pulling it down your ass and brushing down the material like he's concerned with making you appear decent.

Amused and out of breath, you stare at him as he fumbles with the material of his sweats. Shifting your gaze, you watch Matty–whose hair is even more disheveled now–tuck himself back into his pants.

His eyes catch yours and you expect him to beckon you back to him with the wave of his hand. Matty gives you a lopsided smile and your heart twinges.

"One more thing, babe," He says, fiddling with the buttons of his trousers.

You realize George's come is soaking through your underwear and running down your inner thigh when you start to wander over to Matty.

Squeezing your legs together, you burn hot.

"Coffee," Matty finally says and you blankly stare at him. He grins, and you can't find it in yourself to despise him for it. Not ever. "Hot coffee would be great right now."

[stripedstarsblueflags]

shoutout to @escapentropy for this post and the brainrot rpf spiral i went into immediately after <3

anyway here is the fic about logan’s appearance on an instagram story and how alex may or may not have felt about it

The spaces between the stars

George knew something was wrong as soon as he saw the story.

For one thing, it was two in the morning. Not an abysmal time for anyone to be on social media, just abysmal for Alex. George still thinks it’s hilarious that Alex has screen time limits on his phone like an internet-addicted teenager, but he’s listened to enough lectures about the detriments of blue light and sleep cycles to bring it up anymore. And anyway, it’s not like Alex is any more responsive during the day. Over a decade into their friendship, and Alex is one of the worst texters George has ever met. If Alex isn’t texting back at 2 am, he definitely isn’t engaging in the cesspool of the internet. That had been a red flag in and of itself.

The story itself had been an even bigger hint: camera pointed straight up, showing a slightly blurry close-up of the night sky. If it was a constellation, George hadn’t known it; there was no tag, no caption, nothing. There also hadn’t been a hint of a horizon line or any indication of where the picture had been taken, but George hadn’t needed one.

He calls Alex a few minutes after he’d gotten the notification, and of course Alex picks up immediately.

“Get off the roof,” George says in lieu of a greeting.

Alex doesn’t say anything for a bit, leaving an awkward, staticky murmur on the other end of the line. Finally, he protests sheepishly, “I’m not on the roof.”

“You are,” George insists. “Don’t fuck with me. You’re at that little deck with the telescope and plants that no one’s watered in a month, and you’re not supposed to be there.”

Alex makes a sound halfway between a scoff and a laugh. “Would you believe me if I told you I finally paid for roof access?”

“No.”

Alex laughs again, but his voice sounded jagged and painful, rough around the edges.

“Come on,” George prompts. “You hate breaking rules. You only go up there when you’re stressed about something.”

“That’s…” Alex tries to begin, then trails off.

“Did you only post that star story cause you knew I would see it?”

The silence is enough of an answer.

George sighs. “Get off the roof. I’m coming over.”

“Really?” Alex’s voice is timid, almost a whisper. He sounds weak, like all the wind has been knocked out of him and he hasn’t had time to recover.

It hurts George just to listen to. “Yes, really. Someone needs to make sure you don’t engage in more criminal activity.”

“Fine, I’ll get off the roof!”

When Alex opens the door, he looks exactly how he’d sounded on the phone.

“Mate, you look terrible,” George informs him.

Alex rolls his eyes, then steps aside to let George in. “Thanks. Your commentary is always appreciated.”

George ignores the back talk. “Have you slept at all?”

Alex knots his fingers in his hair and pulls distractedly. He shrugs his shoulders, looking like he’s trying to curl into himself. “It’s not that late.”

“It’s late for you.” George steps forward and takes Alex by the shoulders, forcing him to stay still. “Alex.”

Alex struggles to meet his gaze. There are shadows under his eyes. Even under George’s hands he’s trying to fidget, shifting his weight, hands twitching at his sides.

“I didn’t come here to listen to you lie to me. You basically sent up the bat signal.”

That gets a laugh, Alex playfully trying to shrug George away. “Right. I forgot. You’re the British Batman. Who gets summoned by… stars.”

“You’re making me sound so poetic.” George claps him on the shoulder and pushes him gently in the general direction of the couch. “Sit down. I’m making us tea, and then you’re going to tell me what’s bothering you.”

“Is that an order?”

George looks over his shoulder at Alex’s smirk. “You know what? For old time’s sake, yes.” He finds a small stuffed cat toy on the counter and throws it at him.

When George brings in the tea, Alex is already surrounded by cats.

George laughs at the sight, Alex leaned back into the couch with two cats fighting for space on his lap and another draped lazily in some anatomically incorrect position over the armrest. “They gonna make room for me?” he asks, holding out one of the mugs.

Alex sits up straighter to take it, and one of the cats flicks its ears haughtily and strolls across the room.

“Your presence offends her,” Alex explains. “So yes.”

“I’m heartbroken.” A friendlier cat nuzzles George’s hand; he scratches it behind the ears. “You gonna tell me why you went up there?”

Alex looks away from him, slowly chewing his lower lip. He stares at the wall as if the picturue frames will tell him what to say. George waits patiently.

“Well, I should definitely stop,” Alex says at last, trying to laugh at himself. It falls flat quickly and he gives up. “I got in trouble for it, once, a few years ago. I think it belongs to only the top floor, not the whole building…” He boops one cat on the tip of the nose and it wrinkles up its face, swiping a paw over its eyes. He smiles at it. “Anyway, it’s one of the highest places in Monaco. You can see the stars better there than anywhere else– that I’ve found, at least… I don’t know, it just, it feels really peaceful up there. It helps me think clearly.”

George knows he’s not being given the whole story; Alex knows it too. George sips at his tea and says nothing. Alex doesn’t like silence; the longer George stays quiet, the more Alex will say just to fill the void. It’s not a very nice tactic, but letting Alex deflect and ramble and run away from his feelings isn’t helpful either.

Alex drinks his tea, pulling his sleeves over his hands and holding the mug close to his chest. “And I’ve got good memories, too… not like, that roof in particular– just, stars in general, I guess. That sounds stupid. Everyone has–”

“What’s the memory?” George asks softly.

Alex looks over at him then. He doesn’t say it out loud, but the gratitude is plain on his face, the shine in his eyes. Then he casts his eyes back down to the cats. “Last Christmas,” he begins “they did this video thing with me and Logan, just a bunch of questions, you know…” He waves a hand vaguely. “This interview thing. It was so silly, I don’t even remember a whole lot of it. But the thing way, the setup they chose was like this tiny inn in the middle of nowhere– I mean nowhere. And by the time we were done shooting it was night, because of course it was, and I remember we stepped out and there were just so many stars.”

Alex tilts his head back and looks at the ceiling, like if he reaches far enough into the memory he can bring the stars back with him. He takes a deep breath. “Y’know. Because there was less light pollution…”

“Yeah, so much gets washed out in the city,” George offers.

Alex nods. “Exactly. And I’ve been in like, less bright areas before, it had just been a while since I’d been able to see that many. And I remember I looked over at Logan cause I was gonna say something, like ‘Holy shit, it looks like we’re in space’… and he was just.” Alex stops, swallows heavily. He looks back into his tea, breathes out, watches the surface ripple. Then he leans over and places the tea, barely touched, on a side table. He rubs at his eyes and tries to pass it off as scratching an itch; George doesn’t call him out.

“He was just looking up at the sky,” Alex continues, voice softening with nostalgia, “and… and there was this expression on his face like I’d never seen before. He just looked so, like… fascinated. Enchanted.” He laughs a little, eyes far-away, and tucks his feet under him. One of his cats meows frustratedly at the change of position before settling down again. “I mean, he looked like a little kid. Like he’d never seen a night sky before, just smiling up at it… And I think I probably teased him in the moment. ‘Do they not have stars in America’, or… something.”

George feels a cat pawing at his shins and sits back. The cat jumps into his lap and turns to stare attentively at Alex. Even the animals are drawn in by the story, the way the emotions in Alex’s voice have started to fill the room like morning fog.

“But I kind of wish I hadn’t,” Alex adds, shuddering, “because I thought back after and I realized I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d seen him that happy.” His hand, in the middle of stroking a cat, falls limply to his side. “Relaxed. Not for the cameras, not playing anything off. There was just this moment where he was genuinely just happy about something. And I didn’t figure this out until later, but… I think it hit me so hard because I realized I hadn’t thought I was ever gonna see him like that again. Like, the season had been so tough for us, and especially toward the end it was really dragging him down, and I just sort of expected that. The way he used to look at everything like, no light in his eyes. Gone.”

George says quietly, “He never looked at you like that.”

Alex shoots his gaze over, focus sharpening to a razor-point. “Don’t,” he chokes out in a wavering, inflamed voice. “I’ve told you. You can’t make me… think like that.”

George puts down his tea so he can shift closer to Alex. “Mate, I’m just saying the facts. We’re in the same paddock. I know you know him better, but the rest of us aren’t blind. This season, when you two are together… he looks at you like–”

Alex puts his hand up.

George sits back, spreading his palms. “Okay,” he says quietly. “Too far?”

“Sorry.” Alex sniffles, then tries to hide it with a cough. “It’s just–” He nudges a cat off his lap so he can pull his phone out of his pocket. He scrolls through a couple photos until he pauses on a screenshot, then reaches out and shows it to George. “Have you seen this?”

George looks at the picture. “Not the original. I’ve seen it reposted, though.”

It’s the last thing Logan’s posted on his story, shared from someone named Zack Justice (George doesn’t know if he’s supposed to recognize that name) and it’s a picture of Logan. Playing golf.

The sun is shining. The sky is a perfect, picturesque blue. The green stretches on to the horizon, unbroken color that contrasts elegantly with the sky above. The horizon line is right at the halfway point of the image. It couldn’t be more aesthetic.

Logan isn’t too close to the camera, but he’s still recognizable. He’s also not wearing blue.

Alex takes back the phone but doesn’t turn it off. He stares at the photo, glassy-eyed, blue light throwing stark shadows across his face. His expression is lethargic, unreadable, but George has known Alex long enough to tell when he’s spiraling into his own thoughts.

Carefully, he takes the phone form Alex’s hand and flips it face-down onto the couch. An additional cat, seemingly from nowhere, plops onto the couch and sits between them, covering the phone with its tail.

Alex smiles, gentle and hurt. “Point taken.” He looks at his lap and twists his fingers together until another cat head-butts his hands. “This was the first sign of, like, anything. Sign of life, I guess. Since the… since Tuesday.”

“You haven’t talked since then?”

Alex shakes his head, and the motion is abrupt, almost violent. “Every message I send turns green, I… I think he blocked me.” His voice is almost completely shattered, words thick and effortful.

George doesn’t say anything. He just reaches over and rests his hand on Alex’s shoulder.

Alex finally loooks back at him and clasps George’s hand between both of his own.

“You miss him,” George murmurs.

Whatever chains Alex had been wrapping around himself snap and the tears fall like a storm. Dark and churning and unforgiving. He’s silent when he cries, teeth gritted, shoulders shaking.

George squeezes his hand, and Alex squeezes back. He’s clutching hard enough to hurt, but George doesn’t pull away.

Alex takes a deep breath and coughs on the exhale. He speaks like his voice cuts his throat on the way out. “He’s happier now, I think… I mean, he got away from it all. He got out.”

“It wasn’t you he was trying to get away from,” George insists fiercely. “He needs space.”

“Fucking hell, I know he needs space,” Alex spits out, voice rising. George tugs on his hands a little, shaking him, and Alex forces himself to take a deep breath. “But I need him.”

George stays very still.

He has to choose his next words carefully. He’s known about Alex’s feelings for months, had his suspicions long before that. He’s the only one who does, because Alex wouldn’t trust anyone else with the secret. He’d told George that, point-blank. And George had kept his word, obviously.

He’d worried for Alex, though. Has been whole time. Between Williams and Logan there was a ticking time bomb, and if George could’ve saved Alex from the shrapnel he would have. But hopes that it was just a phase, that it was just temporary infatuation that would fade over time, were dashed quickly. Whatever Alex felt was serious, and it was going to get him seriously hurt.

After the one confession they had barely spoken about it– not in explicit terms, anyway. As the 2024 season staggered on, their conversations started edging closer to the subject. Any mention of Logan was entangled with references and hints and what had practically become a code between them, all so Alex didn’t have to look the truth in the face. George wished it wasn’t happening; he wished his friend wasn’t setting himself up for heartbreak like this. But it wouldn’t have been fair to tell Alex to change and George would never hurt him like that anyway.

But this night, Alex’s talent for sidestepping reality is dead and buried. He’s hurt and he’s lost and his vulnerable, so George won’t say his own truth:

This was doomed from the start.

You’ve let yourself be hurt by things out of your control.

You can’t race with your head like this.

You need to move on.

Instead he only says, “He’ll come back to you.”

Alex releases one hand to nudge a cat closer to his chest. He lowers his head, voice muffled by the fur. “I wish I could believe you.”

[antimonyandthyme]

1k; alex/logan; after the australian gp

His phone was clinking incessantly. Very determinedly. Logan dredged up determination in equal counterforce to ignore it.

“Whoever it is,” Alex said, “is being clingier than cling wrap.”

“Not your best,” Logan said.

“Whatever. Why don’t you answer it?”

“It’s probably just Oscar.”

That got him an Oh? Alex shifted, groaning, stretching his arms out in a way that was not meant to be sexy at all, but somehow still painfully was. Logan stared down at the wrinkled sheets instead. He was shaky all over, but kept himself still. “What does he want?”

“To check on me, probably.”

“Good friend,” Alex said. His tone landed somewhere in the middle of a chromatic scale, careful, but not too wary, interested, but not too concerned.

I don’t know about you and George, but me and Oscar, we get along just—

It was too early to be this petty. “Yeah,” he said, and left it at that.

Except Alex had a bone to chew. His not-quite smile was sharp, his eyes a little too assessing. Logan supposed the morning-after spiral presented itself differently in everybody.

“What will you tell him?”

“That I spent the night fucking my teammate,” Logan said.

Alex pulled back, like that scalded. Okay, ouch.

Logan sighed. Oscar always said there was no point wielding a knife if he was going to feel bad about it, less than a second after. It was a habit he couldn’t rid himself of.

“Of course I’m not saying that. Just—that I’m sleeping in. Or something else believable. I’m not an idiot.”

“Didn’t say you were.” Alex ran his fingers through his hair, which barely served to dissuade any unruliness. He looked so rumpled it was almost endearing. Logan had the maddening urge to smooth him down, act as sandpaper to Alex’s edges. “Sorry. I’m not being. I’m not—”

“You’re being an ass,” Logan said flatly. “Can you have your freakout later? After we’ve showered, at least?”

Of all things. Alex’s smile softened, turned a little more real. “So you admit it.”

“Admit what.”

“You are mad at me.”

I’m not mad, Logan had said last night, when Alex showed up with a bottle of conciliatory wine and a hand rubbing the back of his neck, so unusually uncertain of himself that Logan felt the inane need to comfort him. Alex, I promise I’m not. Here, to prove how not mad I am, let’s finish this bottle together. See?

“I’m—” He shut his mouth. There were very few pretenses here. Eyes red-rimmed and bodies tender in the most intimate of places, sheets still faintly damp. “I’m being childish.”

“You’re not being childish,” Alex said shortly. “Something got taken away from you, and for what?”

Logan shrugged. It wasn’t Alex’s fault, that much was certain. But the taste on his tongue soured past morning staleness when he thought of James. “It was for the team.”

Alex rolled his eyes. “Get out of here with that bullshit.”

“I should have crashed my car, like Max suggested.”

“That’s more like it.” Even the flyaway strands in Alex’s hair appeared delighted now. “Let it all out.”

The corners of Logan’s mouth twitched up. “What are you trying to encourage? Our own multi two-one?”

Alex scoffed. “When Williams makes better cars, maybe.”

It sounded impossible, even as people who had the patience to recognize dreams took what felt like eons to manifest. And anyway, Alex wasn’t the person he’d endure a silver war with. Logan’s phone was still making glass-shattering noises.

“You should reply.” Alex relaxed back into bed. They were both equally grateful for the distraction from their futures’ uncertainties. “Way it sounds, he’s about to have a conniption.”

Logan could picture it, Oscar’s not-anxious-anxious face, the line of his mouth flattening impossibly further the longer it took to get a response.

sorry, shit signal last night

Mate, the response was instant and borderline angry. Where are you?

in bed

Not technically a lie.

hungover

Ok, Oscar said. You good?

Was he? Alex was looking at him, expression threaded with amusement and an understanding reserved for teammates who only knew how to take things from each other. The night could’ve been worse spent. Alex’s mouth, hot against his, and his calloused hand, rough against his sensitive, greedy cock, was welcome enough to push James’ sympathetic face out of his head for a decent enough time.

i’m good. thanks. appreciate you asking osc

“You’re awfully polite for an American.”

“Fuck off,” Logan said.

There was another unopened text that surely Alex had caught a glimpse of as well. Logan tossed the phone aside. His lips found the underside of Alex’s jaw. Alex’s groan was exceedingly nice to listen to. The stutter in his hips, the surprised gasp he released, as Logan worked his way downward, was even more rewarding.

Later, showering—

“I’ll say no, the next time.”

Alex was playing with the suds in Logan’s hair, making snowmen that stuck out like lumpy marshmallows. The shower in the hotel room, like all showers in hotel rooms tend to be, had misty glass enclosure walls. Logan checked their reflections out in the mirror. They looked presentable, pressed up against each other. Friendly, like all good teammates should be.

“Good, good,” Alex said absently. He continued massaging Logan’s hair.

There was a small flicker of irritation. “I’m being serious.”

“I know you are,” Alex said. He smoothed the shampoo down, palm slick and comfortable, then scratched his fingers gently against Logan’s scalp. “You’re allowed, of course. To say no.”

You’re allowed, Logan heard in the silence that followed, to see where that takes you.

Coming from Alex, it didn’t sound that patronizing. More generous, really. Encouraging. Maybe they would have their own multi two-one, after all.

The text: Logan, I’d like to discuss some things with you today, if you have time.

Impossible, aggravating. James hardly needed to ask for Logan’s time. It was already his.

Logan leaned his head back, snug against Alex’s collarbone. The spray was pleasant, going around his eyes, courtesy of the shield Alex’s back provided. It was warm.

He thought about what to say.

[alicentflorent]

the amount of cope I'm seeing from that fandom about helaena since the blog post is so entertaining. reading comprehension is dead because they'll try to argue that helaena was only popular because of "a missing treasury" and rhaenyras taxes when no that's not what george wrote! grrm pointing out helaena was a "sweet and gentle soul" was not accidental - its clear that he intended her being well liked because of this!! it had nothing to do with rhaenyra herself being in a shitty position.

furthermore when it comes to helaena & rhaenyra it makes a lot of sense - helaena has lived in KL her entire life. rhaenyra on the other hand has been away on dragonstone. with the timeline being different it was even longer - about 9 years (120-129).

it's so annoying because rhaenyra has other things going for her but that lot is determined to take this from her sister

like lmafo alicent girlies are even half as mad about alicents own popularity among the smallfolk not being a thing as tb are mad about grrm confirming this about helaena. because in fire & blood grrm wrote that alicent was "beloved of the smallfolk" i can definitely see that starting off as alicent being genuinely compassionate and kind hearted like helaena in the early youth of her queenship (remember this is the woman who looked after a dying jaehaerys with great tenderness) and then maturing into more calculating as she began to see that smallfolk favor could be vital given the situation with rhaenyra and aegon. but nor do I think it was all calculation and pr - I think alicent having genuine care adds more depth to her character in that no was she a sweet woman who was the soul of gentleness? no, she could be capable of cruelty but at the same time there was a side of her that made her naturally do well with the smallfolk

This!! Helaena died as a sweet young woman, her story is tragic because she was genuinely a kind person and I always imagined she was seen the way people saw princess Diana. It’s never mentioned how much she interacted with the smallfolk but I just imagine she had this natural warm, kind, loving way about her which is why she is always called “sweet”.

As for Alicent, I imagine she had some genuine care early on like you said but I imagine she was like show!margaery, she probably did charity and won the people over with her charm and charisma (she must have been charismatic, intelligent and likeable if viserys fell for her and the men on the green council respected her) and she knew how to play the game, she knew how to win over smallfolk and nobles alike. Even Rhaenyra who may not have been well liked as queen, during the destruction of war by dragon fire, was known as the realms delight, the people loved her once and she always had lots of friends and ladies around her. Alicent and Rhaenyra got more ruthless and cutthroat with age when they were women and mothers trying to protect themselves and their children and the deaths of their innocent children/grandchildren pushed them over the edge and brought out their darkest sides.

[jusst-you-race]

gewis + 38 please☺️

okay it took me a couple days to get around to this sorry! hope you enjoy some law school awkward gewis <3 from this prompt list! (happy for more requests now that I have time for them)

“I like your laugh.”

George hastily scoops up his belongings as Toto dismisses them. He shoves his notebook and laptop into his bag, wincing at himself at the haphazard way they jostle around, and then hurries to the front of the lecture hall using all the elbow he feels he can get away with before people think he’s rude. Even so slightly out of breath he stops in front of the lecturer.

“Toto. I just had a question about that decision you told us to read for next class. I was having trouble finding it so I’m not sure I took the reference down correctly, can I just double check it?”

Toto smiles at him apologetically before he swings his bag over his shoulder.

“Sorry, George, I have to run. Lewis should be able to help with that though.” And with that he sweeps out of the lecture hall, leaving George at the mercy of his TA.

Lewis has already been slightly swarmed by other students asking questions, most of which George assumes aren’t actual questions and just desperate bids for Lewis’ attention. 

Normally George avoids asking Lewis his questions; it’s just easier to go to Toto when everyone else is wary of their lecturer and desperate to talk to the TA. And, though George is loath to admit it, he does also think Lewis is the most beautiful man he’s seen. George isn’t great at talking to beautiful men. But, his studies are important to him, so he swallows down the vague butterflies in his stomach (and internally bemoans their existence) and loiters around the edges of the slowly thinning crowd around Lewis. 

Eventually, everyone else has had their questions patiently answered, and Lewis turns his gap toothed smile on George. George smiles awkwardly back. 

“How can I help, George?” 

Heat rises in his cheeks at the revelation that Lewis knows his name. George swallows.

“I just wanted to double check the reference for the decision Toto wants us to read. I couldn’t find it, so I must have noted it down wrong.” 

Lewis smiles kindly at him before flipping through his own notes. He makes a soft noise, and holds out a piece of paper pointing to a line.

“Here, is this the one you meant?” 

George has to lean in closer to Lewis to see where he’s pointing, and it takes him a second to actually read what’s on the page, too distracted by the scent of Lewis’ cologne he can now make out. 

“Oh. I had the year wrong.” He pulls a pen out of his pocket and quickly scribbles the correct reference on the back of his hand. Lewis snorts.

“Careful with that,” he says, nodding at George’s hand when George looks up questioningly. “I once ended up with my reading imprinted on my face after a nap and no one told me for half a day.”

The image of Lewis, usually so composed and put together, walking around with pen on his face is so bizarre to George that it startles a laugh out of him before he can even try to tamp it down. Thankfully, Lewis chuckles along with him. George looks down to put his pen away and is about to thank him, when Lewis clears his throat.

“I like your laugh.” 

George’s head snaps up. There’s a mischievous glint in Lewis’ eye, but he doesn’t seem disingenuous. George feels his face start to go bright red. 

“Uh. Thanks? Um. You too.” He cringes at his own response. Lewis’ mouth quirks up in an amused (maybe even fond? George doesn’t dare read that much into it) smile. “Well,” George continues, still flustered. “I better...” He waves vaguely at the door, before awkwardly moving towards it, still half turned towards Lewis.

“See you next class, George.” 

George nods stiltedly, and then all but runs out of the room.

[tomkaulitzssgirl]

Words can hurt | Bill Kaulitz x Male Reader

requested by: @billsjum6ie <3

“i’ll tell you one last time bill, i’m not coming to this dinner thing with your band. i’m tired! i just came back from work.” you complained as you prepared yourself a meal while bill was trying to stop you in every way.

tokio hotel had organised a dinner all together since it was a night where they had free time, and he wanted you to meet the george, gustav and the staff. you had already met tom of course.

“c’mon! i’m asking you nicely. it’s not like you have to do something, you just need to sit down and fucking eat!” bill protested grabbing the stirring pot from your hand and throwing it in the sink.

you gasped at his gesture, he really became a child when you guys argued and he always wanted to be right.

“it’s not just that! i have to talk and be active when in reality i just wanna go to fucking sleep, bill! i don’t understand why you’re making such a big deal out of this, i’ll meet them some other day!” you threw your hands in the air as you talked, before rolling your eyes and turning your back to him.

“because i want you to meet them today! it’s important to me, but you only think about yourself like always.” he folded his arms to his chest, leaning against the counter and looking at you with an air of superiority.

your eyes widened and you let out a sarcastic laugh, looking at him incredule, “i only think about myself? me? yeah right! because i’m the one who doesn’t have time for their partner since work comes first but expects them to cater to his every need!”

“yeah well at least i don’t complain for being tired when all i do is sleep and work in a damn pub!” bill yelled, the vein in his neck growing bigger.

you were speechless as you heard what he said, you couldn’t believe it. your own boyfriend had shamed you for your job, knowing exactly how much of a failure you felt for not being able to find anything related to your major.

you scoffed losing the appetite, so you turned off everything you were using to cook and stormed off the kitchen, leaving bill alone. he knew he had fucked up.

the next two days were spent in total silence.

bill tried to talk to you or even touch you, but you would simply ignore him giving him the silent treatment. you usually didn’t do it, you were always ready to talk things out, but this time he had crossed the line.

his words hurt so bad and made you see him in a different light. he was the person that had to love and make you feel worthy, but now he had become the reason of your overthinking.

one night, after an exhausting day at work where people seemed to get on your nerves more than usual, you went back home.

the house was silent and usually bill would be on the couch waiting for you and trying to talk, but he was nowhere in sight.

you shrugged it off thinking he would’ve been with his brother, so you just walked up the stairs to go to your room.

you opened the door, surprisingly finding him there, laying on the bed. his body was trembling and you could hear sniffles so of course you understood he was crying, but what confused you was the suitcase at the edge of the bed.

you walked to him, your heart aching at the sight. no matter how angry you were, you couldn’t stand seeing him cry.

your hand touched his back, making him jump up at the sudden touch. his eyes locked in yours and he began to cry even harder.

putting your pride away, you just hugged him while sighing, kissing his forehead. “it’s okay.” you whispered, closing your eyes.

“i’m sorry…i’m so sorry. i didn’t mean what i said, i was just angry.” he sobbed in your shoulder, completely broken. you nodded pressing your lips together.

“i know, i’m sorry too. we argued for a stupid thing.” you put a lock of his hair behind his ear, stroking his cheek. he smiled softly.

“what’s up with the suitcase though?” you asked pointing at it.

“y-you know my ex used to not talk to me and leave for days before deciding to come back s-so i thought you were going to do the same thing.” bill looked down at his hands while playing with his rings as he said that.

you shook your head frantically, taking his hands in yours and holding them tightly, “i would never do that. i’m sorry that i even made you think about it. i was just angry and i reacted like a kid. i promised i won’t do that anymore, okay? next time, we communicate in a calm way.” you wiped his tears away.

bill nodded at you words, his cheeks pressing against the palm of your hand as he closed his eyes.

suddenly, you started tickling him knowing how much he suffered it, and he started laughing.

“stop! baby stop!” he laughed while trying to take your wrists. you did it some more before he blocked you, getting on top of you.

“i only want to see you smile.” you whispered before biting your lower lip.

bill looked at you with pure, genuine love in his eyes before pressing his lips against yours passionately.

you know what happened next.

[dark-elf-writes]

“Slytherin isnt bad,” the red headed boy on the train says to Harry. “My brother Percy is one. According to my other brothers Fred and George, nobody does anything without his say so.” Ron grind. “Malfoy is in for a sore surprise when he gets in and they don’t just pander to him. Bet he’s expecting it.”

Percy, who stopped by to check on his youngest brother and summoned Neville’s toad. Who had offered to place a small spell on their door to prevent people who just wanted to see the Boy Who Lived from finding them.

(Percy who looked at his youngest brother and saw a badger instead of a lion. Who'd already pulled the twins aside before to tell them it didn't matter where they went. Who had been the first to clap when two redheads went to Ravenclaw, their love of knowledge even it was to learn to prank leading them.)

Its a different Harry sitting under that hat.

(sorry couldn't resist)

Harry who gets support and care from the moment he meets the Weasleys.

Who makes a friend over a pile of junk food and failed spells. Who laughs so hard he nearly chokes on a chocolate frog when Ron makes a face at whatever terrible flavor of bean he got. Who is still feeling light and bubbly with joy when they talk about houses and Harry confesses he’s heard some… things from Hagrid that he didn’t know how to feel about (as kind as Hagrid had been, Harry had never trusted a word from an adult’s mouth. Adults lied all the time whether on purpose or because they had lied to theirselves so much that they tricked themselves into thinking they knew the truth. Adults had lied about him for years after all, accused him of things he didn’t do or called him bad for things that Dudley made up. Why would he trust them?).

Ron, surprisingly, gets serious at his words. Sits up straight and looks at him with those deep blue eyes and a smudge of dirt on his nose.

“No house is all good or all bad. My brother told me that, and he’s pretty much always right. Percy has been in Slytherin for years and he’s not dark or evil or whatever. He still holds Gin when she cries and fusses when I try to eat dessert before dinner. ‘S just a place, innit? Places don’t make you bad just by being places.” The serious mask cracks and suddenly Ron looks just as impish as his brother had when they had been yelling about toilet seats. “‘Sides, Percy is there. If anyone could turn a bad place good it’s him. Even tossers like Malfoy won’t stand a chance against him.”

Harry isn’t so sure how one person could make an entire house good (the train was bloody massive and if even a forth of the people on it were Slytherins what was still a lot of bloody Slytherins). Or at least, he wasn’t until he met Percy Weasley.

He was already in his robes, perfectly pressed and unapologetically green around the edges as he eased their door open. He takes in the sight of them, still red faced with joy and surrounded by sweets and wrappers alike, before tossing a wrapped sandwich (different from the smashed one Ron had pulled form his pocket earlier, perfectly preserved with Ron’s name written on it in a meticulous hand) to Ron with a pointed look.

“Eat something of substance, and try not to ruin your dinner, Ronald. Do share with your friend too. The two of you need something other than sugar in you or you will both be sick halfway through dinner.”

Percy didn’t seem evil. A bit fussy maybe, protective certainly after he had headed off a group of giggling older girls whisper Harry’s name and peering into compartments, downright kind when he had helped Neville find his toad and had passed it back to the trembling boy with steady hands and a soft look that screamed older brother. He just seemed like a person. A nice person even. Harry could have picked him and Ron out as brothers even without their matching noses and hair.

Harry thought he liked him. Even if he was getting close to being an adult.

It was Percy’s expression as he handed Neville his toad and Ron’s voice in his ears (“Places don’t make you bad just by being places.”) that Harry held in his mind as the hat fell over his eyes and a voice resonated in his head. An adult voice. Did hats count as adults?

“You would thrive in any house you know,” That voice croons too close and too loud in the space between his ears. Harry was definitely regretting all the pumpkin pasties before dinner now. “But you already seem to have your mind made up.”

Cunning and ambition weren’t bad. Weren’t evil. They had kept him alive after all. Had kept him one step ahead of his relatives and the bullies and everyone else that wanted to hurt him. And places were just places. And Percy Weasley wasn’t evil.

Harry Potter held his head high (not that anyone could tell with the hat dwarfing him) as the hat screamed its decision to the room.

“SLYTHERIN!”

Ron’s voice broke through the stunned silence, hooting and cheering as he jumped around in the dwindling group of unsorted first years. Three more voices joined his, just as delighted, just as kind, just as loud. His brothers from both Slytherin and Ravenclaw, filling the silence with their joy for him. With their celebration of who Harry was despite what others might think. After another heartbeat there were big booming claps from behind him, Hagrid, celebrating him even through his general nervousness around Slytherin.

They were the only ones who cheered. Harry didn’t mind as he handed the hat back and claimed the seat Percy had cleared for him under the heavy eyes of the headmaster and the rest of Hogwarts.

(Harry made sure to cheer just as loud for Ron when he was sorted into Hufflepuff, shouting until his voice strained and Percy nudged a cup of tea toward him with a pointed look and a smile that took away all hear that might have been behind it.)

[futurepastme]

Gaius and Merlin have dinner and talk about Uther

Just because I haven't really posted anything Merlin lately, (I think) here's a little scene with Gaius (not merthur for once yet):

Merlin was about to go back to read more about some spells he had marked as ‘must learn,’ when he heard the door to the physician’s chambers opening. He waited before leaving his room - he was off duty and didn’t really want to see anyone - until he heard the characteristic sound of Gaius’ cauldron going into the fire, only then he left to the main chambers with his new treasure of a book in hand.

Gaius had half of his body leaning over the cauldron, mixing their dinner - porridge, probably - with a long wood spoon. Merlin watched him work on it for a while before removing the spoon and tapping it on the cauldron’s edge to make sure there was nothing left on it. Gaius turned around and gave a little jump of surprise upon finding his nephew staring at him.

“Good God, my boy, are you trying to get me killed?”

“Never! You’re the one that cooks dinner, If I caused your death I’d starve.” He smiled at Gaius as the old man shook his head.

Gaius went around the room collecting the books he was using earlier that morning, putting them on a neat pile before heading to the bookshelf.

“So, long meeting, wasn’t it?” Merlin drifted back to his earlier place at the table, setting his book on top of it and looking at Gaius’ white head of hair as he worked on putting the books away. He saw him shake his head.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into Uther this time, but I fear it is nothing good.”

“I heard he’s inviting a bunch of kings to this week’s feast?”

Gaius turned around, the one eyebrow of disapproval raised. “And where, pray tell, did you came upon this information?’’

“I made George tell me.” Merlin answered with a sheepish smile.

Gaius shook his head again, this time glaring at Merlin, and walked back to the cauldron now that he was finished with the books. “It’s wrong anyway,” he stirred it a little bit before reaching for a pot, filling it with a spoonful. “Uther cancelled this week’s feast. Should be announced to the rest of the castle first thing in the morning.”

Merlin stood up and began setting two seats at the table so they could eat. “That’s good then, if he’s no longer receiving the kings, I mean.” He filled two goblets with the drinking water they had in a jar, and sat down at his place. Gaius marched to join him, holding two pots of porridge for them. 

“Ha!” Gaius sat the pots with more strength than usual making them clank, “If only! He has postponed it to the end of the month.” Gaius satdown and picked up his spoon then pointed it at Merlin, using it to emphasize his words. “He didn’t clarify what exactly it is that he wants to discuss with the kings, he kept calling it the Peace Convention.” He shook his head again. “I’m worried.”

Merlin sighed, “Does he not recall what happened the last time? I bet King Alined still wants war, and King Olaf must still be angry with Arthur, I mean, Princess Vivian was still enchanted to be in love with him when they left.”

Gaius shook his head again with quick movements while still eating, when he was done swallowing he answered “I don’t know what goes on Uther’s head these days, Merlin.”

Merlin scraped off the rest of his dinner with the spoon, he hadn’t realized how starved he had been, and stood up to have his seconds. 

“You should ask Arthur about it, Uther kept him in the room after dismissing the council.”

“Arthur’s still there?” He sat down with his now refilled pot and went back to eating. “Great, he’s going to be insufferable in the morning. What could Uther possibly want with him after a whole day?”

“After the normal meeting subjects, Uther spent most of the afternoon trying to convince the council to receive the dignities at this week’s feast, it took us a long time to convince him otherwise.” Gaius finished his pot and stood up to get his own seconds. “Whatever is he wanted with Arthur, he either didn’t have a chance to bring it up this evening, or just didn’t want the rest of the council to intervene with more of his plans.”

Gaius sat back at the table to start his seconds, while Merlin rested his head on his hands after finishing his own. Both men kept quiet for a while, lost in their own minds as Gaius finished his dinner.

“Anything interesting in that book of yours?” Gaius changed the subject, and with the memory of the new spells he would be able to learn, Merlin smiled, ready to give him an answer.

He didn’t have a chance to, though, as they heard the characteristic Rat-tat-tat of knocking on the door.

“Come in.” Merlin said, as Gaius was still chewing.

The door opened to reveal a tired-looking George, he greeted them both with a nod before turning to address Merlin. “Prince Arthur has summoned you, Merlin.”

Merlin let a little sigh fall from his mouth, frustrated with the interruption - he really wanted to talk with Gaius about the book - as he stood up, headed to join George at the door. “Thank you, George.” He stopped midway to glance one last time to Gaius, his dirty dishes - cleaning them was his task, as Gaius always cooked dinner - and his book.

“Go see what the prince needs.” Gaius dismissed him with a wave and a nod. “We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

Merlin nodded goodbye and joined George, closing the door behind them.

☽♚☾