#like girl what did they do to you. where are even your parents

[heartmix]

My Girls - MV1

Pairing: Max Verstappen x singlemom!reader

Word Count: 1.4k+

Warning: poking fun at max, dad!max, no use of y/n but daughters name is Aria

A/N: dad max content. I have a part 2 in mind so that will be coming soon

F1 Masterlist / Masterlist

"Can I ask you a question, it's totally okay if you say no."

"What is it?"

"When do you think I'll be able to meet her?" the question caught you off guard. 

You knew what he was asking, he was asking when he'd be able to meet your daughter. Being a young single mom was not in the books for you. With her father leaving before she was even born you quickly tossed out the idea of finding a relationship. Sure, there have been many instances where people dated single parents, but since you had her when you were young, the idea did seem impossible. You've been preparing for the moment for months, but it still caught you off guard. Coming up on a year of being together it was bound to happen. 

Noticing your silence he quickly tried to defuse the tension, "I mean it's totally up to you. I don't mean to rush you or anything, I want to let you know that I'm committed to you and I'm not going anywhere. I want to be there for both of you."

"Sure." 

"Sure?" He clarified, a smile spreading across his face quickly, one you matched instantly. A simple nod was all he needed to take you into his arms and give you the most bone-crushing hug. Seeing him make a big deal settled all your nerves.

Max's hand was shaking way too much to be meeting a 2-year-old. From the stories you told about the little one, he saw that she was friendly and was willing to meet new people so the fact that he was shaking so much was comical. He's had meetings with some of the richest people in the world and met world leaders, hell people would have this reaction meeting him and he would laugh it off saying he was just a normal person. So why was this little one making him more nervous than a race day? 

It had to do with the fact that she was yours—the light of your life and the only person in your life you prioritized. The more he thought about it, the more that person became you to him, and this was just the final step to make everything feel real. If the little girl didn't like you, he knew you wouldn't hesitate to break it off, and he couldn't blame you.

With one final head shake to try and get rid of the nervousness he knocked on the front door. Did he knock too hard that he startled the little one? Should he have knocked? Maybe he should have texted you he was outside. It's been months since he knocked on your door, having his own key to the place. Before he could think of any other ridiculous thoughts the door opened the reveal you, standing in all your glory with that welcoming gorgeous smile he fell in love with. 

"I can't believe meeting my kid got you out of wearing a Red Bull kit. I can't even get you to do that." Your teasing tone snapped him out of the trance. Max couldn't help but laugh at that being your comment in a situation like this. 

"It's just a black shirt schatje. I can hardly say I dressed up." he glanced looking down at his black shirt and some jeans. He would be lying if he said he didn't think about what to wear today. 

"Oh please, Max Verstappen outside of anything Red Bull is dressing up." 

"You're not helping." he groaned seeing as you were enjoying every minute of this. He was going to get payback, if everything went okay after all.

"Why are you so nervous?"

"How are you not?" He asked not seeing any concerning features. He expected you to be more worried and in a worse state than him actually.

"Because I know you, I know how great you are, and that my baby will love you." You smiled while wrapping your arms around his neck, Max immediately circling his around your waist. Maybe if you weren't worried he shouldn't be either. "Come on, she's expecting you." Grabbing his hand and pulling him further into the house.

Before he rounded the corner to the living room he heard the sound of what to be a Disney song playing on the speakers and toys clashing with one another. He's been to your house enough times to know how much toys littered the living room. When the living room came into view he saw the little girl sitting on the ground surrounded by blocks and little toys he didn't recognize. 

"Aria, baby. I want you to meet Mommy's friend. This is max. Can you say hi?" Max didn't leave your side as you leaned down to grab the girl's attention. Her eyes immediately locked onto his the second she recognized there was a stranger in her house.

"Hi!" She beamed up at the tall Dutchman with the biggest smile on her face. Seeing that smile every last bit of nerves washed away. Just like seeing your smile for the first time, he knew he was screwed in the best way possible. 

"Hi, Aria. Lovely to meet you."

"Can Max spend the day with us?" you then asked although, with one look at the smirk on your face, he knew the answer. 

"Play with me?" In the cutest voice Max ever heard, he wasted no time sitting next to the girl who held a stuffed cat up to his face.

"Of course. I would love to!"

"Baby, why don't you show Max your cars."

"My cars!" She excitedly said before running to her room to retrieve her cars. Not a second later she came back with a bag filled with a few cars. Max was expecting Hot Wheels or toys from the cars movie, in no way was he prepared for the girl to pull out a replica of his car. 

"Do you know the cars we watch every week? That's Max and that's his car." You pointed out watching the girl's face turn into shock. 

"You 1?" Turning to Max who held the same shock expression as hers.

"I am. You like cars?" At this, she let out a little squeal and pushed the car into his hand. 

One by one she pulled out every car she had even the names she gave each of them. Max was 1, the McLarens were orange, and more specifically Lando was 4. The Ferraris were horsey and the one Mercedes car being Lewis of course was pretty due to the fact that she could only point out Lewis out of his racing gear. 

By the end of the day, Aria was all tired out. After all day playing with Max and telling stories at dinner, she passed out beside Max on the couch while watching cars. Your choice of movie just to poke fun at Max more. Taking her to bed you saw that Max pulled out wine from the fridge and handed you a glass before settling on the couch. The stark contrast from the noise-filled day to the quietness of just you two was a reality check for Max. He made it through and from the way you were cuddled up into his side, he knew that he was right where he needed to be. 

"Thank you. For being so good with her, she loved you so much, probably just as much as me. You made her day and she is going to be excited to see you in the morning."

"You don't need to thank me for anything. I should be thanking you for letting me into the biggest part of your life. You are doing such a wonderful job with her, you're an amazing mother." At his confession, you couldn't help but feel tears brim your eyes.

"I'm sorry, silly thing to get emotional about but that means a lot. I'm just happy you accept me and her with everything we have going on." Before your hands could wipe the tears streaming down your cheek his hands wiped them away. 

"I meant it when I said I'm with you through everything. I wouldn't change anything about you or her. I want you to know I love you both and I'm not going anywhere."

"You're such a freaking sap Max Verstappen. If your fans could see you now." You teased making him chuckle. 

"The duality of you to turn a heartfelt moment into teasing me." 

"You signed up for it when you agreed to date me."  

"And I wouldn't have it any other way." He smiled as he pulled you in for a kiss. 

[jessiexflem]

– oh, baby | jessie fleming x reader

content: pregnancy blurb, fluff, based on this request!

word count: 820

Blankets, car seat, clothes. Blankets, car seat, clothes. Diapers? No, they have diapers at the hospital. But, what if they run out of the size we need? No, they won’t, they have so many. It wouldn’t hurt to bring some of ours, though, right? You toss a few newborn diapers in your hospital bag, just in case. Do we need bottles? Shoes? Babies don’t even wear shoes. It’s January, though, what if her feet get co–

“Babe?” Jessie interrupts your thoughts, “Why did I find the television remote in the fridge?”

Your eyes land on the remote in your wife’s hand. You were flipping through channels this morning when you had gotten a craving for a mug of hot chocolate. But, if the remote was in the fridge, where was the carton of milk?

“Oh, I was looking for that earlier,” you frowned.

Jessie chuckles, placing the remote on the dresser as she steps toward you. She wraps her arms around your waist belly, her chest pressing against your back. She rests her head on your shoulder, “How are my girls doing?”

You groan, motioning at the half-packed hospital bag and pile of baby supplies strewn across your bed. You were eight months pregnant, and your doctor instructed you to be prepared for your baby girl to make her appearance at any point between now and your actual due date. 

“What if I forget to pack something?”

Jessie bites her lip, holding back a laugh, “Sweetheart, I think you’ve packed the entire house.”

You sigh, turning around to sit on the edge of the bed, “I just want to be prepared.”

This was your and Jessie’s first pregnancy, and the stress of the unknowns of parenthood were growing and growing the closer you got to your due date. Your friends had been supportive, giving recommendations on what you did or didn’t need, and things that you could expect during each trimester, but you were terrified for what was to come once it was time to take your baby home. You and Jessie had enrolled in pregnancy and parenting courses, but you couldn’t help but worry about everything the classes didn’t cover. 

You stare down at your feet belly as the back of your eyes begin to sting. “I don’t want to mess anything up,” you whisper.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Jessie frowns, kneeling on the floor to look up at your face. She grabs your hand, giving it a squeeze, “You won’t mess anything up.”

“I’m scared, Jess,” you use your free hand to wipe away a few stray tears, “What if I don’t know what I’m doing?”

“I know you’re scared, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t also absolutely terrified,” your wife admits, “but I also know that you’ve done everything you can to learn about what to expect, and what we need to prepare for.”

You shake your head, “What if it’s not enough? What if I’m a bad mom?”

“My love,” Jessie frowns, “I promise you there is no way that you will ever be a bad mom. Absolutely no way. Dare I say you’ll be the best mom. I won’t pretend like we’re going to know everything, but I know that even if we don’t, we’re going to figure it out.”

You take a deep breath, biting your lip as you mull over her words. Jessie had been amazing your entire pregnancy, from caring for you when morning sickness kept you in bed most of your first trimester, to running to the store at odd hours of the night for that one specific ice cream that you needed right now. If anyone was going to be the best mom, it was going to be your wife.

“Promise we’ll figure it out?”

“I promise.”

You give Jessie a meek smile, “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.” 

“Hush,” she rolls her eyes, moving to sit next to you on the bed, “I love you so much, and I can’t wait to watch you become a mom.”

“I love you more,” you press your lips to hers, “Are we sure she’s going to like her name, though?”

“Y/N.”

“I don’t want her to not like her name!” you giggle.

Jessie shakes her head, but a laugh escapes her lips, “Then we change it. I think little Miss Amelia will like her name just fine, though.”

As if on cue, you feel a foot start pushing into the side of your belly. You shift Jessie’s hand to where your baby was kicking and watch her face light up. 

“I think that’s a resounding yes,” your wife’s grin pulls from ear to ear, “Isn’t it, Amelia? You’re kicking hard, aren’t you? Auntie Janine’s going to have you running shooting drills with her as soon as you’re out here, huh?”

You smile, your fears pushed out of your mind, “She already takes after her Mama, doesn’t she?”

[thatbitchery]

Random reminders because I'm in a random posting mood lately

What you engage with you tolerate. That's how you say yes- engagement. The second you respond to it you give the signal you tolerate it. Attention and engagement= yes.

You have free will. You can literally just- not. You can just - fuck this shit and go. You can leave mid dentist appointment. You can just walk out on a bad date. You can just not respond to that text literally. You have free will you can literally just not. You can just ignore it. You can just delete. You can just go for a drive at 3 am. You can just cancel. You can just jump on a plane. You can just drop that course and do what you want. You can just block. Unfollow. Disengage. Say yes. Ask them out.You have both free will and an ID. Add adult money to that equation and this world is yours.

If you are not their parent don't parent them? Why are you teaching a fully grown adult basic manners what are you doing. Why are you having relationship problems with people you are not in a relationship with what even is that. If someone has an issue with you it's THEIR job to tell you they have an issue with you and yours to choose whether or not you want to do something about it? Why are you *are you mad uwu 🥺* people if they are mad they can tell you? If not that's a them problem? At which point did you become everyone's moderator and how much are you getting paid? If it's not your child (or a child. Below 15) don't raise it?

If you're not a machine don't decode. If someone can't come at you straight that's a them problem. We respond to passive aggressiveness with literal logic. If someone wants to degrade you they have to come at you direct, not send subs ? At this big age we are still responding to sarcasm and backhanded shit. If you said you're running a bakery and uncle Andrew tries to degrade that by *oh and how much will that make* you give him actual statistics and move on. If girl *that dress is so pretty* when she means the opposite you just *I'd hope so* and move on. We don't decode underlying statements and meanings we give a literal answer and treat people like adults that mean exactly what they say. (PS, CoC has such a great video on this where they call it the child's reply method. Children don't read under they just answer. That's what we do we don't read under if someone has something to say, they say it direct).

Mind the business that pays you.

Argument is sibling and husband privilege everyone else is right and you are wrong. Stop needing people to validate your reality, trust yourself. Argument is just to feed your ego I know you know no one is changing their opinion because you *owned* them in some argument it just makes you feel like you're a big deal- get a degree it has the same effect plus credibility. Argument is sibling and husband privilege. Everyone else is right. You're wrong. You're sorry you breathed the same air as them .move on. Stop engaging your ego (and other's) and learn how to not get triggered. Your reality is real to you and you're the only person it needs to be real to. Let it go. Study if your ego needs pumping so bad. *Destroying* someone in an argument was an adolescent thing, grow up. Validate yourself and learn to trust your thoughts and feelings and interpretation of the world so you stop needing everyone to cosign to be okay. Be someone formidable so you stop needing to earn it by stepping everyone else down.

"Okay. And?" . See this statement? <- . This one right here. This, this is the one. Not even with others as much as with you. In your life. Okay he didn't text back. Okay , and? Okay you don't have enough money for it. True. And? Then what? What next ? And this is an actual question that needs a real answer not some faux bad bitch mantra. An actual answer, now what ? What then? What next?

We don't deal with problems we don't have. Here, in this house? In this house we cross that bridge when we get there, we don't anticipate there might be a bridge that we might need to cross and then we will need shoes and- stop creating problems to solve. Come back to the present. Come back to the room. Solve the problems you have now, move on. When you get there, you'll know what to do. You have adaptability and a working brain you'll be fine. You're not weak. You're not stupid. You're not a newborn. You've survived worse and there are such things a survival mechanisms that you were born with. What's the point of being stressed twice, now and then?

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

About A Girl

Dean Winchester & daughter!reader, Sam Winchester & niece!reader

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: based on 10x12 where Dean is spelled into a teenager’s body, only this time he’s got a teenage daughter to parent

“Did you find anything on that flower smell?” You asked your uncle as you flipped through yet another book.

“I think—“

A knock at the motel door cut him off. You jumped up, reaching the door before your Uncle Sam.

“Hey, careful—“ he warned as you started to open it, but you ignored him and opened it just enough to peer out.

A teenage boy around your age stood on the other side.

“Yeah?” You questioned him, frowning.

“Hey kiddo,” he greeted with a sardonic smirk. The expression, the stance, and even the face and voice was too familiar, in an unfamiliar way.

“Dad?” You demanded, stepping back enough to let Sam see. Sam gawked at your teenage father as he marched into the room like he owned the place and started riffling through his bag, pulling out his gun.

“Wait—you’re—you—“ Sam couldn’t put together a sentence, but Dean got enough.

“Yeah, I know.”

“You’re shorter than me.” Your eyes were still bugged out as you stared at your dad.

“Shut your mouth,” he snapped at you. “I can still ground you.”

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear you. Must’ve been your pre-pubescent soprano voice.”

Sam managed to stifle his laughter—albeit after a short outburst—but he couldn’t hide his grin.

“You know what? We’ve got a witch to kill,” Dean grumbled. “I don’t have time for this.”

Dean slung his bag over his shoulder and headed outside. You shrugged at your Uncle Sam, grabbing your gun before following your dad.

You stepped out into the night air only to be stopped by an old lady with a kind smile.

“You know, your son is so polite,” she said over your shoulder to Sam.

“Thanks,” Sam mumbled, and once the woman went inside her room you broke into a fit of laughter. “Yeah yeah, it’s not that funny.” Sam shoved your shoulder, pushing you to the Impala.

…

“Dean, maybe I should drive,” Sam offered when Dean had to move the Impala seat up much too far, just so that he could reach the petals.

“Fine,” Dean grumbled, relinquishing the driver’s seat. You were giggling in the backseat the whole time, and Dean shot you an angry look.

“It’s not my fault you’re short,” you argued. “Or that you got spelled and turned into Bieber.”

“You think you’re so funny.” Dean huffed.

“She got it from you,” Sam cut in. “How does it feel, anyway? I mean—you’re like, fourteen.”

“Well, I’m old me…but like a kid—it’s freakin weird, man,” Dean admitted, his voice squeaking. “And there…there was a Taylor Swift song playing on the bus that I hopped to get back…I liked it, Sam. I liked it a lot.”

Your continued giggling from the backseat told Dean that maybe he should’ve kept that last part to himself.

“Ok…” Sam said, clearly freaked.

“I’ve got one of her albums if you wanna jam out,” you offered. The men ignored you.

“And my voice is weird and I’ve got like nine zits and—“ Dean glanced back at you, cutting himself off. “And—never mind. It’s sucks.”

“Well, we have witch killing bullets in the back, so let’s get you back and then kill it.”

“About that…” Dean swallowed, glancing at Sam and then rolling up his sleeve.

“The mark is gone.” Sam stated at him. “How—“

“She slammed me into the body I had when I was fourteen. I didn’t have the mark then.”

“So what, you’re saying you wanna stay like this?” You piped up. “Seriously?”

“No, I don’t want to,” Dean argued. “But if it’s this or a bloodthirsty mark…”

You bit your tongue, slouching back in your seat. You were all for making jokes, but your dad staying fourteen? That was just too freaky. But knowing that he could get rid of the mark…you couldn’t stop him from doing that, could you? If it’s what he really wanted.

You just didn’t know how you were gonna deal with having a father younger than you forever.

…

It wasn’t going well. The witch had Hansel—not a kid, but a giant old man—on her side, and he was pretty handy with a gun.

“I never thought you would be stupid enough to come back!” The witch crowed. “And you even brought another child with you!” She grabbed your chin in her hand, and you jerked away.

Sam and Dean were exchanging looks, but you didn’t inherit your father’s ability to read Sam’s mind, so you could do nothing but sit there.

When Sam jumped up and attacked Hansel, you were taken completely off guard. Dean wasn’t, though. He went right for the witch, and while the boys were dealing with the villains you ran to untie Tina, the friend of your father’s who was now also fourteen. It didn’t last long, though—Hansel knocked Sam to the ground and then went after Dean, leaving the witch free to knock you against the wall with a wave of her hand. You tried to reach for your gun—the witch had taken it, but left it on the counter—but she saw you.

“Get her!” The witch yelled at Hansel. He snatched a knife off the counter, stepping over Sam’s groaning form and pinning you in place with a hand at your neck.

“No!” You heard your dad’s voice from the other side of the room. At the same time, Sam was starting to lift himself from the ground.

“Turn him!” The witch yelled, gesturing at Sam. Hansel put the knife down and reached for his magic pouch to turn Sam into a kid—

It wasn’t there.

Dean held the pouch up for the witch to see before squeezing it. Now, over a foot taller and with a hardness in his eyes that hadn’t belonged to the fourteen-year-old, your grown father crossed the room in two strides, grabbing a knife from off the floor and twisting it into Hansel’s back. The man’s grip released on your neck, and you gasped for breath as Dean turned to the witch. He shoved the magic pouch into her mouth and body-marched her over to the oven, shoving her inside and latching it while she screamed.

You could tell just by the look in your father’s eyes; the mark was back.

…

“Finally,” Dean breathed as he got behind the wheel of the Impala.

“Is it back?” Sam asked—definitely killing the mood.

Dean sighed and lifted his sleeve. The mark was there, looking as sinister as ever.

“Look, I know what you’re gonna say, but—“

“No, you saved me.” Sam interrupted. “And you saved Tina, and you saved Y/N. Thank you.”

Dean nodded. “Any time.”

“And hey—“ you leaned over the front seat, getting between Sam and Dean. “I can’t have a dad shorter than me. I just can’t, it’s not right.”

“Yeah yeah,” Dean grunted, putting his hand on your head and shoving you back to the backseat. “Now that I’m bigger than you again you’re gonna have to start actually watching your mouth.”

“Now when have I ever done that?” You scoffed.

“Good point.” Dean rolled his eyes, reaching for the radio and clicking it on.

Sam was horrified, but all you did was grin as your Taylor Swift cassette started playing, and your dad didn’t turn it off.

Taglist

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl @casmustdiee @987coley @deadlymistletoe @wayward-impala83 @whump-loverz @johannelis2302nely @studiogrimm810 @tell-elle

[spiderb00]

FROGS 'N CATS

Kang Haerin x reader 

“Just a cozy day with your girlfriend, Kang Haerin” 

Genre – Fluff   Warnings – None 

Now playing – Pink, by Wave To Earth

Your head rested gently on Haerin's lap, the younger girl's back comfortably pressed against one of the trees in the park. The sun was setting in pink colors, and you and your girlfriend were tempted not to go home – even though you knew you would have to go back eventually – and to continue listening to the soft sound of the leaves of the trees swaying. The caresses of the girl with cat eyes on your head were almost making you close your eyes, the whole quiet atmosphere was cozy, and some miracle seemed to have happened, because no one had pointed any camera in the face of the two of you or asked for autographs.   

"Oh! Look, Yn!" Your girlfriend's voice caught your attention, making you get up from Haerin's lap quickly and look where she was pointing.   

Expecting to see a wave of fans or paparazzi, you relaxed when you realized you were just a small frog.   

"He's pretty small..." You said, tilting your head to see the frog jumping near the nearby lake. "Is he still a toad child?" You said, laughing and getting giggles from your girlfriend.   

"No, some frogs only grow to a specific point." Haerin began to explain, having you completely mesmerized the second she started talking.   

You loved watching your girlfriend talk, you could listen to her forever. Haerin didn't say much, but she was always chattering more than usual with you, feeling comfortable sharing thoughts and being herself. Before you, Haerin only felt comfortable that way with the girls – especially Danielle – in the group, but after you invaded her heart, that changed.   

"Did you know that frogs actually breathe through their skin..." Haerin stopped talking when he saw the look you gave her. If it weren't for the darkness of the night, which had already arrived, she swore that you could see how she turned red under your gaze. "What's wrong-" 

Haerin was interrupted by you, attacking her face with kisses, distributing all over the younger girl's face, Haerin can't contain her laughter, and neither can she avoid blushing at your surprise attack of kisses.   

"Yn! Stop, someone can see us!" The black-haired girl said, still laughing at the tickle your kisses made on her cheeks.   

Giving your girlfriend a quick kiss on the lips, you walked away with a smile on your face, and the conviction that you left your girlfriend completely red and embarrassed. Haerin loved your displays of affection, but that doesn't mean she won't still be embarrassed if you're out in public.  

"I love it when you talk about the things you like, Kang Haerin!" You say, without taking the smile off your face, standing up and taking her hand in yours.     

"Come on, I know a very good restaurant not far from here, we can get takeout food and take it to the girls." You said, Haerin accompanying you with his hand firmly on yours.   

You two walked the streets quietly, voice after voice commenting on something that caught your attention. Haerin saw some things that she would definitely come back to buy at some cool stores, and you were euphoric whenever you saw something NewJeans-related on the streets.   

Entering the small establishment, you walked over to the counter, Haerin looking curiously around and spotting an elderly gentleman – who probably shouldn't be working anymore – talking to you. The small restaurant had a cozy feel, and reminded Haerin of restaurants she went to with her parents when she was a child.   

"Hello child, it's good to see you're back! What will you want today?" The old man asked you, the cat-eyed girl carefully watching your interaction with the old man.   

"Hello Mr. Jung? Are you alone today?" You asked, trying to peek into the open kitchen behind the man.   

"No. No need to worry, Doyun is in the kitchen, he's doing all the dishes today. The night is very calm." The old man said, smiling slightly at you and changing his gaze to a shy Haerin behind you and giving her a smile.   

"So, what will you and your friend want today?"   

After placing orders, you and Haerin have taken a table in the corner of the restaurant, waiting for the orders to be ready. When you finally had all the bags in your hands, you and Haerin walked to the dorm where your girlfriend and the girls lived. Arriving and handing over the bags and a hungry Minji eager to see what you two had brought for dinner.  

Fried rice and boiled pork dumplings gave off a wonderful smell throughout the girls' dorm, you, your girlfriend and the girls eating it all amidst conversations, Minji jokes (which earned her a few slaps from Hanni) and laughter. 

"I love spending days like this with you, Kang Haerin." You say, your girlfriend snuggling more in your arms on the bed where you were both lying.   

"Are you obsessed with calling me Kang Haerin, or what?" The younger girl said, blinking her eyes slowly at you.   

 "My Kang Haerin." You said, closing your eyes and hearing a soft giggle come from the lips of the girl next to you.   

Hey guys, I did this story very quickly because all I'm having inspiration to write lately is comfort, like, I can develop cute stories where the characters live everyday and cozy things.

Honestly, this is inspiring me and I'm managing to work on the requests, maybe it will take a while because I'm being a little demanding with myself, but it will come out.

I hope you are well and taking care of yourselves, stay safe

xoxo, spider.

[rose24207]

May I request a George Weasley x Slytherin reader where after being dating in secret for a while they decide to stop hiding but George's friends are mean to her when he's not around and she doesn't want to say anything because she knows how important they are for him but George eventually finds out and defends his girlfriend? a bit angsty with a fluff ending please

What they’re like

Summary: George confronts his friends after overhearing hurtful comments about his Slytherin girlfriend, defending her fiercely and making it clear that their behavior won’t be tolerated.

Genre: angst, fluff

TW: bullying

A/N: love the idea! English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome!

Masterlist

You’d always known dating George Weasley wouldn’t be easy, especially not when the two of you came from different houses. A Slytherin dating a Gryffindor was bound to raise eyebrows, but you thought the worst of it would come from your own housemates. You hadn’t expected his friends—people George trusted and cared about—to be the ones who made it so hard.

It started small. A muttered joke in the common room when George wasn’t there. A pointed glance or a scoff when you passed by. At first, you told yourself it didn’t matter. They didn’t know you, not really. George did. That should’ve been enough.

But then the comments grew sharper, more direct.

“Wonder how long this one’s going to last,” one of them said after you’d walked by.

“She’s probably using him,” another replied. “That’s what Slytherins do, right?”

It stung, but you kept your head high, pretending not to hear. You didn’t want to burden George with it. You knew how much his friends meant to him. If you said something, it might make things awkward for him, and that was the last thing you wanted.

Still, you couldn’t hide how it was affecting you—not entirely. You started avoiding Gryffindor Tower unless George was with you. You lingered at the edge of conversations when his friends were around, smiling tightly and letting their barbs roll off your back. Or at least, trying to.

Fred noticed first.

It was during a free period when Fred overheard it. He’d been on his way to the courtyard when he spotted you in the library. He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but a familiar voice caught his attention.

“Poor George,” one of the Gryffindor girls said, her voice dripping with mock pity. “He has no idea what he’s gotten himself into.”

“Do you think she’s told him yet? That she’s just using him to make her parents angry?”

Fred frowned, stepping closer.

You were sitting just a few tables away, your back straight, your shoulders tense. It was clear you’d heard them, but you didn’t turn around. You didn’t say a word. Instead, you buried your nose in your book and pretended they didn’t exist.

Fred’s jaw tightened. He wasn’t one to get involved in George’s personal life—it wasn’t his style—but seeing you sit there, clearly hurt and refusing to show it, struck a nerve.

Fred cornered George that evening after dinner.

“Oi,” he said, grabbing his twin by the arm. “We need to talk.”

George raised an eyebrow. “What’s up?”

Fred didn’t answer right away, pulling him into an empty classroom instead. He shut the door behind them, crossing his arms as he turned to face his brother.

“It’s about Y/n,” Fred said, not bothering to use your name.

George frowned. “What about her?”

“She’s dealing with a load of crap from our so-called friends, and I don’t think you’ve noticed.”

“What?” George asked, his confusion quickly shifting to concern.

“I heard some of them in the library earlier,” Fred said, his tone sharp. “They were saying awful things about her—calling her a user, a manipulator. And she just sat there, George. She didn’t say anything, didn’t react. She just took it.”

George’s face darkened, his fists clenching at his sides. “Why the hell didn’t she tell me?”

Fred sighed, his anger softening into something more understanding. “Because she doesn’t want to cause trouble for you. She probably thinks you’ll feel torn between her and them.”

“That’s not—” George started, then stopped, running a hand through his hair. “That’s not fair to her.”

“No, it’s not,” Fred agreed. “So what are you going to do about it?”

The next day, George waited for you outside the library, leaning casually against the wall as if nothing was wrong. You smiled when you saw him, your heart lifting at the sight of him.

“Hey,” you said softly, stopping in front of him.

“Hey,” he replied, reaching out to take your hand. “Walk with me?”

You nodded, letting him lead you down the corridor. It wasn’t until he steered you toward an empty classroom that you started to feel uneasy.

“George?” you asked, your voice hesitant.

He closed the door behind you, his expression unusually serious. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what?” you asked, though you already knew what he meant.

“About my friends,” he said. “About the things they’ve been saying.”

You looked away, your throat tightening. “It’s not a big deal,” you said quietly.

“The hell it’s not,” George said, his voice rising slightly before he softened it. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because they’re your friends, George,” you said, finally meeting his eyes. “They’ve been there for you forever. I didn’t want to ruin that.”

“They’re not my friends if they’re treating you like this,” he said firmly. “And they don’t get to insult you and act like it’s okay. None of this is okay.”

Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away. “I didn’t want to cause problems for you.”

George stepped closer, cupping your face in his hands. “You’re not causing problems,” he said softly. “They are. And I’m going to set them straight.”

“George, you don’t have to—”

“Yes, I do,” he interrupted. “Because I love you, and I’m not going to let anyone make you feel like you’re anything less than amazing.”

Your breath caught at his words. “You... what?”

“I love you,” he repeated, his voice steady. “And I don’t care what anyone else thinks. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

The tears you’d been holding back finally spilled over, and you threw your arms around him, burying your face in his chest. “I love you too,” you whispered, your voice muffled.

George held you tightly, his warmth and reassurance wrapping around you like a shield.

The Gryffindor common room buzzed with its usual energy, students chatting and laughing as they settled into the evening. George stood just inside the entrance, his eyes scanning the room for the familiar faces of the people he once considered his closest friends. His jaw tightened when he spotted them clustered near the fireplace, laughing over something one of them had said.

Fred had offered to back him up, but George insisted on handling it alone. This was personal.

He strode across the room, the crackling firelight casting long shadows as the group fell quiet at the sight of him. The easygoing George they were used to was gone, replaced by someone far more serious.

“Alright,” he said sharply, planting himself in front of them. “We need to talk.”

The group exchanged uneasy glances, but no one spoke.

“I know what you’ve been saying about her,” George continued, his voice low and dangerous. “About my girlfriend. Do you think I wouldn’t find out?”

One of them, a lanky boy named Callum, had the nerve to shrug. “We were just joking, mate. No harm meant.”

“No harm?” George repeated, his voice rising. “You’ve been insulting her behind her back—making her feel like she’s not good enough. How the bloody hell is that ‘no harm’?”

“She’s a Slytherin,” another boy muttered, avoiding George’s fiery gaze. “You know what they’re like.”

George’s fists clenched at his sides. “Don’t you dare generalize her like that,” he snapped. “You don’t know her. She’s smart, she’s kind, and she’s been nothing but patient with you lot while you treat her like dirt.”

“George, calm down,” Callum said nervously.

“No,” George said firmly. “I won’t calm down. She’s my girlfriend, and I love her. If you can’t accept that—if you can’t respect her—you’re not my friends.”

The group fell silent, the weight of his words sinking in. Some looked ashamed, while others refused to meet his gaze.

“She didn’t even tell me,” George continued, his voice thick with frustration. “She didn’t want to make things harder for me. She sat there and took your crap because she knew how much you all mean to me. And you used that to make her feel unwelcome.”

“George, we didn’t mean—” one of the girls began, but he cut her off with a glare.

“You did,” he said coldly. “And you can take your half-arsed apologies somewhere else because I’m done. If you can’t show her the respect she deserves, then you’ve lost me too.”

He turned on his heel, leaving them in stunned silence as he made his way back to the portrait hole.

Fred was waiting for him just outside, leaning casually against the wall.

“How’d it go?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“They won’t be bothering her again,” George replied, his voice still simmering with anger.

Fred smirked. “Good. About time they got knocked down a peg.”

George shook his head, his expression softening as he thought of you. “I just hate that she felt like she couldn’t tell me.”

“She loves you,” Fred said simply. “She didn’t want to hurt you.”

George nodded, determination settling in his chest. “Well, she doesn’t have to worry about that anymore.”

Thank you for reading!

[drdemonprince]

Thanks for talking about child sexual abuse and child sexuality. I have some clear and many hazy memories of abuse as a child. I was also sexually active at the age of 7 or 8. By that I mean my friend and I engaged in sexual activity on a regular basis. I believe she was being abused by her dad although she never told me that it was something I always had a sense of even that young. Anyway we didn’t feel that what we were doing was wrong as such, but there was one time in particular that my big brother almost caught us and I was terrified he would tell my parents. But aside from other people knowing we had no shame around it and how we felt about it and I’ve always felt kinda neutral looking back on it. But I have always been curious as to how that began and why. I don’t remember the details of how two 7 year old girls decided to get into bed together or what other conversations we had. But it did feel completely natural and fine at the time. It wasn’t until I was much older I started to realize that other kids that age weren’t into those same things. I first had sex with a boy at 13. I was a super slutty teen. Had the reputation around that. Didn’t have shame around that either. Was actually kinda proud of it. But I do think I equated sex with my worth as a human and thats probably tied to what I was taught as a child. That has been something that’s kinda haunted me my whole life.

Anyway I don’t know how this tracks with what you’re saying but it’s nice to be able to say these things somewhere and not feel like a freak. Being abused is one thing to deal with. Having sex at such a young age is more of a taboo and something no one talks about.

Thank you for sharing, Anon. It sounds like you and your friend were able to have positive, exploratory experiences together that offered a hell of a lot more safety and agency to her than the abuse going on in her life. There's absolutely nothing wrong with that, the only issue is the societal stigma surrounding it.

And beyond that, some kids are just sexual earlier than others. I have a cis, straight female acquaintance who used to gather around all the neighborhood boys and "play married" (as she called it) by asking them to let her suck their dicks. She has no clue where she got the idea, but it was all completely initiated by her and she has no negative feelings about having done it.

It might be *weird* to hear about, but if anything I wish that more women's first sexual debuts were that harmless, playful, and pleasant as that seems to have been for her.

Of course, there's an entire cultural backdrop that makes sexual exploration far more fraught and outright dangerous for children, and some kids' motives for exploring sexuality are patriarchal values, insecurity, and abuse, and that complicates things. But shaming children or treating them as defective for having interest in this massive aspect of human life does nothing to benefit them. We seem to be very very far culturally from being able to speak about this candidly, farther away from it than perhaps we've ever been in my lifetime anyway.

[cassiewritessalot]

scream! ༉‧₊˚.

jj maybank x fem!reader

inspired by scream from high school musical 3!

୨ৎ summary: you moved away and left jj, you didn't tell anyone anything before you left. he doesn't know what to do with himself anymore without you.

୨ৎ warnings: cussing, arguing, i think that's it?

୨ৎ cassie's notes: so sorry for going complete m.i.a, and also this is so short i hate it. i've been so burnt out and wrote this the second i got the idea, enjoy! with love always, cassie <33333.

you left him.. you left him all alone, and he doesn't know what to do.

jj rides the twinkie around obx, thinking if he mindlessly drives around he'll find you. or maybe he'll find reasons as to why you left. he wanted to figure out why you left the pogues, why you left him.

what do i do now without you?

i don't know where to go

what's the right team?

i want my own thing

so bad i'm gonna scream!

he didn't know where to look first, thinking you'd be at the beach catching some waves but you weren't there. he thought you'd be with kie and sarah, but you weren't. you weren't in any place that you'd typically be. shortly after he began spiralling and called john b to try and calm himself down.

"i don't know where the fuck she is man! i gotta find my girl!" jj screamed into his phone as john b tried to give him places to look but jj was one step ahead and already checked those places.

"did you try her place? or the beach? maybe she went to help pope with deliveries." john b's voice echoed through the speakers.

"dude her parents are assholes she'd never go home to them, she's not at the beach and yes i checked both and pope hasn't seen her.." jj says into the phone and begins to get even more worried than before causing him to spiral more.

he knew if you were with him he would know what to do, but you weren't. if you were here he wouldn't be in this situation of frantically looking for you everywhere.

which way i can't tell

i'm searchin, searchin', can't find a (way that i should turn)

i should turn right or left this?

it's like nothing works without you!

jj felt like he was losing his mind. he knew he wouldn't be able to cope with you not being by his side. he needed you, he wasn't afraid to admit that. he needed you like how the earth needs the sun to revolve around it. you were his sun, you made him glow happiness and love.

you made his life better, you made him a different person. a better person at that. he ends the call with john b after several minutes have gone by and he didn't listen to a word john b said in those minutes. he keeps his eyes on the road and tries not to lose focus and he stops by one more beach, a beach only you two knew about where you'd go for some alone time.

he gets out of the driver's seat of the twinkie and walks to a spot you two had gone. it was a secluded spot with a massive rock covering most of it.

he put his face in his hands when he didn't find you and began walking back and forth angrily talking- actually, screaming at himself. he was angry at himself for letting you get away, he thought it was his fault you left.

yeah the clock's running down

hear the crowd getting loud

i'm consumed by the sound

is it her? is it love?

can the music ever be enough?

"gotta work it out, gotta work it out, you can do it.." the blond boy whispered to himself as he started thinking of unhinged ideas to get you back as he gazed at the open ocean infront of him.

the voices in his head started to sound like a crowd with the amount of overlapping commencing in his head, he tried to clear his head. he tried. but they didn't stop, every voice was chanting your name and he couldn't take it anymore. so he screamed.

"fuck!" he screamed loudly knowing nobody had heard him as the beach was just outside of town and he began kicking the sand. after his little outburst he stroked his hair with hand before making his way back to the twinkie thinking of a new plan already.

[kittycat-92]

JUST FINISHED WATCHING THE LAST EPISODE OF MLP. i am feeling things i cannot express

[deathsmallcaps]

I work as the person in an amusement park who watches the children who get lost. Here’s some advice. This also applies to any mentally disabled adults that are under your care. Keep in mind that many places will not look for a minor ages 13-17 unless it is close to closing or they are disabled, as corporate considers it a strain on resources and employee use.

1. Teach them your phone number. Best gift you can give them. I’m not supposed to have my phone out at work but I can cut down dependent’s being-lost-time by probably 400% if I can contact you. It also assures the children That We Are Doing Something and that They Are Helpful and Smart. If your dependent has a poor memory, apparently writing your phone number in sharpie and then covering it in nail polish makes it stay all day, even if they’re sweaty or getting in the water. I haven’t tested this but I’ve heard a lot of moms recommend it. I’ve also seen bracelets with little plates or the beads saying the phone number.

Addendum: your dependent may tell you that they know your phone number, but they actually only know your passcode. True story. This summer has been a lot better, but last summer exactly one child the entire season knew his mom’s phone number.

2. Acknowledge that dependent’s memories are faulty, especially in new places. If you tell them to meet you in X spot or that your stuff is all in Y place, they may not remember where it is or remember how to get there.

3. All dependents, but especially little ones, have shit time sense. They might find your stuff, wait there for a minute or two, and truly believe that they’ve been there for an hour. Half the small kids that are brought to me are ones who *know* where their stuff is, but haven’t seen an adult they know personally in 5 minutes, so they’re going to panic.

4. Don’t take naps!!! And don’t let your dependent go anywhere you can’t go or at least go where you catch them at the end!!! Yes you’re staring at the play structure your dependent entered, but can you see them? No? Then there’s a good chance they went elsewhere. So many of the littler kids that are brought to me are brought by genuine, good-hearted strangers who see lost children and take them by the hand. Away from the spot you’re napping in front of/staring vaguely at.

5. This might just be something from my work, but we will not call dependent’s descriptions over the loudspeaker. This is because if an asshole were to see your dependent, hear the description, know it’s a lost dependent, and decide to steal it, they can then use the excuse, “I know where your guardian is! Come with me!” And then lead them out of the park or toss the dependent over their shoulder. Do you know how many crying and screaming dependents leave the location every day? A lot!!! We’re a fun location!!! We’re not going to know if the dependent is screaming because they don’t want to leave or if a stranger is taking them away. We might call the description over the loudspeaker if it’s past closing time and the dependent still isn’t found. But before that, we will only report it over secure radios across the park.

6. Tell a park worker right away. Preferably someone with a radio. Even if you spot the dependent within the next minute, that means the dependent will have less being-lost time. Especially if we already have the dependent with, you guessed it, me. Also please tell us when you find the dependent.

7. Take a picture of your depdendent at the start of the day! That way security guards can have a good idea of what to look for. One mother told me her daughter was blonde and showed me a picture. Her hair color looked brown to me, but then I knew what to look for in the crowd.

8. Keep at least one person in your group in one spot at all times, especially if you don’t have access to your phone or forgot to give out your phone number to the guards. That way they can find you if they pick up the dependent. If you are the only person in your group, then PLEASE stay in one place or at least stay with ONE security guard. It sucks for the dependent if they can’t find you right away even if the both of you are looking for each other and a guard is helping them. You are NOT helping if you panic and run around. And keep your goddamn phone on you and answer calls from unknown numbers!!!!! God. This is a good time to do that.

9. If you lose your dependent in an attraction like the lazy river at a water park, and you have that ONE person staying in place, then this is what you can do with 1+ mobile people.

A. If only one person can be spared to be mobile, have them pick a spot and stay right there, watching the river go by. Eventually, if the dependent is in the river, they’ll go by.

B. If you have two people that can be mobile, both start at the same place in the river and go opposite directions. If you meet up again without spotting the dependent, well, they’re not there.

C. If you have more than 2 people, you can do B but also station different adults at the lazy river entrances/exits.

10. Don’t blame the dependent! Even if they ran away and/or are pissy that you’re upset once you all reunite, trust me, there’s a 99% chance they’re upset too. Yes, this is a good time to have a serious conversation with them. Yes, if this is a repeated problem, and/or you warned them you’d leave the park if this occurred, you should not back down. But also - they’re dependents. They’re not stupid, and they should be told consequences and dangers so they can make good decisions, but they will never have the adult/guardian perspective that you do. Be kind.

Also please for my sake teach them if they’re brought to someone like me, that it’s THEIR job to be safe and listen to me while us park workers look for you. It’s YOUR job to find the dependent, not the dependent’s job to find you. I had a six year old little girl genuinely toddler-howl at me because she wanted to go look for her mom. I’ve never before heard a kid her age howl like that. I can trick kids out of crying 9/10 times but howling came as a surprise lmao. I think I can manage it now that I’ve experienced it but damn.

Also make sure those kids are DRINKING. Being in a water park is NOT the same as drinking water. They should be drinking every 15 minutes at LEAST, I am NOT kidding.

Also if I call you to tell you your kid is here, please don’t call or text me back after you have the kid. I’m sure other places have phones for these types of things but the only one I have is my personal phone. And I am happy to get the kid off my hands and into your arms, but I’m using my personal phone so plz. Don’t call me back. Absolutely call me if you need directions to my ‘office’ in the park. Don’t call or text me after. I have stories about that hoo boy but this post is already long.

[inbabylontheywept]

i did wrestling in middle school. on one hand, i was actually quite good at it, which was nice. being good at any sport was a new achievement for me. on the other hand, i was bi, and i was trying very hard not to notice that i was bi, and getting folded into knots by very kind, very muscular dorks made that task somewhat difficult.

adding fire to the problem was that my parents and my grandparents wanted to watch my matches, because they were very proud that their Gangly Nerd Son was actually Sporting, and they wanted to cheer me on. which would've been sweet and all, but if there are four people you do not want there during a key part of your Burgeoning Sexual Awakening, it is your mom and your dad and your grandma and your grandpa.

right? i mean, imagine some guy's got your head in his armpit, and you're going you know, old sweat smells bad, but fresh sweat has a sort of and then you make eye contact with your grandpa in the stands and you remember you're swearing spandex so if you pop a boner people aren't just going to be able to see the outline, they're going to be able to count the veins, and the only way you will be able to restore your family's honor after that would be by moving to siberia and renouncing joy, forever. that, or lift your entire body up by your kneck then twist 180 degrees without paralyzing yourself.

it’s a lot of pressure, is what i’m saying.

still it did motivate me to win my matches really fast. because i was so tall and skinny, i was stupidly good at the double leg takedown, and then once someone was knocked down, i'd just do the half nelson and kind of flip em over for the pin. then the ref would count to three and i’d win. EZPZ.

i had one match where that went great. won in the first ten seconds, sat back down, and prepared myself for a good hour or two of doing fuck all. didn't even feel bad the parents/grandparents were gonna be bored. the matches went up from me in 5 pound increments (i was in the 115 lbs division) and it was going great until we got to the 145 lbs division. the other school's wrestler stepped onto the mat, and she turned out to be a girl so our guy flipped, because for straight guys, wrestling a girl is not a pleasant experience.

i'm not entirely unsympathetic. my experience wrestling dudes was definitely a little traumatic. but also, i dealt. guy could've dealt too. instead, he refused to wrestle, and the coach went - fine. not even worth fighting over.

so he went to the 140 pounder, and that guy said, nosir, my mom said mormons can't wrestle girls. next guy down, 135 pounder, now he knew he could pull the same card and thus did. 130 pounder, 125, both tapped out. he got to the 120 guy, and that guy was catholic, but he said he was considering being mormon, and thus would have to pass. as a precaution.

coach blew up a little at that. he said "is there anyone - anyone - on this entire goddamn team that is willing to wrestle a girl?" and then he pointed at me and said "YOU. MAT. GO."

and i'll be real, if i'd been paying more attention, i'd have pulled the mormon card too, but i'd just been putting all that audio into a buffer file because i was reading, so i was halfway across the mat before i even processed what had been said and by then it was too late to turn back.

still i had a plan. and my plan - my beautiful, perfect plan - was to do what i'd always done. tackle, flip, pin, win. sit down. read. bore my family to death. move on.

i got the first part right. she was bigger than me, but she wasn't taller. just an incredibly stout woman. god built me like a snake with glasses, just as he built her like a combat cube. the problem was the half nelson. soon as she was down, i tried hooking my arm under hers from behind and for both genders, the defense for this move is just clamping your arms really fucking tight against your sides. if you're a guy, that's whatever, but if you're a girl - especially if you're god's chosen combat cube - that pins your opponents hand right against your boob.

so, i got the hook in, she clamped, my whole arm pressed against something soft, my coach was yelling THE HALF NELSON. BABYLON! JUST FINISH IT! FINISH THE HALF NELSON! and i was just trying to press hard enough to finish, when then my brain went

...oh.

and i flipped out. of course i flipped out. i like girls, and touching a boob is an elemental experience, and i was not ready. i was not prepared. i had not committed the sacred rites. i recoiled like i'd just brushed my arm against the surface of the sun, stood up, and backed away. nobody in the room knew why i'd given up. all they saw was me, right about to win, suddenly flailing around and scrambling. so everyone started screaming at me to just get the half nelson again, and i couldn't really yell back there's a fuckin' boob in the way and it was very distressing, and the only way i could think of to make them stop was just doing it over again the right way.

so i did.

i hunkered down and prepared myself for Wrasslin' Attempt #2: The Sequel.

i knocked her down again, EZPZ. i went for the half nelson again, but she knew what i was about to do so she super clamped, and i knew she was gonna super clamp, so i wound my arm back like a pop-eye cartoon punch before swinging my arm through the gap between her bicep and her side, but the amount of time i spent winding back super signalled what i was about to to do, which gave her time to clamp even harder, which somehow redirected the entire force of the popeye punch to the bottom of her bra.

it spat out a single boob the same way an action hero might spit out one single tooth after getting a solid crack across the jaw. as if to say:

*ptooie.* "that all you got?"

i did not actually see this. my experience was that first there was an arm, then there was a bit of boob, but i was braced, i was ready, forward at all costs, tatakae motherfuckers, and then the boob went away, and i didn't know where it went but my team, and the audience, and everyone who was in front of me, they all gasped like i just kicked them in the stomach. except for my coach. he was behind me, and thus one of the four people in the room who did not see the boob. now my mom, my dad, my grandma, and my grandpa, they all got flashed but nooooooo, coach thunderbutt was behind me, and he didn't see shit so he was still yelling NOOOOOO BABYLON WHAT ARE YOU DOING JUST FINISH THE NELSON! GO FOR THE KILL! BABYLON! BABYLON!

but i did not go for the kill. i stood up and she stuffed her boob back real fast, and we just kind of circled each other awkwardly until time ran out and i won on points. that's not technically allowed, but the ref had some mercy on me.

my coach did not.

i barely had time to sit down before he strode over to the bench to chew me out.

"babylon," he said, in that very calm way people get when they're too pissed to yell. "why didn't you pin?"

and i didn't know how to say well coach, i tried, but there was a boob, and it kept getting in the way, and my mom was watching, and so was my dad, and so was his dad, and his mom, and god (like bible god) and that's a can of worms because i'm pretty sure he was already mad at me, and i'm wearing spandex, and i think i might have to move to siberia, so instead i said

"i uh. i forgot how to do the half nelson."

which is actually impossible. forgetting how to do the half nelson is like forgetting how to swallow your spit.

and he looked at me, like i was the dumbest person in the entire world, and i looked through him like i'd just survived my 250th day in a trench at verdun, and he said: fine.

fine.

but we're all going to practice it for an hour tomorrow because you forgot.

and then he left.

and my buddies had the gall to be salty about it. i got so many comments saying "dude, why didn't you just tell him the truth?" and i said "you can if you care so damn much. you could've wrestled the girl too. maybe someone else should do the hard thing today."

but they didn't. so the next day, we did an hour of half nelson drills, and i spent a decent amount of time getting thrown around the mat, and it was pleasant in exactly the way that i hated and the year after that, to the surprise of everyone but myself, i quit wrestling and joined the trivia team.

and if you want more reasons to love my mom, my grandpa joked after the match that i might have to talk to my bishop about it, and my mom told him he would be allowed to make jokes after he stood in front of a crowd of 110 people in spandex underpants while wrestling a woman that was not his wife.

he paused for almost five seconds after that. then he said: aw. hell. sorry babylon.

and i'd have preferred my apology from god, but getting it from him was pretty good too.

[prismaticsaltedink]

Sometimes Barbies had complicated outfits. And sometimes it was easier to pop of Jessica's head when she wanted to wear Brittany's outfit. My mom had a talk with us when she found a box of Barbie bodies in the toy chest and the heads in their own box. LISTEN! After you've been body swapping for several months they don't stay on so well anymore! Also the only Ken I had was from a Mcdonalds' Happy meal, so in Toy Story world his life was basically that Amazon women episode from Futurama.

...why was it so hard to get a full size Ken? I'd ask for one and just get more Barbies. This only put more pressure on my knee-tall sized Ken already struggling to do his best to please 20 plus giant women.

the thing I love about the barbie movie hype is that it’s revealing how people played with barbies when they were a kid. I only had Barbies so typically I chose the lesbian affairs and murder plotting route, but if I was at a friend’s house and they had a Ken, I’d often go bisexual marital troubles. hey sound off how you played with your barbies I’m curious now

[your-internet-bf]

We hadn't always gotten along. When our parents got married, we could barely stand each other. How could we get along with some brat we barely knew? Luckily, I had an idea. I bought a clicker - you know, the one they use to train dogs? - and got to work.

I started with "thank you". Every time you said it, maybe at dinner, in the car, at a restaurant, I pressed the clicker. You couldn't tell where the sound was coming from, and nobody else seemed to know what you were talking about. But soon, I started helping you with chores around the house and when we finished, *click*. And without really thinking about it, you'd say "thank you."

A few months passed, and you'd started to notice things about me. I took care of myself. I was clean, and I exercised regularly. You'd hang around when you knew I'd be back from the gym just to catch a whiff of the sweat and metal on me when I returned - our eyes caught once when you got a little too close, and for the first time you saw something primal, a little dark, in my gaze. But it passed in an instant.

We started getting along better, now. So one day, when you were lying on the couch with a snack bowl, I snatched it up and motioned to throw it into your mouth. Well, innocent enough, right? And it wasn't like I was eating much, so it's fine, right? Every time you open your mouth to catch, *click*, *click*, *click*.

Then, I invited you to come work out with me. Every time you did a squat, *click*. I told you it was a metronome to keep your intensity up, but you noticed the bulge in my sweatpants was bigger than usual. Wait, when did you start noticing my bulge, especially enough to know that...?

Finally, it was time. I'd been listening outside your bedroom door for weeks now, and I knew when you'd be asleep. I quietly opened your door and stepped into your room, locking it behind me. You stirred at the sound of the lock clicking, but I wasn't afraid.

I gingerly pulled down the covers and just... stared for a while. I'd never taken the time to really look at how beautiful you are, how gorgeous those curves were. I could hardly stand it. As you lay on your side, I took out the clicker, and *click* it once. Laying on your side, like you were on the couch with the snacks, you obediently open your mouth.

I pull down my pants, my long, thick cock swinging between my thighs. I brush the back of my hand over your cheek, then set it firmly against the back of your head, and push into your mouth.

You wake up almost immediately, but my hand stops you from pulling back as I force inch after throbbing inch down your throat. The more you struggle, the tighter you feel, the harder I push, until you felt your nose press into my hips. You push as hard as you can against me, but I'm so much bigger and stronger than you it doesn't do anything. I don't even budge.

I start to grind into your skull, making you swallow the thick, heavy head of my cock again and again, as I groan in pleasure. I start thrusting harder and harder, making your eyes water as I slam my hips into your face again and again, until finally, mercifully, I release inside you, deep inside your throat. You feel me pulse with your whole mouth, and you struggle to swallow each load of thick, hot, sticky cum while I'm still inside you.

With a shuddering breath, I pull out, letting you breathe properly for the first time in minutes. I watch while you cough and catch your breath, and then I ask, "what do you say?"

You breathe in intending to scream, but then you hear it, just one soft *click*, and all you can say is "thank you".

You stare at me, confused. I wipe my cum off your chin with my thumb, and *click* again. "Thank you", you say.

"I knew it. You're such a good girl, aren't you? Now," I push you onto your back, "spread for me."

*click*

You raise your legs to either side, exactly like you're doing a squat.

"I don't - I don't understand," you whimper, legs still in the air.

"You don't have to," I reply, reaching one hand between your legs to feel how wet you are.

"You're soaking, little girl," as I bring my hand up for you to see... Then make you taste it. I reach back down and slip in two of my thick, strong fingers, and cover your mouth with my other hand as you moan. I press up in just the right spot, rubbing in tight, quick circles so deliciously that you can't help but arch your back and grind into me. You feel the pleasure build and all thought leaves your mind; the only thing that matters is my fingers inside you, the scent of my hand over your mouth, and the lingering taste of me.

But before you can finish I pull my fingers out, pressing up and out, leaving you twitching and gasping. "Not yet," I mutter, and I move myself down between your legs. I line up my cock, slapping it down on your tummy first. It reaches your navel, and you feel a wave of fear that only makes you wetter. I pull back, then start pushing in.

It's thick, thick, thick, and heavy. I stretch you out wider than you thought possible, pressuring you in every direction, spreading your aching cunt and making you feel full inside for the first time in your life. Long, deep strokes, moving your whole body with every thrust, reaching inside you, my breath coming fast and hard.

And you hear it again.

*click*

"Thank you," you choke out between sobs.

*click*

"Thank you," you moan.

*click*

"Thank you," you plead, tears in your eyes.

My strokes come faster now, slamming inside you like an animal as you continue to thank me for raping you. Finally, finally, finally, you feel me tense up and slam deep, deep, deep inside you, pressing your whole body into the bed, as I cum again. Huge, hot, sticky white loads of my cum shoot inside you, filling you, as my breath comes in gasps, and as I do you feel it too, now, the wave of pleasure cresting, and you cum, your legs squeezing together, your face screwed tight, moaning with the release of months of tension. And as you cum, you hear a new sound, a familiar sound, but it's deeper than the others...

*click*

And you cum harder, knowing I'm training you like a bitch in heat.

I climb up next to you, and just gaze into your eyes for a moment. Then I smile. "Let's go again."

*click*

[demaparbat-hp]

Hiya!! 👋🏼😄 How's it going? Your fashion taste for Zuko in a Modern AU seems to be artsy, or maybe "formal" is the word. That shirt he wore when he gave Sokka romantic song advice looked Versace🧐. Anyway, I was wondering how you came up with it, he always struck me more as the type that didn´t care much about fashion, so I'm curious about other´s opinions and heacanons about it. And do you have any other fashion headcanons for the rest of the GAang? Also, their music tastes. How did you come up with them? Especially Katara's! 😍

Hello! As it happens, I have a lot of Thoughts and Feelings™ about this, so I'm leaving these over here, and the rest of my ramblings down below the cut!

Let us begin with the Gaang, shall we?

SUKI always struck me as that Pretty Girl from the Gym. She is so incredibly fit it isn't even funny. She could kick anyone's ass, and we'd all thank her. She has this casual gym style that somehow always looks glorious on her, as it should! Comfy yet fashionable clothes for a nice workout or a day in town.

Her music tastes are basically any and all power songs from the eighties and nineties. (Eye of the Tiger, anyone?) She also enjoys metal via Toph, and bands like BSB, NSYNC, or Boyz II Men with Katara. My girl has a very eclectic Playlist and we all love her for it.

SOKKA is That Guy™. Loose T-shirts and shorts everywhere he goes, no matter the weather. He's stupidly into fashion but it doesn't show! At all! And everyone teases him about it. His closet is about 90% Cactus Juice merchandise, hence the "it's the quenchiest!" shirt.

His fashion and music tastes are pretty much the same. He loves poetry but isn't really into lyrics. He'll misinterpret just about anything you place in front of him. His Playlist is mostly vibes and tiktok songs he kind of enjoys. He isn't really into music...at least not as much as his sister.

AANG owns exactly one hoodie, one pair of shorts, and one beanie (THE beanie). Oh, and the crocs—don't forget the crocs. Somehow, he's always wearing the exact same outfit. Every. Single. Day. Ancient Gaang lore suggests that the day Aang goes out without his beanie, it's the end of the world.

His Playlist is the poppiest, most bizarre thing ever. Every single song is Happy by Pharrell Williams levels of happy. Yet sometimes, among the bouncy dance-to songs, you'll find the strangest of things... (He does know what Good Day by Twenty One Pilots is about. That's the reason he likes it so much, actually. And it's so weird.)

KATARA is all about sundresses and loose pants. The epitome of comfortable loveliness. Light fabrics in blue shades, careful embroidery, delicate shoes, and little to no accessories—hers is a simple, yet quite adorable, style. She just needs to add more colors to her usual palette...

She is, first and foremost, a Florence + The Machine girl. It's the Dark Goddess of the Sea vibes, to be honest. Florence Welch is her idol and yes, she will fight you about lyrics interpretation, and win. It may not seem like it, but her music tastes are also very varied.

She draws a little from each member of the Gaang, so you'll hear her humming along to Gorillaz (where did you even find out about them, Aang?), The Weeknd (I...don't think this song means what you think it means, Sokka...), and Hozier (Zuko why did you dedicate Talk to me, Zuko WHAT DID YOU MEAN BY THAT).

TOPH...ah, lovely girl. I'll summarise everything about Toph’s fashion sense in two words: comfort and rebellion. Stuffy dresses forced on her by billionaire parents? No thank you! Give her tank tops with loose shirts and short pants. Bandaids shared with Aang, bracelets from Katara, and even piercings she got in tandem with Sokka. Shoes? What even is that?

Something I love about this fandom is our collective agreement that Toph is into the dirtiest, heaviest, most ear-splitting and soul-crushing death metal of all times. Her Playlist is full of the most obscure names to ever exist, and she can and will blast through your walls with the sheer volume of her speaker.

Zuko. ZUKO.

Even in a modern AU my boy must suffer. That being said, I envision Tales from the Couch as—well, exactly what it is: an ATLA modern AU. While there is not a war to fight, and a lot of plot lines are discarded or expanded upon, much about the core story remains the same.

This is my way of saying that Zuko still goes trough his redemption arc, and it reflects on his fashion choices.

The way you described it works perfectly because of one single reason: in this AU, Zuko is an artist. He had to suppress his love for writing and drawing because of his background and the expectations Ozai had for him (taking over the family company), and a very large part of his redemption arc directly affects his relationship with art.

In the Couch equivalent of S1, Zuko has fallen out of Ozai's graces, and is desperate to protect his place in the company and the Kasai household. He's pretending to be someone he isn't and trying to live up to his Father's image of a perfect heir while still being somewhat cut-off financially, and it shows.

He's all about imposing long coats and a semi-formal style, imitating what he knows Azula and Father would respect. He's striking and sharp and dark. But no matter how he dresses or carries himself (that air of cold superiority and arrogance)—it won't help him when he needs it the most.

In S2, Zuko has hit his lowest point. He's officially disinherited and tossed away by his father, and would be out in the streets if it wasn't for Uncle Iroh. He goes from sharp, high-tailored outfits to old second-hand clothes that hang loosely on his frame. He starts smoking and cuts his hair off, forgoing the undercut for the first time in years.

But then...Father accepts him back. When Zuko returns home, it's with respect to his name and a very high position in his father's company. He's finally the perfect Kasai heir, dressed in overly expensive suits and finery, even at home... But Father forbids him from wearing Lu Ten's earring, and Zuko can no longer recognize himself without the familiar glint of gold dancing on his peripheral vision.

When Zuko leaves the Kasai name behind him and goes back to living with Uncle Iroh...he's finally at peace with who he is, and what he wants in this life. The sharp edges aren't gone (they'll always be a part of him, after all), but now they're dulled by looser clothes and softer hairstyles.

He's an artist, and for once in his life, he is determined to pursue his own ambitions. Zuko's outfits may not be designer-made anymore, but he takes what he has and makes himself look like he wants to look, like the person he wants to be.

He doesn't read fashion magazines or keeps up to the latest trends like Azula does. He's just...Zuko. And his newfound confidence makes everything he wears look like it belongs on him.

As for music...well, Ursa raised a literature boy.

He loves lyric-heavy music and natural voices, be they soothing or powerful. Dissecting song meanings and possible interpretations with Katara is one of his favorite parts of the day. They're both very passionate and strong-minded individuals, so it stands to reason that their debates can get quite...heated.

Zuko's Playlist is both incredibly eclectic and somehow very...him. There's a common thread that binds together every song and artist he likes, and he's hilariously unaware of this. To take a look into his Playlist is a higher honor reserved only for those closest to him.

In the wide spectrum of things, it is no wonder that Zuko is, first and foremost, a Hozier man. But though Andrew is his God in all aspects of this life, there's someone else that has had a huge impact on him...

Two someones, actually.

Zuko refuses to tell anyone how he got into Twenty One Pilots, but it's kind of a moot point when the beginning of his obsession is nothing compared to everything that came after. They have just about the right amount of everything that makes Zuko...well, Zuko. The poetic lyrics, the soothing or raging music, the heavy, intensely resonant themes...

Up there, in the second artwork, I placed an album cover behind each period of Zuko's life. The election of these records is intentional, as I feel like their general themes work incredibly well with Zuko's arc and growth.

Blurryface in S1. For the demons within us. For giving a name to our fears and shame.

Trench in S2. For escaping the confined walls of a depression city, and fighting to understand the depths of the map of your mind.

Scaled and Icy in the first half of S3. For returning to places you had left behind. For convincing yourself and everyone around you that you're fine, that you're perfect, even though everything is crumbling inside...

Clancy in S3. For recognizing that you can backslide, that you can have fears and shame and pain—but you're shaping yourself with each step you take. For knowing that seeking help from others is okay. Nobody learns to walk on their own.

(And, in the end, you'll always be better than the person you were yesterday. If only because you're still here. You're still alive. You're still yourself.)

.

Overall, I rambled a bit too much, don't you think?

If you made it all the way down here—thank you so much for reaching out and being interested in this crazy AU! I hope you enjoy these ideas and tell me some of your own ❤️

[nezuscribe]

the moments after you got married to gojo were so hectic that you can barely remember anything. a marriage of convenience was usual, especially with your ranks in society, but usually people acted as if they weren’t what they were.

you’re barely able to get a good look at your supposed husband before he quickly makes and exit, your brows furrowing in confusion and leaving everybody else to wonder in hushed whispers.

his parents run after him, sending you a look of apology, but you can’t even think.

it’s only a few minutes later where you’re ushered down a row of halls, expecting to be shown into a ballroom, but instead you found yourself in an empty vast room, starring at your two pieces of luggage as your heart beats rapidly.

you’re not able to say your goodbye to your family, but you doubt they’d even want to hear it, and despite your insistent questions, your maids are just as confused as you are.

“will he be coming here?” you ask as your maids tug the dress off of your body, hours of tedious labor to make you look presentable being scrubbed away.

you’re sitting in a tub of scalding water, your arms and legs still raw from just this morning.

“i don’t know my lady,” one of the maids says, looking at another girl through frenzied eyes, just as lost as you were.

“is there going to be another gathering? if not tonight, then later?” you look around, eyes darting around and heart hammering loudly in your chest.

“i…” the girl, alina, swallows, “i don’t know,” she says, but you can tell she’s trying to be gentle.

even though you felt as if you hadn’t been prepared enough for this hasty marriage, everything you were told was going to happen hasn’t happened. he’s supposed to bed you…whatever that means. you’re supposed to see your husband fully, but you only saw a flash of his face as he laid a stone like kiss to your cheek.

you gnaw on your lips, chest heaving up and down as your eyes wilt with worry.

“did i do something wrong?” you finally ask, sinking deeper into the tub as the bustling noise around you stops for a second.

one of the older ladies who had been washing your arms gives you a soft smile.

“it’s best not to think about the past,” though you can tell she’s trying to soothe you, it only makes it worse, “look on the bright side! you’re a gojo! do you know how many girls would kill to be in your spot?” she says with a chuckle that you can only muster up a shaky smile to.

you didn’t want to be a gojo if your husband didn’t even want you to be one, you thought. nervousness began filling your system.

were you lied to? did he not agree to this marriage?

you don’t say anything for the rest of the night, letting everybody else do what they needed to as you sit at the edge of your bed, watching the door, waiting for it to open.

you twirled your ring back and forth, eyes growing dry from not blinking.

your husband didn’t come that night. nor would he the night after that. later you found out he’s staying in a separate bedroom, on a another floor, in another wing of the estate.

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

Career Day

Tags: teeth rotting fluff, crack, jjk men as dads / fem!reader

An: Your child comes home and says tomorrow is career day at their school. They want to bring you and their daddy to school to show off how cool you two are, but.. their dad doesn’t exactly have the most conventional job.

SATORU • SUGURU • TOJI • SUKUNA

SATORU

“My daddy is the strongest!” Your son explains to a room full of his peers. Satoru is proudly beaming next to him. You note how much they look alike. The white hair, the bright blue eyes. Your son looks like he came straight from Satoru and had nothing to do with you.

But your son, Aoi, definitely had your personality.

“Nuh uh. He can’t be the strongest. Superman’s the strongest!” Another kid protested with an unconvinced frown.

“Well, my daddy is like superman!” Aoi retorts, keeping his headstrong personality like his mama. “Actually, he’s even better than superman!”

“He’s not even wearing a suit!” A different child speaks up. You share a nervous glance with Satoru. He’s enjoying this all too much.

“He doesn’t need a suit to be the strongest, dumbass!” Your sweet boy yells, and you promptly cover his mouth. Satoru is laughing his ass off, making the entire situation worse.

Correction, Aoi trying out his dad’s signature hand signal and saying “domain expansion” made the entire situation so much worse.

“You’re grounded, Aoi. You can’t say those things to other people. It’s rude and hurtful.” You say as you and Satoru walk your young boy home. Aoi lets out a small frustrated groan.

“I’m still getting him ice cream.” Satoru interjects with a proud smile. “My boy tried to cast his first domain at just six-years-old. He deserves a sweet treat.” Two wide smiles look up at you, and you realize you’re outnumbered here. Rolling your eyes, you nudge Satoru.

“I want a girl next.”

SUGURU

Mimiko and Nanako begged Suguru to come to their school’s career day. He was of course hesitant to do so, given that Jujutsu sorcery was still a hidden art in Japan. He didn’t exactly know how to explain his career to a bunch of kids.

He had a plan though. He would just tell the children that he was a preacher at a church. It’s not… completely a lie. He was a leader for.. a type of church.

You and Geto walk into the cozy looking classroom and see a load of other parents there. Your husband grimaced at the thought of having to interact with all these… people.

You give Suguru a reassuring squeeze of the hand. “It’ll be okay. Anything for the girls, right?” You whisper into his ear, making him nod. Anything for the girls.

When it’s finally Mimiko and Nanako’s turn to explain what their daddy does for a living, your small family gathers at the front of the classroom. Plenty of small innocent faces and reassuring smiles fill the room.

“Okay girls, tell us what your parents do for a living.” Their teacher prompts with a warm smile.

“My daddy swallows balls for a living!” Nanako says proudly with a beaming smile.

The kids erupted into laughter while their parents gave you two disgusted looks.

To make matters worse, “He also hates filthy mo-“ Mimiko tries to add on, but Geto quickly covers her mouth with his hand.

After explaining what a vivid imagination your twins have, you go on to explain that Geto is a leader at a church, and well, that doesn’t go over too well either.

“Homeschool?” Geto suggests as the four of you walk home.

“Most definitely.” You agree. Mimiko and Nanako are now educated by you at the home, where they can’t out their dad for swallowing balls.

TOJI

“Mama, make papa come to career day.” Your young son, Megumi, demanded. He had a small little pout on his face, and his arms were firmly crossed over his chest. Behind him, Toji stood, shaking his head at his son’s determination.

He often did this: telling you to make Toji do something because you were the only person who could make Toji do anything. After all these years, mans was still wrapped around your finger.

“Baby, Papa’s job is kinda private.” You explain quietly as you pet Megumi’s soft hair.

The small boy’s look of determination shifted to a look of reserve. Even as a young child, he wasn’t great at showing when his feelings were hurt, but you could always tell.

“Gumi.” You say his name softly, bending over to look at the boy’s flat expression.

You were also the only one who could coax Megumi into showing his real emotions.

Tears welled in his eyes, and his bottom lip started quivering. “I don’t wanna be the only one whose parents didn’t come.”

“Oh baby.” You frown as you pull your son into a hug. You glare upwards at Toji, and his eyes widened slightly. He knew what that look meant. “You’re going to career day.” You say to him, leaving no room for argument.

The next day,

“Okay Mr. Fushiguro, what do you do for a living?” The teacher asks Toji as he’s sat next to Megumi. Your son is actually smiling, enjoying the fact that Toji actually came to career day.

“People pay me a large sum of money, and I take care of someone for them.” Toji explains vaguely.

“Oh! Like a doctor?” One of the kids asked with an impressed smile.

“Sure, like a doctor.” Your husband lies, knowing that he does quite the opposite of what a doctor does.

SUKUNA

The look on the kids faces as your tall, muscular, tatted husband walked into the classroom was hilarious. Most of them were completely mortified, giving Sukuna frightened stares.

Your husband was completely unfazed. If anything, he was soaking in the kids’ fear. He sat at the front of the room with a look of arrogance.

Your nephew, Yuji, sat between you two. No, he was technically not your kid, but he didn’t have anyone else to bring to career day. So, Unc Sukuna and Auntie Yn were to the rescue.

“And.. what do you do for work, sir?” The teacher asked in almost a judgmental tone as she eyed Sukuna. You couldn’t tell if she despised him or wanted to fuck him.

“I don’t work. I live off tithe.” Sukuna bluntly answered with a shrug. His lopsided smile never left his face.

“What’s a tithe?” A small child asked quietly.

“It means people pay me out of fear of that I’ll harm them if they don’t.” Your husband gives a child a sharp stare with a challenging smile. He wanted the kids to keep asking questions. The thought of scaring multiple children all at once fueled him.

“Like… beat them up?” Another child asked.

“Like eating their snot-nosed children.” Sukuna answered with a toothy grin. The children all shrieked and cried in terror. Hell, even their parents looked frightened.

“Ryomen.” You chide as you look over towards your husband. He was laughing maniacally, even slapping his knee like the old man he was.

Yuji never invited you two to another career day.