#sad pathetic little george you will always be loved

[yrsonpurpose]

You are not who I raised. Oh, that is all I am, mother.

[sophiethewitch1]

What We Want - Chpt. 8 - Jason Fucking Todd

In Which A Romantic Breaks The Universe

(Yandere!batboys x f!reader) 18+ MDNI!

SUMMARY

Another lonely birthday, another empty year. You miss your family. You're late for your bills and rent, and even then, you got robbed last Tuesday.

Still, you buy yourself a cupcake, because you need it. I mean, hey. What's dessert for if not to get over cheating boyfriends and dead relatives?

As you blow out the candle, watching the clock switch from 11:59 pm to midnight of the next day, you make a wish.

And because the world doesn't like to make much sense, it comes true. Your life is suddenly flipped on a dime, and you're stuck trying to catch up with it. Fantasy becomes reality. You're a Wayne now, apparently. Or you used to be. You're loved, you're rich, you're talented and powerful.

Well, sort of. Careful what you wish for, right?

(TRIGGER WARNINGS AND MASTERLIST HERE)

PREV - NEXT

Well, look on the bright side of things. You’re not crying right now. That’s nice. You’re not an intern anymore. That’s nice. You struggle to think of anything else. Oh yeah, you’re rich! That’s also nice. You’re not dead. Nice.

This is kind of pathetic. You just feel bummed after having to break up with George a second time. And getting smacked right in the face by him. Which you know, anybody would be, you think. You don’t think a single soul has ever known the George Lancaster Break-Up Special more than once. And you didn’t think anyone would be stupid enough to fall for that asshole more than once.

You couldn’t fake a brave face anymore, you just didn’t have the energy for it.

…And let’s not forget almost dying via Joker goon. Not even the man himself, just a random lackey. You think of how he literally disappeared in front of your eyes, and decide you are going to stop thinking. It’s doing you no good anyway.

Instead, you just start walking. Letting your feet and your intimate knowledge of Gotham’s streets, even in this area you don’t often frequent, guide you. You find yourself at the train station. With little consideration, you buy a ticket to the southern part of the city. The bad side of town, the docks, where your apartment used to be.

You feel like a little rat scurrying back into the sewers as you hop on the subway, tucking yourself in between people who don’t recognise you, probably because of your general dishevelment.

Shoulders knocking against strangers, you feel the most at home since this whole disaster started. You stare across the train car, watching a baby babble to its mother. It catches your eye, gives you a big toothless smile, and some snot dribbles into it’s mouth. The mother notices and cleans the baby up with a tissue. When she catches you staring, you give a very awkward but friendly smile, and she smiles back.

A tiny weight lifts off your shoulders. Surrounded by the chaos of Gotham, as the subway exits the tunnels and heads up onto the sky rails, you find yourself warm by the rays of sun through the clouds. The view is beautiful, as it always is. Usually, you’d be looking at your phone, too busy to enjoy the sights. But it really is beautiful.

It’s only when you hear the announcer calling out that you realise you did this for a reason, and dart out of your seat and through the narrowly closing doors. The metal closes behind you with a small hiss. The Docks station, for most people, would be one of the better Gotham train stations. Newly built, and with all the tourist money it was clean. Well, clean as it could get. You’d read some article about the bacteria the rats were carrying being not found anywhere else on earth, and you’d decided to stop reading articles.

Anyway, for you, even the shining marble of the station was a sad sight. Because you only ever came here on your very worst days.

This seemed like one of them.

The familiar streets flit past you, barely something you’re even cognisant of. This part of the city was mostly new, the concrete fresh under your feet instead of littered with potholes. Still, it wasn’t at the centre of the blast radius, so it hadn’t been totally demolished.

No, that was just up ahead. And like everything else in this weird new world, you immediately noticed something different. Where your family had died was… still there, for some reason.

With confusion, exhaustion, and no small bit of despair, you stop in the middle of the pathway outside the remnants of what used to be an old diner and was now just a pile of rocks. Some very charred rocks. Looking at the wreckage, you raise your brows. Its crumbling form is still under construction after all these years. The yellow caution tape is only a deterrence to you because you don’t want to end up on the gossip reels for a second time today. Looking around, you find yourself further confused. Lots of other parts of the pier had been redeveloped, but this piece of the puzzle still lay bare.

It didn’t, in your home, your world. It had been replaced with high-rise apartments, and since they were so close to the water, so pretty and new, you had no hope of affording them. It probably wouldn’t be very good for your mental health even if you could. Still, you’d taken many walks past the street. Enjoyed the little bit of dirty white concrete that had survived. You and your siblings had signed your names into it, and you’d stroked the sidewalk like the weirdo you were many times.

Like you did today. And today, for some reason, the rest of it was here. Untouched. A remnant of the disaster. As you run your thumb along the sharp edge of Julie’s J, you find yourself once again lost in your memories. They were like honey traps to you these days.

The mum-and-pops diner had been run by your uncle. It’d been in the family for three generations, and he was incorrigibly proud of it. You’d all had your birthday parties there, because it was free and you were poor. It wasn’t like your uncle would let you pay for the food anyway, it was just one of the few times Mum could stand the generosity. She didn’t like it when you had disappointing birthdays, and no matter how much you tried to fake your happiness, she could always see to your core. Eventually, you and your siblings all gave up on trying.

You were late. You were often late, but this time it was… it was the difference between life and death. If you’d been a few blocks further, a little bit earlier, you’d probably be dead too. Or at least have some serious hearing loss instead of just suffering mild tinnitus.

You had felt more than seen the destruction. The earth had rumbled, and a deafening roar had swept through the streets. You remember falling to your knees, the worry about being late morphing to worry for your best clothes to a true terror when you realised where the blast had come from.

When you realised your family was in the epicentre.

You sometimes wish you were on time that day. That you’d gotten to see them all, even if you went with them. It didn’t sound so bad, really. At least you wouldn’t be alone. Hmm, you should probably stop thinking like that. Or maybe go to a therapist about it.

Not that you could afford it. Oh, right. Rich now. That was really taking some getting used to.

You wonder if people who won the lottery felt the same way. Probably not, because the rest of the world reflected the changes the person felt. They’d have to go pick up the check, go to the bank, and if they let their family and friends know, deal with the consequences of that.

You’d just woken up rich. No time to adjust, your new life was here and it was demanding your attention very loudly. And soup-ly, unfortunately. After a few minutes of staring blankly at the rubble, you look towards your left, where you know the Memorial awaits you. It’s in the centre of the new shopping district, built on top of the bombed parts of Gotham. It sits right next to the water, the cold breeze a comfort that you’d turned to on more than one occasion.

You’d feel bad if you didn’t change your clothes. You told Grayson you would, and you already felt bad enough about... everything to do with him. You suppose he was your brother. Your ex-brother. Ex-step-brother. The ex-step-brother of a woman who you weren’t.

Really, he was just a stranger. It seemed he didn’t feel that way, though.

You start the walk towards the shopping district, and into the first clothes store you see. The prices on the tags would usually make you flinch, but well, it doesn’t matter anymore. Nothing seems to matter. Your survival is now guaranteed, might as well wear some clothes that feel nice on your skin.

You walk out of that store looking like you just robbed it. Even the clerk had given you a weird look but accepted the black card tucked in your phone without much complaint. It’s an improvement if a small one.

Once you’re done, like a moth to a flame, you drift towards the Memorial centre. You’re following all the steps you used to in the past, but somehow, it all feels a bit alien. The world looks a little different, a little uncomfortable. Your shoes are worn in, and yet they still feel too tight.

Uncanny valley. You feel unwelcomed here, unwanted. Like the very earth can tell that there’s something wrong in this scene, some intruder. You ignore the feeling as best you can.

The Memorial is just as unfamiliar as the diner was, maybe even more. You know that your mother was a Wayne before she died. You know that. But still seeing your family’s framed photos, right alongside Jason's is so shocking you nearly jump. It takes a moment of wide-eyed staring before you can manage to get past that. When you do, for some reason you still go back to your old habits. You walk by them, the bouquets and to where their names used to be in thin letters.

You count with your fingers, finding the fifty-second line.

A man’s name replaces the spot where your mother’s is. The little grooves the oil in your fingers had left behind were gone, and instead was sharp stone like when the monument was first erected. It cuts at your fingers. It no longer welcomes your touch.

James Whitaker. That’s the name of the man who took their spot.

You can already feel a rising obsession with the random dead man. If you were going to psycho-analyse yourself, you’d recognise that you didn’t feel that the images of the Waynes you’d created were no longer real, no longer safe to your escapist mindset. You’d realise, that this was all pretty unhealthy, and you really, really needed therapy.

Instead, you give the guy your condolences and start reading the other plinths. They seem largely the same. It’s not like you hadn’t read all of these towers of stone at one point or another, your eyes glazing over the many, many names. So much devastation, all in one moment.

And still, this was not even a tenth of all the lives the Joker had taken. You kinda wanna go take a kick at one of the Bat signals littered around the city. Maybe that’d make you less… broiling with incompetent rage.

Again, maybe you should just go to therapy. You should call Jeanine about that or something.

Eventually, you circle back to your family and Jason’s shrines. You know, back then you’d been jealous that Jason Todd had been so well mourned. You’d wished your family had gotten the same treatment.

Now, you… felt jealous again. Possessive, over their memory, their image. You didn’t really like that random strangers that never knew them… knew them. That Sam always got As in English and Art class but would sometimes skip math and would hide in the bathrooms to do so. That Chasey had struggled with going to school because of her anxiety but kept going because she had a friend going through the exact same thing. That Julie was the ace of her school’s soccer team, and that she’d almost gotten them to nationals even in the presence of all the super-rich schools in Gotham. That your Mum was a great cook but genuinely hated doing it, but for some reason, baking was her favourite thing even as she had never made a proper macaron.

They didn’t know them. They knew their faces and a facsimile of them, but they didn’t know them. It reminded you of the people at the orphanage. Nice, but not kind. They’d had their own lives, they didn’t want some bratty, demented teenager who was going down and planning on taking everyone with her.

You really couldn’t be happy, could you? Maybe you didn’t know what you wanted. What you want now. What you’d wanted for a while, actually.

Ugh. You close your eyes and let out a deep, soul-shaking sigh. It takes a moment for you to shore up the willpower to open them again. Come on, flower shop, finish your weird little ritual then you can go home and hide for the next millenia.

The walk there is the same as always, if a little more morose. It’s in a good spot, near the church just a block away and the memorial on its other side, as well as less sombre atmospheres down near the pier. Well, as little sombre as Gotham can manage.

You feel like you blink and you’re there. Too quickly, you find a rainbow of blooms in front of you, the scent of the blossoms washing over you. When you walk into the flower shop, the bell at the door rings the same as it always does. On autopilot, you walk over to the small, cheaper buds. Your hand clenches around the crinkly wrapping paper, a bundle of posies in your hand. You go to the counter with your prize in hand.

Larissa, the counter worker, smiles at you. Your breath hitches. It’s a working smile, not one of the real, toothy ones she used to give you.

“Oh wow, I thought all the posies had sold out. Lucky you!”

You think of something to say, but the moment passes and you don’t. She rings you up, tells you the price, and when you pay, asks sweetly if you want a receipt.

She doesn’t say your name. Doesn’t acknowledge how you come here every week and buy this same handful of flowers. She doesn’t ask about your job or the weather. She doesn’t cheerfully tell you about how her apprenticeship is going, or about the next sweet thing her partner has done. No, she just stares at you, growing more uncomfortable the longer it takes for you to answer.

She doesn’t even seem to recognise this other version of you. It feels like another string that tied you down to the earth has been snipped. You have an image in your head of a child losing a balloon, desperately grasping at the air. You’re going to float up into the atmosphere, and then you’re going to pop.

You can see the foil glinting in the sun’s light, so, so clearly.

You squeeze your eyes shut, “Yes, a receipt, please.”

Taking it blindly, you barely flutter your eyes open as you walk out of the shop. She didn’t know you, didn’t remember you. That doesn’t matter, you tell yourself. You hadn’t really known her. It doesn’t matter. There’s no real difference, it doesn’t matter.

It’s okay, it’s okay, it never really mattered. You keep telling yourself this as you walk back over to the memorial. As you lay your flowers down with the others, the little posies are dwarfed by the other donations. It didn’t matter. You didn’t know her. None of this matters. Their flowers don’t matter.

You don’t matter. You hit that errant thought with a mental fly swatter.

Exhausted, you sit down next to the monument. You used to be able to lay your head on the stone, able to feel your family in the warmth it had absorbed in the sun. Now you just sort of, awkwardly reached out to the small bit of uncovered plinth at the side. You have to stick your hand through a wreath to do so.

It’s not warm. You wonder if your family are sad. And then you wonder if you’re an idiot for attributing feelings to a literal rock.

After a while, you get up. Cross your arms. You stare at your family's portraits, eyes moving over their smiles. One by one. You recognise some of the photographs, those are your favourites. A smile cracks across your face when you see the picture of when Chasey lost her two front teeth. She still grins cheekily at the camera, uncaring for any changes to her appearance, as all kids shouldn’t.

Your shoulders fall just the slightest bit when you see the picture of Jason Todd. It’s one of his older pictures. Probably seventeen or something. He’d always been a lovely boy when he was younger. And he still was up till he died but you’d always thought you’d seen something start to change in him. That sparkle of innocence, dulled, just the slightest.

And then he’d died. And you’d wondered if maybe he’d felt it was coming.

You certainly hadn’t. It had been like a hurricane tearing through your life. You’d ended up on the other side completely abandoned, the only friend who’d bothered to keep seeing you being one who’d learnt to dodge train ticket costs like a damn ninja. And you’d had to decide whether you could keep doing this, whether you even wanted to.

You were an obsessive creature by nurture. It had been all you could do to hang onto the Waynes, pretend they would love and care for you even if they’d have never even noticed you in real life. You weren’t sure that was strength or simple human survival. Dying was scary. Of course, you were scared of dying.

Your whole family had died. So, you told yourself, that Jason Fucking Todd would be sad if you killed yourself, and somehow, you had made it all these years.

And now here you were, and the Waynes did notice you in real life. You were important to them. You didn’t want to be, but you were. And again, you have to ask yourself, what would Jason Todd ask of you? What would he want you to do now, in this impossible situation you’ve found yourself in?

You stare at the picture. Stare at the way the sun hits his dark hair and blue eyes. Stare very, very hard. Like he might crawl out and give you a detailed list of what to do. You’d really like a detailed list. Or any guidance at all. Maybe you could go hit up a seance or something.

Your head falls forward into your sun-warmed palms. This is so stupid. No answers are going to fall from the sky, you need to find them yourself. And you’re not going to find them here.

Someone walks up beside you to the old memorial, and you quickly tuck yourself back into an acceptable image. Fold in all the rough edges you can. A tall and well-built man, with a face mask, sunglasses and a trucker hat, he looks like he could be a celebrity or something. Someone important, much more than you.

And you weren’t, not technically, at least. The universe had done the equivalent of a shelving error, and now here you goddamn were.

He does an odd pose next to you, something military-esque, where he clasps his hands together and bows his head. With a quick flick of your eyes you confirm, yes, his feet are equal with his shoulders. It’s obvious that he’s paying his respects so you do your best not to judge him too hard.

And then he speaks to you.

“I’m sorry.”

You look up, startled and confused.

“For your loss,” the deep voice finishes, jerking his head toward the pictures in front of the two of you.

“Wha- oh uh, um,” you blink and then realise that this person has recognised you, which would make sense since you are literally in one of the photos in front of you, and manage to pull your fading conscious mind back together for a moment more.

“Thank you, uh-” you stare at him a moment longer, “You too?”

Almost worse than that time you told the barista who gave you your coffee you hoped she enjoyed hers too, but not quite. Well, you know, he’d probably lost someone here too. You don’t know why he’d be here otherwise unless he wanted an autograph or something. The thought almost makes you laugh.

He snorts at your words. You don’t know what to make of that.

He looks back down at the pictures and flowers. You think he does, at least, from the slight shifting of his head. He’s kind of mysterious. Pair that with the deep voice, the muscular and tall physique, and you’re an odd mix of attracted and socially anxious. Not that you’re not always socially anxious, but this guy feels… strong. Dumb again, you can see his biceps from here but…

You just can’t quite shake it off. Strong. Strong.

“They didn’t deserve it, none of them did,” he speaks again, and you wonder what the fuck he’s going on about at all.

You admit, you sound a little bitter when you mutter, “Well, that’s obvious.”

He lets out a bark of laughter, and you see his eyes flash to you from under his sunglasses. A shade of blue. There’s another odd pause, and then he turns to you. You don’t know why he’s looking at you. He crosses his arms, and seems to size you up.

“What are you doing here?” he asks you like he knows you.

Your brow furrows. Okay, kind of losing any hotness points here. Bothering someone who was grieving could’ve been seen as rude from the very start, but you’d just thought he was weird. Now, you thought he was weird and rude.

“…Paying my respects. Obviously,” you gesture downwards, “My mother, my siblings, and…”

Well, how would you describe the relationship between you and Jason Todd now? He was still just a stranger to you and-

“With who, that guy?”

Now, it isn’t often that you’re stunned into silence, but at the moment you can’t find it in you to do anything but stare and gape. Frankly, you’re astonished! You’ve never met anyone who spoke so rudely of the dead, and well, he couldn’t have picked a worse person to do it in front of.

“Excuse me?” your voice can’t seem to convey even half of your offence, even as you sound like you’re about ready to bite a second person for today. The man pauses like you’ve surprised him, which- what the fuck is going on? Why do you feel like an alien crash-landed on Earth these days?

“No, I just meant-” he huffs, shakes his head, and continues, his voice now offended too, “What the fuck am I saying? Yes, I did mean that. That little twerp was a naive idiot who was manipulated by the people he believed in most.”

You stare, absolutely speechless, as the stranger goes on a damn-fucking-near crazed rant about one of the people most important to you. Never met? Sure. Dead as hell? Absolutely. But still, he was one of your lifelines. Your candlelight in the dark, guiding your way even when you felt completely lost. And now he’s calling him a naive idiot? You can practically feel the steam coming out of your ears.

“He changed nothing, made no difference in the end-”

“Nothing?!” you practically shriek, finally able to find your voice just to use it to shout, “He changed… so much! He donated millions of dollars, did heaps of charity work, was practically a treasure to our city… He made multiple homeless shelters, an orphanage, helped rehabilitate criminals and countless other things.”

Your fists are clenched tight enough that they shake. You hide them behind your back, but you still feel like he can probably see them. Your emotions are simmering too close to the surface, bubbling over and onto the floor. About to burn his sneakers to ash.

“You seem like you care a lot,” he says, sounding reserved.

“Of course, I care.”

“…It’s just, you didn’t seem the type, on the TV,” he keeps talking, poking at you for some god-awful reason, and you bark out a harsh laugh.

“Maybe people need to stop making so many fucking assumptions, then? It certainly hasn’t gotten you anywhere,” you throw your hands up, damn sick of all the constant fucking surveillance you’re under. You can see why this version of you lost her mind. You’re near about to as well.

He stares at you for a moment longer, and you start feeling too uncomfortable. It’s a stupid and useless protectiveness that has you staying. Like he’ll somehow try and harm the shrine to your people. It’s happened before, Joker fanboys defacing it and such. This guy could be one of those bastards.

And yet… somehow you feel…

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he finally says.

“Good, you do that.”

“But in the end, nothing’s really changed. Joker’s still out and about, as you well know.”

You physically flinch like you’ve been slapped. For a good minute there, all you can do is stare at him in disbelief. You raise one shaking fist, and lift one trembling finger, pointing. The man looks in the direction you’ve pointed, and when he doesn’t see anything, turns back to you. His sunglasses reflect the grey afternoon sun.

“Go,” you order, voice shaking just like the rest of you.

He just keeps staring at you. You wish he’d take off those dumb fucking glasses, so you could see this asshole’s face. Etch it into your mind. He doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything, doesn’t take any action. He simply waits for you to… Well, you don’t know what you’ll do. You haven’t known what you’d do since you left Dick behind two hours ago.

“You need to go,” you say again, and again, he doesn’t fucking move, “You… there’s… you have no right.”

You can hear the buzz of the city around you, the wind rushing by. His clothes rustle in the wind. Your voice sounds too loud in your ears, but he won’t just… he won’t leave. You don’t want this stranger here, watching you. Judging you. It’s all…

“Jason didn’t do anything wrong,” you say, and you think to yourself, desperately, ‘I didn’t do anything wrong.’

There’s a slight shift in the stranger’s posture. His shoulders tensed.

You think you’ve offended him.

“The Joker… That’s nobody's fault but the government for not just sucking it up and giving him the death penalty, or Batman’s for not doing it himself a long time ago. They’re all fucking useless, but they’re the ones who are supposed to be dealing with this!” you continue, your words growing more heated. It’s only the already looming threat of an assault case that keeps you from shoving the guy. Not like you’d be able to move him an inch, of course, he was huge.

You’re sure it would feel good, though.

“It was never some random teenager's responsibility, and it wasn't mine either,” you say, but find yourself pausing for a moment when you hear the end of your sentence. It doesn’t matter. It’s not like it wasn’t obvious anyway.

You’d tied yourself and Jason up together in your head. To you, you were both two sides of the same coin. One foot in the grave. You’ve got one foot in the grave…

“Jason Todd was a good person, and he made the world a better place.”

You look down at the portrait of the boy, his toothy smile twisting at your heart. None of this was fair. None of this had ever been fair. Why was this guy acting like anybody here had ever been able to do anything about it? Like Jason should’ve been smarter, and avoided a fucking bomb blast?

It was stupid. This was stupid, and you were over it. You were tired.

“And I miss him.”

It’s quiet after you say that.

“I don’t know how you can think it’s fair to act like his death was pointless when… of course it was, all of this was pointless,” you say, throwing your hands wide and gesturing to the entire memorial. “This was a tragedy, but Jason was a victim. And I’m sick of people like you who think they can decide whether someone else’s life was lived right. It’s not your damn right.”

“Now… fuck off!” you announce, and to your shock, he does. He fucks right off. The man gives you one last lingering look, and then turns and leaves without another word. Not like you needed them.

You huff out a shocked breath, and then turn back to the memorial.

The framed faces of your loved ones stare back at you, and for all you know it’s stupid, you can’t help but feel embarrassed for the display. You know your mother would’ve scolded you for your language, at least.

“Sorry,” you say, and you’re unfortunately reminded of that irritating man again. Likely that won’t be the first time he pops up again in your head. He seemed well, insane. Which wasn’t that odd in Gotham but… god, you just couldn’t seem to let it go.

It pissed you off to high heaven. His rudeness was something you’d usually be able to shrug off, especially from some random stranger, but, but, but-! Argh, damn it all. And it wasn’t like that was the first time you had had that sort of conversation, but it was certainly the first time someone had been so bold as to bring it up in front of your dead mother’s smiling face.

Earlier today had snuffed out the fire in you, but that encounter had been the spark to reignite it. More than that, actually. It had made you so damn pissed, made your blood boil in a way you just couldn’t ignore, to the point that you wanted to prove him wrong.

Jason Todd had mattered and had made a difference and change in Gotham. He had made a change in you. You put your hands on your hips, stare down at the flowers, and make a decision.

You’re going to fix your goddamn life. For Jason Fucking Todd.

Your body feels like shit, your brain feels like it’s stuffed with cotton wool, and yet this is the greatest opportunity you’ve ever been given. You have a chance to save yourself, and save your friends, and fix all the tiny little problems in Gotham that you’ve suffered through since childhood. Surely just throwing enough money at all your problems would fix some of them.

You were rich. If you couldn’t fix your life with millions of dollars available, then you had no chance.

And yeah, you don’t know what you’re doing. You know you can’t really change what happened. Back then or even just a few days ago. But you hate that. You hate it so much. You hate how weak you are in the face of loss. How both then and now, there’s nothing you can really do. And maybe if just out of spite, towards that asshat, Batman, Joker and everyone else, you want to make a change.

You want to be able to do something about it. You want it, so fucking bad.

First order of business?

…You want more flowers.

MASTERLIST - NEXT

[obsessedhoneycomb]

Crazy in love

George Russell x fem!reader

Summary: somehow part two of this

Warnings: angst, mentions of miscarriage, hurt, pregnancy, fluff, love, Max and Kelly

A/N: since it’s Christmas season let’s unwrap this gift. Had an urge to write something based on “Our love” and this made sense to me. Enjoy!

Please don’t use my writings without my permission! Pictures found on Pinterest.

———

There was a buzz at the Mercedes hospitality, where I was watching the press conference, sipping on my coffee. My presence wasn’t planned here in Abu Dhabi, but when George came home after last race, everything seemed unplanned in our lives.

Questions, accusations, this or that, the chaos of the last weekend events was everywhere. George even had a meeting with his PR team about what Max has said about him, because they advised him to be quiet and not react to the sudden situation. Obviously, the reporter at the press conference really shoot his shot, making George say that strategic sentences that were put in his mouth by PR.

“Jesus Christ..” whispering to myself, my face went pale as I ran a hand over my face. I could feel the stares at my back from everybody around, but I really didn’t care.

George was now wearing his diva image, like the Mr. Unbreakable, but I knew the truth. Acting like he did nothing wrong, we met at the paddock entrance after an exhausting media day. He was all smiles and playfulness, until we got to the hotel. That was where the real show started.

I kicked off my heels at the door, cursing at my sore feet, getting to look outside the window to catch a glimpse of sunset. George hummed something under his breath, his body slumping down on the bed.

“What’s with that face of yours?”

I turned to the sound of his voice with quirked brow. “What do you mean?”

“Somethings bothering you and I know that face.”

“Well, yeah, something is actually bothering me.”

“Were you bored or food wasn’t good or-“

“Why do you always blame my mood or food that I’m not feeling great around at races? It’s always the same. You see something and accuses me that I’m bored, then you say that then I should be at home, because what have I expected, when you’re an F1 driver and then you’re accusing the food that’s bad, that I’m not pleased with it. You know what, maybe Max was right.”

I didn’t know where my words came from, but maybe it was just my bottled feelings from the past months. Even though we had our moments of love, there was this problem of his never ending tight schedule, my job and his constant travelling. I was trying my best to support him, even though I didn’t want to be in the spotlight, I still got along with that.

Expression on his face went from shocked to annoyed, maybe a little disappointed. “Wait, wait, wait. What the hell?”

I moved through the room to stand beside the table near the window, leaning against it. “I’m trying to say, that you’re acting like a chill guy and then you’re pinpointing every small thing around you. I pushed aside some of my activities to be here with you for whole weekend, not because I had to, but because I wanted to spend some time with you, even though it’s just a little. I’m not bored and catering is great. I’m grateful to be around, even though you’re acting like an idiot because of your PR image.”

“So, the problem is in what I said at that press conference, isn’t it? How I addressed Max for him talking shit about me?”

“Look, it wasn’t necessary for you to react to it. You were silent for whole week, so why not continue in that?”

“I needed to say something, because he’s a bully.”

“George..”

“No. I understand your concern, but don’t interfere into my affairs with other drivers. It’s not your business.”

I narrowed my eyes at his remark, trying to stay calm, but my patience was wearing thin.

“Well, next time, when you get home all wrecked and sad, you can sleep on the couch, because I don’t want to listen to your pathetic cries about how the world is unfair.”

With that I slammed the door of the bathroom, breathing through my anger and anxiety. Little voice in my head was expecting him to get to me, to calm me down, soothe my nerves. But it never came. Instead I heard how he changed into different clothes, and left the hotel room with slamming door.

Laying in bed, I was scrolling through the instagram and saw the post about dinner with all drivers invited by Lewis. It made me smile, I always adored how they were able to meet and put aside their rivalries. What was amusing was the fact that George sat at the other end of the table across Max. Unfortunately I fell asleep before George arrived back to the hotel room, unaware of him watching me sleep, caressing my cheek in loving way and then wrapping his arms around my waist, pulling me closer to his chest.

Alarm woke me up in the morning, Friday, the practise day. I got up to the bathroom, looking over the bed, seeing how George was still asleep, his beautiful face soft and peaceful, that it made me smile.

As I was putting on my makeup, a notification on my phone got my attention. Looking at instagram I saw the post from Max, announcing that they’re expecting a child with Kelly. At first, my eyes went wide with surprise, then I gasped loudly. I looked at the photo for quite some time, when George knocked on the door of bathroom.

“You can come in.”

George walked inside, noticing the surprised expression on my face as I was staring at the display of my phone.

“What’s wrong?”

“They’re expecting a child.”

“Who?”

“Max and Kelly.”

“Oh, yeah, I know. He told us yesterday.”

“That’s amazing. Really, I’m so happy for them.”

George watched my face intently with concern, maybe a little frown. He reached for the phone in my hands, snatching it away, pulling me into his warm embrace. Running his hand through my hair, he kissed my temple, resting his chin on the top of my head. I hugged him tightly, relaxing on his chest.

“Are you really okay? I know how badly this kind of news is affecting you.”

I just nodded, exhaling my uneasiness. It wasn’t that bad like before, I was genuinely happy for Kelly and Max.

“I’m okay, George. I’m excited to meet with Kelly and talk about the baby already.”

He saw my excitement in my eyes, his worries washing away.

“You know, they also had a hard time being successful. Maybe you and Kelly.. you know, you can catch up on some unspoken feelings.” His hand gently caressed my hair, giving me a sweet smile.

“So, that means you talked to Max?”

George rubbed his neck with nervous smile. “Yeah.. I was actually one of the first people to congratulate him. We talked and it’s okay between us. Also we decided not to fuel social media with another statements. Your speech yesterday got me thinking, you know..”

My lips curled in amused smile. “That’s great to hear.”

———

Through the practise session I spotted Kelly for a few times in the paddock. What I didn’t expect was her catching up with me along my way to the Mercedes hospitality.

“Hey, Kelly, it’s nice to see you.”

Her smile radiant, she was really glowing. “Long time no see, dear.”

“You look great, pregnancy really suits you. I nearly squealed in surprised, when I saw that post in the morning.”

Kelly chucked at my remark. “There were so many rumours throughout the years, but now it’s really true. And it’s really hard to hide it, so we decided to go out with it.”

“Yeah, rumours..” my voice faltered a bit, Kelly noticed.

“What about we get some coffee and snack over there? Talk a little bit.” Kelly smiled, gesturing towards the coffee stand.

———

As I sipped the coffee I couldn’t help but stare at her small bump. Kelly caught my gaze, chuckling.

“Do you want to touch it?”

My eyes went wide. “No, no. It’s okay. Really.”

“It’s okay, you can.”

Swallowing a lump in my throat I reached with my hand, landing it gently on the bump. It felt strange, the fact, that there is a baby growing inside. Also I felt the strange distant flutter in my belly I knew so well from the past. My smile went wide, while I caressed her belly.

“When I mentioned the rumours earlier, every time I heard or read about them, it pained me so much, because, of course, there was a miscarriage along the way. Then so many negative tests. Exhausting, depressing and frustrating. But most of all sadness, that I’m a failure. Max was always a perfect support, holding my hand while I was in pain, giving me a words that soothed the hole in my heart.” Kelly sighed a little, with a small smile.

“Yeah.. George was great too. We.. it happened to us too. A year ago at Monaco GP. I was really lucky that we were practically home. I couldn’t imagine to be in foreign country, hospital and then travelling home in that pain and sadness. The worst thing about it was that I haven’t even knew that I’m carrying a child, so I fell into the spiral of self guilt, i thought about all the moments when I drank alcohol, when I was overworking myself and social media were wild about me and George being a couple at that time. Really hard time. After that I dreamed about having a child, but George’s tight schedule and my health aren’t optimal, so we left it to the fate. I’m trying not to cling onto it, but as you know, it’s hard.”

Kelly looked genuinely surprised, but she grabbed my hand and gave it a light, reassuring squeeze.

“I’m really surprised, that there wasn’t any gossip about it, in that you’re really lucky. But on the other hand.. it really sucks and it’s horrible experience. Especially when there are people who would most likely see you at your lowest.”

“Yeah, tell me about it. That’s why I’m mostly aside, back from those crowds, press and nosy fans.”

“I understand that now.. I believe that one day you’re gonna get your own miracle.” Kelly smiled caressing her baby bump, while I grinned like a child.

———

Giving the last decoration up the Christmas tree, I sighed in relief, that it’s done. Exhaustion was one thing I got to live through the past weeks, it was weird. George was watching over me like a hawk since the end of the season, trying to pinpoint what might be wrong with me.

“What?” I asked him, when I turned around and caught his gaze.

His ocean eyes traveled over my body, noticing how I pulled my hoodie over my stomach weirdly. As if he finally understood what’s going on, his face softened, mouth slightly parted.

“Ah-ah. Don’t give me that look. No. You don’t know anything, just pretend and don’t ruin my surprise.”

With a soft chuckle, I took a small box into my hands, walking towards him and giving it to him.

“Just open it. I know that Christmas is a three days away, but I can’t wait anymore and you clearly just noticed.”

George quickly unwrapped the paper, revealing the small box into which was a positive pregnancy test and ultrasound picture.

“No way…” his whisper lingered through the room, filling the space with warmth and joy.

“I took it a day after we got home from Abu Dhabi, just to torture myself a little. And.. it came out positive. Same as ten others. As the tests at the doctors. And look at the small bundle at the picture. It’s our baby.” My eyes were on the verge of the tears, I still couldn’t believe it.

“You should’ve told me right away and not being alone in that feeling.” He frowned still looking at the ultrasound picture.

“I wanted it to be a surprise for Christmas. And.. if something would happen I wouldn’t be so distressed as the last time.. but I couldn’t wait to share it with you, and you caught how I’m tired and wearing baggy clothes, most of yours also..”

In a matter of seconds he wrapped his arms around my waist in tight hug, nuzzling his face into my neck, drowning in my scent, his hands slowly reaching my barely visible baby bump.

“I couldn’t wish for a better Christmas present. But.. there’s something missing, my love.”

As I quirked my brow, he put the box with a pregnancy test down, his hand shoving into the pocket of his sweatpants and taking out a smaller, red velvet box. My breath hitched in throat, absolutely taken aback by what he was about to do. Catching my shocked expression, he let out a shaky laugh, getting on his knee.

��Well… I also wanted it to be a Christmas surprise, but when I saw you decorating that Christmas tree, it felt natural to do it now, and in this moment, it makes perfect sense… my dear love, my enchanting partner, will you marry me? Will you spent an eternity with me?”

My tears were now flowing down my cheeks, along with the joyful laughter. “Yes, yes, absolutely, yes.”

Taking a ring from the pocket, he slid it down my finger, admiring how great it looked. I was literally shaking like crazy from all the overwhelming emotions.

“We’re crazy, George.”

“Crazy in love, Mrs. Russell.”

[carpedzem]

hi

under the cut i want to talk a little bit, maybe overshare as well. ill try to keep it short (rereading nat here. i didnt). its a sad post, might make some of you angry but not for the reasons you think

i was staying away on purpose, but a few people asked about me so i wanted to let you know that hey, im lurking, im waiting to see what happens. maybe some things will change in the future but im putting it out here so its all in one place

i think i want to start with saying thank you again for sticking around, supporting my art and my thoughts and having discussions with me. i really opened up about myself and what I created here. im very anxious person and it influences my life on every level, so being heard, seeing people laughing at my jokes, loving my art has been so so important to me

about the situation, the gogcident if you will, i logged out as soon as i saw things going down and been getting updates though different source. and while situation is still on going and i dont know where it will go, as how it ends, theres two or three things im firm on that will always be true for me:

i really hate how believe all victims turns into believe everyone who speaks first, no matter what they say, no matter context, no matter proof. the first statement made in this case was untrue in a lot of important details and while i dont think caitis feeling are wrong or invalid i think her first statement made this situation into something it isnt. i think every victim should be heard but attacking everyone who was accused right away is not a solution

i do believe that everyone who was accused of anything has every right to defend themselves. the way its constantly taken away from dteam is not lost on me and its insane and upsetting

you can be traumatized by the events that werent in its core meant to be traumatizing. sometimes people act shitty and leave scars on you and sometimes you can do the same to other people

edited note bc i want this to be here as well: guilty until proven innocent is a crazy mindset and i cannot imagine situation that i would allow it. some idiots dont even realise how dangerous rhetoric that is. including accusers not being obligated to provide any proof of their claims

twt is the worst thing to deal with any discourse, misunderstanding or any delicate situation. i think no ones there cares for any victims period. i wish that place the worst

okay so what now. i havent decided yet. georges and dreams moves so far confirmed for me that no matter what happened it wasnt with malicious intentions. ill wait to see how this plays out and then ill decide about my next steps. one think i did for sure is i uninstalled twt from my phone (and that already bit my ass the moment dream started his space…) that part of fandom, both people who like (liked?) and hate dream is so damn self-destructive, toxic, manipulative and performative it wasnt worth it anymore. for here, i dont know yet. i dont hate dteam, i think this is very unfortunate and sad and complicated situation that left people very deeply hurt. and i wish it wasnt this way and im pretty sure dteam also wish that. but they cant change it and i cant change it even more

now this is something i dont really know how to tell you but let me try. i never mentioned this bc when i had those realizations, it was too late, everyone moved on and i felt stupid for dwelling on this. i feel stupid now, typing this. the thing is, drituation left me quite traumatized. fucking pathetic, i know. the sudden explosion of fandom left me really badly hurt. i lost a lot of people i genuinely believed to be friends with, and i miss them dearly. i felt, fuck it, still feel deeply betrayed by some of them. i dont want people guess who is who thats not the point, those people moved on long time ago. but that hurt has been really difficult to deal with, especially since realistically i know its quite stupid. crying over some people who were following me back for a few months? but i tried to let myself heal and grow love for this community again and i thought we will be okay. drituation felt like the end of the world but we got through it and I thought we are smarter. and well. im not trying to blame anyone or even a whole community, idk maybe i want to blame the universe for putting me here or society for working this way i dont know. but im hurting and i need to find a better way to deal with things going the wrong way. and it deeply upsets me but im afraid that i have to learn how to love you all less. and i honestly dont know yet what that means, how moving forward will look like. i dont have to make this decision now so i let myself stay away from social media for a while still and then go with presented situation the best i can. i dont try to make anyone responsible for my wellbeing i want to make this clear. im just trying to share my feelings and give you context for whatever happen in the nearest future. no matter what i need more healthy relationship not even with ccs but with community itself (and if you see me rebloging hazbin hotel fanarts. spare me...)

in this place i do want to state that no matter what i dont think dteam are bad people. im not closing myself at possibility of participating in the fandom, probably less though things i mentioned earlier. but if any of those things make you uncomfortable in any way, feel free to unfollow/softblock

im leaving my askbox open if anyone has anything to say, add, or idk, scream at me. not sure if i answer any tho. also if i delete this post in the next 10 minutes out of embarrassment then well, haha

on the final note i want once again thank you all for supporting me when i needed help for my cat. you all did something amazing, something i will never forget and i wish to hug everyone of you in person. thank you

see you around. one day. maybe tomorrow maybe in 10 days. idk

and if you are moving on in different direction, if we ever meet again, dont be a stranger

[formula1fanfiction]

Lewis Hamilton / George Russell

Title: If they call me a slut, it might be worth it for a while

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton / George Russell

Characters: Lewis Hamilton, George Russell, Toto Wolff, Alex Albon, Lando Norris

Prompt: George crying a little because he will miss Lewis when he goes to Ferrari. Lewis consoles him, fucks him raw, and promises nothing will change. Also the next day George can't walk and received lots of teasing from other drivers and mechanics at Mercedes 😉

The knock at the door takes Lewis by surprise, it's one am! Lewis unbundles himself from his cocoon of bed covers and pads towards the door. He's nervous, nothing good usually comes from a wakeup call this early.

What Lewis was not expecting is a dishevelled looking George Russell, standing there. His hair unruly, curls sticking up at random angles, but what Lewis does notice is his red rimmed eyes and his long eyelashes clumped together with tears.

"I couldn't sleep." He sounds so sad and pathetic it hurts Lewis' heart, he steps to one side and lets the younger man in, waiting until they door closes behind them before taking George into his arms. The body shakes in his arms, as he cries freely. George cries a lot, but this feels different.

"What's wrong? " Lewis gentle pushes him back, to look at his face, he looks even more pathetic with tears running down his face. "I'm going to miss you, I don't know how I can go on without you." Lewis shushes him with a kiss to his lips, George honest to god melts in his arms.

"I'm still going to be here, nothing between us is going to change." Lewis cups his face and strokes his sharp jaw bone with the pad of his thumb. "I promise you, George. I love you."

"It just hit me, being here in Bahrain, it's our last time together here and with every upcoming race, it's one race closer to losing you. I can't lose you, I can't." Once George gets an idea in his head, it's hard to snap him out of it.

"You won't lose me George, the only thing that's going to change is that i'll be driving for Ferrari, you're still my boyfriend, I will be with you at every available opportunity, okay?" George nods, his eyes shiny with tears.

"Will you fuck me, Lewis?" The question takes him back a little bit, they never just make love it's always hard and fast and right now George looks like he couldn't take a bath. "What do you want baby, do you want me to make love to you?" George shakes his head. "No, like we usually do. I want you to fuck me so hard, i'll be feeling it during the race tomorrow." Fuck.

"Such a slut for it, Georgie." George nods, a wicked smile on his face, starting to look a lot like his usual self. "Your slut, Lewis."

"Take your clothes off, I want to see what you look like." George does as he's told instantly, he makes a bit of show if it, he slowly takes off his t-shirt, exposing his abs an inch at a time, before turning his attention to his bottom half, wiggling his ass he slides his sweat pants and boxers down, his hard cock slapping against his toned stomach.  

"Do you want me on the bed?" George flutters his bambi eyelashes. The thing about George is, he will do whatever he's told, Lewis could tell him to lay down the carpet while Lewis fucks him hard and leaves friction burns on his skin. He deserves better than that, at least for tonight anyway.

"On your back, I want to look at your pretty face when I fuck you." George lays himself in the middle of bed, smiling as Lewis makes his way over to him. He kicks off his own sweats and underwear before joining George on the bed.

"Get me nice and wet, baby." Lewis presses his thumb down on George's tongue, forcing his mouth open. He leaves his mouth open, just waiting while Lewis clutches both sides of his head and slowly feeds George his cock, who moans happily around him, finally getting what he wants.

"Keep your eyes on me, Georgie." George flicks up his eyes, to meet Lewis' they are bright and shiny. A small trickle of saliva running down his chin as his mouth is completely filled with Lewis. He looks beautiful like this, like he was born to have his lips wrapped around Lewis' cock.

Lewis uses the hands on George's head as leverage as he fucks the younger man's throat. The angle gives George no choice other than to lay back and take it. Lewis fucks that little bit deeper each time, wondering how far he can fuck down George's throat.  

He keeps going until, he's got the whole of his cock inside, George's nose is pressed against his pubic bone. He holds him there. "Keep looking at me baby, just a little bit longer." He holds George there, until he thinks he can't take it anymore, then pulls out. A long line of saliva keeps them attached together.   

"let me reward you for that blow job, before I fuck you hard." George gives an excited little squeal as Lewis pulls him down the bed with his massive legs, raising them and pulling his cheeks apart to reveal his cute, pink hole.

Lewis holds him by the hips, just to keep him still as he presses he base of his tongue against George's hole. George moans beautifully above him as Lewis flicks his tongue and licks over his muscle, getting it as wet as possible.

"Fuck, Lewis." George is a mess already and Lewis has only just got the tip of his tongue inside, pushing in a single finger along without, helping him to open up that little bit more, for the rest of his tongue. Lewis licks the deepest parts of him, slowly savouring the taste and every little whine George makes above him in pleasure.

Lewis uses the wetness from his tongue to slide as second finger inside, scissoring them apart and fucking the younger man with both fingers, he varies from tongue and fingers up until he's got three fingers easily slamming in and out of him. Only then does Lewis fuck deeper and deeper until he finds the sweet spot inside of him. George groans like a whore, Lewis uses that as his queue to let his fingers slip out.

Lewis wraps George's long legs around his waist and bumps the head of his cock against George's hole. He wants to make George beg for it, but decides today's not the day for that.

"Please, fuck me Lewis." Turns out George does the job all by himself.

Lewis takes pity on him and slowly pushes his cock inside, they haven't used lube, so Lewis gives him time to stretch, he feels tight and amazing wrapped around Lewis. Judging by the sounds falling from his lips, it must feel good for George too. Lewis slides to the hilt and stalls, George being filled to the brim with Lewis is the most glorious sight.

"Oh, crikey." George groans clenching and unclenching. "I hope you're not going to go easy on me."  

"Did I ever say that, Georgie?" Lewis pulls all the way out and slams back inside of him again. "Someone's going to be a whiny brat during the race tomorrow." All thoughts of a slow fuck havr gone out of the window and Lewis picks up a brutal pace, ramming in and out of George, who just lays back and takes it like the perfect little slut.

George's body is shaking with every brutal thrust into him, his moans and whines are getting louder with every thrust into him. He's so loud that, anyone walking past can surely hear him. Lewis takes matters into his own hands and wraps them tightly around George's throat and squeezes.

Lewis uses the hands on George's throat as leverage, slamming into him while cutting off the blood supply and shutting him up in the process. George's mouth goes slack as the air leaves his lungs.

"Are you going to shut up?" Lewis growls, fucking into the younger man with all his might, skin slapping against skin echoing around them. George holds on for as long as he can, but soon the need breathe because too strong, he gives Lewis a little nod and he gently lets go.

The moans start up against almost instantly, Lewis loves hearing them, he really does but he can't have George's mouth getting them into trouble. He scoops up his boxers from the floor and shoves them into George's mouth. His eyes widen pleasure, god Lewis loves him.

"Such a little slut, you want the whole hotel to know you're getting fucked, don't you baby?" Lewis angles his thrusts ever so slightly, until George is moaning around the make shift gag, hips arching up off the bed in pleasure.

"Come on my cock, baby, come on." Lewis squeezes his hips, hard enough to leave bruises, he really is going to be a mess in the morning and slams into his prostate with every thrust. George is withering underneath him, his cock laying abandoned on his stomach. He's so close, his eyes become unfocused and with a muffled moan he comes, spurting his load over his own stomach.

"Such a good boy for me, Georgie."

Lewis himself is close to the point of no return now, George has gone pliant around him, while his arse clenches tightly around Lewis, it's so tight now, he can hardly move, he only manages a further three thrusts before he's coming inside of George and collapsing on top of him.

Lewis is awoken by withering him underneath him, it takes a moment for his brain to catch up, it's morning, the light coming in through the gap in the curtains is burning his eyes, his now soft cock is still inside of George and he's embarrassingly slavered all over his shoulder.  

"You need to get off me, were going to be late." George gently pushes Lewis by the hips, but he's still too groggy and confused to understand what's going on. So he just rolls over, his intention isn't going back to sleep, but his eye lids burn and it can't be time to go to the track yet.  

"Lew, come on, you need to wake up." Lewis opens on eye, George is fully dressed in his team kit, showered his hair perfectly styled and smelling of mint, he's even had time to shave "Fuck off, it's sleepy time."

"It's eight fifteen, we need to be at the track in fifteen minutes." George giggles from where he's sitting on the bed as Lewis bolts up right and frantically pulls on his clothes, he falls over his trousers in the process, pulling more giggles from George. Lewis scowls at his hair in the mirror, there just isn't any time to do anything about it.  

They leave together, it's the first time he notices what a mess George actually is, he's got finger shaped bruises on his neck, whenever his shirt rides up you can see the bruises on his hips and he's walking with an unmistakeable limp.

"For fuck sake, Lewis." Toto shakes his head taking in George. "When I said I approved of your relationship, I didn't mean you could wreck him, he has a car to sit in."  

George beams at him from behind Toto's shoulder, that little fucker. No one would ever believe sweet innocent little people pleaser George would moan and beg for this like a cheap whore. Lewis stays quiet, until Toto walks away muttering under his breath.  

"Hey George." The mechanics greet him with a warm smile. "I can certainly tell what you got up to last night, hope it's not going to affect your ability to drive. George giggles. "I'm a professional, i'm used to it."

They leave for the drivers parade together, George makes his way over to Alex, who teases him and calls him a little whore, Lando nods in agreement. "I can't believe you let him do that you, on race day." George bites his lips, eyes locking onto Lewis. "I like to feel him, when i'm racing.

"Jesus, Lewis." Valtteri makes his way over to him. "You didn't go easy on him, did you?" Lewis shakes his head, his eyes still locked on George.

"He just needs to know, who he really belongs to."   

[allyricas]

Moving On pt. 2

part one

3,180k words

The day of the trip to Indy finally arrives and the weather does not reflect the excitement Steve feels as he loads his last bag into the trunk of his car. He knows he overpacked but wants to be ready for anything. He also has a cooler full of drinks and sandwiches along with enough junk food to make anyone sick.

He and Robin had decided to make sure they had plenty of food so they could settle in to their hotel and chill the first night. Robin had an early campus tour and Steve had a meeting with an advisor at the community college he’d be taking his cosmetology courses. They had a packed schedule considering they needed to find an apartment and jobs (together if possible) and the urge to scope out the gay scene. Or find it, at the very least.  

Steve pulled into Robin’s driveway and saw that she’d also slightly overpacked. Two halves of the same soul, the two of them. He got out and helped her load up her bags. She was holding a thermos of something and wearing a pair of Steve’s sweatpants. That’s where those went. He’d been looking for them for a week. Robin had a tendency to steal his clothes which mostly just made Steve feel all loved and shit, so he only complained for appearance’s sake.  

“Rob, my fucking sweatpants. Come on, I’ve been looking for them.” He whined. He truly didn’t mean it all.  

“Shut up, they are my pants now. They look hotter on me.” She laughed, doing a pathetic little shimmy. She was not a morning person. The messy bed head and the large amount of coffee she was inhaling made this apparent. “I am so tired, but really fucking excited. I brought the music. You are banned for the entire drive up and back. I will fucking jump out of this car if you play any sad, pining music. This is fun time not sad boy time.”   

“That tape has Whitney and George Michael on it. It’s not a total sad fest.”  

“Liar. You cry the most whenever careless whisper comes on.” Robin replied viciously.  

“Let’s uh, not talk about that please.” Steve knew he was still whining a bit, but Robbie was mean in the morning.  

The drive up went smoothly despite the terrible weather. Fifteen minutes into the drive, it started to torrentially rain. Thunder shook the car and lightning lit up the sky. Robin did in fact have all upbeat music and refused to let Steve play anything remotely sad. This was good as he was feeling rather happy in the moment. At one point it rained so hard, Steve had to pull over and wait for it to slow down as Robin started hyperventilating. What should have been an hour and fifteen-minute drive took three hours, but time spent with his best friend was always good.  

Navigating the city was invigorating (for Steve) and anxiety inducing (for Robin), but they both could barely contain their excitement when they finally pulled up to the motel they're staying at. It’s a little mom and pop place that Joyce and Hop had recommended. Why those two have a favorite motel in the city, Steve doesn't want to think to much about.

It’s a cute place, white shutters and soft yellow paint with a rustic looking sign that says The Mosey Inn. The rooms were entered from the outside, with parking all around the place. There were plants everywhere and everything had a well-loved appeal. It’s a rather nice little place. He goes in to check them in and there is an older woman at the desk. She's one of those people who radiates kindness and Steve likes her right away.  

“Hello there, dear. Welcome to the Mosey Inn. I’m one-half of Mosey, but you can call me Elise.” She’s smiling softly at him as he walks up to the desk. 

“Hi, I have a reservation for Harrington. For a suite with two queens.” He finds he’s nervous which feels silly. He grew up checking into hotels and dealing with reservations. Usually, it was at swanky hotels that his parents would leave him in before he was old enough to be all alone at home.  

“Of course, sweetie. Joyce and that sweet Jimmy told me all about you the last time they visited for the weekend. I just adore them. Jimmy did some handy work for me and the missus last time they were here. We’re getting up there in age and my Maggie cannot be climbing ladders anymore. I always give them a discount and I like the look of you, dear. I’ll give you one too.”

She’s beaming at Steve like she is thrilled to meet him which is not something he’s exactly used to. He’s thinking over what she said. The missus, her Maggie. He looks around the room and spots a tiny pink triangle on a bookshelf. Oh. This was a safe place. He owed Hop and Joyce dinner because this was the nicest surprise he’d gotten in a long time. He'd definitely be calling Hopper by the nickname Jimmy though.

“Thank you so much, ma’am. I know my friend Robin and I are going to enjoy this trip even more now knowing this is a safe place for people like us.” That felt as close to telling a stranger he was gay he could manage, but it felt huge to say it. It meant something to find this little piece of community with two women who were old enough to be his grandmothers. He felt like he might cry and for once, there were happy tears brimming in his eyes.  

“Please, call me Elise. There’s no ma’am, none of that uppity nonsense. This place is for friends, you understand.” She told him in a voice so genuine that Steve choked back a sob. He handed over his credit card and she handed him two room keys. “We offer breakfast and lunch, usually buffet style unless we say otherwise. There’s a coffee station around the corner and there’s always some sort of snacks next to it. If you need anything just give us a ring. Feel free to come chat anytime. Enjoy your stay.” 

“I think I will, Elise. I’ll bring Robin around to meet you once we’re settled, probably for breakfast tomorrow!” 

_________________________________________

As soon as Steve got back into the car, he excitedly told Robin all about Elise and her partner and how the Inn was a safe place for them. The fact that Joyce and Hopper stayed here whenever they wanted a night or two away from the chaos of their little blended family filled Steve with joy. He knew that they weren’t hateful people, but this was outright acceptance by the adults he respected most in his life. Robin was rambling on about the décor of the inn as he lugged their many suitcases into their room. She just smiled at him as he struggled.

It was cozy with two queen beds and a little kitchenette and a sitting area off to the side. There was a good size bathroom and closet. It was decorated in soft hues of yellow and green with floral bedding. It was lovely and Steve felt immensely at home in this place.  

“This place is so cute!” Steve exclaimed happily, finally collapsing onto his bed. It was comfortable too. “Damn, this is going to be a nice trip. Elise said they offer 2 meals, that there’s a coffee station with snacks and this bed is fucking soft as hell.” 

“So basically, we can save a ton of money and try to eat here most of the time is what I'm hearing you say Steven?” This seemed to genuinely thrill Robin.  

“Absolutely, we can go visit with them tomorrow during breakfast. It’s from 6:30 to 8:30.” Steve knew this was going to cause some mild stress for Robin. This delighted him. 

“Ugh, ugh. For free breakfast and fellow lesbians, I will get up. You might have to drag me though.” 

Steve laughed, delighted at the prospect of waking Robin up in the morning. It was early evening, but they decided to munch on the leftover food from the drive in and relax. There was a small tv, so they found something to put on and got comfortable. The day so far had been nearly free of sad thoughts over Eddie, but it seemed inevitable that Steve would start to think about him. For one thing, Eddie would look ridiculous in the Mosey Inn, although he would thoroughly appreciate the pun. Yet, there was a part of Steve wishing that Eddie was a part of all of this.

Before he’d ruined everything, Eddie would have been invited on this trip without a second thought. If only he could go back and not fall in love with stupid Eddie Munson. Steve worries that falling for him would have been inevitable though. Everything about him made Steve crazy.

The moment he knew he was monumentally fucked was a few months after everything with Vecna went down. Eddie had still been in the hospital, thankfully cleared off all charges with Hopper back in charge. He’d been high off his ass on morphine and smiling at Steve. Eddie had looked at Steve and said, “Stevie, sweetheart—you beautiful man. How come you’re always sitting around here taking care of me huh?” and Steve had known several things.  

He wanted Eddie to smile at him like that for the rest of his life. He really enjoyed being called sweetheart. And the reason he was always hanging around was because he wanted to be with Eddie. Eddie who always lit up with joy when he saw Steve sitting by his hospital bed. All the time they spent walking that line between friends and more, or at least that’s what Steve thought.

He swore there was so much flirting back and forth. Like the time Steve snuck in cheeseburgers, fries and milkshakes from the one diner left open in town and Eddie had told Steve, “All this for little old me?” while literally twirling his hair like a schoolgirl. Or when Steve brought in books for him and Eddie had just clasped Steve’s hand tight and said nothing, just staring intently at him like Steve really meant something to him.  

All misread apparently. It wasn’t flirting at all, just Eddie being Eddie. And Steve had ruined it. He tried not to spiral into his bad thoughts too much but he felt like he always ruined everything. Robin might be his best friend, his platonic soulmate and other half, but it’d been so nice to have a close guy friend.

Eddie had barely been out of the hospital when Steve had driven him up to Indy to replace some of his things lost to the earthquakes. There were better record stores and better thrift stores, and Eddie had very little left to his name. The trailer was gone. He’d even lost his beloved guitar. Steve had never planned on telling Eddie how he felt during that trip, but Eddie has a way of needling things out of people. Something Steve usually finds quite adorable, but not so much when it’s his own unrequited feelings.  

Sighing to himself, Steve sits down by the phone to call Dustin and tell him they made it to the city safely. This means actually calling Mike’s house since the boys are having their weekly nerd fest. The whole group of them are all a little codependent, but after everything they’ve been through it seems reasonable. Unfortunately, Mike nor Nancy answers the phone. It’s Karen Wheeler and she lets Steve know that the boys are all over at Eddie’s apartment playing their little game. That’s exactly what she calls it which does make him chuckle.

He dreads calling Eddie’s place, but he did promise Dustin he’d call. Dustin is already asking questions about him and Eddie. If he’s weird on the phone it will only fan the flames of Dustin’s incessant need to meddle. He dials the number and tries to psyche himself up for the interaction. Maybe one of the kids will answer.  

“Munson Residence, Eddie the Banished speaking?” Eddie’s voice fills Steve’s ear. It’s like a punch to the gut, but Steve takes a deep breath.  

“Is that how you really answer the phone all time or am I just lucky?” Steve asks lightly. Do not make this weird. Be cool. “Or is it just because you’re playing dungeons and whatever?”  

“Ha, Ha. I knew it was you telepathically, so I of course had to answer the phone accordingly. My liege, what can I do for you on this fine summer evening?” 

“You’re lucky it’s cute to be such a fucking nerd.” Shit, shit, shit. Abort flirting. “Kidding, kidding. I called to see if Dustin is still there. I told him I’d call when we got settled.” 

“Rude, I am absolutely the cutest nerd. I’d dare say, adorable even. The fairest in the land, perhaps.” Eddie’s voice had gone low and Steve would bet a hundred bucks he was twirling his hair. What the fuck? “You know, you obviously like nerdy shit considering you-” 

“Hey stop flirting with Steve and let me talk to him, I've been waiting to hear from him all day. We’re in the middle of a campaign Steve. We need our DM not whatever the fuck he was just doing.” Dustin says this all like he knows for a fact that everything he says is true. It’s not.

“Tone, dusty bun. I’m not gay and I wasn’t flirting with Harrington, just messing with him. He’s just so easy to tease. We’re just buddies like that, right man?” Eddie replied, his voice no longer soft, low and sweet. In fact, Eddie sounded hostile. Steve felt his stomach turn. He couldn't even reply.  

“Nothing wrong with being gay, you moron.” Dustin replied firmly. This made Steve smile considering Dustin didn’t even know about Steve yet. He was definitely his favorite kid. Dustin continued on “I mean, we’ve fought literal monsters. Of all things to get worked up over, being gay is not even on the damn list!”   

“I didn’t mean it in a rude way, just saying we were not flirting.” 

“Whatever you say Eddie.” 

“Um, hello guys I am still on the phone.” Steve yelled as the two of them continued to bicker. “I have to go, but I’ll call in a few days Dustin. Bye Eddie.” Steve replied, trying his best not to cry. 

“Wait-Harrington. Steve, I didn’t mean anything by that okay.” 

“Yeah of course, no worries, man. Talk to you later.” Steve knew his voice was emotionless.  

_______________________________

He had to get over Eddie. This confusing back and forth was so painful. Steve didn’t consider himself the brightest, but that felt like flirting. What straight guy calls himself the fairest of the land or adorable to another man? Eddie’s tone of voice was the exact same tone Steve had used so many times to flirt with girls. He knew what flirting looked like. He shouldn’t have started it with the cute comment, but Eddie had most certainly flirted back. He looked over at Robin who was sitting up and waiting patiently for Steve to hang up the phone.  

She looked worried. If his face was at all reflecting how he felt right now, he understood why. The way Eddie has sounded when he said he wasn’t flirting. He told Robin the entire conversation verbatim and he watched her face go through a myriad of emotions. Despite the fact that Robin wasn’t the most tactile person, she threw her arms around him and let him cry all over her t-shirt.  

“Well, I could just kill him. I swear to fucking God. If he’s not gay, fine. But why flirt back?” 

“Maybe he really isn’t flirting. He said he was just messing with me. Maybe we’ve been reading it wrong this whole time!” Steve cried.  

“Fuck that, even Dustin called him on it. He flirts with you all the time. If he’s just messing with you at this point, it’s cruel. Especially now that he knows you’re gay and have feelings for him. I won’t be friends with a bigot.” 

“No, Robbie. I don’t think he’s a bigot. He’s just trying to deal with all this. It’s not his fault I had to go and fall for him. I always fall for the first person who shows me any attention. I ruined this. He’s just...I think he’s a flirty person and I’m just the idiot who thought it meant something.” 

“Shut your whore mouth Steven Elizabeth. That’s absolute nonsense. Eddie is a socially awkward, metalhead D&D playing virgin. You and I both know it. I’ve never seen him so much as look at a girl in a romantic way. He barely talks to anyone he doesn’t know unless it’s to cause a scene. That boy is not a natural flirty person. He flirts with you. He’s either an idiot, a repressed idiot or an asshole. Pick one.” 

“He’s not a virgin, no way. Look at him. Some people go for the whole alternative thing. He’s in a band for fuck’s sake. I bet he’s fucked lots of girls. I mean, he is objectively hot.” Steve argued.  

“Steve!! You always defend him like some sort of rabid groupie, but if that man has so much as seen a real-life titty, I will eat my shoe. He isn’t ugly, I will grant you that one. But please, Eddie Munson is not banging hot chicks on the regular.” 

“I pick that he’s an idiot. I do not think Eddie would purposefully hurt me by flirting just to be all ‘ha-ha, gay boy you fell for it’ when he didn’t even know I was gay until I told him how I felt. I think he just likes to tease me, like he said and he doesn’t know how flirty it comes off maybe?” 

“Dingus. You are in love with him. You are no objective source on the situation.” 

“Can we just... pretend Eddie Munson doesn’t exist for a few days. I won’t play my mixtape. I will try not to mope... let’s just find an apartment and visit your campus and apply for jobs everywhere we can find. It hurts too much to talk about right now.” 

Steve knows he’s lying to Robin. It’s impossible for him to pretend Eddie doesn’t exist. It’d be nice to try though. Instead of trying, he wonders what Eddie’s thinking about back in Hawkins. Is he feeling bad for how he spoke to Steve tonight? Is he also worrying over every little thing he said? Does Eddie even care that what he said felt like a slap to the face? The way he’d said Harrington, instead of Steve. The disgust in his voice when he’d said he wasn’t flirting. At least it was crystal clear that Eddie would never reciprocate his feelings. It feels nearly impossible, but Steve knows he has to let go of Eddie and move on. Two weeks in Indy with Robin should be the perfect way to start trying.   

@koyislosinghismind

@lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring

@dilutedpondwater

@r0binscript

@wheatnoodle

@randomnessbecausewhynot

[22degreehalo]

aaaaand FINALLY I've finished writing up my next few recs for the Summer @ficreadingchallenge :'DDD Most of these I read weeks ago when I was especially tired and just wanted to lie down and listen to some podfics, as you'll see below~ But I'm still going! I got sooo close to finishing a line this time (and I WOULD HAVE if I hadn't swapped around the squares for some of these hahaha) and if possible I want to complete a full blackout! n.n

A couple of prompt-related rambles: 'Enemies to Friends / Lovers' is highlighted buuut I actually later decided to use that fic for 'Future AU' so. Oh well :') I also swapped a fic from Domestic to Gift Giving even though gifts aren't the main focus because I was having trouble with that square and the gifts ARE still a pretty big part of the fic so??? who cares hahaha. Also somehow I've gotten this far using a different pairing for every single square and I was absolutely tempted to try to continue that, and am knocking myself out of it because I just want to encourage myself to read fic, not force myself into a pretzel trying to track down rarepair fics that SHOULD exist SOMEWHERE......

New recs below!! :D

Canon Compliant

after knowing all, I wonder, can you really say innocent? By Aialize (15.5k, ongoing, Milgram gen)

This is a super fascinating fic and a great example of one of my favourite genres: crack treated seriously! In this one, the music videos exist in-universe and the prisoners (plus Es) will watch them all, reacting and responding in-character. I love how committed the author is to this premise: some of the characters would rather forget all this stuff is even happening, while others (most notably Kotoko) fully intend to learn all they can about the other prisoners from them. It’s still early days, but I can’t wait to see how they all react differently, and what (correct or incorrect!) conclusions they come to! (Also, maybe it seems strange to use an AU fic for the tag ‘Canon Compliant’, but the fic is sticking to the canonically-chosen verdicts which is why it counts!)

Fic With No Comments Yet

messin’ up my mind by Skyrose – a podfic by CailynWrites (5k, 33:47, Percy/Oliver)

Choosing podfics for the ‘No Comments Yet’ category almost feels like cheating heh, but these very important fan works deserve just as much love!!! This is an adorable fic: stories where the characters’ friends/family ‘ship them’ can be corny and OOC, but I love that Fred and George initially just want to give Oliver something to care about other than Quidditch training, and have no clue the cogs they started working in Oliver’s head until they’re ready for that last push. And I love Oliver and Percy’s relationship: not quite close, comfortable friends, but more like very different people who’ve spent a lot of time together and never quite taken the plunge in becoming fixtures of one another’s life – yet. <3

Hurt/Comfort

The Care and Feeding of a Deeply Depressed Vampire [Podfic] by secretsofluftnarp, read by Pandamug (2.8k, 21:16, Nandor/Guillermo

Fics that perfectly capture the absurd black humour of this show are always a treat and this fic is no exception! One of the tags is ‘canon-typical sex talk’ and hoo BOY is that accurate haha, but beneath the characteristic horniness and always-at-least-mild insufferability, Nandor really is just a pathetic sad little vampire, and the degree of care Guillermo has for him – and how much Nandor trusts him in return – is so sweet!

BIPOC Character

[Podfic] The Benefits of Communication written by ushauz, voiced by GodOfLaundryBaskets (3.2k, 27:27, Wyll/Astarion)

I’m still dipping my toes into Wyll/Astarion fanfic, but this was a very nice introduction!! Despite focusing on Astarion’s trauma around sex, it also gets a bit into Wyll’s complicated relationship with it as well, in a way that totally makes sense for them! I can 100% see these two dumbasses having a miscommunication like this, doing something they both don’t like just because they think it’ll make the other happy :’D

Future AU

Recognition by SaraJaye (2k, N/Hilbert)

This is such a sweet fic, and I can totally imagine these two’s relationship going this way post-canon!! By the end of the game they’d both need some time before they’d really be ready to be in a relationship, and though short I totally love how the friendship builds enough here for them to do that! <3

Gift Giving

Tinsel by Lunar_Years (17.5k, Roy/Jamie/Keeley)

I absolutely love and 100% recommend this entire series of RJK fics – they capture the characters and their relationship absolutely perfectly, and the familial interactions ring so true! I particularly loved Roy’s complicated relationship to the holidays; feeling troubled by his own lack of enthusiasm towards what should be ‘his’ celebrations, and only realising in retrospect that he really had enjoyed his time taking part in it all with his partners. Despite being longer than all the other fics I’ve recced here so far, the time absolutely blazed by, because it all flowed so smoothly and once I started reading I didn’t want to stop! <3

Time Travel

Catalyst [podfic] by TheStarvingWriter, read by RavenGranger11 (2.5k, 19:53, Dean/Castiel)

This fic packs in so much for its length! It’s wonderfully atmospheric between the dingy motel room and young Dean’s insecurity and longing, and from the moment Cas steps in his fondness and familiarity for Dean shines right through <3

Time Loop

& home & home & home (or, a timeloop) by decemberista - a Podfic read by Beatificbean (3.1k/20:09, Remus/Sirius)

Ugh, this fic hits so hard. :( With its succinct writing we really get a sense of how hard Sirius tries, over and over, to save everyone. It’s almost like poetry – especially at the end, which really made me cry!! ;__;

[f1-disaster-bi]

Cause my brain won't shut up:

"Why...why did you leave?"

Charles has been hovering since George had brought Lando back. His familiar light blue aura ringed with darker streaks that made Lando’s fingers twitch. He wanted to reach out, to cleanse the sadness and stress from Charles but he didn't.

"I did what I had to do for me", Lando answered truthfully because there was no reason to lie.

Being here might be uncomfortable, and Lando ached for home and his plants, but he saw no reason to lie to any of them now that he was here.

His hands stayed steady as held Max’s chin in one hand. The other carefully administered his healing tincture to his friends split lip, before he dropped another few drops near his black eye and massaged it into the skin softly.

"Tickles", Max laughed softly at the feeling of the little bit of magic Lando pushed into his skin to try speed up the process.

"You always were sensitive to magic", Lando teased softly as he stepped back to admire his work, "The lip will take a day or two but you won't feel pain from it. Your bruising should be mostly faded by morning as long as you don't get punched again"

"I deserved it", Max shrugged, looking unbothered but he squeezed a hand around Lando’s wrist in a soft thank you.

He could see the concern on his friend's face, but Lando just shook his head slightly because Charles was still here. He had let Lando out of his sight since he had come back, and Lando understood it to an extent.

"He did deserve it", Charles grumbled with his arms crossed but instead of threatening or angry, he just looked sad and defeated as he watched them, "He knew where you were for four years. Four years of watching us worry and search and he never said a word"

The anger and hurt rolling off him was stifling. It made Lando’s hair stand on edge. He could feel it in his teeth as they ached with the bitterness infecting the energy of the room and he desperately wished, for a moment, that he hadn't come but then he thought of Alex.

He couldn't let Alex suffer just because he didn't want to be here.

In truth, if any of them had shown up as George did, declaring that one of them was in trouble, Lando would have come.

As pathetic as it was after everything that had happened, Lando would still come to their rescue because he loved them all despite everything.

"He was protecting me", Lando said after a while because what else could he say, "He was being a good friend"

Charles still watched him with nothing but pain in those green eyes that used to look at Lando with nothing but joy and friendship.

"A good friend wouldn't have let us think you were dead for four years"

[steelycunt]

ridi i'm LOVING all these unpopular opinions!! music haterism is always justified imo and soo entertaining also love that i agree with you 100% on basically everything 😌 some of these things just had to be said…

i thought i didn’t have anything to add because ts, hs etc have all been spoken about and i don’t listen to modern music enough to have strong opinions on any others but then i remembered my BIGGEST parasocial enemy (who i never talk about bc i don’t really have that good a reason to find her annoying i just do) is beabadoobea…

apologies in advance but she sort of represents everything wrong with the music industry rn to me so maybe a rant is justified here? anyway taking this opportunity to say i think she’s so overrated and not in a unique way, like it isn’t new for people to get careers from how they look but in her case specifically it annoys me sm because of what her fans are like and also it’s close to home…as in my cousin is one of her best friends from school so i knew of her when she started releasing music on band camp and had to watch her make a music career off being pretty on instagram with the four chords my cousin taught her on guitar and a voice that’s just…fine, and whatever everyone has to start somewhere except she got a record deal when her sound was completely underdeveloped before she’d had time to learn anything about music or her own artistry and like fuck around experimenting for a while.

which is so common these days i think w people blowing up on social media and getting handed careers i.e riding on the people who can actually play their instruments and getting loads of money thrown at them to make really bland four chord nothing songs... like in the first few years of her career she made so much music and it was all so boring and sounded exactly the same, even now it might be unfair but i do just assume any vaguely interesting part of her output is someone else’s work like sorry she’s never had to come up with her own fully fledged ideas or concepts and she’s been working with the pressure of commercial viability the whole time, any potential she might have had i just think was squandered by having everything come too fast and too easily or maybe i'm being generous and her authentic sound is just boring idk because it still doesn't seem like she has anything to say…all this wouldn’t be as bad if her fans weren’t sooo insanely annoying about her + as a person i have no real reason to but i just do not like her :| my cousin is still good friends with her as well so i have to pretend i know nothing but the picture of her i’ve built from things my cousin’s said…just aggravating, alsoo she’d played at my work once when my friend was on shift and her ex bf that looks a tiny bit like george harrison was sitting at the bar the whole time drinking water and not talking to anyone while she was doing coke in the bathroom and he looked so pathetic my friend started talking to him to cheer him up in between serving him his next cup of tap water…

HELLO MY DARLING!! oh my god i didnt realise she needed to come up until you said it...bebadoobedobee...beadbeadooebadoo..clapping n cheering for your rant because youre fucking RIGHT i have a few friends who like her and have tried to get me to listen to her and she was just. appalling truly and as you say not even just in a ah shes trying shes young she'll get better kind of way but in a this is genuinely unbelievably soulless and bland and boring and says so little that even she seems disinterested with it. the inside scoop on her from your cousin is delicious also gbfskjfskd her poor sad george harrison boyfriend..

i think youre so right and i dont mean that new artists shouldnt be given a break or an opportunity or anything but like you say, when theyre being harvested on social media, where a lot of the time look is everything (as i believe it is for bebadoobebdoo, her look her 'aesthetic' pinterest-board fashion sense does play a part i really think it does because there is no way her music is strong enough on its own to be successful) and where they may not necessarily be super experienced or practiced yet (which again, i appreciate, theyre new), a lot of money goes into getting songs out of them which are inevitably boring unimaginative four-chord songs that do not have enough substance to make anyone feel anything. including the people singing them. i cant imagine that beabadoobee demonstrated enough genuine musical promise to be given a record deal so i have to believe its either her image or the idea that well if we give her tons of expensive resources maybe then she'll end up putting out something good.

there have to be new artists out there who are more talented and interesting and would do more with the sort of record deal thrown at beabadoobebee than beabadoobdbbee did...surely...i really did try to like her because my friends raved about her so much so i listened to a fair bit from her and her music was just so staggeringly nothing. i think you make a good point about how the fact that she got a record deal so early on probably has sort of stifled the music she makes/her ability to experiment with it but im not sure im as kind as you because i do fear she is just not very talented perhaps. sorry giggling at her sad george harrison tapwater drinking boyfriend again poor lad..

[bellatrixscurls]

“his baby” ☁️ g.f.w.

summary : georgie praising his little baby.

request : can i request george wealsey x fem reader lazy early morning smut pls🥺 with praise kink and slight daddy kink too.

warnings : smut, slight daddy kink, fingering, oral (fem rec), kisses, pet names, praise kink, this is shitty tbh might delete it in the morning.

"g-georgie, what are you doing ?" you whined weakly, unable to move as your boyfriend's body forced your own deeper into the mattress.

but he didn't answer. he was too focused, admiring your beautiful face and body "never seen someone as beautiful as my baby" his hand carressed the side of your cheek, a big smile on his face as he continued to praise you.

honestly, you didn't know the reason of his sudden urge to do so, but you didn't mind. "such beautiful lips, m'love...and tits-" he paused, dark eyes glancing down at your chest. it was like he couldn't control himself as he squeezed one of them, a sly smirk appearing when you whimpered, "like that, angel ?"

"uh-huh" you managed, keeping your eyes closed as george's hands made sure to caress every inch of your body.

you felt his hands slide down to your clothed cunt, underwear already soaking in your own arousal. george took his time playing with the hem of it, his eyes on yours the whole time, adoring the way your face would twist in anticipation of what he was about to do, "i'm waiting for permission, my love..."

and that's when you felt like you could even explode from his words only. "p-please, daddy touch me, pl-" but you didn't even finish your sentence as your underwear was pulled to the side, fingers prodding at your wet entrance, but missing every time.

"look how wet you are, baby. my baby's so needy, isn't she ?" he taunted, still not as excited to tease you as usual. to be fair, you looked so pretty that he found it hard to keep making you beg.

you brought your hand down, fingers curling around your boyfriend's wrist as you tried to get him to move and give you what you wanted. and when he saw how desperate you actually were, he let out a chuckle before saying, "alright, alright-" he pushed two long fingers inside of you, earning a loud moan as you bucked your hips, feeling george's fingers go even deeper, "taking my fingers so well, bunny. come on, then, use 'em to feel good."

you continued to buck your hips, gasping every time your boyfriend's fingers would graze your g-spot, him always telling you to 'take it like a good girl'.

"nobody could take my fingers so well, bunny. they don't even stand a chance. only you, yeah ?" "o-only me".

he hummed in agreement, still knuckles deep inside of you as he kept thrusting his fingers at a ruthless pace, "that's right, pretty girl. show georgie how well you can take his fingers, alright ? cum for me, c'mon" he scrissored his fingers, stretching you out deliciously.

you, on the other hand, were a whimpering mess, practically melting with every praise you got from the handsome man above you, "kisses, please" you begged almost pathetically, expecting george to mock you for being so needy *like he usually does* but when you opened your eyes, he was already leaning closer, his bottom lip tucked in in anticipation.

and that's when you felt it : the softness of his lips against yours. they were moving so gently, almost as if your lips were made of porcelain.

george's sweet kisses along with the delicious movement of his fingers made it too hard for you to hold back as you blurted out, "d-daddy, can i cum, pl-please-" "go on, sweetheart. show daddy what a good girl you are for him" and that was all it took for you to release all over his hand, having him lean in to kiss you once again.

when he finally broke the kiss, you took it as a cue to speak again, "w-wanna...don't wanna be greedy but- i wanna feel you, please" your cheeks were red in embarrassment as you waited for him to mock you, but that sound never came.

"now, i can't refuse my baby and make her sad, can i ?"

[literaphobe]

Omg ily it’s so good!!!

FUCK NOW I FEEL BAD FOR DELETING IT HANG ON I THOUGHT NO ONE WAS AWAKE YET

He’s having sort of a… picture-less dream. Where he can’t really see much going on, but if he focuses hard enough, he can visualize what’s happening. George has had enough sleepy fantasies and late night calls to know: he’s pathetically dreaming about his best friend.

Again. As usual. It’s been a recurring thing.

In other words, he’d know that fucking moan anywhere.

Those hands are on his back, but it’s just his imagination. Still, his imagination does a rather vivid job. They feel as big as he’s ever imagined, warm as he’s ever hoped, and safe as he’s ever craved.

George wishes that’s all he wanted from those hands. But he’s greedy, and quite frankly horny. He wants them everywhere.

Spontaneously, he gets pulled in closer, as if his wish was his dream’s command. George’s face involuntarily buries into soft sweats, nestled in that sturdy chest.

He can’t help himself now. George inhales, and his nostrils are invaded by a warm, floral scent. Dizzy, dizzy, dizzy. The Dream of his dreams moans again, slotting their legs together, and George goes into overdrive. Fuck, that feels good. Maybe a few minutes in Dream land won’t hurt. What’s wrong with dreaming a dream of Dream, anyway? It’s in the name. It’s only natural.

Okay, maybe the heavy petting isn’t exactly natural, but George is too turned on to care. He cares so little he could wake up before the best part and hold no regrets. He wouldn’t care, even as he shamefully jerked himself off the next day. He’d push past all the guilt you get for thinking of your best friend like this, because this dream feels so good it’s almost real.

“George…”

His name rolls out all groggy, catching George’s heart in a chokehold.

But he quickly moves past it, because striking as that voice may be, his dream imagines that solid thigh grind against his crotch, starting slow, but then picking up a steady motion.

It drags a moan from George’s lips too. They’re a mess together, dream George and dream Dream. That sounds stupid, but his blood is currently rushing south, so forgive him. His mouth winds up somewhere near a collarbone. None of this is real, so he gives it a kiss.

“Love you…”

Something about that stops George. This is… a little new.

He usually dreams of depravity, not tenderness.

Sweet declarations of platonic love are what the real Dream does, and it strikes George so hard. Hearing it has always been a little painful.

But right now? Of all places?

It’s far too harrowing. It agonizes, and hits too close to the home he can’t live in. The home he’s waited to live in for too long, and he’s not talking about the many acres of land they bought together.

It’s this. And now he’s gotten all sombre, so when he wakes up he’s going to be sad. He’ll still be horny, don’t get him wrong, but something about it will seize at him, tear him to shreds. The thought of not getting to be where he wants to be more than any place on earth? These feelings will ache and tear at his heart whenever he tries to log on, attempt normalcy on Discord. He’d feel like a bottomless pit, unable to catch anything, let alone a break.

“Love you guys…”

Oh. What? Jesus fucking christ. Stupid little parasocial piece of shit. That wasn’t even for George. Why is his dream memeing him? This is a serious betrayal, worst than making it all end before the best part.

[achilios]

out of context quotes that are (a) hilarious (b) ominous (c) both at once (from survival is a talent by @shanastoryteller )

(years 4-5, potential spoilers ahead?? maybe?? i’ll add an asterisk (*) to quotes that i think may be spoilers)

( * = possibly a spoiler ; ** = mild spoiler ; *** = kind of a big spoiler )

this was originally supposed to be for harry only, because his character in this fic is absolutely amazing and sarcastic and generally hilarious, but then the list somehow Grew, so!

harry:

"Millicent, thank merlin, has a trust fund and that’s it, and thinks the rest of them are insane[...]she’s a great barometer for when something’s a pureblood Slytherin thing, and for when their friends are just strange, but haven’t figured it out yet because they’re too busy being strange together."

"'I’ll meet you downstairs,' Harry says, then stands and jumps off the roof. George screams, but Harry’s laughing all the way down, casting a cushioning charm so he easily bounces back on his feet."

"'But it doesn’t bother me when I almost die,' Harry complains."

"I might as well cause a useful disaster."

* "Sometimes accidental necromancy just happens.”

"'Ritualistic cannibalism is my least preferred way to die,” Harry tells him companionably."

"Who cares if it’s a good idea? It’s a fun idea."

"She looks at Harry. “Can you walk, Mr. Potter?”“Sure,” he says, “absolutely, I’ve been walking for years.”"

"They all look at him like he’s crazy. Which isn’t a new experience, but is a little rude."

* "he’s planning to spend the summer collecting corpses so he has them on hand if needed."

+ bonus

Sirius saying Questionable Things, as always: "'I love that woman,' Sirius says, 'She’s so willing sell her morals away, I really admire that in a person.'"

Ron, who i’m kind of obsessed with(+ an appearance from Ginny): "'What are you planning, Ronald?' 'Nothing major. Just some public unrest, maybe a riot or two. A coup would be nice, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves,' he muses."

"'I flew a car into the Whomping Willow when I was twelve,' Ron says. 'How am I supposed to discipline students? As long as no one dies, it’s like, fine, right?'"

"“Hey!” Ron says, but he’s still grinning. “I think we make really logical and great choices for authority figures.” Harry twists to stare at him. “A third year got in a fight with a Hufflepuff, and you taught him how to throw a better punch.”"

Neville, who is awesome: "No election if we kill him."

"“Yippee,” Neville says morosely"

Hermione, who is somehow both chaotic good and lawful neutral at once: "'I won’t have to scold anyone for anything if they don’t get caught,' Hermione answers. 'Perhaps everyone should take this as an opportunity to brush up on their invisibility and silencing spells?'"

* "Hermione pulls out her wand. “It’s sad you’ll forget this moment. You’re a lot less pathetic when you grow a spine.”"

Draco, who I can’t even put into words how much I love in this fic: *** "Draco strides into Flitwick’s office and drops a ten foot scroll on his desk with a satisfying thwack. Flitwick looks up and raises an eyebrow. “That’s the complete arithmancy for the ghost summoning spell. Read it and weep, because I did.”"

"“Yeah, okay. I was personally planning to hex anyone who hit on you or stared at you too long, but I suppose your idea is a little more subtle.”"

"Murder suddenly sounds like a much more appealing option."

* "if it’s alive, we’ll come get you so we can – I don’t know, kill an millennia old creature in the middle of the night for the hell of it, I guess."

"“I have so much homework to do that I’ve considered taking up drinking to cope,”"

"Forget therapy. Draco needs a drink."

Quinn, because ze is amazing and I want to make potions explode with zir: "“My dad threw a fit when I accidentally melted the shed outside,” Quinn complains, “Like we all haven’t accidentally liquified a building or two.”"

** "Quinn leans forward, making sure to look him in the eye. “Tell me Harry. Have you ever wanted to lead an unofficial teenage militia? Because I think that would look great on your resume.”"

"“If you finish that sentence I’ll have to kill you, and that will really bum a lot of people out,”"

Seamus and Dean, who count as one person and are practically joined at the hip: "Seamus smacks his shoulder, “Ze has a boyfriend.” There’s a pause where they all stare at him, and then he goes, “Wait, and you have a boyfriend too! Me! No leering at Quinn.”"

Percy, who is entirely too relatable sometimes: "“I have to go,” he says, “and I don’t know, maybe develop a drinking problem or something.”"

This Scene:

I’m not even sure I understand what’s happening here, but I love it

This Scene As Well:

"Ron sighs and puts his arm around Harry’s shoulders. “Harry, murder is bad.”

“Most of the time,” Hermione says. Ron glares at her. “What? Sometimes a little murder can be helpful.”

He turns to Neville, beseeching, but he only shrugs. “Murder is bad almost all of the time.”"

Other Characters, who are equally amazing but admittedly less important to the story so far, so they don’t get individual sections: "“Angelina!” Katie scolds, even though she’s angry too. “Don’t admit to murder in front of so many witnesses.”"

" “I’ll keep watch. Have fun down there. I hope you die.”"

*** "“What is idiotic master needing from his lowly house elf, who is clearly so unimportant that he can not be telling her when he goes running off to do stupid things?” “Er,” he says, “look, Winky, it all happened really fast, and we were on a bit of time crunch-” “Ah, yes,” she says, “because it is taking so long to be summoning me, with a literal snap of your fingers.”"

[nobutfredweasleytho]

YOU JUST DON’T LISTEN(F.W)

Summary: Fred’s ex girlfriend writes him a letter to explain the how him using her wrecked her emotionally.

Warnings: angst, like a lot of angst, depressed Y/N, mentions of self doubt, a little swearing, mentions of parents not loving correctly, used reader. Let me know if I missed anything.

A/N: Major thank you to Gabriella @onlyfreds for being an amazing person and encouraging me to write whatever this mess is. I am forever grateful to you

(The font is terrible Im sorry im just getting used to working on tumblr)

Fred Weasley checked the muggle clock on his nightstand. 10:30 AM. His mom will call him for breakfast anytime now. He has been awake for quite some time if he can even count the 30 minutes he tried to sleep but couldn’t, not when every time he tries to close his eyes his mind and eventually dreams are clouded by her. By the last time he looked at her, how devastated she looked, How her face was wet from her tears and her eyes bloodshot red, but the thing Fred will never be able to forget is her voice. How raw and vulnerable she sounded while saying the most horrible thing’s anyone has ever said to him, but he can’t blame her, he has no one to blame but himself because in the end it was he who caused all of this and now its come to bite him in the ass. He hears the door open and his twin brother George enters.

“Mom says breakfast is ready and she wants you downstairs. She says she’ll drag you herself if you don’t show up again today.”

“Tell her I’m not hungry and I’ll come grab a bite later.” I really don’t feel like being surrounded by other people right now. Not in this pathetic state I’m in. Besides it will take me willpower I don’t have to not hex Ron into oblivion.

“Well she will not take no for an answer and I wont either. What’s done is done now and you’ll have to face the world someday so start with your own family because everyone down there is worried sick about you and the least you can do is show your face once in a while so they know you haven’t died of starvation or sleep deprivation.” George has worry written all over him and I’m sure the rest of the family has it too. I feel even more like shit for worrying them.

“Fine. But I come back here if she is mentioned are we clear?”

“We weren’t gonna mention Y/N anyway now lets go moms worried sick for your dumbass.”

Breakfast was going smoothly with Ginny and Ron being exited for Quidditch season, Harry and Bill discussing the unfortunate events of the Triwizard tournament last year, dad asking Hermione about a rubber duck whatever that is, but the most shocking thing is mom asking me and George about the joke shop products. George is doing most of the talking but still the fact that shes even asking is awesome. I was finally feeling peaceful this whole winter break until I heard a hoot outside the window.

“I thought it was Tuesday but since mail is here does it mean its Friday already? Oh how fast time is going.

“No Arthur honey you are right it is Tuesday, Bill or George can one of you see if that owl has the owners name attached to it and bring whatever letter he has here to see who is it for.”

Bill got up from his seat and went to the window next to the countertop to look at the mystery owl. “Do we even know a Y/N Y/L/N?”

The room went quiet. The only thing that could be heard was the owls hoot asking for its treat. Bill seemed not to realise this as he took the letter from the owl, gave him a treat and sent it on its way.

“To Fred Weasley from Y/N Y/L/N… Who’s Y/N is she the girl you’ve been crying over this whole time huh Freddie?” Bill chuckled but I just grabbed the letter. I had no time to even be mad at him because once again my mind fogs up with only her. I couldn’t help but feel relieved and the happiest I felt in a long time. She has forgiven me. Y/N forgave me. That has to be it. Why else would she send me a letter?

“I had a great time with you guys but there’s important matters for me to attend so I have to go to now. Thanks mom the breakfast was amazing as always.” And with that I sprinted towards my room, locked the door and examined the letter in my hands. It was a bunch of them in here. I went to mine and George’s worktable threw some papers that were on top of it to make room for these letters and carefully opened the envelope.

The first thing that I grabbed was a photo. It was a polaroid of me and Y/N on the Gryffindor common room. Happiness filled my heart when I started remembering this night. I looked at the back of the polaroid and surely enough there was a writing on it.

Fred and Yn on the Gryffindor common room at 1 AM the night she turned 17. Listening to ABBA’s “Dancing Queen”. Picture taken by major 3rd wheel George Weasley.

Tears filled my eyes when I remember this night. It was the night I looked at her the way I always should have. Not as a replacement of someone who didn’t care about me.

The next one was also a polaroid photograph but this one I don’t remember being taken. It’s a picture of Y/N teaching me how to play the guitar. I can make up that we are in her dorm but not more as the picture is taken in black and white. I look at the back and surely this one also has a writing on it but the handwriting doesn’t look familiar at all.

A drunken Y/N accompanied by a even drunker Fred trying to play the guitar in the middle of the night. If I fail my charms exam tomorrow I’m killing you both but right now you two look adorable. Picture taken by Cho Chang.

The third one is an actual letter. I chuckle looking at the handwriting. Always so precise and not even one line out of place. I always thought Y/Ns handwriting always contradicts her hot headed persona but it’s actually really cute. I start reading the letter and my heart stops.

Dear Freddie,

I can only imagine the shock that receiving a letter from me would cause you right now especially after our last conversation.

But I have a lot to get off of my chest and I wont be able to move on if I haven’t said it all. Call me a coward but I was really scared to ask you to meet me so I can say it in person, but maybe that’s what I have always been. A coward. A coward because I get scared when someone wants to enter my life, a coward because I hate trying new things at the expense of failing, a coward because I should be able to confront people who brought darkness and sadness to my life.

But one thing I will admit Fred Weasley is that I wasn’t a coward when It came to loving you. It was the first time that I let someone come into my life and heart the way you did, and it will probably be the last. Throughout our “relationship” if you can even call it that as it was more of you customizing me to be her, to be someone I’m not. But that’s why you even talked to me is it, because I reminded you of her.

The signs were right in front of me and I feel stupid enough not to have seen them. But I guess people are right when they say love is blind. Love is such a funny thing to me as the first time I experienced the right kind of love was through you. But that was me creating stuff in my head. You didn’t love me no, you loved the idea of me. But I loved you. I loved you more than anything or anyone I have ever loved, I loved everything about you. But you just don’t listen. You don’t listen to anyone around you. Not George, not your other siblings, not Lee or any of your other friends for that matter, not your professors, but most importantly you don’t listen to me.

You didn’t listen when I told you that the love my parents gave me was only because I reminded them of my brother, the love my old friends back home gave me was one of interest. Everywhere I go no matter who I talk to no one will love me for me. I came to accept that until I met you.

You were funny and crazy and brave and oh so gorgeous. You were basically everything I looked for in… well everything. In a friend or in a partner it doesn’t matter. I thought you saw me for who I am. A broken teenager with issues but that at the end of the day was deserving of love. Oh how wrong I have been but no more wrong than you. You knew this but you just didn’t listen.

That makes us both horrible people now does it. Me who thought you were some kind of savior or some kind of saint and selfishly wrapped myself around your love and you who used me because I remind you of your ex girlfriend who broke your heart. But mine is excused I feel like and yours isn’t.

You would have kept me going for who knows how long just so you can live your imaginations you had for someone else.

Did you think about her the first time we slept together?

Was I not enough for you Freddie?

Was I too clingy too soon?

Is it my hot temper that gets the best of me?

So many questions will be left unanswered on my end because frankly, I never want to speak of you again. Sure I am deprived of love but I will not take it if its not directed directly at me.

I still care about you and will continue to support you and George on whatever you set your mind into. I was waking through Diagon Alley last week and saw this little store with a “for sale” sign. It’s right in the middle of Diagon Alley. I hate how my first thought went that you would have loved it but I seem to do that a lot recently.

I’ll get dressed and think would Fred love this skirt or this shirt.

I start applying lipstick and I’ll think will Fred love this color.

I start eating and I’ll think does this look good enough that Fred would’ve stolen a piece of it when I’m talking to Ginny.

I don’t even know why I am telling you this. How pathetic I’ve become clinging into someone that doesn’t want me.

Anyway I’ve probably bored you enough with my ranting but I wouldn’t have been able to move on unless I said everything that felt heavy on my heart. I also attached some photos I thought you’d like to keep seeing as now you can see yourself with Kayla without having the burden to be near me.

Say hi to your siblings and Harry for me.

Have a nice life,

Y/N

[brokenbutnotquiting]

Say My Name

A Nace Oneshot where Nancy *really* loves the way Ace calls her name. (Because Alex Saxon makes it sound so damn enticing that I couldn't help myself)

I had always liked my name. Nancy Drew. Not so much Drew anymore, but it sounds better than Nancy Hudson. Or maybe that was just my habits talking.

In any case, I like my name. Nancy.

With the ever-growing confusion regarding my last name, it suited me better to opt for – what I call – the Ace option. Just casually dropping my last name until and unless it's an official or legal requirement.

For the very common folk of Horseshoe Bay, I am Nancy.

Just Nancy.

It was only after I realized and accepted my intense feelings for my best male friend – my partner-in-investigative-work – Ace, I often found my heart skipping a beat at my own name.

Purely because of the way he called it. Nancy. With that adorable lilt at the second 'n'. He probably never even realized that he did it, which made it all the more enticing.

But I would never tell him that.

__________

I ignored the screaming soles of my feet as I locked up the Claw. It was date night for George and Nick, and despite my best hopes, I was the one left in charge of closing up the seafood restaurant.

How had I ended up here tonight, I wondered sarcastically before a face flashed in my mind.

Ace.

How was it that most of my stupid impulsive decisions nowadays were because of him? 

He had opted to lock up for the night, claiming to be happy to do it only if George allowed Amanda to stay with him.

"We haven't seen each other much since we returned from our road trip, and she has been asking me if we could just talk for a while without either of us running off for something or the other," he had said with a shrug.

Now, normally I am not a goody-two-shoes. Or a masochist. But seeing Ace with that utterly adorable little pout made my heart melt, and I jumped in to sacrifice my sanity to let him leave early. To be with his girlfriend, no less. 

What can I say? Sometimes, I am just that much of an idiot.

Bess had side-eyed me so hard when I chimed in, I wondered how transparent I had become regarding my feelings for Ace. How did no one else notice?

But then, maybe everybody had noticed it at some point in time and had chosen not to comment on it.

Everybody except Ace. A sigh heaved out of me at that particular thought.

Ace was blissfully unaware. And thank God for that. I didn't need him to hate me for ruining his chances with Amanda. As much as I had rolled my eyes at his dopey smile that first time he had accepted his crush on her—almost endangering George in the process—I did want him to be happy, even if it wasn't with me.

Even if watching him fall for her tore my heart out every time, I thought about it.

Even if I was wrecking myself over him. Every. Damn. Day.

I looked around aimlessly. I only had to mop the floors one last time, and then I could leave. So I got the mop and the bucket— put on some music, and let my mind daydream about a life where I wasn't the girl one-sidedly crushing on her best friend as I let my body move on autopilot.

I didn't even realize that I wasn't alone until I felt the hair on the back of my neck rise, pulling me out of the daydream just before I got kissed.

I whirled around towards the door leading to the locker room to find him standing there.

Ace.

He looked angry. Really angry. 

"Ace? What are you doing here? What's wrong?" I asked worriedly. Was someone in danger? Was there an accident or something?

"What's wrong is that I cannot fucking stop thinking about you," he snapped, his soft blue eyes flashing with barely concealed anger.

"What – what are you on about?" I stuttered with surprise.

His nostrils flared delicately. "There I was, with my girlfriend, finally spending some much-needed time together, and my mind kept reminding me that she is not you. That you are you. And that you are here. And I was so distracted by the thought of you being here alone with no one to protect you, should something happen, that I completely missed her telling me that she loved me."

He strode over to where I was standing, grasping onto the mop as if my life depended on it. The weight of his words, the complete and utter disaster of it all hit me at the same time he stopped barely half a foot away.

"Ace— ” I started and stopped. What was I supposed to say? Was there anything I could say that would help? Anything at all? It didn't seem so.

"There she was, looking all hopeful as she told me she loved me, and all I could think of was whether you were safe. Whether I would see you tomorrow." His voice held an undercurrent of fear. And I understood that.

After the Aglaeca and the Wraith and Everett Hudson and the threat of the Road Back still lingering, all of us felt overprotective of each other.

"I am not a marshmallow, Ace. I can take care of myself. At the very least, not drop dead while locking up the Claw," I joked half-heartedly. I admit that I might have intentionally ignored the part where he said he barely paid attention to his girlfriend. Or how my heart skipped several beats at it. I didn't need him more antagonized over my feelings for him.

"That's not the point, and you know it," he snapped. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes, before he continued, "my girlfriend told me she loved me, and not only was I distracted enough to miss it, I couldn't even say it back."

He shook his head, eyes still closed, as if he could somehow forget everything that happened. I understood that feeling as well. Sometimes, I wished the same.

"Why?"I asked him softly because I knew that was the part he wanted me to stress on. I knew him well enough to know his cues. I could play along.

He opened his eyes at my question.

"Because, as much as I like Amanda, I don't love her. At least not as she wanted me to. I tried, God knows I tried so damn hard, but I just couldn't," he explained.

I didn't ask him the question on the tip of my tongue again. I merely kept staring at him. Ace knew my cues as well as I did his. If he wanted me to play along, he could as well.

Why? 

"She broke up with me, rightly so. She deserves someone who isn't already in love with someone else," he whispered, just loud enough to be heard over the music, "what kind of a pathetic person does that?"

Even then, my heart beating fast enough to rival that of a marathon runner, I stayed silent.

"Nancy." He whispered almost pleading, for what I didn't know.

"I love the way you say my name, "I whispered back as if in a thrall. Completely inappropriate? Perhaps. But a kernel of truth nonetheless.

He raised his hands, cupping my face so softly as if afraid that I would break under his touch. He touched his forehead to mine, his eyes closed again.

A slight tremble shook me at his touch. His breath ghosted over my face. "Say my name again," I whispered to him.

"Nancy."

He shifted his face a tiny bit and kissed my cheek. I closed my eyes at the onslaught of feelings his adoration elicited.

"Nancy," he whispered before kissing my other cheek.

"Nancy."

A kiss on my chin.

"Nancy."

A kiss on my forehead.

"Nancy." 

A kiss on my brows.

"Nancy."

A kiss on one eye, and then the other.

"Nancy." 

A kiss on my nose.

"Nancy," his voice took on an almost worshipping quality as he whispered my name but didn't lower his mouth to mine.

Tell him, I chided myself. Tell him that he isn't wrong in his feelings for you. Tell him that if he felt condemned about his feelings for you, then you shared the damnation with him.

"I love you, Ace," I said, tears escaping me, my throat raw with emotion, "I have loved you for a while now." 

There was so much I wanted to tell him and couldn't. So much he needed to know. Another day, I reasoned with myself. I would tell him another day when we were both far more clear-headed than we were at the moment.

"I know, Nancy," he said softly, nodding his head, "I love you too."

And then he closed the gap between us.

His lips were soft against mine. Unhurried. Moving with a languid assurance that he knew what he wanted and wasn't afraid to claim it any longer. I played along with him, slow and steady, our form of normalcy until the heat growing in my body took over.

The kiss turned frantic as soon as I bit on his lower lip. His tongue was in my mouth, claiming me. He wanted everything, and I wanted to give it all to him. My tongue followed his, teasing him to a sensual dance of their own.

His hands, which were previously cupping my face, slid lower until one of them was grasping onto my neck – positioning my head as he wanted – the other grabbing onto my waist, pulling my body closer to his.

I let go of the mop, and it fell on the floor with a clang. I placed my hands on his chest. His heartbeat was strong and steady, if not galloping at a faster pace, under my fingertips. I moved my hands on his body, feeling his muscles flex subtly until one of my hands took a life of its own and decidedly wandered over to his hair, tugging on it as if he could come closer than he already was.

I don't particularly know how long we stayed like that, devouring each other like the last meal, but when we did eventually come up for air, I knew I wouldn't be able to let him go, and I told him as such.

His chuckle was like music to me. I opened my eyes just in time to see his smirk, "after a kiss like that, I should hope not, Nancy."

"Jesus Christ, Ace," I swore, "the way you say my name is my favorite thing."

His used laugh vibrated through me at that, warming my core but you know what? I didn't care.

"That's all?" Ace asked me playfully. No more stoicism. It was almost as if he had pulled back another layer of his surprisingly dazzling personality. I smiled at him in answer.

His answering grin almost knocked me right out. Damn! I really did love this man.

I didn't know what my face showed him, but the grin dropped off his face as he asked, "what's wrong?"

Ah. I must have been emoting the pent-up sadness I had repressed for so long.

I shook my head at him, smiling again. I combed through his hair with my fingers and let all of my affection pour into my voice as I said, "I didn't think I would ever get to do this again."

"Touch my hair?" Ace asked amused, quirking an eyebrow.

"Just be with you. Touch you without having to worry about offending anyone," I explained.

He placed a soft kiss on my forehead, pulling me into a hug, "You never really had any sense of personal space when it came to being near me, Nancy. That was just so you, I never really questioned it further. I was so scared of you putting up defenses against me that I purposefully ignored all the signs. Even when they were glaringly obvious." 

He kissed my cheek and said, "I shouldn't have tried as hard as I did to deny my feelings creeping up on me for over a month. And I definitely shouldn't have chosen the easier way out with Amanda."

I shook my head at that. "You did what you thought was right for you," I said, somewhat sadly, "I remember your smile. You told us that she made you bloom."

"She did. For a while."He said. There was a trace of sadness in his voice. It would take time, I knew, for him to stop blaming himself for everything that happened with her.

"Take your time before you move on, Ace. Both of you deserve that respect," I told him.

"I will," he said, a small smile gracing his lips again, "but not tonight." I nodded my acceptance of his decision. Whatever he needed.

"Nancy," he whispered my name in my ear a heartbeat later.

The groan that escaped me was obscene, and I rightfully snapped, "Stop saying my name like that, Ace, if you want to keep your clothes on."

His answering kiss made my blood heat up and my toes curl in my shoes in an instant. I kissed him back with equal fervor. His hands started roaming, and I gasped into his mouth as he cupped my ass. He chuckled in response. A challenge.

Very well, I thought to myself. I dropped my mouth, kissing his neck softly before biting on it. An obscene groan escaped him. I smirked.

Two can play this game, Ace. And I barely got started.

I licked the spot I had bitten.

"I won't be able to even see straight if you keep doing this," his warning rang. I ignored the moan accompanying the statement.

I took half a step away from him and said playfully, "You need some space, Ace?"

"Nancy," he almost growled before yanking my body flush against his again and dropping a searing kiss on my lips.

Dear God, in the heavens above! I loved the way he said my name.

Nancy.

[forthehpfanboys]

Intact

Pair: George Weasley x Reader; he/him.

Summary: Life goes to hell when your mother, who happens to be Bellatrix LeStrange AND a Death Eater, finds out you joined the Order of the Phoenix with your boyfriend. 

Warnings: Swearing, child abuse?, I guess it's more like assault? Dark, probably graphic?? 

Notes: 100/10 on this one. Honestly it was fun to write-

~DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE~

-

You knew the moment you stepped into the house she knew and it wasn’t a good thing. The house was borderline destroyed from the glass shattered on the floor from the ‘family portrait’ on the floor to the burn marks across walls. Your shoes crunched as you walked across the remains of the crystal chandler that's been in the house for generations. You entered the living room and was immediately struck with a spell that had your black slamming into the wall. 

"You rat! You sniveling, useless, pathetic little rodent!” Her hoarse voice revealed how long she’d been screaming. She kicked the coffee table in the center of the room off to the side. “I should've known!" your mother screamed, her wand tightening in her hand. Her arm stayed stretched out, showing her lack of hesitance and empathy toward you. "You were always so ungrateful! So unbelievably selfish!" You held your head in your hands. A headache was throbbing beside your temples- you must've really hit your head on the wall- and her screaming was not helping it out at all. Her yells echoed in the house, almost shaking the shattered windows of the living room.

"What are you going on about?" you asked, finally raising your head to look at her. Her makeup was messy, her hair was an actual rats nest and her eyes were darker than you've ever seen. She looked insane, more so than usual.

"Don't act like you don't know! You betrayed the Dark Lord for that.. That boy!" Bellatrix screeched out, making long steps across the shard covered carpet to corner you. "Honestly! A Weasley, (Y/n)! A blimey, no good for nothing blood traitor! I raised you better than that!"

You stared at her with wide eyes. She knew. Oh, of course she knew who you were sneaking out almost every night to see! She probably found out herself or maybe Draco tattled, that coward. It didn’t matter how she knew, she knew you were with a Weasley, sneaking out almost every night to see him, the other Weasleys and the Order. 

"Raised me? I'm sorry, raised me?!" You genuinely had to laugh at that. "You can not take credit for how I came out! You didn't raise me!  No, no even close! You dropped me off at the Malfoys like a stray dog.” You didn’t even flinch when she jabbed her wand right under your chin, a sneer growing on her features. 

You tried to ignore how much it hurt to be ditched by your own mother, forced to swivel and basically praise the Malfoys for taking in someone like you. You were nothing compared to Draco. Everyone wanted a compliant son like Draco, but no, you had to be different, see your mother for how she really was. You could remember when she showed up one random day after graduating your 4th year, claiming she loved you, missed you, how times got too tough to have a baby boy around the house. The thought now made you sick. She didn’t care about you for fourteen years, but suddenly she does. Since then, life has been hell. Except around George. 

“I should’ve left you on the streets.” Her voice was barely a whisper as she grabbed your shoulder. Her unusually sharp nails seemed to phase right through your shirt. “I should’ve drowned you in a river, I should’ve given you to the Dark Lord himself.” Her nails dug deeper into your skin, puncturing it, leading to small droplets of red to seep into the cotton of your shirt. Your pain must’ve made itself known because she smirked and tossed her head back in loud laughter that made your temples throb again. “I should’ve killed you myself.” She pulled away from you, stepping back a few paces before turning swiftly to face you once again. She did a curtsy, not taking her eyes off you. 

“Clearly, there’s a lot we both should’ve done.” Your voice cracked as you pulled out your own wand from your pocket, holding it tightly. You stepped forward a few spaces and bowed, understanding what she wanted. She wanted you to suffer. She casted a spell before you could even blink, her laugh echoed in the house again.

“Crucio!” 

Your body slammed against the wall a second time, except this time, it felt like your heart was actually going to stop. It felt like every nerve was being ripped in half one by one, like you were being burned alive but drowning in an icy river at the same time. You physically couldn’t stop the scream of pure agony that ripped from your throat. 

You crashed to the floor as your muscles tensed up. The spell lifted before another scream could fly from your lips, giving your now aching muscles a break. You curled into a tight  ball, your knees to your chest, as your.. ‘Mother’ let out yet another cackling laugh. Honestly, you weren’t sure she ever stopped.

“What’s wrong, (Y/n)? Too much for you? Maybe I should just call you Weasley. You’re just as pathetic and dimwitted as they are.” She giggled, bouncing on her feet, before doing a spin. “Oh, I do love your scream though.” 

You were trying to blink through the tears and ignore the way your gut was twisting itself up. You officially envied anyone who said crap about Longbottom's parents- they didn’t deserve this. Through the tears, your eyes landed on your wand, just in arms reach. With a shaky, weak hand, you reached for it, an equally shaky breath leaving your lips when your fingertips grazed across the wood. It was so close. that was, until a heal came to rest into the back of your hand.

“Oh, I’m sorry, my insane rambling is too boring for you, is it?” Bellatrix spat out. She lowered herself onto one knee, putting testing her weight against the bones in your skin. You sucked in a breath, your eyes squinting shut. While she was down there, she decided to go on a tangent on how her life was so difficult, how she couldn’t have her love with her, whoever the fuck that was, and how she was a good mother. 

“You’re such a bitch.” You whispered out. While the witch was so worried about your hand and spitting all over your face with her sob story, you’d managed to grab your wand. You threw a punch, right to her crooked grin. The punch wasn’t your strongest, but it gave you enough leeway to wiggle your hand free and aim your wand at her, casting stupefy to throw her back. Before she could do anything else, you booked it out the door, running as fast as you could. You didn’t look behind you when she started screaming again.

“Ingrate! Go run off to those pathetic blood-traitors! You deserve to be with your own kind! A bunch of filthy low-lives!” 

You rounded the corner and apparated to where you knew they would be, where you’d be safe. With a crisp pop, you were in front of the door of none other than Sirius’ Black’s home. You didn’t bother knocking, you didn’t need too. You stumbled into the house, effectively cutting off everyone’s casual conversation in the living room. You ignored Molly’s gentle calls and Remus trying to see if you were ok. You just sprinted up the stairs, calling for your boyfriend. 

You didn’t even realize you were crying until your body collided with George’s, his arm wrapping tightly around your waist while the other went straight to your hair. He rocked your back and forth, his voice whispering everything was going to be ok in your ear. You didn’t even notice the crowd forming behind you.

“Cupcake, I’m going to need you to tell me what happened, ok?” He gently pulled you from his chest, his hands cupping your wet cheeks to wipe away your tears.

“She knows. Someone told her- or- or she followed us but she knows and-” You took in a shaky breath, being gently dragged back into a hug by the ginger. You couldn’t see it, but George, while never usually one to jump to violence, was close to throwing hands.

“LeStrange?” He asked, wanting clarification over who the ‘she’ actually was. When you nodded into his chest, his arms tightened around you. “Ok,’ he whispered, “ok, how about we go assess the damage, hmm?” He guided you down the hall, ignoring the questions about what happened, and taking you straight to the clean bathroom. 

George shut the door once you were sitting on the edge of the bathtub. He wasn’t quite sure if he was more heartbroken over the fact that you were shaking, struggling to breath and bouncing your leg rapidly or pissed that she dared to lay a hand on you. He knelt in front of you, a sad smile across his lips as he rubbed your knees. “What did she do, love?” 

You told him about the wrecked house, the yelling, the headache, the tiny scabs on your shoulder and how she fucking stood on your hand. You left out the curse, worried he’d actually go over there himself and hex the daylights out of her. No one would admit it but any Weasley could easily go from lovable dorks to murderous slayers in 3.4 seconds if provoked correctly. 

“Can I see your shoulder? I want to make sure it won’t get infected with whatever she carries.” His fingers gently pulled at the hem of your shirt, his eyes staring into yours as he waited for your approval. You suddenly found it hard to speak. He wasn’t gentle all the time, but when he was, it always stole your breath. 

When you finally nodded and raised your arms, he slipped your shirt over your head. The fabric slipped from his grasp as he stared at your bare chest, shoulders and arms. You could see every emotion flickering past his irises- worry, sadness, anger. 

“What?” You followed his gaze. Along your chest, stomach and shoulders, a bright red pattern of welts had formed. How you didn’t notice, you weren’t sure, but now that you were looking at them, they started throbbing. The marks seemed to mimic lightning bolts, but rounder, breaking apart and covering your body, but they all started at one spot. An angry lopsided organic shape stood out below your right peck, just on your rib cage- that was where the spell hit. The marks didn’t stop at your shoulders, or your neck. They traveled down to your very fingertips and a few made themselves known just along your jaw and across your cheek.

“(Y/n),” His use of your first name unnerved you, “what aren’t you telling me?” George’s hand reached out to gently touch where the bitch’s spell hit you while his eyes flicked up to yours. You stayed quiet, your chest shaking as you took in another nervous breath. You licked your lips, thinking over your next words carefully.

“She may have used the Cruciatus Curse on me.” You looked down at your hands, fiddling with your fingers. You heard him take a sharp breath. He whispered a quick ‘can you give me a moment?’ before walking out of the bathroom. You heard his heavy footsteps travel down the hall before a door slammed open, rattling the mirror hanging on the bathroom wall. 

“Freddie, I’m going to fucking lose it!” George’s voice carried easily through the hallway, causing you to jump. “No, I will not calm down! Shut up and listen!” The younger twin never spoke to his brother like that. “The crucio curse, Fred! The fucking, the, you know! For- I swear-” The door to the shared room slammed shut, the rattling mirror doing it’s thing again as you sat awkwardly in the bathroom alone. George kept going on and on about stuff you could no longer make out, but you could assume they were death threats sworn to come true.

After about 2 minutes, George came back, Fred trailing right behind him, a baggy Irish themed quidditch shirt and a pair of red sweatpants in his arms. George set the clothes down while Fred looked at the marks. 

“Bloody hell.” Fred sat down next to you. “Do they still hurt?” He let out a sigh of relief when you shook your head no. “Thank Merlin for that.” 

While Fred was chatting away, George had knelt in front of you again, his hand on the ball joint of your shoulder, his wand in his other hand. He whispered a quick healing curse on the five scabs before handing you the Irish t-shirt. 

“You ok?” George asked once the shirt was on. His hands had come back to your knees at some point and you weren’t quite sure when, but you appreciated the familiar warmth. 

“I don’t know. “ Your eyes were cast downward at the marks across your forearms and wrist, your eyebrows furrowed in frustration. “I… Don’t you think they’re.. Meeeh?” You raised your arms a little, referring to the scars. 

“Really?” The red-head trouble makers asked in unison, causing you to turn between them a few times. 

“What?” 

“Sunshine.” George spoke up from the floor, his hands twiddling together as he got your attention. He smiled a little when your eyes looked down into his. “Remember Umbridge?”

“Of course I do. I was there- I left with you guys-”

“Hush, I’m trying to be inspirational.” His words cause you to grin and snort. “Well, then you must remember the quill.” He brought his hand into your view, showing what he thought was oh so important he told you to hush. The scars from the quill were still there, only faded, but still extra pale against his normal tone. “You could hardly see ours anymore, love.”

You reached out for his hand hesitating, but in the end, you were running your fingers across the skin, noting the change in textures. You turned to Fred, who flashed you the same grin and held his hand up, revealing the same scars. 

“Right..” You smiled, turning back to the twin you called yours. “They fade but-”

“-let you tell stories that strengthen you.” The twins finished, a wider smile on both of their faces. Fred stood up, ruffling your hair before heading out of the bathroom. George stood up after handing you the sweats. 

“I’ll let you get dressed here, cupcake. Come on back to the room whenever you're ready.” George planted a kiss to your cheek before planting one swift one to your lips and heading out of the bathroom, shutting the door softly behind him.

“What would Molly say?” You asked, changing your pants and confirming the scars did run down to your ankles.

“After what you went through? She wouldn’t have the heart to make you stay anywhere else.” George called through the door before walking down the hallway to his room. You splashed some cold water on your face, hoping to wash away some of the trauma today would leave behind. 

Once your face was dry, you walked from the bathroom, to the shared room with the twins. You didn’t bother knocking once again, knowing you were more welcomed here than anywhere else. You plopped yourself on the bed, besides your boyfriend and snuggled into his side. Sure today would leave scars, mental and physical, but as George’s arms wrapped around you, you realized he was all you would need to stay intact in the end. 

And yeah, George did keep his promise for revenge in the end.

[wandsandwheezes]

Fake It | Weasley Twins | CH7

one // two // three // four // five // six

Warnings | 2.6k // 18+ SMUT, mature themes, fake relationships, secret relationships, love, sex, drama, angst, fluff, unforgivable curses, cheating. 

Summary // Fred Weasley has been set up to publicly date Y/N, London’s best Quidditch Seeker in order to drum up some publicity. Y/N however has a different ginger man on her mind; George Weasley.

A/N // one word. Endgame.

Fred began to notice small things, like how George would look at you when you entered a room, eyes filled with love and adoration or how you'd both be smiling like idiots after every conversation. He noticed more and more of all the small things you tried to hide. He picked at every lingering touch or held stare because he knew, he knew you loved each other, that much was now blindingly obvious.

Fred wouldn't even dare look at you, the feeling made him sick, even just a simple text was too much for him to handle. You tried to approach him multiple times, you and George were both ready to tell him about the relationship the two of you had - Ready to start a public life together, but any time you had him alone, he panicked and ran from the conversation he knew was coming. 

His late nights with Cherry became more and more frequent, ending up with each other most nights, whether it was his bed or hers, she'd always manage to tempt him to let her be at his own free will. He swore he wouldn't tell Cherry about the two of you - there had to be a good reason why you and George had to be sneaking around. He loved his brother, with his whole heart, knowing that it wouldn't be that he was hiding the relationship with you just to hurt or spite him. 

There was one day that sent him over the edge, hearing giggles from the balcony he stepped out of his office to see you two hardly two inches apart, feeling that same pit of sadness sink to his stomach again. He found himself calling a number he shouldn't like clockwork. A dirty, rotten habit he couldn’t shake, begging her to let him come over. 

It wasn't long before Cherry arrived at his office door, pulled in for a feverish kiss. He didn't even have the time to get his clothes off, his cock lulled free from open trousers, while Cherry's perfect mouth bobbed on him. He was gently coaxing her head down onto him. It didn't take much but before he knew it he was close, ready to shoot his load down her throat. He groaned, the information slipping out as his high washed over him. "She's fucking George."

"Who is, Freddie?" she was looking up at him through her lashes, begging to be fucked, and he wanted to give in so badly, but now he'd realised what he'd done. He'd gone and told her a secret that wasn't his to tell. "Y/N, Y/N is fucking George."

"Christ, I knew it! That little whore." She stood up, pushing back so that she sat on his desk, legs spread for him to get a good view of her clothed cunt, fingers coming down to rub at her clit. He grabbed her hand aggressively, pulling it away from her heat, pushing a response through gritted teeth. "Don't call her that."

"Don't tell me you've fallen in love with that slut? Pathetic" She was belittling him at this point, but he wouldn't stand for that, immediately standing up so that his hand was at her throat, shocking her with a stern and forceful grip. "DON'T CALL HER THAT!" 

She smiled, her hand covering Fred's to make it squeeze tighter around her throat. Suddenly he felt the anger wash away, as if by magic, he felt in a trance and he wanted to give in to the girl in front of him. "If you love her so much, we can ruin it Freddie."

He looked at her puzzled, her hand coming down to stroke at Fred's cock, the other hand pushing her underwear to the side and wrapping her legs around his hips, lining him up so that he could push into her. "What do you mean, doll?" 

"Don't you want to just ruin her relationship, she can be all yours Freddie you can have her if you just help me." Her hand was in his hair, smoothing it down soothingly as he fucked her gently, this wasn't their usual routine, but something in Fred was too focused on the words she was saying, as opposed to how good his fuck was. He contemplated it, having you all to himself, feeling compelled to say yes the minute he locked eyes with Cherry again 

"I love you, Fred, you just have to trust me, you do trust me, don't you?" She had leant forward, whispering in his ear as she pressed gentle kisses against the lobe, moaning through every word at how deep he was stretching her out, her hips rolling to meet his as she chased her high. "Yes, Doll, I do."

She came around him not long after, pulling his lips into a desperate kiss, as her hand still threaded through the tufts of hair at the back of his head. 

// 

The shop had been closed for over an hour when you walked in through the doors, only visiting as the delivery girl dropping off the night's food for the boys as they pulled the monthly all nighter to try and brainstorm some new products. You noticed George on his own as you slipped into the back room, an empty chair next to him. "Where's Freddie?" 

George immediately went to grab the carrier bag you placed on the table, pulling out the tupperware box, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he breathed in the smell of the Chinese food "You, my darling, are heaven sent. Fred's just in the toilet."

You pushed yourself up onto the table next to George, pulling up the pad of paper to have a read over his notes, grabbing a prawn cracker from the bag as soon as he opened it up, popping some of it into your mouth. His hand rested gently on your thigh, giving it a little squeeze of appreciation. 

"Anything catch your eye?" he smiled up at you, as you grabbed the pen, making a couple of adjustments to the page of notes before handing them back for him to read. His eyes scanned over the small changes, his grin widening. "What would I do without you, eh?" 

You checked your watch, you could do with getting to practice a little early today with the big match this weekend, sure that your coach would appreciate the enthusiasm. "I'll call you after practice, Georgie. If you're still here I'll swing by to lend a hand."

You pressed a kiss to his forehead, hand smoothing down the hair at the back of his head before you hopped down from the table. Making your way out of the back room, only bumping into Fred as you turn your head back to look at the door. He grabbed a hold of you instinctively, causing you to laugh, but a smile didn't follow from him, at least not one that reached his eyes. He felt sick. "Hope you enjoy the food, Freddie, I'll see you later." 

Chery sat in her own apartment, a cauldron bubbling away as she intricately mixed the potion in front of her. Cherry, as a student, was a very skilled potions maker, one of the best that Snape had seen, only a few years older than Fred. She pulled the hair from her bag, praying that the one found in her car was the one she needed. She added the single strand in, stirring until the potion was ready. Cherry was quick in loading it into a flask, tossing it into her bag before she was out of the apartment with a flash and a pop. 

She was down an alley, not far from the twin's shop, when she pulled the flask out, giving it a small swirl before flipping the cap open, sipping at the liquid that tasted faintly of Goblin piss, but she didn't care. 

The boys had moved to their own offices, George was filling out paperwork, ready for the next day of work, making sure that there was enough of everything that the shop needed to run before doing the order forms. Fred was in his office however, still brainstorming. Trying to think up new ideas. The doorknob turned, causing him to look up and see the girl he craved sneaking into his office. "Y/N what are you doing here?"

Cherry smiled, it had worked, she looked like you, she was you. Walking with a sway in her hips towards the gentle boy, her arms wrapping around his neck as she pulled him in for a passionate kiss, he found himself kissing back. The thought of you and George melting away when her lips, that felt like your lips were on his once more. 

"Oh, Freddie, I've been so desperate for you since we kissed." Her lips moved to press kisses down his jaw, her hand reaching down to palm his cock that went hard under her touch. "Fuck me Fred. I want your big cock stretching me out."

"But Y/N what about Geor-" She shushed him, finger pressing to his lips, as she smirked mischievously. "Don't you want to, Fred? You could let him hear how good you fuck me."

Her words sent Fred over the edge, grabbing at her hips, pulling her down to straddle him as they desperately kissed, tongues dancing against each other as she removed as much clothing as she could. When she was completely naked, she reached down to let his cock free. What Fred didn’t know is that Cherry had placed him under the Imperius Curse long ago and in this moment, while she used the word she did, she had him under her full control. Sane Fred would have never given in this easy, fucked a girl so quickly that he knew wasn’t his, no matter how much he loved or craved her. Under the curse all of his protests were unheard, unspoken. He was just there physically for the ride. 

Fred died and went to heaven the minute he felt your walls stretching over him, taking him fully to the hilt as she sat down on him. When Cherry began to bounce, the moans that spilled from her lips were downright sinful, letting the full power of them echo as she amped up the volume, moans and hums all that Fred could focus on. 

George heard the faint moans reverberate through the shop as his door hung open. He rolled his eyes, trust Fred to call a girl to the shop like this. He thought nothing of it until the moans grew louder, moans that he recognised all too well. The moans of his princess. He found himself storming to the door, it lay open, seeing his Girl's ass bouncing and taking cock, hair dangling down her back. "Yes Freddie, just like that baby."

All rage boiled over inside of George. His heart shattering into a million pieces. That was his girl, the girl he loved, the girl he wanted to marry, fucking his brother without a care in the world, without even a consideration for his feelings. He was broken, enraged at the sight he couldn't shake from his head. He was storming home, pissed and hot with fury. 

He feels the vibration of the phone in his pocket, he sees your name and a picture of you he took flashing up on the screen, he answers. 

"You really are a fucking slut." He heard her gasp at the other end, choosing to ignore the bustle of people he could hear down the phone. 

"George, what the hell have I done?" You queried, mumbling a goodbye to someone the other end, It was Fred, no doubt, he thought. "Don't play dumb, Princess, I saw you and Fred just now."

"Me and Fre- Baby I just finished practice and I was calling to see if you could come and get me, like I said I would." You were confused at this point, pulling out your wand ready to apperate to his place. 

"You're unbelievable, I can't believe you would do this to me when I love you so much." You heard his voice crack, you knew it wasn't just some sick joke. The audible sound of heartbreak echoing down the phone. 

"Whatever this is Georgie, I'm coming home and we can talk about this, you have no idea how confused I am." He rolled his eyes at how easily you could lie to him, after all, you had been lying to the public for so long.

You turn up at his house, throwing your bag down before heading up the stairs to find him sitting on the bed. He wastes no time, having your body pinned against the wall in seconds. Your hair was in braids, not like how he saw you earlier, but he let the detail slide. "How long have you been sleeping with him?" 

"Fucking Hell, George I don’

t know what you're talking about honestly, I don't." you sighed, hanging your head as you saw a tear slip down his cheek. "I've been at practice all night, I even kissed you goodbye."

"Don't lie to me." he sighed, your hand going up to cup his cheek but he pulled away from your touch, the action causing a tightening in your chest. You couldn't lose him, not over something you didn't do.

"George, baby I promise, I love you. Forever, remember?" He shook his head, pushing away from the wall, seeing you there in front of him broke his heart, you stood so innocently, begging to be held and comforted. He loved you, with all his stupid heart could give you. He wanted to marry you, his princess. But he couldn't deny what he saw. Not when it sounded like you and looked like you. The facts were hard to deny, but he saw you broken, in front of him and maybe he just needed time, needed to confront Fred. But he couldn't rest easy if what he saw was true. 

"Get out." His voice was hardly above a whisper. He couldn't even choke out the words because he didn't want you to go, he wanted to hold you and kiss your tears away as the spilled down your cheeks. He was in love but feeling his heart shatter over and over as the image replayed in his head was too much to handle. You went to protest. 

"Get the FUCK OUT," he sighed, the last words coming out as a yell as he rubbed his eyes with his palm of his hand. "Please, I just need time."

You left. Unsure of where to go as you felt your heart break with every step towards your apartment. The lonely shell of a home. You had taken a detour past a small park, stepping into the area that would usually be filled with children’s laughter in the daytime, but in the dark night it was the perfect place to wallow as you pushed yourself forwards and backwards with your feet, feeling the tears fall and spill from your eyes. You wrote a hundred messages, tapping out the words before deleting them, you knew that nothing could console him. You and George had fought before but it was never anything as big or rash as this. 

<< George, just know I love you. x

<< I love you with my whole fucking heart. x

<< I'll love you forever, never forget that. x

>> Forever. xx

You knew that deep down, what you had wasn't lost, and that he wanted to be there with you, he just needed time. And you needed to talk to Fred.

/// TO BE CONTINUED ///

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