#what a shitty year she has had. what do you even say? well past me had some advice about this

[coquelicoq]

how to write a sympathy card

so someone you know recently lost a loved one and you would like to extend your sympathy, but you have no idea what to say. here are some ideas to get the juices flowing. i did not even try to keep this short, so i've broken it up into four sections: general advice, what to include, some example cards i've written, and takeaways.

general advice

first, if you're reading this i'll assume that you have decided to express your sympathy in some way and just don't know how. the thing about doing this is it will always feel inadequate. it will often feel very awkward. you may be worried that everything you say sounds weirdly insincere even if it isn't. i'm here to tell you that that is all okay and normal and to be expected. i've written a lot of sympathy cards and afterwards i've never been like "wow, i nailed it!" and yet i've gotten a lot of comments from people thanking me for showing up even when all i did was send a measly insufficient card, because most people don't do that. it will mean something to the person that you did it at all, even if it's not perfect.

should you send your sympathy in a card or some other method? if you never send mail, if you don't have their address, if you don't even own stamps, maybe sending a card is not for you. but everything below also applies to an email you could send. i personally prefer a card because i like the physicality; it's something they can keep and look at later if they want to, and it's a way of showing a small amount of deliberation and care (i went to the store and picked this out; i sat down and handwrote this). more importantly, i feel like there's less pressure to respond to a card than an email, and a phone call can be overwhelming to someone who is already dealing with a lot of shit, while a card is just there whenever they feel up to looking at it. but that is entirely my own perspective; there are differences culturally as well as personally. you should do what makes sense for you.

do think about what you're trying to accomplish by sending this card. you may not be able to make things better, but you are certainly trying not to make things harder. one example of this might be: if your friend has just lost her mother, you might have a lot of complicated feelings about this that aren't really about your friend or her mother specifically (you also have a mother!), and that's natural and okay, but those feelings would perhaps be best to share with other friends of yours who didn't just lose their mother. another example: it's okay to be worried about your friend and how they're doing, but try not to imply that they owe you updates or that they're causing you a lot of stress by not keeping you in the loop. (of course, if they are instead sharing more with you than you can handle, it's important to set boundaries around that! though probably not through the mechanism of a sympathy card.)

it is okay to keep it really short and generic. again, i think just the act of thinking to get a card, getting a card, writing something in it, and mailing it already means something regardless of what is written in it. if you feel overwhelmed trying to figure out what to say, it is okay to keep it to "I'm thinking of you in this difficult time. I'm so sorry for your loss." i also sometimes add "I don't know what to say, except that [I'm thinking of you, etc.]."

one thing i've learned that makes this harder is that you cannot assume you know how anyone else feels. you may be thinking, "i also lost a parent, so i know how it feels," but you only know how you felt about it. there are infinite ways to feel about losing someone, including:

sadness for the deceased, that their life is over

sadness for themself, that the deceased is gone

sadness for the other people who lost the deceased

fear of their own mortality

fear of dying in the same way

fear of how their life is going to change without the deceased

relief that the deceased is no longer suffering

relief that their caretaking duties are over

relief that the deceased can no longer mistreat them

anger at the deceased for dying or for not doing something before they died

anger at god

anger at others/self for contributing to their death or not saving them

overwhelm from all the logistical things there are to deal with when someone dies

overwhelm from all the emotions

confusion at their own reaction

guilt for outliving the deceased

guilt for not feeling sadder or for feeling other things in addition to sadness (or for being numb/in shock)

this is an incomplete list!!!

i try not to project onto my friend or put words in their mouth, because it can be very isolating to be told how other people think you should feel if that's not exactly how you feel. because you're sending them a sympathy card, there is some baseline assumption that there is something to feel sympathy about. but beyond that i try to be careful not to get super specific about how "you must be feeling" or how hard "this must be". generally i try to avoid the word "must" because it implies that there is a certain way this is supposed to go, when there isn't.

if i know that they are struggling in some way but haven't talked to them much about it, i personally usually feel okay saying "Loss is hard" or "It's hard to lose someone", which might seem similar to "This must be hard", but avoids the word "must" and the direct reference to their situation ("loss" in general vs. "the particular instance of loss you are experiencing"). if i don't know much at all about how they're doing, i might say "Loss can be hard", which presumes even less, or i might not directly mention the difficulty of loss at all.

but also, it's okay to be more specific and personalized if you have been in contact with your friend as they've been processing the situation. it's good to acknowledge specific feelings that they've told you about, but try to also leave room for other feelings and/or ways their feelings might have changed.

what to include

here are some categories of sentiments you may want to include (all optional!):

thinking of you: even though it's kind of self-evident that you're thinking about them, this is something that is always appropriate to say and always nice to hear. examples: You're in my thoughts. I'm thinking of you often.

wishing you comfort/support: comfort and support are very safe things to wish somebody because they don't assume anything very specific about how they're feeling, and they express care for their wellbeing without putting pressure on them to be fine. I hope you can find moments of comfort in the coming days. I hope you're feeling supported by friends and family.

sorry for your loss: this is one of those things everyone knows is a stock phrase, but it's the kind of stock phrase that imo actually communicates something, so i do generally use it. I'm so sorry for your loss.

my heart goes out to you: this stock phrase is a little iffier, meaning it can be kind of a toss-up on whether or not it will sound insincere. it might depend on how close you are to the person. use your discretion. again, even things that sound insincere to you can still mean a lot to the recipient. My heart goes out to you. My heart is with you.

i'm here for you: offer logistical and/or emotional support if you want to and if you're reasonably sure that you could provide it. if you're able to be specific, that can be very helpful; one thing that can be overwhelming in the aftermath of a loss is dealing with lots of people wanting to help and having to come up with ways for them to do that. Please reach out anytime if it would help to talk about it. If you ever need to be distracted, I'm good at that! I'd love to bring over some food/help out with chores and errands; I'll text you to see if that would be helpful and not disruptive.

prayers: if you and the recipient are both religious/spiritual and it feels right to say, you could say "I'm keeping you in my prayers" or similar, in addition to or in lieu of "I'm thinking of you." if you are religious but the recipient isn't (or you're not sure if they are), i suggest not saying this, but use your judgment. some people don't mind hearing that someone is praying for them even if they don't believe in prayer and may in fact expect you to say it if you are known as someone who often expresses care through prayer, but for others, this can be actively offensive. i would say when in doubt, stick to "thoughts" instead of "prayers". You're in my prayers. I'm praying for you.

there are many ways to grieve: this one is harder to describe, but i like to include something that validates whatever the recipient may be feeling, despite not knowing how the recipient is feeling. the downside of a card is that it's not in real time, so you really have no way of knowing how your friend is feeling when they read it, even if you talked to them previously and know how they were feeling during that conversation. so i like to, in addition to not assuming any particular emotions, make space for the fact that their emotions may be shifting in ways that are confusing or distressing. but you have to be kind of vague about it, because you don't even know if that's happening. I hope you have the space to grieve in whatever way you need to/is meaningful for you. I hope you're getting through this time in whatever way is best for you.

you may want to express your own grief over the loss of this person, if you knew them. i think this can be comforting for the recipient to hear, but i suggest keeping it brief and not overwrought. the last thing you want is for your friend to feel they have to manage your emotions in addition to their own. if you can, do the below instead of or in addition to this.

now i will share my LIFE HACK!! for the very best thing to put in a sympathy card. this will not always be possible, because it relies upon a) you yourself having a relationship with the deceased (which is not always the case) and b) you being able to remember things (which i often cannot, especially when i'm sad). but if you can, i highly suggest something along the lines of the following.

say what you will remember the deceased for. (I will remember them for their wry sense of humor. I will remember them as a compassionate/driven/curious person.)

give an example of a memory you have of them in which they exemplified that characteristic.

if you can't do both, it's also good to do just one and not the other. if you have a favorite memory but it's too hard to think of adjectives to attribute to them, just share the memory. if you tend to think of them as [positive adjective] but no specific evidence is coming to mind, that's okay, this isn't a debate. in general it is comforting to people to know that they are not the only ones who will remember their lost loved one.

example cards

i will now give some examples of cards i've written. these all feel really awkward and inadequate to me, and you can see i didn't always stick to my own advice! but they were all deeply appreciated.

[to my coworker. i didn't have much detail except knowing her dad had been in the hospital a lot, and she was sad that he died]

I was so sorry to hear about your father. It seems like the last few years have been hard on your family, and loss is especially hard. I hope you are able to take the time you need to be with your family and cherish your memories of him together.

[to my friend's mother after the passing of her husband. i knew from talking to my friend that her mom was struggling especially with outliving him, because she was sick and had expected for a long time to die before him]

I'm thinking about you and [friend's name] a lot. I'm so sorry for your loss. Losing someone is so hard. Adjusting to their absence is, too. I hope that you're finding moment of comfort and feeling supported by friends and family. He will be missed. I will remember him for his wry sense of humor; I still have a "card" from him on my fridge (he cut out a sample "thank you" card greeting that said "The smallest good deed is better than the grandest intention" from a list of things to write in different kinds of cards (a sample message for a "Get Well Soon" card was on the back, crossed out) and simply added my name at the top and his name at the bottom. It's one of my favorite pieces of mail I've ever received and it's been on my fridge for many years). I am so sorry that he's gone. You are in my thoughts and my heart goes out to you.

[to my close friend and her husband i don't know as well, after a late-term abortion for a baby they had been very excited to raise. in this case i knew some of my friend's feelings, but not her husband's, and while i knew that many things about the pregnancy had been hard (lots of waiting for test results about the viability of the fetus, for one thing), i didn't want to imply that the decision to abort was hard, because my friend said it wasn't]

I'm thinking of you both lots. I'm so sorry for the loss of your baby. It sounds like it's been a difficult and fraught process, and I hope you're getting space and time to grieve and to come to terms with the loss. I hope you're getting whatever kind of support you need. If there's anything I can do to help, whether logistical or emotional, please let me know. I would love to be of service to you. I wish I knew what to say. You've just had such a fantastically shitty year. I do believe that things will get lighter for you both, and I hope that happens soon. Take care, and know you are cherished.

[to my grandmother after the loss of her estranged brother, when i was extremely unsure how she was feeling about it and had my own complicated emotions]

I just wanted to send you a card to say I'm thinking of you. Mom let me know about Uncle [name]. I know things had been strained for many years and I haven't seen him in a long time, but I'm sorry to hear that he's passed. I hope that you and [grandmother's sister] are able to reminisce in whatever way feels appropriate and meaningful to you. I'm not sure what else to say, other than I'm thinking of you, I love you, and I'm sorry. It was really nice to see you at [family member's] graduation the other day. The next time we're together, I look forward to giving you such a big hug! I feel very lucky to be your granddaughter and to have you in my life.

[to my grandmother after the loss of my 38yo cousin, which was hitting me really hard]

I don't know what to say, but I just wanted to tell you that my heart goes out to you and that I'm thinking of you, and [cousin], and [uncle], and [father], every day. It's so hard to lose someone, and I'm so sorry for your loss. My grief is a strange animal that sneaks up on me at the strangest times. I hope you are finding moments of comfort and feeling supported by friends and family. I'm looking forward to the day when I can hug you in person.

[to my close friend on the loss of her father after a long illness. she had been leaning on me for support, as another person who has lost someone after a long illness]

I'm thinking about you lots. I hope you're getting through this time in whatever way is best for you. Loss is hard even when you know it's coming and even when you get to say goodbye. I hope you are finding comfort and feeling how loved you are. He was a special person, and I'm so sorry he's left you. I know part of him will live on in you and the other people who learned from and admired him. It's still so hard to lose him, and grief is a strange animal. Take care. Reach out anytime. I love you so much.

takeaways

it will probably feel inadequate to you, but chances are it will still be appreciated.

remember that though you may not be able to make things better, you are trying not to make things harder.

it is okay to keep it really short and generic.

you cannot assume you know how anyone else feels. there are many ways to grieve. that said, it's nice to acknowledge any specific feelings your friend has expressed to you, while also leaving room for other feelings you may not know about.

if you want to offer support, it can help a lot to be specific in how you are able and willing to help.

it is usually comforting to people to know that they are not the only ones who will remember their lost loved one.

even if you do it awkwardly, just the act of reaching out is meaningful! people don't know you're thinking about them unless you tell them.

and remember to take care of yourself, too! watching friends lose loved ones can be hard for you as well for a variety of reasons. reach out to other friends for support when you need it.

[sunnami]

❝i am half-agony, half-hope. . . i have loved none but you.❞

summary: how the marauders loved you in their time. featuring harry potter the time-traveller and sixth-wheel.

pairing/s: poly!marauders + lily x reader.

tags: reader is referred to as she/her and a mother throughout the whole fic[!], reader is a violent gremlin who craves blood but the marauders love you for that, implied child abuse[!], mentions of blood and violence[!], disgustingly sappy poetic fluff, no angst, happy ending, not proofread we die like finnick odair, edited: very minor detail.

note: there is little plot, it’s just the marauders and their adoration for you. thank you all so much for your kind responses to my first marauders fic :(( ilysm! i hope you enjoy this one as well! because there are parts when i was writing that i ended up kicking my feet in the air and smiling to myself.

“MY NAME IS HARRY POTTER. I come from twenty-years in the future, you’re my mum — one of my ‘em, actually. It’s complicated. And you’re married to James Potter, Remus Lupin, and Sirius Black.” 

You blink. 

“Get the fuck out of my room!” 

Harry James Potter has dodged many things in his life. Killing curses, jinxes, girls, Draco Malfoy, and Dudley’s sloppy punches, but he’s never had to dodge his sixteen-year-old mother’s fuzzy slipper before. (Godric, that sounds weird, even in his head.) He doesn’t know precisely how he arrived here. In the Slytherin common room, to be exact, in your dorm. Harry remembers duelling with Death Eaters, Hermione calling his name, and a flash of light hitting him square in the chest, then he remembers waking up in the cold tiles of the snake dungeon. He nearly throws himself off the window when he meets your eyes, bleary from interrupted sleep — it’s not often he gets to meet [read: one of] his dead parents, after all, three had been brutally murdered by Voldemort, and one killed by his own loony cousin. He misses Sirius, though. A lot. And right about now, he could do with some of Hermione’s nagging and brilliant plan-making. 

At present — or past, Harry guesses — he watches you scramble out from your duvet, hand clumsily reaching for your wand as you snarl at him. He wonders if his mother knows that he’s encountered other creatures far more threatening than her. Oh shit, he realizes with all the forces of an angry Hermione Granger, isn’t this the last thing he’s supposed to do? But, well, Harry has given, and given, so much of himself all for the greater good — just this once, he’d like to see his parents alive and well. Even if they were currently trying to blast him into the walls. 

“If you’d just let me explain, mum—!” Harry pleads, nearly dropping his glasses after dodging one of your stinging hexes. Godric, you’re crazy. “Please!” 

“Stop calling me that!” You screech, eyes set ablaze.  Harry finds that you’re quite dynamic with your attacks. A hairbrush, followed by a stinging jinx, then a thick History of Magic textbook — which rudely hits him in the face, but he doesn’t dare complain because you’re his mother, and he’s respectful like that — and after you’ve exhausted your breath, running him into a corner, and your nostrils flare with the stubbornness of a lion, you point the tip of your wand at him. “If this is another one of the Prewett’s shitty pranks, I want you to leave! You are in the girls’ dormitory beyond midnight, and so help me, if you aren’t walking out that door in the next five seconds, I will kill you and string you up by your bottoms for everyone in school to see! Maybe all your stupid rumours of me being a Death-Eater might come true after all!” 

“You’re a Death-Eater?” Harry asks dumbly. 

You growl furiously, and Harry figures that was not the right thing to say. “I wonder what McGonagall would say if I delivered your head to her on a silver platter.” 

“Professor,” Harry corrects with a toothy grin. “Professor McGonagall.” 

You slam his head against the wall.

Definitely the wrong thing to say. 

Harry groans, little Dobby heads floating around his vision. Why was this so much harder than actually facing Voldemort? Quick, he needed to think of something, otherwise he’d end up eviscerated to ashes on your cold, stone floors. Harry is pretty sure you’d use his remains as decoration to send off a message to your enemies. 

“You hate your father,” Harry slurs through the pain, remembering Remus’s stories of how you were the gentlest magical being he’s ever had the privilege to love — now that Harry thinks about it, Remus was being extremely biased, nothing about you is gentle at all. “He’s forcing you to marry someone old enough to be your grandfather. You love to read Muggle literature but had to stop when your father burnt your whole collection of books. Your favorite novel is Persuasion by Jane Austen. It’s the one book you carry with you everywhere, you could never get tired of it.”  

Your grip on his shoulders falters, but the fury in your eyes crackles. “This isn’t funny.” 

“It’s not meant to be funny, mum,” Harry croaks, voice cracking pathetically — strange how this is the most he’s ever uttered the word, mum; it’s a peculiar string of letters, foreign on his tongue. “You have tremors in your left leg from when your father cast the Cruciatus curse on you. One of your dearest friends is a Hogwarts house-elf named Pipley. You cheated on your Transfiguration essay once, and—” 

“That’s enough!” You bark, eyes narrowed in dangerous slits. “I don’t know where you heard those from, you creepy, little stalker, but if you want to keep breathing, then I suggest you shut up.” 

Harry scoffs — you don’t understand. Everything he’s learned about you is from Sirius and Remus. They talk about you with whispered devotion, your name like a prayer on their lips, their eyes glazed with wistfulness as though they could see you reaching out for them — but you were dead in Harry’s time. Yet, you might as well have been alive with their tales of you. 

(“She’s a different kind of beautiful,” Sirius had said, a year after breaking out from Azkaban, sitting by the fire in Grimmauld Place, taking a swig of decade-old firewhiskey, “The kind of beautiful you don’t want to take your eyes off from because you’re afraid she’ll disappear from your eyes. But you won’t forget her, oh no, you’ll memorize the freckles and moles on her skin, the scars from her years, the light in her eyes, and the way she holds her head up high. You should have seen her, James, she. . . she was — is glorious.”) 

“I told you,” says Harry firmly — although he loves his mother very much, she’s beginning to wear him out, “My name is Harry James Potter, I come from twenty-years in the future. You are one of my parents.” A lightbulb flashes in his head. He squirms in your hold, reaching for his robe pocket until he finds the thing he’s looking for. Harry dangles the ring in front of you, grinning in success when your eyes flash in recognition. “It’s—” 

“A family heirloom,” You say breathlessly. The alexandrite winks under the light, a familiar gold band with the Latin inscription of your House words. “Where did you steal this from?” 

Harry rolls his eyes. “You left it for me in my Gringotts vault. It’s my heirloom now. You have to believe me, there’s no way you can deny this.” 

You take a step backwards, nibbling on your lower lip, as you stagger to your bed — Harry nearly stumbling to catch you in case you fell; adjusting to the living proof of time travel was quite difficult, he, of all people, should know. He exhales, dragging a hand down his face. “Magic, amirite?” 

You throw a pillow at him, which he catches gracefully thanks to his Seeker reflexes, as you plop down in the comforts of your quilts. “Sleep. The other girls won’t be back until the end of the holiday. We can deal with whatever this is in the morning. It’s way too early for me to process the idea of a future Potter spawn following me around.” 

Harry smiles. “Yes, mum.” 

ONE THING THAT his fathers failed to tell him about you, and that Harry had to learn himself, was that you took ages to get ready. You sat on the chair in front of your vanity mirror, the birch wood legs whittled with snakes, and it was as though you had a Sticking Charm on the cushion. Harry didn’t know there could be so many creams, oils, and serums, and powders one put on their face. He blanches when you turn to offer him a cream for his under eyes. (“Suit yourself.” You shrug, turning to brush your cheek with dusts of pink. “Just saying, those dark circles aren’t doing you any favors.”)

“What am I like in the future?” You ask, a kind lilt to your voice, much like a warm hug, much like home. 

Harry stiffens, shoving his hands in pockets of the robes that were twice his size — you had given him the garments of Lucius Malfoy to change in, which you apparently had stolen from his room. It’s come full circle, really, the Sorting Hat had once told him he would be great in Slytherin, and now here he was, looking fabulous in green — because he was about to hurl at the feel of the velvet on his skin, knowing slimy Lucius Malfoy had worn it. (“No son—” You pause with a tight purse in your lips, as if you still can’t accept the fact. Harry doesn’t blame you. “—no son of mine will be parading around in red of all colors, future or not.” And Harry finds that he really doesn’t care, so long as you call him your son.)  

“Loved,” replies Harry gruffly, avoiding your eyes in the reflection of your mirror — they were piercing. One look and Harry wanted to spill all of his deepest, darkest secrets. He remembers the photographs in his album, the one he’s stared at so many times as a child. It’s a moving photograph of the five of you, fresh out of Hogwarts, each wearing a smile that stretched from ear-to-ear. Before Sirius and Remus, it was the only semblance of proof that Harry had — that you had once been alive. Remus is holding you by the waist in the picture, twirling you around as autumn leaves fell. You were — are — loved, and Harry thinks there’s no better description than that. 

(“I bloody hated her cat,” says Remus with a roguish quirk to his lips, regalling Harry with more talks of his parents. “Sirius, too. We just never got along with the little creature. But your mother loved it, and we would have done anything to make her happy. She deserved it, you see. She deserved more than what I had to offer her, but still she chose me anyway. And I am a selfish man, Harry, I crave glimpses of her and the whispers of her voice. She has made me a mad man whose only reprieve is her touch.”) 

You hum knowingly. “Stupid question, I guess. Since you aren’t allowed to reveal anything more about the future.” You sigh, gracefully threading your arms in the sleeves of your shirt, a green tie in the center of your collar. “Except, of course, when you gave me a heart attack in the middle of the night by telling me the last thing I want to become — no offense, I just don’t see how a relationship with those rowdy bunch would work. They get on my nerves far too much for me to ever feel anything other than disgust.” 

Harry doesn’t need a mirror to see that his expression has contorted in confusion; brows knitted and upper lip crinkled. By their memories of you, you all were madly in love in Hogwarts. Damn. This just made his trip to the past a lot harder. No maze seems to be ever just a maze. 

Luckily, you don’t notice him brewing a grand master plan to bring his parents together. Instead, you say, “But you don’t seem to be phased by any of this. If I had been thrown twenty years into the past, I would have puked my guts out twice at some point.” 

“Thanks for the image,” says Harry with a scowl. Truthfully, it had either been a present with a noseless Dark Lord to face, trauma to unpack but really never have the chance to, or a past where all of his parents were alive, and a chance to talk with them for however long he has. He knows where he’ll be staying, thank you very much. 

“Anytime,” You reply with an impish smile. 

Your heels pad across the floor as you walk over to him, mouth clicking as you pat the top of his head, full of wild, untameable Potter hair. “You need a trim soon,” You mutter, frowning, as you brush the thick strands away from his eyes, then you gasp — and Harry knows exactly what’s coming next. “Oh, you’ve got Evans’s eyes. That’s freaky.” 

“I know.” Harry grins. 

“Here’s the plan,” You say as you lead him out of your room, making sure no one saw him walking out of your door and getting the wrong impression — because that would be so wrong on many levels, but also, explaining to someone else that the person beside you was a time-traveller was just complicated in general. The Slytherin dungeon is unfamiliarly familiar, eerily quiet, as the two of you made your way out. “Just say you’re Potter’s distant relative, twice or thrice removed, and you’ve always been here. If you lie to their faces enough, they’ll believe it eventually.” 

“Will that work?” Harry doesn’t really mind — he needs a connection to James, his father, if he’s going to work out a connection between you and the others, because at the moment, it doesn’t seem like you’re too fond of them. There’s a tick on your jaw every time you mumble the word, Potter. Nevertheless, Harry decides he’s going to spend the duration of the holiday break trying to set you up with them — on the list of most insane things he’s ever done, living out the Parent Trap was high up the tally. 

You shrug. “They’ve fallen for less.” 

(“She’s got this adorable habit when she lies,” Sirius tells Harry, whipping up a stack of pancakes for their breakfast — Remus browsing through the morning paper. It’s the closest he’s ever been to a normal family. “It’s not obvious to her, of course, but I know her more than I know my own name. So we play along with it.” For a moment, he stops drizzling the maple syrup on the well-cooked batter, gazing at Remus fondly. “D’you remember that, Moony? She led us straight to one of her pranks, and we ended up covered in slug slime. She was so obvious — with her adorable fucking giggles. I need help with Charms, she said, and we knew right away it was a set-up. But it didn’t matter. I’d happily let her lead me to my ruin.”)  

The Great Hall is the same as Harry remembers. Now that most have returned home for the holidays, those who stay back mingle with students from other Houses, sharing meals under the bewitched ceiling, their low murmurs and hushed Christmas greetings bouncing off the walls. Harry scours the four tables to find a hint of blazing red hair, or the scent of impending trouble. Fortunately, he doesn’t have to search very far. As fate would have it, James Potter finds you — and where he is, Sirius Black is sure to follow. 

You’re barely seated when James comes bounding over to your table — more precisely, he struts, and Harry is horrified to ever be proven wrong by Snape, of all people. He ignores the roll of your eyes as he drags a leg over the bench, sitting to face you as Sirius occupies the space to your left before Harry can even sit down. He can’t even fathom how weird it is to see his parents as rambunctious teenagers. Lovesick, rambunctious teenagers. 

“Morning, dove.” James preens under your glare, stealing a grape from your bowl with a boyish smirk. His hair looks as though he’s ran his hand through it many times. “You look ravishing today.” 

“As always,” Sirius pipes in. “But that eyeshadow really isn’t complementing your skin tone, my darling.” 

You smile at him, right before your lips twist into a cutthroat sneer. “Piss off, Black.”

James stifles a laugh as he shovels a mass of potatoes on your plate, then pumpkin pasties, and slides a steaming cup of Dragon Well tea in front of you. 

“What the hell are you doing, Potter?” You reach over to smack his arm when he sprinkles apple slices and bacon on your breakfast. 

“What does it look like?” James smiles lopsidedly. “You need to eat more, honey.”

(In the future, Sirius will tell Harry, “It started off as a joke, a way to get on her nerves — but then, it just became this thing about taking care of her, making sure she got enough sleep before her tests, wondering if she had breakfast or dinner, staying with her in the library, walking her to the Slytherin common room, and sending her stupid notes just to make her laugh. You don’t get it, Harry. I’d give my every breath to ensure her life. We all would.” Harry doesn’t see Sirius any more during that evening, but he hears a bottle crashing against a wall, cracking into a million pieces, and the masked sound of Sirius sobbing, and Harry decides to leave him alone for the night.) 

Then, you tear your eyes away from James — he huffs, pushing your plate to you, mildly annoyed that you’ve deprived him of your eyes; they were his favorite part of you, you see, so expressive and full of life; James thinks you put the stars to shame — and thankfully, you remember that Harry still exists. You lightly smack Sirius’s leg until he gives Harry some room to sit. “Potter, meet other Potter. It’s the holidays, shouldn’t it be the perfect time to let go of House prejudices and spend time with family?” 

James looks at Harry up and down. “You must be from dad’s side of the family with all that hair.” 

Harry lets out a breath of relief. That was easy — way too easy. When he takes the vacant space in between you and Sirius, you dump all the available food on his plate, just as James had done for you. 

“Eat,” You say with a tone of finality. “You look like the wind could snap you in half.” 

“Yes, m—” Harry stops himself before he could finish his sentence, avoiding Sirius’s curious gaze. 

“Wow.” Sirius pokes Harry in the shoulder and in the cheek. “You really look like a mini-James, you’ve even got his terrible eyesight.” 

“Oi!” 

Your fork clatters against the silverware as you turn to Sirius with a shrill. “Not that I do enjoy your company — because, trust me, I do not want you here at all and would very much prefer if you got out of my sight — but why are you here? The Gryffindor table is over there. Unless your housemates finally got sick of you, Potter, which I can definitely see happening.” 

James chuckles, tossing another grape in his mouth without taking his eyes off you. “It’s as you said, isn’t it? It’s the time for putting aside House prejudices. And I think it’s a lovely day to enjoy a meal with my favorite snake.” 

“Drop dead,” You retort, digging into your chicken with a little more force than necessary. 

“Oh, dove.” James shakes his head, a teasing grin pulling at his lips. “It’s cute that you think death will keep me from you.” 

(Harry’s been told before, probably by Sirius, that this line had been wedged into his wedding vows for you. “A dramatic one, James was,” Sirius chuckles to himself one morning, Harry and Hermione listening intently, “He always said he’d rather die than ever hurt her. There was this time in seventh year, they had a fight — it was ugly — and she had ignored him for a week. James cried in Remus’s arms begging him to cut his heart out, saying that he didn’t deserve to keep on breathing, not after making you cry.”) 

“That is so creepy,” You say in disgust, scrunching your nose. Sirius chortles at your side. “I still wonder why Evans agreed to go out with you.” 

“It’s all part of the charm, dove.” James winks. “It’s all part of the charm.” 

Harry wants to barf, actually.

After breakfast, James then decides to introduce Harry to Lily, Remus, and Peter. (He’s gonna need the patience of a saint to not Avada Kedavra that rat on the spot.) Harry had spent the whole morning watching Sirius peel oranges and give them to you with a smitten look in his eyes — naturally, you gave whatever Sirius offered you to Harry, and each time Padfoot would visibly wilt. If he were in his Animagus form, Harry thinks he would be whining by now, tongue out and all. James and Sirius follow after you like lost puppies when you extricate yourself from the table.

“Where are you going?” James calls, hot on your heels as you leave the Great Hall.

“Away from you, Potter!” 

And James actually sighs when you turn the corner and disappear from their peripheral vision. Seconds later, he turns to Harry with a blinding smile, “She’s definitely charmed.”

Harry chortles.

“Well, come on then!” James guffaws as he wraps an arm around Harry’s neck — this is so, so strange. They begin walking in the opposite direction of where you went. “I still can’t believe we’ve got another Potter here and in Slytherin. I think I would have remembered Minnie calling your name during the Sorting Ceremony. What year are you in?” 

He’s supposed to start his sixth-year in a few weeks. “Fifth.” Technically. 

“We should ask Lily,” says Sirius, hands in his pockets and ebony ringlets tickling his nape. “She’s got the best memory out of all of us.”

It’s odd, Harry thinks, meeting the person who’s got his eyes — or the other way around, as people have told him. It’s like someone carved out the emeralds of Lily Evans’s eyes and bestowed it upon Harry for safekeeping. She sits beside Remus Lupin, head resting on his shoulder, hands clasped together, as they enjoy the shade. Nex to them, oblivious to their intimate conversation, is Peter Pettigrew — with his rosy, cherub cheeks and innocent blue eyes; not at all the image of a pathological, cowardly liar. Their heads snap in attention as James boisterously cries for their name. 

“Marauders — and Lily-pad — meet ickle Potter.” James lightheartedly whacks Harry on the back, to which Harry feels his lungs spill out from his mouth, he’s sure there’s an imprint of his father’s hand on his back now. 

“There’s two Potters in Hogwarts?” Sea-green eyes look at him in scrutiny as Lily knits her brows. “How even is the castle still standing?” 

James cackles like it’s the best joke he’s ever heard in his entire life, slapping his knee for dramatic effect. Oh, well, at least they’re buying Harry’s half-baked lie. At this point, it’s not even baked, it’s just wet, soggy, and poorly done. “Good one, Lily-pad!”

Sirius ruffles Remus’s shaggy blonde hair, canines bared in a wide grin. “This one here’s Moony, uptight prefect in the morning and absolute beast in the evening.” 

Harry blanches. Surely he was talking about his furry problem, right? Right? 

Remus doesn’t even flinch, just peels off Sirius’s hand from him and extends his hand out to Harry. “Please do not mind him. Remus Lupin, nice to meet you. Although, I can’t believe this is the first time we’ve met. We would have definitely remembered if we had another Potter in our midst.” 

“It’s true, we Potters are just hard to forget,” says James, smiling cheekily. 

Harry pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “Mum didn’t take the Potter name. I’m part Dursley. Muggle.” 

Lily hums, toying at the ends of her bright hair. “Dursley, huh? What a familiar name.” 

“It’s a common one,” Harry assures her — not at all the names of the people who would take him in after they died. And make his life miserable. 

“I suppose you’re right,” says Lily, unconvinced. 

“And this is Peter.” James introduces the boy eagerly, pride in his voice — as though this isn’t the person who literally allies himself with Voldemort. As if Peter won’t betray his friends all because of fear. 

“N–Nice to meet you,” Peter stammers with a nervous fidget, “Any family of James is a friend of ours.” 

Harry’s eye twitches. 

IT IS ALMOST COMICAL — the way their eyes land on your figure, bursting through the courtyard from the corridors, winter cloak swishing with every step, tendrils of hair swaying in the crisp wind, and head held up high, thick books under your arms. You pause in front of the Marauders, face blank, then you turn to Peter, greeting him with a: “Hello, only Gryffindor I can tolerate.” 

Peter’s cheeks burn a saccharine hue of pink. Oh, no, no, no — absolutely not — Harry will not stand for a little crush Peter Pettigrew has on his mother. He needs James to act now. “Hi,” Peter replies shyly. 

Lily quirks her lips. “Hello, princess, see your score for the Astronomy test yet?”

You scowl. “Zip it, Evans.” 

The sound of Lily’s laughter fills the atmosphere — it’s the sort of melody that makes flowers bloom in deserts. “Had a bit of difficulty with the star charts?” 

Sirius pinches your cheek — Harry thinks you’re going to murder him on the spot. “Difficulty? I think this one just slept through the whole thing.” 

James snickers. “Must have been one hell of a nap, princess. You were drooling on my jumper.” 

“I most certainly do not drool!” You gasp, appalled, eyes wide as you step away from Sirius.

Sirius rolls his eyes. “What? Is drooling too barbaric for the pretty, little pure-blooded princess now? Newsflash, pet, you’re just as human as we are.” 

“Oh, you horrible, loathsome, infuriating—” You whip around to beat his chest with the course book in your grasp — it’s the kind of book Hermione would consider for light reading. 

“Irresistibly attractive—?” Sirius supplies for you, grin widening with as he captures your wrist with his hands. 

“In your dreams!” You shrill. 

You exhale slowly, eyes closing, chest rising when you take a sharp inhale. You open your eyes and stare straight at Harry — for a moment he fears that you’ll bite his head off. “Harry, dear, will you accompany me to the library? I think I’ve found something important regarding your situation.” 

Harry nods. “Is it time already?” 

“Yes,” You say firmly. “And time is of the essence. Come on.” 

“Wait!” Lily calls out to you as you turn to head back to the castle, Harry in tow — he tries to avoid the way James is glaring at your linked arms. “Hogsmeade next week?” 

Your jaw falls to the ground — this must have been unrehearsed, if the others’ reactions were anything to go by; Remus had dropped his book in shock, Sirius looked like he couldn’t decide between applauding Lily’s bravery or shaking her, and James was somehow frozen in time. “Excuse me?” 

“You’re excused, princess,” says Lily, dimples poking out of her cheek as she takes another step towards you. “You, me, Hogsmeade. A date. I’m sure you’ve gone on one of those before.” 

Harry elbows your stomach as you stare at Lily in shock. It takes a few moments to break you out of your stupor. “A–And what makes you think I’ll just go with you?” 

Lily shrugs. “I’m fit. Aren’t I, Remus?” 

“The fittest,” says Remus without missing a beat. 

You laugh incredulously. “Do you just expect me to go along with this? You’re mad, Evans.” 

Harry glares at you. You need to go along with this. 

“Are you scared, princess?” Lily’s face is inches away from yours, noses almost touching — Harry doesn’t know if he should keep watching this painful way of flirting — as she grins at you, happiness barely contained within her eyes. 

To your credit, you don’t back down. (Harry has to say this for the masses: he saw your gaze flitter down to Lily’s lips for a split second.) “Stop calling me that, Evans.” 

“One date, then.” 

You growl in exasperation, eyes flickering to the boys behind her back — pretending not to hear their conversation. “I suppose I’ll have to deal with them as well?” 

Lily beams and Harry swears sunflowers could grow in her direction. “We’re a package deal.” 

“Unfortunately,” You utter — but Harry notices it, the lack of venom in your voice. You straighten your posture, nose lifted haughtily, “I choose where we’re going.” 

“Done.” The sun peeks out from the cloud just as Lily smiles at you. 

“And I want to—” 

“Done,” Remus interjects raspily, peering up at you from underneath his lashes. “Anything you want, it’s yours.” 

You fight a growing smile, but continue, “If we’re going out in public, you’re going to have to wear—” 

“Done,” says James giddily, he looks as though he could kiss you in front of everyone without a care in the world.  

“You can’t just agree to anything I say!” You flap your arms in frustration. 

“Yes, dear,” Sirius teases. 

“Do you know how much you piss me off, Black?” You squawk. “Because you are this close to—”

“You are so fucking beautiful,” Sirius confesses, every pretense shed raw from his skin, sincerity pouring from his words. 

“I—” You falter, heat rushing to your cheeks. “You’ve gone mad.” 

“It’s your fault, dove,” says James, eyes twinkling like crescent moons as he smiles. “You best take accountability for this.” 

“You’re incorrigible — all of you,” You say as you avoid their gazes.

(But they were yours. Past, present, and future. They loved you so much that their soul was no longer their own — it was yours; yours to keep, yours to break, and yours to love. It would be unjust to ask them why they loved you. Do we ask why the sun rises each day without rest? Do we ask a daisy to stop blooming, or a tree to stop growing after it has endured storms and floods? After all, we do not ask why humans follow the light in a tunnel shrouded in darkness.) 

“Come on, Harry, let’s go.” You reach for his hand, he notices immediately that the tips of your ears are pink, and your palms are warm with sweat. He barely sees Peter wave goodbye before you tug him in the direction of the castle entrance. 

“Wait up!” Remus catches up to you two in quick strides, offering to carry your books for you — not that you agree, stubborn Slytherin that you are. “I’ll walk you to the library.” 

“There’s no need for that, Lupin, thank you.” You dodge his eyes, lips tightly pressed together, nails slightly digging into Harry’s arm. 

“Remus,” He says with a twinkle. “Call me Remus.” 

“Alright.” You pause. “Remus.” 

(In that moment, Remus wonders if you remember decking Lucius Malfoy in the face to defend him in your fourth year. He didn’t think he deserved to even breathe in the same air as you — the pure-blooded princess, dressed in clothing worth more than his life, adorned in jewelry he could only dream to afford, raised to believe she was better than everyone else. Then, you beat up Evan Rosier the next month in the courtyard, eyes ablaze, extravagant silk marred with grass stains and mud, and knuckles split open. You spit blood on the ground, looking at Lily then back at Rosier. “Red,” You say, kicking him one last time in the stomach, unafraid of McGonagall’s wrath growing louder and louder. “Just like everyone else. Like those Muggleborns you fear. We’ve all got dirty blood, Rosier. Suck it up.” 

“I’ll tell your father about this!” Rosier bellows through bloody teeth. 

“Tell him!” You grab his neck and slam your forehead against his. “Tell him that I decide my own future now!”

Remus doesn’t even have to think about it. 

He falls in love.) 

FUNNILY ENOUGH, IT’S LILY who gives you her heart first, before anyone else does. It’s the last month of her first year at Hogwarts — it still hasn’t quite sunk in yet that she was a witch. Her, not Petunia, but her — Lily Evans, the witch. Apparently, some people can’t believe it either. A girl from Ravenclaw calls her this foul word, she’s heard it a few times now but it always hurts the same. James and Sirius get into a fight for her honor, now faced with detention later this evening. But she can’t help but wonder, what if they were right? What if she really didn’t belong in this world? It was too good to be true, anyway. Perhaps she’ll just run a flower boutique with Petunia.

“Oi.” 

The sound of your voice startles her, and she nearly topples over in the Great Lake. Lily catches sight of your Slytherin colors and resigns herself to another round of name-calling. “What do you want?” 

“They’re wrong, you know,” You tell her, ignoring Lily’s question. You look down on her with your nose raised arrogantly — she wishes she could be like you. Born to be magic. “You’ve got a terrifying brain locked up in your head there, Evans. And they know it, too. They’re scared.” 

Lily scoffs. “I’m just a Mudblood to them. There’s nothing to be intimidated by.” 

You sneer. “Don’t say that word. You’re more than that. More than them. They’ve got long ways to go to prove they have a place in this world. But you — you’ve defied the odds and you were destined to become magic. You don’t have to prove anything. You have the right to be in the wizarding world and no one can take that away from you.” 

Then, you pivot on your heels, not bothering to hear her reply. “You’re my rival now, Evans. Do keep up. We’ve got an Astronomy test tomorrow. I look forward to seeing how you do then.” 

Lily just gapes. She’s certain there’s butterflies in her stomach. Her heart thumps wildly against her ribcage. Lily raises her hands to feel her blushing cheeks. There’s a light unfamiliar sensation in her stomach — like the urge to kick her legs and scream into a pillow, or more precisely, chase after you and hold your hand.

She stiffens.

Oh.

part two

[fernandopiastri28]

Oscar is angry about carlos situation and his Miami GP result so y/n helps him relax (maybe a handjob,maybe Smut..you chose)

the city that keeps the roof blazing ~ oscar piastri

“Please,” The heat between her legs is near unbearable from how desperate he sounds, and her thighs chafe from how she’s kept them squeezed together as an attempt to relieve some of the ache of her cunt. “Y/N, I need you,”  The tips of her fingers jut down to splay across the bulge in his shorts, applying some sort of pressure to the spot. He groans, grabbing her wrist and pushing down harder so she’s fully palming him. He sits on the edge of the bed, looking all pretty and desperate just for her as she continues her ‘massaging’. “You’ll get it Osc, I promise,”

| warning ~ smut, degrading language. MDNI

Y/N’s heart thrums in her chest, an anxious sweat pooling across her back under her corset dress. Oscar’s not doing well, having taken a hit from the Ferrari of Carlos Sainz and losing his front wing as a result. He’d had to pit, finding himself in last, only in front of Logan who’d already DNFed. Her nails are bitten up, rough on the edges. She can hope and pray for at least a points finish, even if it’s just one or two, but at this point, the whole situation is looking rather dire.

If Oscar doesn’t already despise Carlos, he certainly does now. 

In the final few laps, the team instructs Oscar to basically not pull anything stupid and risk Lando getting his first win. It’s honestly offensive of them, as if Oscar has ever done something to sabotage anyone else in any circumstances. In anything, the McLaren team should be focusing on getting a penalty awarded to Carlos for his shitty stunt against Piastri or figuring out why the fuck Donald Trump is in their garage.

When a McLaren passes the chequered flag first, Y/N can’t even feel happy for Lando. She just feels fucked over for her boyfriend who’s being perfectly polite and mature over the radio but is gonna be absolutely destroyed once he’s out of shot from all the cameras and media. 

He’d been leading the race at one point, and now he’s having his first out of points finish of the year in 13th. Stupid Carlos, stupid fucking Carlos. Y/N looks around the rest of the garage at everyone jumping around and cheering for the brit’s win. She keeps her headset on, smiling politely as Oscar would be if he were here. She can’t muster up any excitement, so she’ll fake the bare minimum.

She navigates her way through flocks of commentators and team members as she attempts to find her boyfriend. “Oscar?” She has to crane her neck, searching for a papaya race suit that isn’t the one being showered in praises. As two men who tower over her push past, she bends her arm tighter to keep her bag in the junction of her elbow and close to her. 

“Y/N,” A tired voice calls out, Oscar tugging his balaclava off with one hand. “I’m not crazy right? You say that- that was all Carlos,” He pants, wiping a line of sweat that’s gathered over his top lip. Y/N rubs his cheek, applying pressure to where the outline from his helmet is especially dark. 

She nods, her hand squeezing his bicep through the thick material of his race suit. “Completely baby, you were doing so good.” She’s about to tell him that she was convinced today would be his first race win before her mind reminds her that telling him that isn’t going to make him feel better, in fact he’d probably feel even more shitty that she was expecting a win for him and he ‘let her down’.

He drops his head into his hands, letting out a noise that’s halfway between a sigh and a whine. “What is his problem with me? Because if it’s genuinely got to do with Lando and I being mates,” He groans, shaking his head in disbelief. “Just can’t deal with this right now,”

Before she knows it, Oscar’s being whisked away from her to be weighed and then dragged through endless interviews and media tasks. It’s the absolute last thing he wants to be doing, which is just going to make him more irritated and upset tonight. 

Y/N has to come up with something to cheer him up.

Something certainly. 

At the end of interviews, when they’re finally allowed to head home, Y/N slips her hand into Oscar’s, squeezing each of his individual fingers as she aligns the time of their feet hitting the floor. He just hums plainly, instead of laughing along with each pinch she gives to his digits. “Do you wanna talk about it?” Her tone is soft as they get into the car, Oscar’s eyebrows furrowed as he clicks his seatbelt in.

Oscar doesn’t need to be offered twice as he immediately shoots off into a rant. “He’s just so immature, he’s almost 30 and driving a 23 year old in his second year off the track. Each time I get blamed for it.” He starts the car, his eyes hyper focused on the road ahead as he just aimlessly insults Carlos. “I mean- he’s just an absolute idiot. I meant it when I asked if he was blind because in what reality did I deserve a penalty and he deserved a spot change?” 

Y/N keeps her eyes on him, watching as the muscles of his neck flex and tense, his cheeks getting hot, the veins in his hands becoming infinitely more defined as he grips the steering wheel. She’s ashamed of how turned on it makes her, seeing him like this. Maybe that’s exactly what he needs tonight though.

“And-and, fuck, he’s just soo desperate for another Carlando podium that he’s willing to drive me into a fucking wall just so he can stand on the top step with his precious Lando,” He mocks him, positively seeing red. “I’ve considered Logan my best mate for years longer than those two have known each other yet you don’t see me risking all of Carlos’ races so Logan can get a fucking point,” The swears are just spilling out of his mouth at this point, sounding like a second nature to a degree.

Her hand meets his thigh, rubbing it tenderly as a way to calm him down. “Keep going Osc, just let it all out,” Her voice is thick, warm, and sweet like honey. It’s exactly what he needs right now. He needs her next to him, needs her voice in his ear. 

Needs her hands on him.

“I just think he’s an entitled brat who doesn’t deserve a seat,” It’s harsh, but it’s coming straight from the heart. “I’m glad Ferrari dropped him,” It’s said accompanied with a long, drawn out sigh. He’s relieved, finally able to have gotten that all out.

Yet, there’s still a bugging sense of dissatisfaction deep in his bones that he knows he won’t get from continuously insulting the spaniard. Luckily for Oscar, he’s just about pulling into the hotel valet. 

With a single look at Y/N, he conveys everything he wants when they get to their hotel room, and lucky for him- she wants the exact same.

They maintain a sense of decorum in the elevator ride up, which can’t be said about each time Oscar has a bad race. Example, the 2023 Belgian grand prix. After his DNF, his mouth had been attached to her neck and his hands on her breasts the second the elevator doors shut. 

It had been a very awkward situation to apologise for after a family of four with two very young kids had entered the lift five flights before their hotel room.

But back to now, the second their hotel door clicks shut behind them, Y/N’s taunting him over to the bed with chaste kisses on his cheeks, each one just narrowly avoiding his lips. “You’re a crazy tease, you know that?” He groans, lacing his fingers into her hair and pulling her in for a kiss as they reach the bed. 

She replies with an ignorant shrug and a careless smirk, “It’s fun- getting you all riled up. Makes me feel like Carlos,”

Oscar’s touch sears hot against her skin, his glare even worse. “Don’t fucking mention him in our bedroom,” It’s barely a hiss, but it’s enough of a warning to keep her in line. Instead, she decides to take action on him. Her fingers drag along the hem of his polo, tantalising slowly. She doesn’t need to wonder why that is, it's the same as when he does it along the zippers of her dresses or buttons of her blouses. 

She wants him to beg for it.

“Please,” The heat between her legs is near unbearable from how desperate he sounds, and her thighs chafe from how she’s kept them squeezed together as an attempt to relieve some of the ache of her cunt. “Y/N, I need you,” 

The tips of her fingers jut down to splay across the bulge in his shorts, applying some sort of pressure to the spot. He groans, grabbing her wrist and pushing down harder so she’s fully palming him. He sits on the edge of the bed, looking all pretty and desperate just for her as she continues her ‘massaging’. “You’ll get it Osc, I promise,”

His legs are nudged apart by her hands as she sinks down to her knees in front of him. His eyes light up, his lips red and bitten up from how he’s been chewing down to keep in his whiny noises and begs. Her fingers expertly undo his shorts, poking him so he’ll lift his hips so she can pull the pants and his boxers down in one go. 

His cock doesn’t hit up against his stomach when his tight boxers are removed, instead just lays heavy between his muscular thighs. Truly a sight to be seen. “So hard,” Y/N marvels, gently sliding her cupped hand up and down his length. One pump, two pumps. “And needy,” He looks up at him through her lashes to where his bottom lip is tucked under his teeth and his cheeks are flaming red. 

Oscar bucks his hops forward instinctively, chasing the high of how good her hand, or mouth preferably, feels. He’s lucky when she doesn’t make him wait too long before she grants his wish, opening her mouth, flattening her tongue, and taking the majority of his length into her mouth. 

Y/N’s toes curl in an attempt to remove her somewhat of a gag reflex she has. Today, she wants to take him as deep as she can and make him feel as good as possible. It’s deeper than she was expecting, which is definitely a win in her books. Pulling back slightly, she focuses on the head for the time being.

A string of praises spill past his lips, “Fuck, yes, so so good.” His hand snakes into hold her hair, keeping her head in place as he gradually goes deeper. “Taking me so good, sucking me off like an angel,” Her lips stretch around his thickness, her eyes void of any emotion beyond lust as she stares up at him. 

Y/N’s tongue glides back and forth along the underside of his cock, disgustingly loud sucking noises filling up the entire hotel room. He cups her cheek, his thumb dragging along the bulging of her cheek. His hips inch forward, his cock stuffing her mouth full and moving towards doing the same for her throat. 

Y/N feels insanely good, and maybe even too good. Panic fills her head, what if Oscar’s still thinking about pleasuring her over himself. It’s typical Oscar, catering each sexual experience to prioritise her and her pleasure, even if it means he doesn’t cum as quickly as expected. Steadying her hands on his thighs,she pulls back gradually, “Fuck my mouth,” It’s not a question, suggestion, or even request. 

It’s a straight up demand.

“What, why?” His voice is more broken and weak than she’d expected. Hers is too, but that’s to be assumed when someone has a cock prodding the back of their throat. 

“Because I'm giving you head to make you feel good. This isn’t about my pleasure Osc,” Her voice is absolutely ruined and will likely be even worse by the end of this. Y/N cuts him off before he can begin to protest, which once again, she knows he will. “No but-s Oscar, just fuck my face,” He gives into the carnal desire as his hips begin to snap back and forth, burying into her throat. 

Drool spills out over her bottom lip and down her chin, her mind fuzzy without another tangible thought besides giving Oscar the best blowjob possible. Her jaw is aching but it’s ignored as she solely cares about getting him to orgasm. He huffs and groans, continuously sending praises mixed with harsh insults of calling her a slut and a whore as he gets more shallow with his thrusts, clearly very much so on edge.

She takes advantage of his situation, suckling solely on the sensitive tip as he warns her that he’s “So close Y/N, I’m ‘bout to cum,” The fact that she doesn’t budge or show any signs of slowing down tells Oscar enough. With three pumps of her hand on his cock, he’s spilling out into the wet heat of her mouth. As if time and consciousness is slipping further from her, his index and middle fingers tap her cheek to get her to pull off, then again to tell her to swallow.

Her jaw goes lax to show the proof that she did what he told her to as he takes his shirt off, gently wiping a mixture of cum and drool off her chin. Her eyes fight so hard to focus on the glorious sight of his toned abdomen and well filled in muscles as he cleans her up, but she’s so overwhelmed by the pleasure that she not only gave, but genuinely got from that experience. 

Oscar scoops Y/N up onto the bed, arranging her under the sheets so he can cuddle up against her, his chest to her back and his arms slung loosely around her stomach. “That was perfect,” He murmured, pecking at her cheek and ear as a further thank you.

Her throat does indeed ache, but it’s a worthy pain. “You’re not as upset about what happened with Car-” She can’t even finish the spanish ferrari’s name or her question before her boyfriend has his hand squished over her mouth.

“No saying his name,” He shakes his head, tutting disapprovingly. “But yes, I feel much better. Thank you babe,”

[tojiscumdumpster]

⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။ knockout x renji abarai

✧ summary there’s no better way for renji to celebrate a big win than to spend the night with y/n.

✧ content warnings reader described as a black woman who uses she/pronouns. feisty!reader, chubby!reader x undergroundfighter!renji. modern au — no bleach verse. told in first POV — renji’s. mentions of stitches and bruises. usage of profanity, praise kink, cowgirl position, nipple play, facefucking — renji will finish in reader’s, squirting. terms of endearment — baby, sweetheart, angel, etc. reader and renji are in their late twenties.

✧ author’s note hello, hello. i am here with a fic that’s not jjk for once in my life, lmfao. this idea has been in my drafts since january 2023, and it was just sitting there collecting dusts on my old tumblr. but i said i was going to do more bleach characters, so here we go. first time writing renji, so if this ain’t how you see him, oops. still enjoy. also didn't really focus on the underground!fighter portion as much. but maybe i will if there's a next time. support me by liking, commenting, and reblogging this post. i would greatly appreciate it. AGELESS/BLANK BLOGS AND MINORS— DO NOT INTERACT.

I know she told me not to come by after the fight, but I needed to. 

 I won.

 I fucking won, and there’s no other way for me to celebrate winning ten thousand dollars than to be with Y/N.

 Well, that’s if she’s still not mad at me.

 Before I left for my match, we got into an argument. A huge one. She doesn’t like that I fight for a living, let alone illegal underground fighting. I mean—I get it. Seeing someone you care about constantly getting his ass beat isn’t a sight worth seeing. 

 But fighting is all I know. 

 I had a shitty childhood. Didn’t know who the hell my parents were since they gave me up at birth for adoption. Jump around in foster care homes until the mothers got sick of me and kicked me out in the streets. Survival was basically forced on me.

 Fighting is what kept me alive. For food. Clothes. A place to lay my head. Whether I lost or won, I know the reason why I’m alive today is because I’m a fighter. 

 It wasn’t until I was eighteen when I found out about the world of underground fighting. Ten years deep and I know nothing else. 

 Y/N knows this about me. She understands I didn’t have it easy and never judged me. But that doesn’t mean she agrees with my lifestyle. 

 She came to a few fights in the beginning. Eventually, she got tired of seeing me stitched up almost every weekend. 

 Shit, me too. 

 However, after tonight, I feel good about my future wins. I busted my ass in training, so now I don’t have to hear shit about anymore losses. 

 Even if right now I’m stitched up and have a black eye. I feel good.

 Great.

 Better if Y/N opens the door after keeping me waiting out in the cold for the past ten minutes. 

 I know she’s awake. She has a habit of staying up late, studying for med school. And plus, I haven’t messaged or called her yet. Despite her not showing up to my fights, she still wants an update afterwards that I made it out alive.

 “Y/N, let me in,” I say, knocking loudly on her apartment door. “You know I don’t care about making a scene.”

 After a few more obnoxious knocks, the door finally swings open and I am met with deep russet skin, tight curls, and chocolate-colored eyes that pierce an annoyed look in my direction.

 “What do you want?” She bites out. “I’m busy.”

 I smirk and hold the bag of money in the air. “I won.”

 “Congrats.” Her tone is flat and she tries to slam the door in my face, but I placed my foot to stop it from closing. “Seriously?”

 “Yes, seriously. Are you really still mad at me?” I teasingly ask. 

 “You won. I said congrats. What more do you want?”

 I shrugged. “I’m locked out of my apartment.”

 She arches a brow at me, already recognizing my bullshit ass excuse of being locked out of my apartment. 

 Y/N knows me. She knows I would do anything to be in her presence, so going back and forth in forty degree weather is pointless. 

 Her pretty brown hues travels across my face and body, examining the stitches and bruises that probably has her wondering, who the fuck treated him? 

 Me. But that’s besides the point.

 A deep sign escapes her mouth when she realizes I’m not going anywhere until she lets me in, so she opens her door wider and turns her back to me to walk further inside her apartment. 

 “Sit,” she orders, which I happily do so while chuckling to myself. 

 While Y/N goes to the bathroom (assuming she’s getting a med kit to fix my shitty patch job), I take advantage of staring at her round ass that’s barely covered in those tiny boy shorts. Every step she takes it jiggles, creating an ocean of waves I’m eager to swim in.

 I get comfortable while I wait, taking off my skully, sweater, and any other form of heavy clothing that would cause me to sweat in her heated apartment. 

 “I’m going to start charging you if you keep fucking coming to my apartment like this, Renji,” Y/N snapped, walking with the kit in her hand as expected. 

 “Outside of paying for your tuition, I can think of other ways to repay you.”

 She rolls her eyes at my suggestive comment. “Get over yourself, Abarai.”

 I let out a snort before she stands in front of me and tilt up my chin to start making work on my face. 

 She’s cute when she’s mad. Huffing and puffing while whispering slick comments under breath. But how she’s handling my face by moving it around with force rushes blood straight to my groin.

 I’m getting hard.

 Hard as shit, and it’s not helping that I’m in close proximity with her. 

 That jasmine lavender scent that circulates through my senses. Looking up at her full lips that’s coated with gloss. Then, lowering my gaze to her tits that’s big, naturally saggy, and pretty. My mouth is watering at the sight of her nipples hardening.

 And I don’t know if it’s because she feels that I’m checking her out or the coldness outside is affecting her. 

 Either way, I’ll act on it.

 Taking it upon myself, I grab the back of her thighs to pull her on my lap. As if she’s used to my antics, it doesn’t catch her off guard and she continues to clean up my wounds. 

 “You’re all bloody up with a black eye and somehow you still have the energy to be a pervert,” she retorts.

 I move one of hands to her ass, massaging comforting circles. “For you? Yeah.”

 The quiet between us was comfortable until she opted to speak again. “So… who’d you fight?”

 “Some huge motherfucker. I thought I was going to die.”

 She leans back to grab more alcohol and dabs it above my brow. “Maybe that’s what needed to have you stop fucking fighting.”

 I throw my head back to laugh, but she grabs my chin to bring my face forward. “Like you want me dead.” My hands creep beneath her cheeks to pull her closer to me and apply more pressure to my cock. “That’s what you want?”

 “That came out my mouth, Abarai?”

 “Why are you still mad at me?” 

 She scoffs. “Why am I mad that you’re practically coming to me everyday with a busted face and broken ribs?” That’s one thing I love about Y/N—her feisty personality. It turns me on so fucking much because I know when I fuck her, it’ll be a different story. 

 Continuing, she says, “I think I would be a little more satisfied if you did this professionally as opposed to underground. Underground doesn’t come with insurance, Ren.”

 “Aw, you care about me that much?” My question was supposed to be posed as a joke, but the look on her pretty face says otherwise. 

 “Fucking asshole. I don’t know why I still deal with your ass.”

 “Probably because you love me.”

 “Probably not.”

  Gripping her hips, I pull her with me and lean back into the headrest of the couch. We’re inches away from our mouths cooling and I take advantage of this proximity by basking in her sweet smelling breath and beauty. 

 Simply because Y/N exists, my cocks hardens for her. Holding her in my arms. Feeling her pussy against my erection and breasts suffocating pressed on my chest. Girlfriend or not, she’s mine.  

 And she knows it. 

 I can see how she looks at me, even when mad, that she cares and loves me. Y/N is a tough girl. I can only imagine what she’s been through. Still, she manages to soften up just for me. 

 We never made it official since she doesn’t approve of the underground shit, but that doesn’t mean I’ll ever stop asking. 

 “So when are you going to say yes to being my girlfriend?” I whisper.

 She tries breaking from my embrace, but I tighten my grip. “Renji…”

 “You feel my dick pressed against you, right? It only makes it harder when you say my name like that, Y/N.”

 “Be real with me… will you keep doing this shit forever?” Her eyes waver as she awaits my answer and I can’t help the guilt from pinging my chest. 

 “If it lessens my chance of being with you, no.”

 She searches my face for hesitance or deceit, however, she finds nothing because I meant what I said. Y/N is the only person that looks at me like I’m a human, and I wouldn’t let my obsession with fighting get in the way of our future together. 

 How she tucks her coil behind her ear and nips down on her lower lip shows me the bit of vulnerability she reserves for me.

 So—I take advantage of it. 

 In less than three seconds my lips were on hers. I take my time relishing those sweet, plump and plush, strawberry flavored lips.

 I can feel the skepticism from Y/N while kissing her, maybe because she’s trying to put on this show that she’s still mad at me. But soon, her rigid body melts into mine and returns the kiss. 

 Our heavy breaths mingle, increasing in speed the more aggressive we lock lips. She begins rolling her hips onto my cock and I let out a grunt, feeling the moisture of her pussy liquefying on me. 

 The slaps I leave on her ass are harsh, causing her to bite my bottom lip and suck it into her mouth. Y/N is so fucking aggressive it drives me nuts. She gives me a high and adrenaline not even a fight could give. 

 “Pull your dick out, Ren,” she orders through muffled moans and our kiss. 

 “Fucking bossing me around to give you cock? Not mad at me anymore?” Y/N ignores my taunt and works her hands between us to untie my sweats. I hiss at the feel of her cool hands engulfing my dick to give it a few pumps.

 She must not know what her touch does to me. She handles my cock like she owns it, and gosh, I fucking love that shit. My fingers gently tangle into her coils to deepen our kiss, but she soon gets up to strip her clothes.

 Fuck… Fuck, she’s so goddamn sexy. I’ll never get tired of her thick body, filled with soft dips and curves. I look at her, observe her like she’s an expensive piece of art hung up at a museum because that’s what I see her as. 

 Pretty pussy leaking arousal and I smirk to myself, thinking how she had all that attitude earlier while being wet for me like she didn’t want me inside of her.

 “You’re fucking beautiful. You know that?” I ask, massaging her tits and looking up at her. “You still have that attitude or are you going to come ride my cock like a good girl?”

 She gently pushes me back against the couch with her lips on mine and straddles my lap. “Depends on if you’re going to be a good boy and take this pussy.”

 “Shit, angel. I will.”

 Y/N hums while reaching around to align my cock with her sex. Two seconds later, she slowly sinks down my length until I’m buried into the hilt. That soft lingering fuck that slips past her pretty lips sounds sexy as hell and has my dick twitching in response.

 I can’t bust now. Not yet. Even if the tightness and heat of her pussy pushes me off the edge of a mountain. Her pussy is so warm, so fucking warm, fat, and wet. Gosh, I don’t ever think I can be without this pussy. 

 I throw my head back and savor this feeling, but Y/N had other plans for me. 

 “Remember to look at me when I’m riding you, Ren,” she coos. “Eyes on me, baby. I want you to see how much I love this dick inside my pussy.”

 Fucking Christ. “Tell me how much you love it while bouncing on me.”

 And she does just that. Telling me how big and girthy I am, that she’s sorry for giving me attitude and admits that she just wanted dick. But no. I want her to fuck me like she’s mad. I need that type of energy pumping through my veins after this win tonight. 

 I reassure Y/N and tell her to fuck me harder. Her pace quickens and slaps her ass fervently against my cock. I can’t stop moaning her name. The wet slippery noises coming from her pussy increases in volume and it creates a mess between us. 

 This is where I belong, deep in her pussy and feeling her walls squeeze the hell out of me. I don’t even hold her hips or waist. I relax comfortably with my arms sprawl over the top of her couch, watching how gorgeous she looks while fucking what’s hers. 

 “Oh, fuck, Renji,” she moans, tugging her lips inwards and lolling her head to the side in complete pleasure.

 Those perfect, full tits bounces in my face and I can’t help but stare and become mesmerized. Light marks that resemble tiger stripes decorated the valley of breasts. Her nipples, pebbled and straining underneath my gaze, look desperate for my touch.

 I take it upon myself to pinch them between my fingers and a soft shriek escapes her mouth, further arching her back. 

 Y/N keeps getting wetter by the second, every bounce she makes. And hearing her sticky arousal, I know and see how she’s creaming my cock.  Purposely, I sit myself on the couch, thrusting up in her a bit to feel my head hit her g spot.

 “Ren, help me little,” she begs through a whimper. “Fuck me back.”

 I caress her cheeks with the back of my head. “Yeah? You want me to help you, sweetheart?”

 “Please.”

 God, I love it when she’s needy for me like this. 

 In no time, my hands are at her waist and my thrusts meet with her jumping movements. Y/N isn't loud when it comes to her sounds of pleasure. Vocal, yes. But right now, her moans and whimpers are louder than usual. 

 It’s like she needed my dick inside of pussy just as much as I needed it. 

 I see the desire in her brown hues. I feel the heat radiating off Y/N’s skin while my fingers dig into her flesh, holding her in place to pound upwards into her pussy. 

 This is what I wanted—to fuck my girl after a well deserved win. And she’s going to congratulate me how I want. 

 My lips are at her neck leaving wet kisses and sucking her flesh until purple specks form. “Coming home to this good fucking pussy. Gosh, I love how you feel, angel. Going to fucking mean it now when you say congrats?”

 “Congratulations, baby,” she purrs, slamming harder on my cock. “You did good… so damn good, Ren.”

 I hum, dragging my tongue along her neck. “That’s what I wanted to hear.”

 Y/N continues to gasps out her pleas for me to fuck harder. I comply… I comply in helping my pretty girl come and savor the look when she washes over me. My grips are firm on her waist, betting that’ll leave marks when she wakes up the next poor, and drive my cock deeper into her pussy.

 I’m in pure awe. I feel my own releasing catching up to me the more I watch her take me. This is my woman. My fucking girl. I come home to this every night after every fight to hold her in my arms and fuck her. 

 Her name from my mouth sounds like a broken record when I moan her name. This fat, gushy, slick and tight pussy has this power over me. She won’t stop fucking squeezing me, I can’t prevent my face from growing hot. It’s intense how I feel right now, and it’s all because of Y/N.

 “Good, good fucking pussy. God, you’re so fucking good to me, angel face,” I rasp, pecking her lips. “You’re going to come for me?”

 “Yes, Renji, baby. I’m going to come. Keep giving me that dick. Please don’t stop, please.”

 “Put your fingers in my mouth.” She does quick with my command. I suck on her digits and coat them well with saliva before pushing them out of my mouth. “Now rub your clit, pretty girl. I wanna see you squirt everywhere.”

 Because she’s overwhelmed with arousal, Y/N stops bouncing on my cock and allows me to fuck her while she plays with clit. Her mouth hangs gape, drool slightly coating the side of her mouth and breathing heavily. 

 My balls slap her ass. My head kisses her soft cushion repeatedly. Her velvet walls transfer warmth to my cock and the bubble that rests in the pit of my stomach is on the verge of explosion.

 I’m about to come. Hard.

 But I need her to come first.

 “Fucking come for me, Y/N. Keep playing with that pretty pussy and moan my name,” I grit out, pushing past all my thrusts. 

 “Right there, Renji. Keep fucking me right there… I’m–oh, fuck–I’m coming.”

 She’s so pretty when she comes. Dark brown porcelain complexion, slick with sweat. Eyes rolling to the back of her head. Pussy clenching and unclenching around my cock. Moaning, whimpering my name back to back. 

She’s breathless. Flawless. I have this image of her painted perfectly in my mind. Watching Y/N come, makes me come, so I make quick work to pull her off my lap. And she knows exactly what I want–to fuck my release down her throat.

 Her mouth is as warm as her pussy, and I let out hitched breaths and harsh grunts when she swallows me whole. I’m relentless when forcing her head down on my cock as I facefuck her. The gurgling noises she makes are obscene. Pornogrpahic, even. 

 And what caused my come to shoot through her mouth is seeing that she’s still massaging her clit, eventually squirting all over her wooden floors. 

 My hips stutter and I throw my head back to moan into the air. “Fuck, Y/N! That’s my fucking girl. Look at you making a mess while choking on my cock and swallowing my come.”

 Y/N takes it upon herself to wrap her lips tighter around my cock and massage my balls, ensuring every single last of my nut has released in her mouth. I take it for a while, but I soon become sensitive, practically feeling my skin being sucked off.

 “Easy now, angel,” I say through an airy chuckle. I pull my cock out and her mouth echoes a pop sound. 

 She whines a little because I’m no longer in her mouth and it causes me to smirk because it wasn’t too long ago where she acted like she hated me. 

 My hand grasps her chin and guides it upwards to meet with my eyes. “You swallowed for me, Y/N? Open up.” She nods, sticking her tongue out. “Perfect.”

 “You’re going to fuck me again?” She asks, catching her bottom lip between her teeth.”

 Gosh, this woman will be the death of me.

tags: @dejwrld @hvshinas @diamondoidxx @xxjazzxx @thegirlwonder1 @ryukenzz @maiapuhpaia @elitesanjisimp @amyrahrose @sweetpeachies @abigolemess @linastired @diorsbrando @starrygetou @niya729 (if i didn't tag you it's because tumblr wouldn't have your user pop up)

[hydrobunny]

i remember it all too well

tags: angst, post breakup, flashbacks, journalist reader, angst angst angst, it's all too well come on now

a/n: happy belated birthday sae itoshi

your world pauses the day sae itoshi is spotted with a new girlfriend.

the photos are blurry, paparazzi shots taken from at least one building over. it doesn't matter. you would know the curve of his arm around a waist in a thousand different lives.

you have to admit she fits him. even as your hands shake, you can't deny that they look happy- something the two of you weren’t so good at.

it doesn’t stop you from harboring too-many amounts of memories all the same.

you met him before he had joined the world of the superstars, but after he had already been something greater. (you think that if you had met him before everything, you two would’ve fared better.)

by the time you two had locked eyes, he was already changed. something inside of him had shifted, turning away from everyday life and facing immortal legacies instead. you had falsely believed you held a place in it.

you should’ve known better, right from the very first words he spoke to you.

“you’re not supposed to be here.”

you pause, looking up from your phone to face the voice.

cold eyes glare down at you, beautiful in color. the boy - because he can only be around your age, barely leaving the teenage years at most - they belong to is just as annoyingly beautiful. you think you should recognize him.

“excuse me?” you ask, offense rising. “i know where i’m supposed to be.”

his eyes only narrow. “is this another shitty tactic? i said i was done with interviews.”

“good for you, dude.” you roll your eyes, pushing past his shoulder. “why anyone would ever want to interview you, i have no idea.”

as you leave, you can feel his gaze on your back.

you blink, shaking yourself out of whatever that was. it's not good to linger on the past. (your therapist had told you that.)

still, she has also told you that one couldn't grow without recognizing what exactly they had to grow from.

perhaps that's why you find yourself rummaging in your bedside drawer for a deeply buried box, the ends of your fingers numb.

when you open it, you’re met with nothing but a handful of flimsy keepsakes. from fraying bracelets to notes to polaroids. all of them are snapshots of a relationship no longer yours, artifacts of what used to be your heart.

in each flashback, sae itoshi lingers.

the next time you met him, you had learned that he was supposedly a household name. (never in your household, though.)

the great hope of japan’s future -despite what he himself had to say about the country.

you’re a little embarrassed by what happened. still, you refuse to take all the blame.

“sae itoshi,” you blurt out. “you’re here.”

those stunning eyes flicker to you, and he actually pauses. recognition actually stops him.

“you’re the one who was lost,” he says, mildly. “not pretending to not know me this time?

you flush. “in my defense, i didn’t know you. i don't do the sports section.”

he raises an eyebrow. “then why am i still seeing you?”

before you can respond, your boss comes rushing through the hallway, sweat beading on his brow.

“itoshi-san!” he blusters, barely sparing you a glance. “we’re so glad you’re here! is the intern bothering you? your interview is in the next room over, so if you just want to follow me- we're so grateful you decided to give us your exclusive.”

something twitches on sae’s face. “intern?”

offense rears its head in your chest. “what-”

“i’ve changed my mind,” sae interrupts mildly. he turns to you, taking hold of one of the many pens lying on your desk.

ask you and your boss watch in bewilderment, he leans down and scrawls something on your notepad.

“she’ll get the exclusive,” he says, straightening back up. “when she isn't an intern anymore.”

and he turns and walks out of the building, leaving nothing but a string of numbers on a sticky note.

the same sticky note rips between your fingers. once you start, you can't stop yourself, until all you're left with is a pile of bright yellow scraps.

you move onto the next item. a wiry black wristband; one half of a forever missing set.

you had been dating sae itoshi for exactly one month. all of your friends still thought it was as some long-standing elaborate joke. at certain times, you couldn't believe it yourself either.

despite it all, despite every little memory you can pore over for hours at a time, you can’t pinpoint the exact moment when things changed.

it’s a strange truth, one you’ve struggled to come to terms with- but it's a truth. if someone were to ask you when your relationship with sae soured, you wouldn't be able to say.

perhaps it wasn't a singular moment. maybe it was a long time in the making, like how a banana slowly browns- until one day, it’s rotted.

either way, one form of heartbreak or another, the truth was this:

you and sae itoshi had ended.

[lalacliffthorne]

modern!batboys as (your) roommates - headcanons.

because let's be honest, we have all thought about that at some point.🦇

(this is the introduction of my new drabble universe!!! I can´t tell you how fucking excited I am.)

it would be wrong to say that your life was boring before you met the three idiots you now call your roommates

sure, it wasn't as exciting

but you had your tiny little apartment, went out with friends once in a while and mostly enjoyed having your own space and routines

but then

shit hits the fan

and by shit I mean your landlord

because of a loophole in the rental agreement, he's able to kick you out of your apartment with only a months notice

in other words

you're fucked

or, as your best friend Feyre, who you met the first week of orientation and became inseperable with, says -

"That bastard." Feyre's eyes are stormy.

"What the hell am I gonna to do?" You bury your face in your hands, your voice muffled when you mumble: "How am I supposed to find a new apartment in a few weeks? For this one, I looked over a year, and it's a glorified shoebox!" Your voice rises as you feel a wave of dread crash over you and your heart rising into your throat.

"Hey, it's okay. If worst comes to worst, you can crash at my place,", Feyre raises her brows, "even though we'd have to share my bed, but - I won't just let you sleep on a park bench if that's what you're worried about. Unless you find another glorified shoebox that's technically out of your budget, it's you and me, crashing on my bed, climbing over your stuff to get to the bathroom, finding out what married life would feel like."

even though you love her to death, that really does not sound like an option you want to explore

so you try everything

scouring every paper for apartment advertisments, posting on your uni's socials, going to all the viewings you can find -

nothing

but just when you're ready to just give up

a miracle happens

the miracle is 5'5, has impeccable style and hair, a love for deep red lipstick and drops by for lunch

Mor has been your friend for two years now, since you almost spilled your coffee over her laptop at the library

(she's still not letting you live that down)

she also likes to get you out of your comfort zone

"Are you serious?" Mor stares at you wide-eyed.

"Yep." You tiredly stir your coffee. "I've been turned away for twenty apartments in the past few days alone. I'm aready seeing myself bunking with Feyre. She offered, but her bed barely fits into her apartment as it is."

Mor breathes a giggle before hastily clearing her throat. "Sorry."

You grin weakly before rubbing your face. "I don't know what I'm gonna do. I know it could be even worse, but -"

"It already feels pretty shitty,", Mor ends. You sigh in confirmation and are about to change the topic, because you haven't seen the blonde in weeks and feel bad about ruining your lunch. But before you can open your mouth, Mor suddenly squints in thought. Then she looks at you.

"How much do you value your privacy?

Given the fact you'll be basically homeless on the street in about a week if you don't find a new place - not much.

Mor begins to grin, and there's a bright twinkle in her eyes.

"Well, then I might just have the solution."

the next day, Mor drags you downtown

she takes you to an old but sophisticated building you wouldn't even dream about living in

a single month's rent there would probably empty your whole bank account

but Mor just winks and pulls you up the stairs

on the third floor, a guy leans in an open door

and that

is how you meet Rhys.

Mor's cousin is annoyingly beautiful

tall, with perfectly tousled dark hair, a perfect grin that causes his cheeks to crease and, from the looks of it, the also perfect physique

he's also annoyingly charming

if you'd met him somewhere without Mor, you would have probably gaped for a moment before catching onto the mischievous twinkle in his nearly violet eyes and promptly avoided him, because someone that pretty had to have some fault

as it turns out, Rhys' fault is offering practical strangers to live with him without even batting an eye

"What?"

You blink at Mor from where you just sank onto one of the two very comfortable couches, because she can't possibly -

"Okay, before you freak out, just listen, okay?" Mor is grinning giddily. "The guys have a free room they don't really use anyway and you really need a new place - so you could just move in here!" She beams. "The place is definitely big enough, and you'd fit in perfectly, I promise! They're just as chaotic as you, but also very responsible -"

"Mostly." Rhys' eyes are twinkling. He's looking completely and slightly concerningly unbothered by the prospect of you, a factual stranger, moving in with him and his friends.

"- they don't have any bad habits, they're fairly neat -"

"Mostly."

Mor widens her eyes at you. "It's perfect!"

You blink at her.

"I've already talked to my roommates." Rhys' deep voice is almost soothing - mostly because he sounds a lot calmer than Mor, steady and reassuring.

"If you want, this can be temporary, until you find a place just for yourself, but this way you don't have to stress about needing to find a place in a certain time, plus,", he cracks a grin, "I don't like the idea of you having to crash on somebody's couch in the foreseeable future, that's just bullshit if we got a free room here no one uses anway. And if this works,", one corner of his lips quirks even more until his grin is a lot closer to the wicked twinkle in his eyes, "none of us would mind another roommate."

"You don't have to decide right now." Mor smiles brightly. "But I think it would be great, and you'd make a bargain with the rent, because Rhys loves to play sugar daddy -", her cousin flips her off, "and I think this would be a really good idea." She grins, suddenly a little sheepish.

if you weren't so desperate, you would whip out about a dozen arguments about why this probably isn't a good idea

like the fact that rooming with three dudes sounds like a lot of testosteron, or that you don't even know them, and that they don't even know you -

but from the way Rhys lounges in his chair, smirking easily while Mor beams at you, he doesn't seem to see too much of a problem in that

also you are very, very desperate

but there's still that one thing -

"About those roommates -"

When you hear the door, you raise your head, your heart doing a slightly concerning flip in your chest.

It's a day later, and you just finished the tour of the apartment Rhys has given you. Even though it's huge and very grand with it's high ceilings decorated with stucco and the original hardwood floors, it feels warm and cozy. The room you'd be sleeping in is as big as your whole current apartment, light with two big window and a view of the trees on the street outside.

It kind of makes you wonder where the catch is.

Maybe it's about to walk through the door.

You hear a deep voice and heavy footsteps, then a dude appears in the door to the kitchen.

Your heart does a somersault, and you feel your lips part a bit. Because frankly, it's a miracle he makes it through the door without hitting his head.

The guy's huge. His shoulders and chest strain against his t-shirt; he looks like one of those dudes who basically have muscle in their DNA, all corded muscle under ridiculously wide shoulders and a solid middle, muscular long legs under black jeans -

And you're staring.

Big time.

The dude's looking over his shoulder, which means he thankfully doesn't notice you oggling him. The half of his hair that isn't pulled back in a bun brushes against his neck when he grins, his cheeks creasing. He's really good looking, in a rugged kinda way, with his roughly curved jaw and the scar on the side of his face, and when he looks back ahead, his eyes twinkle warmly.

Then, behind him, another guy appears in the doorway, and your breath catches.

Because if Rhys is annoyingly beautiful, the guy in the door is drop-dead gorgeous.

Just like the other two, he's tall and all lean muscle. His shoulders shift under his black t-shirt as he leans against the doorframe, his hands sliding into the pockets of his black jeans. His eyes look like amber in sunlight, his dark hair is tousled, a strand curving over his forehead. His face is all angles and soft lips, with dark brows that look like he likes to crunch them in a scowl, but right now, he looks fairly relaxed, though his gaze is watchful.

And on yours.

Feeling warmth wash into your cheeks, you hastily look away while crap, crap, crap echoes through your head, because of course he caught you staring.

On to a really great start here.

Your gaze grazes his hands and the bit of uneven skin that merges into veiny, tan forearms before your eyes trail over the tattoos scattered over them, some peaking out from his sleeves.

There's the sound of someone clearing their throat, and you feel the heat in your cheeks deepen when your eyes dart up and meet Rhys', a twinkle in his iris when he sends you a lazy grin.

"Boys, this is Y/N." He raises a brow. "Our new roommate."

and that is how you meet Cassian and Azriel

it almost makes you reconsider

because you're really not sure you're gonna survive rooming with three guys that pretty

but after thinking it over for a couple of days, you realize that you really don't have a choice

and so a week later, Rhys and Cassian come over to your apartment to help you move the first half of your stuff

neither blink an eye at the fact it's about the size of a broom closet in comparison to their home

Rhys does however scowl when he sees the condition of the bathroom

you're ready to sink into the floor when you hastily explain pretty much all the apartments in the building look like that

(a lil dingy and moldy)

but when he turns, Rhys just glowers and grumbles under his breath about how he'd like to rip your landlord a new one

it's the first time you realize that under all the aloofness and swagger and cheeky grins, Rhys cares

it's proven again when you move into your new room a week later and there's a new mattress on the also new bed

you haven't bought either of them, but when you try to protest, Rhys just huffs about your back probably being fucked up because of your old one and about how he'll add it to your rent

he never does

you get used to rooming with three guys surprisingly quickly

sure, it is pretty much a total 180 -

going from living alone in a tiny apartment

to sharing a huge flat with three dudes who make the place vibrate with laughter and bicker like they have been married for thirty years

but even tho you never thought you'd be the type to actually enjoy having roommates

you find that with them - you don't really mind

of course it is nice to have the place to yourself sometimes

and after about two weeks, you're comfortable enough to blast your music and dance through the kitchen when you're alone

(yes, at some point, they catch you - it takes you about a minute to realize there are three guys standing in the doorway, watching you dance with a broom. you get a mild heart attack and Cassian and Rhys start cackling while Azriel smirks)

but even if usually there's always someone around -

you find that all three of them are very good at both respecting your boundaries and leaving you be when you need to curl up in your room

but also seem to know when you need someone to drag your ass out into the world

and something about knowing at least one of them will probably be there when you get home makes you feel very warm and fuzzy

and even tho you weren't completely sure about this situation in the beginning

you get roped into living with the three guys instead of just rooming with them pretty easily

it really starts with Cassian

probably gets used to you living there the quickest

after barely a week, he's treating you like you've lived with them since the beginning

like just sticking his head into your room and making you help him with dinner

it surprises you a little that they all have dinner together

from what you've heard from friends who have roommates, they usually all do their own thing most of the time

but it makes you realise that these guys are more family than just roommates

Cassian is surprisingly easy to talk to

he's quick with the quips and the banter

also very flirtatious

constantly makes you laugh, his deep, boisterous chuckles infectous

also super affectionate

you're convinced the man is actually just a huge teddybear

after just a few weeks, you're used to hugs that lift you off your feet

cheek kisses as greetings

and being casually lifted out of the way like you don't weigh anything

not that you're the only one who gets that treatment

no, there are hugs in greeting that make Rhys groan dramatically like his air supply is cut off

and pats on the shoulder and smacking forehead kisses that make Azriel crinkle his nose

Cassian quickly becomes the one you go to when you need advice

he always listens attentively

doesn't sugarcoat things

stays objective while never making you feel bad or less about anything

and it quickly becomes pretty clear he'd put everything aside if any of you ever need help

gives you rides in his beat up truck to uni

and always picks you up when studying at the library gets late bc he doesn't like the idea of you out alone after dark

with Cass, even mundane things like grocery shopping become fun

he's just casually funny and teases the shit out of you at every opportunity

has no understanding of the concept of personal space

and with most people, that would kinda put you off a little in the beginning

but Cassian just has something about him

something so inheritly good and warm and sunny

that he never once makes you feel uncomfortable

if anything, with him around, you feel a lot more at ease

and not just bc it's always nice to have a guy in your back that towers over you like a lighthouse

though the whole massive, tatted dude with the dark eyes thing kinda goes out of the window as soon as he grins at you

dimples and all

but still, don't be fooled

when the grin's gone and he's glaring, you know why people make way for him immediately

he works at a gym to earn some money at the side

once, he takes you with him just for fun

then that one time becomes another and before you know it, you tag along twice a week

and it would be wrong to say it's not doing something to you when he crouches in front of or behind you, his deep voice rumbling as he mumbles encouragements

"Alright, come on, sweetheart, gimme one more."

Trying not to make a very embarassing groaning sound, you crunch your face in concentration and slowly lower yourself into a squat, your muscles trembling slightly.

"There you go, that's it." You can feel Cassian in your back, spotting you, his deep voice rumbling through you, and it's just almost distracing enough for you to -

"No, no, come on, you can do it." Cassian's deep chuckle sets you at ease, and he lightly pats the side of your thigh. "You got this, c'mon."

With a soft groan, you push yourself up again, and you can hear the triumph and wide grin in Cassian's voice when he goes: "Yeeessss, good job, baby. C'mon, you can do one more."

Blowing out a heavy breath and glaring at nothing in particular, you ready yourself.

when one day, he makes you lose focus, you're gonna throw something at him

you're pretty sure he does it on purpose just to see how red you can get

but Cass is really good at pushing you without overdoing it, always teasing and encouraging

and if you manage to do something, in the gym or otherwise, he grins so widely you're almost sure he's more proud of you than you are yourself

Rhys is a flirt.

and after you get over the first initial blush that just won't leave you alone for the first few weeks

it actually becomes entertaining

now bantering back and forth is basically all you do

it gets so bad, Azriel constantly rolls his eyes at the two you

but just like you suspected, behind all the flirtiness and mischievous grins

Rhys cares

a lot

whenever you're upset, he looks like he's contemplating ripping apart whatever or whoever made you upset

and whenever someone has a go at Cass or Azriel, Rhys picks them apart with lethal precision and a wicked smile

if Cassian is most affectionate, Rhys is close second

he's slightly more casual about it

pinching your nose, flicking your ear softly, offering his cheek for a kiss in greeting

always down for amazing hugs tho

whenever you get on your period, Rhys turns full mother hen

it's actually quite entertaining to see a 6-foot-something dude grumble because you don't want to take painkillers

"I just don't like to take them until it's really necessary, okay?" You glower at Rhys, curling up on the couch and trying to suppress a wince.

Rhys incredulously narrows his eyes.

"You're bleeding from inner organs and look like you want to curl into the couch. I'd say it is pretty necessary."

behind all the snark and arrogance, Rhys cares

also seems to have a rather unhealthy tendency to put everyone else first

you catch on pretty easily that even though his father is absolutely loaded, Rhys doesn't particularly cares about his money

in fact

he doesn't hesitate to spend whatever money his father pumps into his bank accounts for a second

when you ask Mor about it, she just smiles lopsidedly.

"I think it's his kind of protest?" She squints into the sun shining onto the balcony of the flat, the big glass of iced tea in her hand glittering in the light. "You know, spending all that money, preferably on his friends? Mostly because I don't think his father really likes them."

You wince.

"He knows he can't win against his father." Mor crunches her brows in thought. "I think he came to terms with having to take over the business one day, and he cares about the people who have their jobs there, so he won't let them down. It's just hard sometimes, if your whole life is already planned out for you." She shrugs gently. "Doing this, living with Cassian and Azriel and now you, spending his fathers money on it and actually having a good time instead of just being bitter and stuck up - it's his way of not surrendering completely."

you have never met Rhys' father, but even tho he's powerful af

you really feel a strong desire to kick him in the balls

Rhys has a knack of knowing exactly when you need to talk and when you need to be distracted

it's not unusual that after a bad day, he just joins you on the couch, plopping down and pulling your feet onto his lap

it either leads to you venting and him listening

usually giving very appropriate responses of either huffs, scowls or downright glowering

or, if you don't want to talk

he either lets you use him as a human pillow, grumbling over your choice of movie while scratching your head

or he takes you out

to the cinema, a museum, the theater -

you're pretty sure you've grown a lot more cultured in a few months than the whole of your life before that

it never gets boring tho

the whole thing kinda annoys the crap out of you in the beginning bc he never lets you pay for anything

but you get better at finding ways to pay him back in other ways

like taking over making dinner on days when he's exhausted

coaxing rants out of him when his father gets to him

dragging him out on nightly walks through the city when he can't sleep

and after a while

you understand that it's just one of Rhys' love languages

and it is fun to spend his father's money ;)

especially when it means museum Saturdays with the two of you just sitting and staring at paintings

or going to the cinema and pigging out on popcorn and greasy stuff while whisper-hissing fun facts at each other

even takes you to stuff like wine tastings

Rhys is a foodie

likes super fancy pickles, trying food you can't even pronounce and splurging on dinner

and if he decides the two of you need to get out of the apartment

one way or another

it usually ends in a restaurant

always orders like half the menu

also cooks the best out of all of you

like I'm talking freaking perfection

whips up the fanciest, most delicious far-too-many-courses meal for holidays

and goes all in even if he just makes dinner

you often get lured into the kitchen by the delicious smells

usually ends up with you on the couch at the table while Rhys moves around the kitchen

talking about everything and nothing

(also not above slapping anyone's hand away if they try to sneak a taste)

Azriel is quiet

not shy; you catch onto that pretty quickly

he's too quick and easy on any dry remark in response to his friends' boisterous teasing for that

and his gaze too firm and piercing

rarely shies away when you catch his gaze

in the beginning

that intimidated the shit out of you

the way he appears without a sound, towering over you, all dark and quiet and brooding

it's like he perfected the art of going unnoticed

tho you're not quite sure how

bc how could anyone not notice him?

after a while tho

you realise that even tho Azriel is dark and glowering and brooding

there's something gentle about him

it surfaces in the smallest things

like how his lips curve the softest bit when you grin up at him

how light and careful his touch is

how he is always respectful, putting himself between you and the street, holding doors open without ever seeming to think twice about it

and how everything about him seems to darken when he witnesses anyone being treated poorly

but even if anger rages within him like a quickly rising tide, quiet and dangerous

you still always feel safe with him

maybe it's bc, even in those moments, you just know it will never be directed at you

and that even tho there's always that darkness within him, it's never something that feels unsettling or dangerous

and instead soft and welcoming

like something about him and that steady, dark gaze just calms you

maybe because he's so quiet, Azriel seems to see and hear everything

in record time, he begins to catch onto every little detail about you

mundane things

like how you like your favorite drink or what your favorite ice cream is

the only reason you know he notices is because he begins to hand you cups in the morning that are exactly right and the freezer starts to always hold a big container of your favorite ice cream

but also seems to know exactly what your tell is when you're nervous

uncomfortable

or tired

what makes you upset

happy

nervous

what causes you to giggle uncontrollably

and so on

it should probably unsettle you, how easily he sees through you

but it doesn't

sure, it's a bit weird at first

but you quickly realise it's strangely comforting - that someone pays enough attention to know even the smallest thing about you

Azriel is your favorite person to be around when you just need a break

it's like something about him is grounding, steady

like being around him makes your thoughts calm down

makes it easier for you to sort the chaos your mind sometimes becomes

you quickly realise that beneath all of the quiet watchfulness lies a wicked, dry sense of humor

his mumbled remarks make you snort laughter or beam widely up at him

always makes his lips curve

he reads a ton

when you first see his room, you almost gape

because the man has books

they fill the shelves

balance in towers on the floor

sit on the window sill and next to his bed

most of the books in the shelves in the living room are his as well

has a great dislike for movie adaptions

sits there with that scowl of his, glaring at you until it's over when you make him watch one

says it destroys the pictures in his head

(to be fair

you don't think he's entirely wrong about that)

always has a camera in reach

got a few, all older ones; no fancy digital ones, but all on film

just like he seems to catch onto everything

so does his camera

it's like the manifestation of his quiet perception of things

to fix things onto film

he captures everything

most of the time, you don't even notice

only sometimes you raise your head to find the camera in his hands, a slight curve to his lips

develops all pictures himself, in a dark room on campus students can book

spends hours in there, just working in silence

there's usually a lot of bugging involved before he shows the developed pictures to anyone

usually ends in all of you leaning over them eagerly, trying to figure out when he took them

Rhys standing in the kitchen, grinning over his shoulder like Cassian just made a bad joke

you and Feyre, laughing so hard you lean into each other

Mor, lying upside down on the couch while focusing on the cards in her hand while you're next to her, mid-motion, a focused expression on your face

Cassian napping on the couch, twisted in a very uncomfortable position to fit all six feet something of him onto the cushions

there seems to be an endless number, and they're all carefully stored away in his shelves

some, he refuses to show to anyone

it takes you so little time to feel at home in the huge flat, the prospect of looking for an apartment for yourself is off the table before you can actually start

and it doesn't take long until you're part of the routines like you'd been there since the beginning

Saturday and Sunday evenings are for movie nights

sometimes, Mor joins you

you sit with Azriel on the couch, sharing a big bowl of popcorn while staring at Rhys and Cassian argue about which Star Wars movie to start with

in the summer, you take trips to the lake for swimming and laying in the sun

have game nights

evenings sitting on the balcony, squinting into the setting sun

barbecues

and afternoons in the park, one joining in after the other

in winter, you go to the ice rink

bake together

and spend whole weekends on the couch, watching movies

you go to the gym with Cassian or accompany him on his runs

(well, he's running - you're on your bicycle, because there's no way you can keep up with that dude´s long legs)

or get dragged out onto hikes by Rhys

in the evenings, you usually all end up in the kitchen for dinner, banter thrown over the dinner table

Azriel and you mostly take care of the grocery shopping together

it usually entails you trying to reach something on a high shelf and Azriel huffing, moving to grab it without even having to stretch

sometimes Cassian joins in, and you both make it your mission to annoy Azriel until he cracks a grin

both Az and Rhys regularly give you rides on their motorcycles

while Cassian likes to stick to his old, beat up truck, Rhys has a car as well, but alternates between it and the motorcycle

more often than not, he uses it as opportunity to flirt

small cleaning duties in the apartment are rotated between the four of you

but big-once-a-month-deep-cleans are something you make a day of

blasting music, you divide the flat and get to work

(bathroom duty is rotated)

in the (very rare) case of an argument, it usually ends in one of you being mediator

which means after a cooling off period

the arguing parties are locked in the pantry until they've talked things out

works surprisingly well

sometimes, the boys bring someone home

it usually comes with a text

or the very oldschool sock on the door

tho you ban that one after Cassian forgets it

and you walk into the flat unsuspectingly only to be flashed

Cassian apologizes profoundly

after he's done laughing

there are also a few awkward encounters in the hall in the morning that leave you contemplating not running around in just big t-shirts

Feyre still gives you rides to campus and back

but sometimes, it's Azriel waiting in the parking lot instead, leaning against his motorcycle, two helmets next to him

it does not help with the way your heart seems to speed up whenever you find his amber eyes on you

but you're very adamant on pushing that away

it's probably not that serious anyway.

so

it would be wrong to say your life was boring before you met the three idiots you now call your roomates

but it sure as hell is a lot better now that you have

even if they do drive you a little nuts sometimes

@azrielshadows1nger @waytoomanyteenagefeels

[happy74827]

Something Wholesome

[Logan Howlett & Teen!Fem!Reader]

Synopsis: In which you can’t help but feel the need to comfort the big grumpy ape.

WC: 2054

Category: Comfort, Slight Fluff, Reader is Vanessa’s Younger Sister, 4th Wall Breaks {TW: Wade Being… Well, Himself.}

Even being the worst Wolverine, I believe he still is 100% a girl dad, and I stand by that statement.

『••✎••』

"I thought you quit?"

Your voice startled him. He jumped and almost dropped the cigar he was holding between his teeth. Logan's eyes fell upon you, standing in the kitchen doorway with your arms folded.

"Jesus, kid. You're gonna give me a heart attack." He shook his head, taking the cigar out of his mouth and holding it between his fingers. It was still unlit. "How'd you get in here, anyway?"

You held up a ring of keys and shook it in the air, the jingling of metal echoing around the room. "It’s called having a brother-in-law who can pick locks." You tossed the keys on the counter and sat down across from him, resting your head in your hands. "Are you having another midlife crisis, Warrior Cat?"

"You're a brat, y’know that?" He rolled his eyes, taking the cigar and tossing it back into his jacket pocket. He ran a hand over his face, sighing.

You watched him closely. The bags under his eyes, the wrinkles, the slight hunch to his shoulders. He looked old… and not the usual, rugged, cool old. You frowned, leaning across the counter.

"You know, with Wade always around, I haven't had much time to check up on my favorite Canadian." You tilted your head to the side.

"Don't let Canuck hear you say that," he snorted. You stuck your tongue out at him, and he rolled his eyes. You could see the corners of his mouth twitching.

"Seriously, Slim Jim," The joke earned a slight scowl from him. You grinned, knowing it annoyed him when you called him that. "You look your age today. What's wrong?"

Logan stared at you, and you could almost see the gears turning in his head. He was probably wondering how much to tell you. If anything, at all.

You were used to it by now. His reluctance to talk about what was bothering him, his unwillingness to rely on anyone. It was his default, and you understood that, but after three months of sharing an apartment with blind meth-headed Trunchbull and Scary Terry, it was getting really tiring.

Finally, he sighed. "I've been thinkin'."

"Oh no." You feigned fear. He shot you a warning glare. One of those 'try me and see what happens' glares. "About what?"

He didn't answer right away. His eyes kept glancing toward the pocket his cigar was stashed in. He was struggling not to light it.

You were about to ask again, but before you could, he finally spoke up.

"I drove past the school a few days ago. It's still standing, y'know. It looks the same as it did 15 years ago." He laughed, though it sounded empty. "Abandoned, sure. But it's there."

Yeah, clearly, Disney spent all their budget on Princess remakes. A shame, really. The mansion was a good place to have movie nights.

"And it just...hit me, I guess. Everything's gone, kid." His voice grew soft, and the expression he was wearing broke your heart. "Everyone I knew, everyone I ever cared about, is dead. All I got left is this shitty apartment, a crap truck, and annoying roommates who drive me crazy."

"To be fair, I haven't had any accidents in three months," Wade called from the living room. Honestly, you weren’t even aware he was home. It was even more of a miracle that he heard Logan. "Saving the world has improved my driving skills. Now, I only hit pedestrians."

"Shut the fuck up, Wilson," Logan barked, his claws popping out of his knuckles with a snikt. "Or I'll shove those swords up your ass and make you eat 'em."

“Slow your roll, Caesar Salad; this is a PG story. Step off with the sexual violence, at least until you have the author's consent to do so." Wade turned the corner into the kitchen, a huge bag of Taco Bell in his hand. "Besides, Vanessa wouldn’t be too happy if she found out I was cheating on her with your foot long. You know how jealous she gets. One time, I tried to-"

"Wade, please," You groaned. He looked at you, then at Logan, and nodded.

"You're right, you're right. I should respect the rating." Wade waved his hand in the air and made his way out of the room, taking a bite out of one of his tacos. "Also, the fact that I’m technically a father figure in this fic, for reasons we can't disclose here. I’d rather not turn this wholesome story into some weird-ass daddy kink porno, even though I wouldn’t mind if it were."

He turned his attention to an empty wall momentarily, a smile creeping on his face. "I have a feeling you guys wouldn't either, judging by the comments on those other ones, and honestly, I don't blame you. My body is a temple, and it should be worshiped. Just ask all those Honda Odyssey rewrites. They'd know all about that, especially the ones that end with me getting-"

"WADE," You and Logan yelled at the same time, his claws still unsheathed. Logan looked ready to jump over the counter and murder him, and while it wasn’t uncommon for Wade to be shredded like string cheese, the two of you had had enough drama to last the rest of the year.

"Ugh, fine." He threw his hands up, his tacos spilling all over the floor. "But just for the record, I totally just stole the focus of this fic. Don't let Logan fool you. He's only the main character because this is his story, but the real star of the show is moi." He pointed a finger to his chest and winked at you. You couldn't help but laugh.

"Get the fuck outta here," Logan said, his claws sliding back into his knuckles. "I swear to god, Wilson, if you ruin my day any more than you already have, I'm gonna shove you into the wood chipper."

"You have a wood chipper?" Wade raised an eyebrow, grinning. "My, oh, my. Who would have thought the lumberjack would make a reappearance?"

"Five. Four. Three. Two. One," You muttered.

"Don't push me, asshole." Logan was growling, his claws once again threatening to slice into the other man.

A normal person would have run away by now, but not Wade. You had known him long enough to understand that he thrived off of conflict. He was the most chaotic son of a bitch you had ever met, and nothing excited him more than pissing people off.

But, again, this wasn’t his story. He was just hijacking it, and the author had had enough. So, without further ado, they did the most logical thing. They made Mary Puppins appear, and suddenly, she was in his arms, and he was out of the kitchen, leaving behind the Taco Bell, his jokes, and his dignity.

You sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose, trying not to laugh. You managed to contain it, but just barely.

You glanced over at Logan, and he still had a look on his face like he was drained and exhausted. Of course, now annoyance and anger were mixed into the cocktail.

With your sister’s boyfriend out of the picture, he slumped down against the counter, running a hand through his hair. Not much of it, given the current length, but enough that he could pull at it.

"I'm sorry," You said. You felt a pang of sympathy for him, and you couldn't imagine the shitstorm that must be going on in his mind. After all, he wasn't like the rest of you. He was a lot older, and his life had been filled with a lot more heartache and pain than you would ever experience. "It sucks."

He didn't say anything, so you continued.

"I mean, I don't know what it's like, obviously, but I can't imagine how it must feel to lose everything like that. Everyone." You paused, thinking about your family. Your own life hadn't exactly been a picnic, but the world hadn't come crashing down around you. Not yet, at least. "I can't imagine the kind of strength you must have to go on."

He grunted, which was pretty much the Logan version of a 'Thank you.'

"I just..." His voice was quiet. "I just want something permanent. That’s not this." He motioned to the room around you, and you couldn't help but notice the look in his eyes.

"I get it."

"I don't think you do, kid," he muttered, staring at his feet.

"Hey, give me a little credit. I might not be ancient like you, but I've seen some shit. Wade is infatuated with Nessie, so I go through that bullshit every other day." You shook your head. "The two of them can be a real handful together."

"No kiddin'." He snorted.

"I mean, sure. The world went to hell, but I think it's pretty safe to say that you deserve something good after all the crap that's happened." You shrugged, looking around the room. "This is that something."

He stared at you for a long moment, and you wondered if you said something wrong. Speaking to him was always a gamble. Sometimes, he would respond, and the two of you could actually hold a conversation. Other times, he would shut down and refuse to talk, or worse, yell at you.

It seemed like luck was on your side today.

"Maybe." His eyes moved to his hands, and his gaze was distant. "It's hard to think that when I'm stuck in this hell hole."

"It's not that bad."

"You’re just saying that so Wilson doesn’t think about moving back in with your sister." He rolled his eyes. "And it is. We all know that."

"Okay, fine, you're right. The apartment is shitty, and so is the neighborhood. The landlord is a bitch, and the neighbors are loud." You took a breath, leaning closer. "But, you have us."

"Oh, don't you start."

"And you've got your truck and your liquor and the crappy TV in the living room. I say, if that isn't permanent, I don't know what is."

Logan opened his mouth, but you held a finger up.

"You might not realize it, but you have a family here." You smiled at him, and he scoffed, turning his face away from you.

"I've had families before. Doesn't work out."

"Well, we're of the more persistent kind," you teased, reaching across the counter and punching him lightly on the shoulder. "We aren't going anywhere. Especially Wade. Man is a tick that refuses to let go."

"God, I wish he would."

"He won't. You're stuck with him. You’ll be the best man at his wedding, and we both know it." You grinned, and he rolled his eyes, though the corner of his lips quirked.

"Great," he muttered.

Secretly, you knew he enjoyed the banter with Wade. He acted annoyed and irritated, but deep down, you were certain he was amused. Might be frustrated, but definitely amused.

You were about to tell him that, but he spoke first.

"Thanks, kid." He reached across the counter and squeezed your arm. "You're a pain in the ass, but you're not so bad."

"Not so bad?" You snorted. "Wow. Is that how the Wolverine slid into the hearts of millions?"

He chuckled and shook his head, a smile spreading across his face. "You know what I mean, you brat."

You stood, walking around the counter. You threw your arms around him and pulled him into a hug. He didn’t hug back for reasons that you understood. Still, you wanted him to know that you were there for him and he could rely on you.

"You know," you started. "I think a lot of people would be surprised by the softy you are under all the grumpiness."

"Yeah, well, don't go around spreadin' that." He pushed you away gently, shaking his head. "I’m not a damn teddy bear, and I'll rip your throat out if you start tellin' people."

"I’m getting the Wade treatment? A threat of death if I speak a word?" You laughed, shaking your head. "I’m honored."

"Sometimes I wonder if he is your sibling instead of your sister."

"Nah, I’m too pretty to be a Wilson." You smirked. "If anything, I'm more related to my cousin."

"The one who tried to kill you last month?"

"That's the one."

"Then you definitely are a Wilson."

[orphicdreamers-wp]

Girl Of My Dreams — Mat Barzal

Summary: In which Mat Barzal inadvertently falls for the oldest Hughes sibling and her brothers aren’t happy.

Content Warning; Taylor swift 1989 isn’t by Tay(its by reader) Mentions of University of Alabama (reader went there) Trevor Zegras being hopelessly in love with reader. Readers social media face claim is Addison Rae bc idc she’d clear as a WAG for a athlete.

Pairing: Mat Barzal x Hughes! Reader.

Mat would be lying if he said he didn’t sneak glances at the announcers box after meeting you. You had been carrying a plate of food and two margaritas to your booth where your friends sat. Tito had made a joke about you seeming familiar then the pair heard your voice and knew, “Alright now, eat up because y’all are bumming me out.” Mat’s jaw slacked, “He’d known that the Islanders had gotten a new game announcer who was a girl but he wouldn’t have known it was you. You were effortlessly stunning, you had captivated the attention of every straight man in the bar. Mat had approached you as you sat at the bar, “I’m Mat, can I buy you a drink?”

You grinned and spoke, southern accent slipping out, “I’m Y/N, I mean Barzy after the way you played last game? You better buy me a drink. ‘Yknow how many hate comments my broadcast got?” Mat grinned as the bartender approached you, “Another Corona Light and whatever she’s having on me.” You grinned sheepishly, “I’m fucking with you. I’ve heard worse.” Mat grinned, “So now would probably be a shitty time to ask you out?” You smiled at him, “Maybe not.” Mat smiled, “If I may, your not from New York are you? Where are you from?” You grinned, “I grew up in Toronto with my 3 younger brothers and moved to Alabama for college and been in New York for a few months now.” Mat grinned, “Well welcome to New York beautiful.” That was a year and a half ago. You still hadn’t told your brothers who your boyfriend was, just that his name was Mathew. Until your album release came creeping in and you wanted to go public with Mat.

Instagram

ynhughes; my album ‘1997’ is now streaming! thank you for all your support(especially the bf, ‘slut’ and ‘suburban legends’ are 4 us)

barzal97: celebrating you is my favorite pastime. i have never met someone who people gravitate towards more than you. you are by far the most wonderfully amazing woman i know. it is a privilege to say i love you🤎 this past year or so has changed my life. you make living easy and so so much better. i can’t wait to see what the future has in store for you.

trevorzegras: alexa play that should be me💔💔

ynhughes: forever in awe of you mathew barzal. amazed a gal like me is lucky enough to be adored by you🤎

oliviarodrigo; THEY HIT THE PENTAGON!! @conangray

>conangray; told you it was them i saw at radio music hall!

ny_islanders; our roman empire is all the sweet posts for to y/n today🥹🥹

sydneyemartin: brb crying. the purest people in the world. so grateful my girls get to grow up seeing a love this pure that isn’t their parents.

>ynhughes: we adore your girls more than words can express.

_quinnhughes: my biggest inspiration is out here killing it. in awe of you everyday sissy🥹 thank you for being my best friend from day 1

ynhughes: in a puddle of tears quinny. thank you for always being on my side, even when im wrong.

sabrinacarpenter; hockey players making me ugly sob wasn’t on my 2023 bingo card

elhughes; my first babies🥹 extremely emotional over you all today

>_quinnhughes: we love you momma💕

jackhughes: 1997 reasons to love my meanie head sister, i guess her bf’s alright

ynhughes: i love you little brat, come visit me and mat!!

>jackhughes: will do, sissy🫡

trevorzegras: i can’t believe she won’t date me 😞😞

>ynhughes: buck up z, your way too young for me. perfect age for @sabrinacarpenter tho!

lukehughes: the worlds best big sister came out with the best album to date

ynhughes; really feeling the hughes love train today, i need to plan for all of us to be together soon! so y’all can meet Mat!

etnow; this just in; the Hughes brothers have brought tears to my eyes supporting their sister

barzal97: the third picture is actually the most accurate representation of your sister now

>lukehughes; always messing with those darn cats! even if they are on the side of the street.

[hogwartsstudentconfidential]

✨🎶Hogwarts Confidential is back. Back again. Confidentials back. Tell a friend. 🎶✨

Hellooooooo students! Welcome back to your favorite gossip newspaper. I hope everyone had a good Christmas holiday now let's get into the news and boy do I have a lot of news for you.

Starting off with some weekly updates as usually before we get into the good stuff:

Filch has been announcing a new ban on gummy yoyos? What even is a gummy yoyo? And how have you all been using it to terrorize Filch? (Wanting to know for research purposes definitely not for my own schemes…)

Now some good news. Now that we're back from break McGonagall has stated no exams for the next month so Ravenclaw should throw a party now that they don't have the excuse of their studies to hold them back.

Speaking of Ravenclaw did you all see that game this past weekend? Whoo that was a close one, although it did seem like Ravenclaw was very distracted. Congrats to Marlene on her win in the Hufflepuff vs Ravenclaw game! I know she didn't play but she always wins in my heart [insert heart eyes].

And for our weekly activity because none of us can just stay in and study, Dueling club starts this weekend. So everyone head up to the clocktower this Friday for some awesome battles whether that's between your friends or your enemies. (nobody tell Pomfrey what really happens if you get injured.)

NOW ONTO EVERYONE'S FAVORITE PART, THE GOSSIP:

Starting off congratulations to Alexander Kemet-Ali and Andromeda Black on their engagement this past weekend at the Hogwarts New Year's ball. Alex brought in the new year by getting down one knee and popping the question right as the clock struck midnight. The young daughter of Black saying yes, after worrying us all in her recent post that they broke up before confirming they are actually in fact engaged!

Now onto a new brewing love triangle. Jamie the Ho and Anastasia Selwyn have been dating for the past couple of months as everyone knows but at the Potters Christmas ball it seems as though the Selwyn girl ran off to the gardens only to be seen alone with none other than Phoenix Harvey. Is this a scandal on our hands? It was well known a few months back that Harvey and Selwyn were caught hooking up after a wild Slytherin party only for her to end up with that whore Jamie a few days later. What is this girl thinking?

Ms. Selwyn was also seen leaving the Gryffindor common room crying a couple of days ago. Phoenix Harvey rushed after her to comfort the teary eyed girl. The girl crying over none other than shitty boyfriend Jamie Ho’s response to a photo of the girl having a nice time in his long-time rival's common room. Trouble in paradise I suppose. They should definitely break up.

Actually I almost forgot Kingsley Shacklebolt seems to have confessed his long time crush on the soon to be quidditch player at the Potters ball only to get rejected by the jerk that is Ho as he was dragged away by his girlfriend. How anyone could like Jamie Ho is something I will never understand.

Now onto Hogwarts favorite roller coaster of romance, Pandora Rosier and her significant others??? Trust me you'll wanna sit down for this one. According to sources the young Rosier twin attended the Potters ball with none other than Valentina Zabini only for the two to separate at the party and Pandora to be found chatting with Xenophilius Lovegood in a lonely hallway. The two seemed to discuss their child, a dodo bird whomst I forget its name, and their custody of the bird, as well as confessing previous feelings for one another. Afterwards the girl sought out Zabini and they seemed to have shared a moment? Although that's where the night ends MORE seems to happen a few nights later on New Year's Eve.

But before we get into that let's discuss Xenophilius Lovegood and the reason for Pandora and their discussion over the dodo bird's custody. Xenophilius seems to have never checked on Pandora after her breakup a couple months ago with Pureblood extraordinaire Lucius Malfoy. Instead opting to check on Malfoy and accept an offer of a “friendly dinner” with the boy. Only for Pandora to catch wind and accuse her ex best friend of plotting this the whole time and never caring about her. Which led to them cancelling their dinner with the boy and going back to chasing their longest friend.

Note: some mention from Lucius Malfoy about Xenophilius Lovegood being “the biggest snack”?????

NOW BACK TO NEW YEARS EVE. Pandora Rosier and Xenophilius Lovegood seemed to have run off to once again “check on their Dodo Bird” that Rosier claims is sick. However after their disappearance it seems the two are closer than ever and even seem to be a couple? Confirmation I'm sure will be posted by next week. I wonder how Lucius Malfoy is going to handle this news.

Another note: don't mess with Pandora or she'll steal batteries (and socks??) From your dorm room.

Now onto another world famous couple or should I say ex couple seeing as they are no longer together, Remus Lupin and Sirius Black. Hold on to something because this story is just absolutely ridiculous. The two boys broke up a few weeks ago, seemingly out of nowhere. Sirius Black seemed to be handling it worse than Lupin until he announced a new relationship with none other than Nico Mallory. Lupin also seems to have had a night with Lily Evans after the Evans girl posted a photo insinuating the two hooked up after arriving together to the new years eve ball. Lupin who was also seen getting close with none other than Gideon Prewett seems to be going through a hoe phase. But onto the best part, yesterday at the Hufflepuff party, Lupin was seen getting along very well with Mallory up until it was announced Mallory was dating his ex boyfriend. What will become of the two's relationship? Nobody knows.

Now onto the craziest couple in probably all of Hogwarts. Bartemius Crouch Jr and Evan Rosier. The two boys were seen kissing at the new years eve party only for Evan to barely remember and both boys to consult with long time friend and sister, Pandora Rosier. Evan who is engaged to Petra Elwood seemed to forget about the girl and their arranged marriage after finally confessing his feelings to his friend. The two are now dating and Petra is left in the dust for now. Although it seems Evans' previous confusion on his feelings for Petra have now been turned onto her as she battles with her future husband's new relationship and her own blossoming feelings for the boy. What will become of such a chaotic love triangle? Circle?

Callie held a ritual over the holidays??

Now onto my favorite news, MARY AND EMMELINE HAVE FINALLY CONFESSED TO ONE ANOTHER. My girl Mary finally made a move and it worked out perfectly. The two attended the New Year's Eve Ball and Potters Ball together. I wish you both nothing but the best in your relationship.

Tom Riddle has now become play boy extraordinaire? Tom who seems to run an after school club *cough* cult *cough* has been making moves on Hestia, Mary and Lydia. Even going as far as arguing with Emmeline over Mary and then arguing over Hestia with Marlene. I'd back off if I were you Riddle, these girls are not to be messed with.

Now onto the craziest breakup. Hestia and James Potter are no longer the IT couple of Hogwarts. The only stable couple still being Peter and Gilderoy. Maybe Hogwarts is cursed??? Hestia and James are now co-parenting their cat and Hestia was even seen kissing Marlene Mckinnon twice this past week or so. Hestia better treat my favorite girl right.

Also Marlene found out what I look like because she's my favorite girl, best secret keeper and we possibly kissed the world may never know. Love ya Marls ;).

Also Oliver, Severus and Theodore seem to have something going on but we'll see how that goes I guess? Theodore is making me very confused on what's going on.

We also have another new couple, Aurora De'veux and Mason Haus. Hopefully they can have a stable relationship unlike the rest of us. Good luck, lovebirds!

Now onto our last segment because I'm very tired of writing this long ass update. This is actually currently happening as I saw McGonagall, Filch and Slughorn run by while writing this— have you all ever seen Filch and Slughorn run? It's hilarious. ANYWHO the old ballroom is on fire??? AND an abandoned shed in the forest just past Hagrid's hut??? WHO IS PLAYING WITH FIRE???

Dumbledore is asking for updates or if anyone has knowledge on who could have possibly set these fires?? Apparently matches have been found at the scene of the fire–

That's all for now…

Tah-Tah💋

Until next time.

Remember Jamie's unworthy of your infatuation,

Marlene Mckinnon is hot,

And gossip is amazing.

@james-the-amazing-potter @starlight-starbright-thatsme @looneymoonyy @wormy-loves-ch33se @mystical-magical-me @king-ofthe-crop @xeno-graphical @malfoy-lu @rodolphus-le-strange @averykissableguy @fire-allayer @poison-penmanship @lifeofthe-barty @whokilledevanrosier @pandoras-nox @little-king-official @cas-not-the-band @marls-mckinn0n @hjonesworld @mary-mcdeal @emmelineandhervans @sybill-patricia-trelawney @lilytheginger @alicethekindone @flowers-of-narcissus @andromedashoax @the-queen-bellatrix @severusprince-snape @fabian-with-an-f @mollberryshortcake @fawningamos @k1ndest-keeper @aelius-with-a-quill @annajohn-silvae @adam-lukas-morningstar @imogenmorningstar @oxxen--free @camille-laurier @luciagraham @your-favourite-callie @addison-caddel @daughter-of-spring @magandang-kaluluwa @flyasaphoenix @tjsinclairofficial @secretlifeof-asher @toby-newtman-tics @bones-and-edgar @ted-the-teddy-tonks @scattered-across-thesky @alectocrow

[thornfield13713]

Biggest issue with Angel, one two three go

The high-handedness and self-justification, definitely, but-

I will say, the self-justification is interesting, because I can sort of see where it comes from. He is consumed by guilt for what he did as Angelus. Fair enough. He feels that, because of this, he has no right to make selfish decisions, which is-

I mean, I get the impulse, but you do need to make decisions that are good for yourself in order to live a fulfilling life. And Angel has a tendency to reason himself into the idea that any decision he makes is being made for someone else's good, rather than his own.

Like- do I agree his relationship with Buffy was a shitshow? Absolutely. But the way he broke it off with her fucked her up for years afterwards because of his framing it as a sacrifice he was making for her. Whereas if he had just said that staying in Sunnydale, carrying on the way they had been, wasn't something he could do anymore, that this wasn't a relationship he felt he could be happy in because of all the Angelus baggage and the fact that...really, he doesn't seem to have much going on in Sunnydale except Buffy...I feel like that would've been...in the moment, it would have hurt about as much. But it would probably have caused less long-term damage.

Likewise, taking back that day in 'I Will Remember You'? I don't actually mind it as a decision. Whether he is a human or a vampire is, at the end of the day, his decision to make, because it's his life and he gets to choose how he lives it. Telling Buffy about it so that she spends her last moments of this life crying and pleading with him not to was cruel, however. And so was not being open with her about why he was doing it - it's pretty clear he was having issues with not being able to fight beside her as well, not wanting to give up that vampiric strength and speed even while he desperately wanted to walk in the sunlight. He claims he did it because she would die if he stayed human, but...he never really followed up on what she would die of, whether his being a vampire could help with that. And, as it turned out, it couldn't. She died anyway. But he still frames it as him making a tragic Buffy-related sacrifice because, on some level, I don't think he can take ownership of his decisions being made for any reason other than pure selfless sacrifice to atone for past crimes.

Which is an interesting character flaw! Like- I don't like Angel on Buffy particularly, I never really got into his show, though I might try it once I get through season 3 of Buffy (I have been putting off finishing 'Becoming' parts one and two for a while just because Buffy's pain in that episode is just...so painful, and I'm having a rough enough time right now already, but honestly I might go back and watch them now). That doesn't mean I don't want to stick this repressed, fucked-up little Catholic man in a jar and shake him, because all the ways in which his redemption arc is...messy, and complicated, and involves him still doing a lot of shitty things to the people around him because of the way he thinks about that redemption arc...I love that shit, that's fascinating to me.

But I don't think he's ever going to actually get there until he reckons with the fact that he can make selfish decisions sometimes without it being the end of the world, and trying to justify every decision as selfless actually does more harm than good.

[wandsandwheezes]

NASCAR IV | G.W //F.W

WARNINGS // 8.6k // SMUT 18+, George x Reader // Fred x unnamed OC, Angry Fred, Racer!George, light angst, fighting, rough sex, soft sex, breeding kink af, mentions of alcohol, cars, sex, possession, praise kink, a (tiny) amount of degradation, oral, unprotected sex.

A/N // Ladies n gents we are back n better than everrr!! This has legit been sat in the WIPs for a year and I have not had the energy or motivation to get back to it until now. ps.. thank you to @darthwheezely for helping me out on this one as my co-writer, idk what i'd do without you!! pps.. stay tuned for more works in the future!

It was always good to be home. As much as George adored being on the road, there was something so blissful about waking up in his own bed, with the woman of his dreams curled tightly into his chest. This was what made it worth it. 

“Good morning, muffin,” you muttered peacefully, hand reaching up to push the messy tufts of hair from his sleepy eyes. He threw his head back and groaned at your use of the corny nickname so early in the morning.

“That divorce and sweet sweet alimony cannot come soon enough,” he grinned, soon getting whacked in the face by the pillow next to you, his own hand reaching to pull you by the scruff of your neck into a sloppy kiss. 

Like most mornings, George was already out of bed, walking around aimlessly in his low-slung plaid pj bottoms as he searched sleepily for either his shop uniform or at the very least something that would easily pass without Fred throwing a fit.

“Are you sure you want to leave me?” You teased, pushing yourself out of bed, letting his t-shirt fall past your hips as your feet patted along the wood floors, taking you to him. You wrap your arms around his waist groggily, forehead resting against his back as you take in his warmth.

“I’m never sure about leaving you, angel, I doubt you’ll take much convincing if I suggest lunch?”

“I’ll make your favourite sandwich and swing by later, yeah?” You smiled, giggling as he spun you around, strong hands holding your arms as he leaned down to kiss you.

“They say you’re the lucky one, but lord, woman you make me the luckiest.” 

The sun was not Fred’s friend today. But honestly: no one was Fred’s friend today, not when the sun was over a hundred and two degrees in a shop with shitty A/C with his wife away playing hostess for god knows how many interviewees in that pretty black dress.

He probably wouldn’t even be this angry if she hadn’t been an insufferable prime American tease, waking up to her lips wrapped around the base of his cock and sending delicious vibrations throughout his body before pulling off right as he was about to release:

“You’ve got work today, ace, I need you to be a good boy.”

So there was Fred, as horny as a fourteen year old, deprived as a fourteen year old, and about as pouty as a toddler. Even George knew how pissy his brother had been, eyeing him rather sharply. 

“You know, Freddie, It would be nice to come into work one day with you having not woken up on the wrong side of bed.” George chuckled, pulling up the bottom of his already oil-stained shirt to wipe at his jaw. The older twin stalked around him and hit him in the chest with his rag.

“Actually, I was sleeping quite well on my lovely and rosy smelling side of the bed until I got fucking booted like a small boy and-” he was briefly aware of George laughing at him and made to punch his younger brother over the hood. “- it’s not funny, you know...it’s…” he swallowed, the familiar feeling of his strawberry tint rising to the surface, “...ithasn’tbeenasrecentasyou and before you ask me how I know that, remember you’re the other half of my DNA in mum’s womb,” he childishly spat. He slid into the driver’s seat of the Mustang they were working on and began drumming the dash, his knee bouncing against the side door - a tell tale sign of his frustration.

“I thought we established that you are in fact half of my DNA, just because you were born first doesn’t mean shit.” George rolled his eyes, throwing the rag on top of the car before joining his brother in the passenger seat.

“No, because I, in fact, am the prettier twin, which means I not only had sex first, but also get more privileges such as Denny’s coupons, discounted smoothies, and more phone calls with my mother than you.” Spotting you walk into the workshop area he honked the horn a couple times and giggled, whistling when you walked in.

“Ahoy my lovely sister-in-law!” He grinned and honked once more, a loud and obnoxious greeting - so uniquely Fred.

Rolling up to the side of the car, you laughed, seeing George rub at his temples, sighing to himself over the continuous blaring horn. You leaned in against the window, poking your head into the car with a smile, pressing a kiss to George’s cheek while Fred’s smile dropped, his face forming into a stare of jealousy, quickly forcing a smile again to hide his obvious frustrations. 

“Oi! Get a bloody room you two!” He huffed, honking loudly when George leaned in to kiss you again.

“Do you mind?” George gritted out.

“Yes, a bit, actually, you may have the back office for now to do somewhat lovey and sinful things but please try to be discreet, kids!” He winked salaciously and leaned forward against the wheel, his elbow cocked on the dash as he fought to not think about destroying his wife to be the second she got home. Usually racing helped, kept his mind (and libido) wandering if he felt a bit pent up - but at least for a few months or so, there wouldn’t be any release. The thought alone had him throw his head back and groan in displeasure.

“I brought lunch, wanna eat with me?” You grinned, batting your eyelashes, a move that practically had George falling out of the car, grabbing your hand as he followed you out to the back office. It was definitely hotter in the back, if you were being honest, yet that had nothing to do with the blazing sunshine but the way your fiance could have practically drank you in whole by the way he was staring. 

“Stop staring, George, your eyes will go square.” You laughed, setting your bag on the table, pulling out the sandwich you had made for him, pushing it into his chest as you pulled out your own lunch. 

“You know that doesn’t work with staring at humans right? Just TVs.” George retorted, walking backwards before plopping himself down on the sofa. “You didn’t happen to bring my-” You had already reached into your bag, pulling out his water bottle, something he not only had a habit of leaving at home but something he nearly always drank with lunch. Props to him for staying hydrated but after so long together you had managed to pick up on nearly all of the smaller things about him. 

“What would I do without you, huh?” He smiled, taking the bottle from your hand as you slipped onto the sofa next to him, legs swinging over his thighs as you unwrapped your sandwich. This was normal for you, reminding you of the days before racing and before America, a part of you growing fond of those memories. 

“You seem lost, Angel.” He muttered, hand reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, a worried look painting his expression. Shaking your head at him, you pulled yourself up to be straddling his hips, your nose bumping against his softly before capturing his lips into a kiss. 

A part of both of you needed this, the locked lips while his hands held your hips in their place, effortlessly controlling the way they would rut against his growing bulge, both desperate for the friction. He was moaning into your mouth, his hips bucking up to meet yours as the innocence in the kiss quickly slipped away, his own desperation to have you ruling how his hands had practically ripped your shirt off of you, his lips messily pressed against the newly exposed skin of your chest. 

“Shit, baby, I just wanna get those tight little fucking shorts off of you.” He groaned, hand snaking up to tangle in the hair at the back of your head as your hips continued grinding relentlessly. You were ultimately putty in his hands, moldable and pliant only for his skilled grip and teasing touch. 

“No time for that though.” He chuckled, his quick fingers effortlessly slipping the material to the side before the pad of his thumb found your clit, rubbing in teasing circular motion, a loud and lewd groan falling from his lips at the feel of just how wet you were already. Your hand flew to his mouth, finger pressed against his plump lips to keep him silent.

“Not so much noise, Georgie.” You giggled, a faint moan falling from your lips as his fingers began to tease your entrance. Your own warnings of silence had fallen short the second you found yourself wrapped around his fingers, his long digits pulling desperate moans from you by the second.

“Not so much noise, angel.” 

—

The elder twin had watched his brother follow you out, had seen the way his twin’s eyes had smoothed over the curve of your ass, how he’d admired your shorts and in utter and complete disdain Fred kicked the inside of the car. It was dumb, the way he was wishing he could have his girl thrown in front of a bathroom counter and force her to watch him fuck that pretty pretty cunt of his, and unknowingly slid his hand down to his jeans and started to palm.

His jaw was clenched at the thought of her slutty little stunt she pulled this morning when they both knew how wet she would get when she had her mouth around him, and gritted in a groan as he squeezed his clothed erection.

“God, fuck, love,” he panted, unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans half way to slide his boxers down, his cock springing free instantly. He thought about how her cunt fit perfectly to his cock, how no matter how many times he’d slipped deliciously into her, she always seemed just as tight as the first time, meanwhile his hand loosely pumped back and forth on his shaft. This was pathetic, he knew it was pathetic, but still the idea of her underneath him while her breasts heaved and her smokey chocolate hair was strewn about the pillow had him grunting.

“God, I’m so surprised you’re not pregnant yet, with the amount of cum I stuff you with and the rounds we do in a day,” he growled, all eleven inches sunk deep into her.

“Oh, shit, baby, god, you feel so good,” he panted, his thumb tightly rolling small circles on his tip. 

“Want it so bad, baby, wanna be so full and round soon as we can,” she had moaned, arching so far into his hold that he had thrusted at the same time a nipple brushed his lips and into his mouth, biting the sensitive flesh and causing her to whine.

“Such a fucking whore,” he snarled, his hips bucking up to meet each stroke of his fist, his head thrown back in ecstasy as he imagined his palm to be nothing but her - no, his - soft and soaked pussy. 

His hips were jerking at the speed of sound, he didn’t really care if anyone else could hear, if anything it made him more turned on, let ‘em hear, he could give less of a shit and especially if she were here, he’d make damn sure everyone from Houston to L.A. knew exactly which racer she was getting boned by each and every night.

“Freddie, honey, please, I need you to so bad,”

“I’m right behind you, baby, goddamnit so fucking good,” and with a faint shout of her name he released, his dick twitching under his own rough touch, his eyes screwed shut at his own frustration, none of it was real, the memory of it and the smell of sweaty sex in not only hotel rooms but in cars across the country dimming his mind back to square one. He laughed harshly at his own predicament, assessing his own situation before whistling lowly.

“Fuck, I need a drive.”

—

“George, for the love of God, stop fuckin’ with the carburetor, we already checked it an hour ago,” Fred whined, leaning against the back of the car. The day had been relatively slow beyond that one car, the hour approaching about 4:30, Fred eagerly awaiting until those hands hit 6.

“We did? I could have sworn we didn’t but I wouldn’t know, would I?” George rolled his eyes, pushing himself away from under the hood, heading over to you to take the tool you aimlessly held from your hands, not before his hands pressed against your neck, pulling you into a quick kiss.

Fred went to retort, interrupted only by the grizzly rotary of the engine rev close by. He knew exactly what the sound was, the same kind of rev that ecologists blamed on the hole in the ozone, the smell lewd and hungry for attention. 

It wasn’t just any old car, it had to be for racing. And sure enough it was, two in fact, fully souped up in high gear and brand new paint blinding in the Arizona sun. Fred held a hand above his eyebrows to see who it was, and George leaned back around Fred trying to do the same thing. When the cars pulled up and swerved albeit messily into the lot the twins broke into grins.

“Is that-?”

“-yeah, it’s-”

And then the car doors opened, one man rather lanky and lean and the other shorter and stocky, the rather lean one putting both his hands on his hips and clucking: “Well, I’ll be damned, freshen up then lads,” and grinned mischievously.

“DEAN!”

“SEAMUS!” They both yelled and jumped at their friends, a chorus of rowdy hugs and how are yous being traded from each of the boys.

“Alright then, boys?” Seamus quipped.

“Well, Jesus, we sure hope so, haven’t seen you since, shit what March?” George ran a hand through his hair, looking at Fred to confirm that and he nodded in response.

“Sounds about right, we’ve had to keep to ourselves - don’t want a bust like what happened to Diggory, y’know,” Seamus smirked.

“That arsehole from - shit what was his sponsor, Georgie?”

“Wonderbread,”

“Yeah, I never liked him, hits on everything that moves he does, my girl included,” Fred made his way to their mini-fridge swinging out a couple of bottled cane-sugar Coke (the only kind he and his wife ever drank, unfortunately for their bank account), and distributing them to each of the boys, passing around the bottle opener.

Dean scoffed. “Fred, you think everyone flirts with your girl and Y/N.”

“I’m a protective man, Thomas, not my fault I see a douche bag and-”

“Anyway,” George cut him off, leaving a rather pouty Fred in his place, and leaning back to sit on the hood of the car. “What brings you two ‘round then?”

Seamus and Dean visibly held their bottles a little tighter, then looked at each other.

“Well, we um...we have this thing we do on Thursdays down behind Tucson-” Seamus started.

“-not the raceway...it’s a bit more shifty, if you get it.” Dean finished, taking a swig of Coke. George studied the two for a second and finally leaned back on the car hood.

“Boys, what is this?” He asked softly, Fred shifting uncomfortably on the minifridge.

Seamus opened his mouth again, his face a great shade of crimson when Dean leapt in again.

“We do it in secret because if Indy or Nascar found out we’d all be dead but...we never really stopped racing you know. We just...we do it in the backwoods area of town-”

“Where it’s basically just sand and flat land for miles,” Seamus added, nodding vehemently. 

“Count me in.” Fred spoke quickly, pushing himself up off the mini fridge and over to the two boys, a smirk hanging off his lips in anticipation of being able to put his foot to the floor again on a track, albeit a dirt-road track, it was a course nevertheless.

“Yeah, no, Fred you can’t, if the Wood Brothers find out you are never racing again.” George cut in, fingers pressed to his temple in fear of his brother’s own recklessness.

“Come on, baby brother, I think you need to loosen up a little, what do you think, y/n?” Fred’s smirk only grew as he raised his eyebrow, hoping to entice the younger twin into his lure.

“You know, Georgie, I think it would be good for you and Fred to race together, you know, just for fun...” You shrugged, staking over to George, arms wrapping around his waist, as you looked up at him with a pout.

“I suppose if those two big brains can still have jobs, we’ll be fine, right?” George sighed, feeling himself giving in, purely from a look from his girlfriend.

“That’s the spirit!” Dean smirked, a smile cracking up on Seamus’ lips as the four boys looked among each other, almost silently communicating a plan until they had erupted with laughter.

—

The clock had said 9:34, roughly 26 minutes before Fred would be ecstatically waiting for George outside his studio apartment. His neck was tilted upwards, covered in shaving cream with a bath towel wrapped loosely around his waist. The sink was littered with expensive cologne and aftershave, the first purchase he ever made after his first check at the shop, his scalpel grifting smoothly up his jawline. 

Fred had learned very early on that preparation was absolutely everything, and after his little twelfth place charade - he felt his mates needed to remember that he was, for all intents and purposes, that bitch. 

“Fred, baby, you home?” He heard her call out, the clanging of keys falling into the empty fishbowl on the coffee table.

“Yeah, cupcake, I’m in here,” he called out stiffly, listening to her start to rant on about the interviews at hand - none of them were ever any fun, he’d been to enough to learn that all they cared about were raunchy questions geared at his wife and female reporters flirting with him in front of studio audiences. 

“...and god my feet were killing me, she wanted to walk with me all the way down the block and-“ she stopped analyzing his posture, his broad and freckled back still slightly covered in drops from the shower, his V-line angled to the side to a point where if she tugged on his hips juuuust right it would be sure to drop in one fell swoop, combined with the fact that he was shaving. 

“Honey?” 

“Yes, dear?” He side eyed her and smirked before turning his eyes back to the mirror, finishing the last of the area around his upper jaw and by his cheekbones.

“Are you going somewhere tonight?” She questioned, standing next to him now, looking at him directly through the mirror. He licked his lips at the sight of her minorly aggressive position and broke contact.

“Just for a bit, love, I’ll be back probably when you’re asleep.”

“And were you planning on telling me?”

“And were you planning on being a tease this morning after I gave you such a lovely time last night?”

He watched her mouth open and close as if she were about to say something and faltered, and snorted. “Yes, exactly, I thought so,” he said, turning around to grab a hand towel, splashing water on his face to rinse off the cream.

“Oh...I see what this is,” she purred. He stopped and slowly pulled his face up to the sink, setting a hand down on the sink to ground him from the massive hard on that was occurring under his towel, and turning towards her.

“What was that?” 

“I think you’re a pent up, horny teenager that doesn’t like being told no,” she smiled cruelly at him and watched as Fred’s jaw tensed ever so slightly. 

He rolled it gently and went to move past her but she was quicker, and pushed him backward with five painted red nails to his chest. She looked up at him and roughly scratched down his torso, causing Fred to hiss at the fresh red stripes. She slid a hand up his chest and stopped at the column of his throat, gripping ever so slightly, before leaning up to kiss him and pulling away just so he could feel her exhale.

“Have a nice night, Freddie,” she whispered before quirking a brow and grinning, prancing off to their bedroom alone.

When she was out of earshot he shakily breathed out, trying to steady his breathing and his yearning cock - he’d deal with her later for sure, regardless of his behavior or not.

It was 9:32, approximately 28 minutes before George would pick him up outside his studio apartment…

—

The twins arrived at around 10:15, the drive there filled with only uncomfortable silence at what was to come. George was a bit pissed to say the least, once again Fred was getting his way for an adrenaline run, and this time Y/N had backed him up.

George’s last place he would be right now is behind the wheel of his own fucking car.

He parked it next to Dean’s sleek, jet black chevy, his hands gripping the steering wheel ever so slightly as he leaned back against the headrest.

“You realize if we get caught we could never race again, right?” George prompted quietly.

“Here’s an idea; don’t.” Fred rolled his eyes, reaching over to flick his brother in the ear, eyebrows raised playfully.

“Yeah, no shit, sherlock.” George grumbled, turning off the ignition, listening to the signature growl of his engine grind to a stop. 

“Why is it always such a bad idea to do anything fun once in a while, Georgie,” Fred grumbled, his knee bouncing against the floor of the car. “It’s not like we’ve had anything to do as of late, you know.”

“Of course, besides, hmm, I dunno, not making our sponsors upset? By like possibly following the very slight and basic set of rules we’ve been given?” George snipped, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel. He sighed to himself and went to get out of the car when Fred grabbed his arm.

“Hey, you agreed to this too, you know-”

“Yes, at the behest of my lovely fiance and my snot nosed, ant thorax of a barely older brother and as such, I’m driving this thing when this shit factory of a drag race starts.” He whacked Fred’s arm away and exited the car, immediately all but smiles on his face as he went to greet his friends, a sporadic and adrenaline heated Fred on his tail.

“Well if it isn’t the two most obnoxious bastards in NASCAR,” Fred turned to see his best friend and ex-pit crew member, Roger Davies, and excitedly gripped him in a hug, hands clapping backs and tears falling down cheeks at the renewal of friendship.

“Georgie! Look, it's Rog!”

“Holy shit, not my first husband-!”

“Your only husband, Weasley number 5, and Fred can disagree all he wants,” Roger grinned and pulled both boys into a hug before whispering in their ear, “watch out for Finnegan and Thomas, boys, the cheating hasn’t stopped since last season,” leaving the twins utterly confused.

“Oi! Not another sleepover without me?” Boomed Dean from behind them. Roger immediately pushed past the two entirely confused twins and went to clap Dean on the back.

“Just getting them acquainted with the rules before a race...you know how hard it is to follow all the rules, don’t you, mate?” Roger winked and headed back to the twins, moving them back to the car as all the other drivers retreated to theirs.

“Rog, what was all that?” Fred whispered.

“Dean has been known to be a bit...well, shifty as of late with these. Always been a bit of a windy bloke, you get it, but ever since Target dropped him from the sponsorship he hasn’t really been...getting off as much in racing as he used to.” Roger nervously laughed, rubbing the back of his neck, leaning against the back of George’s car.

“By ‘cheating’ what does that entail?” George crossed his arms in repose.

“He’s always been a thrill chaser, you know this, Georgie.”

That was true, Dean had always been after a nice high. An adrenaline junkie back at primary school, Dean and Fred (as George unfortunately remembered) would feed off each other like invasive flowers, the group think of two singularly aggressive and needy young boys clouding the canopy of their friends (and brothers) with misfortune. Anything from groundings to almost arrests to nights spent aimlessly wandering the London streets in the wee hours of the morning - to Dean’s favorite: bets.

Dean would bet and bet and bet if his life depended on it and when it came to racing, if there was a bet out in his name to win, he was sure as shit going to make sure that he was the winner, this led to more and more alterations to his cars, some that even street racing frowned upon. The media never got their hands on the true reason Dean had lost his Target sponsorship; just one simple, illegal, engine part. One that gave him the lead in a race that caught him out. 

“How hasn’t someone banned him then?” George laughed, looking over at his friends, only for Roger to clear his throat with a chuckle himself.

“You can’t ban someone from street racing, Georgie, not without the authority that NASCAR has.” Roger explained, pushing away from George’s car to head towards his own. “See you on the track, boys.” 

“Track?” Fred choked over the words, confused thoroughly at this point.

“I don’t think we’re in for just a drag race, Freddie.” George gulped, watching Roger slip inside his car, the lights flashing on and the sounds of rumbling engines echoing through the air. 

—

“What do you mean I can’t drive your car.” Fred practically whined, if his eyes rolled any harder they would be in the back of his head.

“I mean what I said, dumbass, you’re not driving my car.” George protested, his arms crossing over his chest as he stood protectively in front of the driver’s side door.

“But you’d let me drive it in a drag race, that doesn’t make any sense, like at all.” 

“That was when you had to drive in a straight line, you are not putting my baby in danger just to race her round a track.”

“Your baby? George, you do realise I race too right?” 

“Fuck off. You’re not driving, that’s final.”

“Yes the fuck I am, now move.” Fred was practically pushing his brother out of the way as he tried to get himself in the driver’s seat. “Twenty minutes ago you didn’t even want to be here, now you want to drive?”

“Fine.” George sighed, finally stepping aside, only to grab the back of Fred’s shirt. “One scratch and you’ll be fixing it, either that or I’ll break you.” 

“I’m not gonna crash the car, George, now get in.” Fred slid inside the car, George following suit on the passenger side. Fred went to pull out of the space that George had parked the car in, only to stall, dropping the clutch out of excitement, causing his younger brother to yell, out loud and quickly. 

“Nope! I’m not doing this.”

“Fucking hell, George, shut up I can drive.” 

—

There was something about the way tires kicked dust up as they sped around the dirt track that had Fred on edge. This race was unlike anything he’d ever seen or been a part of before, if he was being brutally honest it was exhilarating to be doing something like this, much more so when his brother was sat in the passenger seat. He didn’t need to look over or even take his eyes off the road to know that George was already being hypercritical of Fred’s driving skills, especially when the livelihood of his pride and joy of a car lay in another’s hands.

If George were gripping the steering wheel in that moment, his knuckles would have been well and truly white, watching clouds upon clouds of dust spray over the freshly washed exterior of his car. Instead, George’s hand was dripped tightly on the door, bracing himself for the sharp corners and bumpy jolts, thinking about how all the up and down was surely going to fuck his suspension. 

Fred laughed to himself, but mostly at the way his twin was acting, almost as if George hadn’t spent most of his adult life behind the wheel of a car driving faster than any other man would dream of. Fred shouted over the roar of the engine “Jesus, Georgie, let loose a little will you?”

“I’d be way less uptight if you would have just let me drive.” George replied, sighing to himself, a small ‘woah’ falling from his mouth at the feeling of the back wheels spinning.

“It’s a bit fucking late for that decision.” Fred laughed back, passing a car that had the unfortunate and untimely end of spinning themselves off the joke of a track. Once the dust parted and George saw the mess in front of him, his eyes widened, heart racing if it could have beaten any faster.

“I will kill you if you do that.” the younger man grumbled, watching Fred speed past car after car, pushing them up the ranks. 

“I told you I won’t crash your precious car… I’m starting to think you love her more than your lovely lady.” Fred bit his lower lip to stop himself laughing at his own comment. Looking up in the rear view mirror, he spotted the glistening black and bright blue of Roger and Dean gaining on the lead the twins had.

It was nearing what Fred hoped to be the end of the track, watching as the finish line grew nearer with every second. In what seemed to be all at once, a loud revving came in from Fred’s Left, The lightning bolt blue car overtaking George’ in a matter of seconds, pushing right past the finish line without a care in the world. Following closely in second was Dean’s beauty of a car, Fred managing to keep right behind his two friends, pulling third rank in the race. 

—

Fred was the first out of the car, slamming the door behind him as his rage was starting to bubble out from his lungs. George hurried to catch up with his older brother, the look in his eyes and his body language evident that nothing short of violent impulsivity would amount from the situation. Fred pushed past Roger, ignoring the pleas for peace, he was never mad at Rog, Rog deserved a top rank, but his anger was centered towards Dean.

Dean needed a nice loss.

“Oi, Thomas.” He got closer to the man, Dean turning around slowly, a haughty sense of pride glazed on his face. “What’s wrong, Freddie, I’d figured after your little twelfth place at the table third should be a nice welcome to you,” he drawled, before Fred lunged at him, getting held back only by Davies.

“Aw, does poor little Freddie still need a babysitter?”

“Open that mouth one more fucking time-”

“Fred-” Roger stuttered.

“No,” he pushed from his grasp and proceeded to get inches from Dean’s face

Dean smirked and leaned back to grab a beer from the cooler beside him. “Fred. Your little tough guy act doesn’t scare me anymore, you know that.”

George stepped up next to Fred, “It’s not an act, mate, I think you know us well enough by now to get that we don’t take kindly to cheaters,” he said softly, rising to his full height.

Dean immediately leaned back at the sight of the two gingers, and even going as far as shrinking at the pure sight of Roger Davies, not as tall but definitely as intimidating, standing between them.

“The track never did cater to a liar, Thomas, we figured you’d know that by now,” Roger added quietly. 

Dean scoffed, the adrenaline clearly rising in his chest, as the men behind him started to eye each other, the violence of the situation reaching a silent all time high. “I’m not gonna take shit from a losing tosser, his stooge of a younger brother, and a dumb blonde-“ 

Fred had launched himself all the way forward, his index and thumb forming a U shape as he grabbed Dean’s face, slamming it directly into the window. Dean struggled in Fred’s grasp, lifeless and sloppy fists flying in every direction possible. When Fred finally pulled off the boy and began to walk off, a smug and bloody smirk gracing his haughty face, Seamus lunged forward, a punch matching the back of Fred’s head. 

A full on fight occurred, George rushing forward to slam Seamus to the ground, dust flying in every which way under the artificial lights. Fred had taken to pummeling Dean as if he was losing himself entirely in aggression.

The twins had always had an aggressive streak - but it had rarely been released in their current younger years of “adulthood.” 

Amongst the mess of brawling fists and kicked up dirt, Roger had managed to summon the presence of one of the two Weasley girls - you, the understanding quick thinker with a tendency to be for whatever your boyfriend did and Fred’s Wife, the american firecracker who rarely took no for an answer.. When you had arrived, Rog and George were stopping Fred from lurching at Dean once more, Instead you were focused on the graze that lay above George’s brow, taking a deep breath and shaking your head at just how reckless he had become. 

“George Weasley, I swear to fucking god you bastard.” You shouted, pulling him up by his bicep and pushing him back against his dust-covered car. “One night I leave you, One night and you end up in a back street race nearly getting your ass handed to you by Dean fucking Thomas-”

“It was Seamus, actually-”

“Not the fucking point, George.” you slapped his chest, only for him to wrap his arms around your waist, keeping you pulled close, a small smirk hanging off his lips.

“Fred said I needed to let loose, and I did and it was the best fun I’ve had since the end of season… but that obviously isn’t what I should be saying… I’m sorry, really am.”

You rolled your eyes, a sigh falling from your lips as you rested your head on his chest, with all the stress that NASCAR had given him, it really was the best thing that he was getting some actual joy in his free time. “At least you had fun.”

-

You knew you couldn’t be mad at him for long, not with the puppy dog eyes he was giving you as he knelt down on the floor, elbows resting on the mattress to look at you. Part of him realised that he needed to not piss you off any more than he already had, after all it was a little more than what you were expecting from him and with so much on the line after all of his hard work you were more mad at the fact he would so easily chance it.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” He quipped, a small smile on his lips as he stretched his back out, leaning forward across the mattress, fingertips grazing over your knee.

“You know what you’re doing.” You sighed, trying to look away from him, only to feel his full firm grip squeeze at your thigh.

“I’m just trying to apologize to you.”

“Yeah right.”

“I know how much you gave up to be here with me, for us, for me to achieve my dreams and I only went and nearly threw it away for a cheap race and I’m sorry.” 

His eyes were glassy, filled with a sadness that you only recognised from the day he left for America, he truly was sorry for what had happened. 

“I want to make it up to you, princess.” He pushed himself up onto the bed, his head resting on the pillow, your eyes never leaving him as you watch him shift to get comfortable. 

Your hand reached out to brush the hair out of his eyes, watching his eyes flutter closed as a small sigh fell from his lips. You were quick to shift so that you lay next to him. 

“There’s nothing to make up for, Georgie.” You smiled softly, shifting slightly closer to him, feeling his hand drape lazily over your side. Something about seeing him so vulnerable made you want to protect him with your whole heart and yet he was always the one to protect you.

“There’s everything to make up for, my love.” He smirked, leaning in to nudge his nose against yours softly before pressing a small kiss to your lips. “Just let me make you feel good.”

“George you don’t–” You went to protest, but he was quick to cut you off with another kiss, this time his hand gently pulling your hips closer towards him.

“I know just the way to make things up to you.” He pushed himself up slowly, arm wrapping around you to lay you down on your back, finding his place between your thighs, your legs either side of his hips.

His hands slowly raked up your thighs, finding his way up to your hips, fingers hooking underneath the waistband to pull the material down your legs, leaving you bare from the waist down. You had almost forgotten how much of a tease George could be, the way his fingers had quickly found your clit, the long digits finding your entrance soon after, only to warm you up.

Positioning himself with your legs hooked over his shoulders, he drew in a breath, releasing the cool exhale over you as you sighed frustratedly, hips bucking to try and get some friction if any, only for his hand to push your hips back down, a chuckle falling from his lips.

The second his tongue was licking a prominent stripe along your aching pussy, you were well and truly putty in his hands. Each flick of his tongue had you squirming, unrestrained moans falling from your lips as the pleasure built.

It didn’t take him long to attach his lips to your clit, sucking relentlessly at the bundle of nerves, his fingers pushing knuckle deep into you, curling up to hit your favourite spot, having you a wordless mess of nothing but moans of his name.

“Such a pretty thing you are, baby.” He hummed, thumb coming up to circle over your clit as he watched the way you had thrown your head back, your hands finding his hair to pull him back down needily, earning a chuckle from him.

His tongue continued its work, pulling you closer and closer to release with every flick. He didn’t let up until your thighs were shaking and your chest heaving, mind clouded only with thoughts of him and how lucky you were.

—--

Fred Weasley got home all too late, the door closing a bit louder than the man had wanted behind him. The slightly elder Weasley crept from the doorway to the bedroom, careful to mind the light creaks in the hardwood floor, taking every ounce of stress on his feet to avoid any miscalculations. 

When he got to the bedroom, he saw the woman he loved, asleep no doubt by the sight of her mussed hair and lightly agape expression on her lips. Fred exhaled slowly, what he thought was quietly, until he heard her voice clearly say:

“So where were you?”

The man before her felt his heart thump harder than he felt when his own mother would corner him in the kitchen, the memories of sneaking out and sneaking back only to return with a-

“So are you going to tell me where you were?”

“Out.”

“No, really?” She spat, sitting back up and clicking the lamp on, her face etched with rage.

“I waited up for you the entire night, the least I probably deserve is an explanation.”

“Well, love, you didn’t seem to want to talk to me earlier, so I guess the lack of communication goes both ways, now move over.” he said briskly, beginning to take off his shirt. When she didn’t move, her face unwavering in anger, he rolled his jaw, swallowing back and refusing to feel the light effervescence of guilt in his throat.

“I said m-”

“I’m aware. See, Fred,” his wife exited the bed, and unfortunately for him, she was clad in only the black satin nightie he had gotten for her after his first big win. The guilt was rising now, as was something else low on his hips.

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry, okay? I am, I-”

“Interrupt me again, and you get the couch, got it?” He nodded, his eyes drawn to the tears welling up in hers. “Fred, I’m your wife now and-and knowing my husband, my husband was out doing god knows what or who for that matter and has the audacity to come back in at three in the morning and be pissed at me? Who the hell are you?” 

“I was racing! I was racing alright, and I’m sorry, I’m sorry I-I came in late and made you pissed because I love you and I am never going to do this again but God can you please put something else on so I can focus correctly-” and then he was kissing her, and somewhere deep in his cerebral cortex, this was probably unbearably toxic, for him to start apologizing angrily for the shit that he put her through but-

“God, you are a piece of fucking work aren’t you?” She snarled, already beginning to unbuckle and unzip his pants. 

“But ‘m your piece of work, and currently,” he spat back, mouth melding in a messy and unkempt addition to hers, the entire situation wholly and completely Fred in every way possible, as he shed himself of his shirt and picked her up, “-I’d like to be fucking you.”

It didn’t take him long to pitch her body on the bed, his wife scrunching delectably at his fiery hair and his own ropy and iron hands squeezing at the bottom of her bare thighs. It had been long, too long, and with the already latent tension from their little bathroom incident earlier in the day - there wouldn’t be any denying Fred nor his girl of a quick, ravenous fuck tonight.

“Missed you so much, baby,” she whined, yanking his head up to mold herself to him in a heated kiss, the man atop her not needing to be shown twice at her action. “Missed you more, had me fuckin’ twitching and creaming in a car earlier, you did,” he chuckled, arousal thick and evident in his tone.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” He rasped, his eyes scrunching close as one of her delightfully un-dainty and gently calloused hands palmed him over his boxers. “God, wanted you so bad, baby, wanted to just drop the towel and have you on the sink, then ‘n there.”

“You mean that?” She said shakily, as he kissed her one last time before sliding down her body, his lengthy digits trailing down above him.

“God, absolutely, and if I look under here I wonder if - oh look at that, ‘was right, wasn’t I?” Much to her disagreeing whine, he sat up on his heels, his damn near naked body covered in sweat, his myriad of constellations adorning his chest like only the finest stars in the night sky. He looked up at her, the face only him or his twin could make, rum eyes bright and full of mischief, but also something else more sinister as his fingers trailed up her thighs.

“Fred, please-”

“‘Got you, baby, don’t you worry about me,” he mused, lazily almost, while his fingers drifted higher up the apex of her thigh before-

“No.” She said simply.

“Shit, I’m sorry do you want me to stop-?”

“No.” Fred’s wife, almost too fast for him to register, threw her left thigh around his waist, gathering momentum from her other leg fast enough to get him on his back, effectively pressing her hand to the center of his chest before all he could say was:

“Didn’t know you could do that, love,” he drawled, a quirk of a brow and a little smile on his face.

“You didn’t know I could do a lot of things, Freddie.” She shot back, bringing her nails up and in to scratch at his bare chest, her hips rolling to his and rubbing his tip under his boxers so well he thought he was going to explode.

“You have any plans beyond making me cum in m’pants, dear?” He hummed, his hands reaching up and under her satin to cup and squeeze at her bare ass.

“I was planning on making you cum so hard your ears pop, actually.”

“Merlin, woman, get on with it then,” he groaned, her laugh bubbling in his ears like champagne as her nails abandoned their spot on his broad chest to the hills and valleys of his v-line, the light grazing and nimble touch causing a wanton moan to erupt from the back of his throat along with a small, “fuckin’ hell, petal.” He watched with rapt but seemingly pained eyes as she slowly - too slowly, for his personal taste - began to lift her hips and grind the tip of his erection, his palms getting more clammy as he waited with need for her to sink onto him - if she’d even give him that.

But all too soon, she stopped her rolling onto his cock, making him swear at the loss of contact. “Goddamnit, fuck me already.”

“Oh, Freddie,” she preened, moving a hand back to cover one of his own sliding it to her soaking cunt, “after how bad you’ve been today? And you think I’m gonna reward you? Baby…” she drawled, reaching down to squeeze his thick cock, the action alone making him grunt and his neck veins pulsate with life.

“‘Do anything y’want, anything,” he whined, desperately trying to fuck his hips up to meet her friction. He knew his wife would push him, push him to the absolute limit until his dick exploded and his throat gave out from how hard he’d be screaming, she’d done it before, but it was so late, and God, he needed to bury himself deep in the milk and honey of her sex before it was too late.

“Then you have to be a good boy, Freddie, remember?”

“I know, I know, ‘m sorry, ‘m sorry, ma’am,” he babbled, the pleasure and lack of stimulation running through his veins. “Please,” he whimpered, his voice small and pliant like rubber.

She cocked a brow at him, curling her shiny red nails around his chin and gently tilting him toward hers. 

“Been so bad, baby boy, but I guess ‘m gonna have to give you a treat some time…you just look so delicious like this,'' she purred, moving her hands to the swell of his bulge, delighting in the whine that escaped his throat like the rush of water in a stream (or something a bit more sinful in its entirety.) Fred’s wife swiftly lifted his cock free from it’s confines, his hands coming immediately to steady at her hip bones and kneading greedy circles into the tough skeleton. 

“Ready f’me, precious?”

“Fred, don’t be pretending you’re the one on top at present,” 

“Good Lord, woman, stop the banter and rock already.” The two chuckled breathlessly at Fred’s words, his wife pressing an airy kiss to his red and puckered mouth before bringing her cunt to just barely graze his tip, a movement that had the ginger subjected to her ministrations roll his eyes back and murmur a throaty “fuck” against her lips. 

“Baby, please-“

“I know, Freddie, my love ‘ve got you,” she whispered before finally sinking down onto him, both partners releasing hisses and throaty moans at the feeling of being one.

It took no time at all for the ginger beneath to bring his hands to her now bouncing ass, guiding her roughly to every ridge of his cock. She was sloppy, the ride of pushing Fred’s high further and further to the forefront of his system. Fred oh the other hand had started to spastically fuck up into her now, moaning out her name the more he listened to the sound of her wet cunt being slid up and down on his thick cock. 

She was close, dangerously close, the feeling of his balls clapping against the bottom of her ass in time with her pants. Fred was in nirvana, the way the light graced the sides of her face making her look like the most fallen of angels when-

“Fred, I can’t, I, please”

“I know, bub, ‘m right there with you,” he coaxed, all too soft in contrast with the rampant fucking he was giving her, waiting until he could feel her about to soak his cock before flipping her over, almost too quickly throwing her legs around his waist and thrusting further than what he thought was possible. His hands gripped hers and somewhere in his mind he blacked out against the feeling of the black satin rubbing against his torso. 

“Baby-“

“Fred-“

Fred relished the feeling of her collapsing around him, his back fully extended as he rolled softly and slowly into her to push them through their conjoined high. He loved this, he always had, how her body heaved gently under his and his hands and mouth could whisper sweet nothings into her skin, soothing her form and giving her all the love he could possibly muster. 

“I am sorry you know, bub.” He finally said after a while, his hands rubbing back and forth on her thighs. 

She leaned up and pressed a kiss to his nose and then his lips, smiling lightly against his mouth as her eyes fluttered shut, “yeah, yeah, I know.”

“Just…don’t do it again okay-?” She whispered.

“Baby, you know I won’t. Scout’s honor ‘n all-“

“You didn’t let me finish, Weasley!”

“Well, then what’s the rest of it?” 

She smiled at him before craning her lips to his ear: “next time you drag race, I better watch.”

She giggled when he threw the covers above their heads.

—

It was two days later, the sun blaring just as brightly as it had when Dean Thomas proposed a drag race, and now, as the front door bells jingled an entrance, the twins had done something they didn’t last time.

“We’re closed,” they both said flatly, not looking up from the respective cars.

“Even for me?” A familiar voice asked the boys, causing them both to raise their heads.

“Sirius!” They both squawked, the lanky men scrambling to their feet to hug their favorite agent, the older man hugging them back immediately.

“Why’ve you come from LA?”

“Yeah, is something wrong? I can guarantee you whatever it was it was 100% George’s fault-”

“Fred.”

“Sorry.”

Sirius released a small smile that had been tugging at his face the whole interaction. “Boys, I’ve got a bit of an announcement for you.”

“And what would that be?” George asked suspiciously. Fred looked out the corner of his eye at his twin, and all Sirius did was throw his hands out and up.

“Boys: we’re going to Monaco.”

[shalomniscient]

6am thoughts are thoughting… been thinking about this quote—

So take my tags, and I’ll take yours, and if I die in this shitty fucking war don’t tell them we switched; let me be buried under your name—and some fifty years from now, you can be buried under mine.

tempestaurora. 2019. “let me be buried under your name”. https://archiveofourown.org/works/21021290

—and naturally thought of acheron and her ‘borrowed name’ because like. what if it was yours.

‘origin’ is not a blade to be unsheathed for fickle reasons. it was forged in the blood of millions, a symbol of an endless struggle against fate itself. the only time ‘origin’ should reveal its cutting edge to the world is to invoke ‘end’.

and yet, sometimes, she unsheathes it anyway—if only to delve into those fractured memories stored within the scabbard and see your face once more.

the memory flickers and ripples as she watches from outside, the ghost of her future watching the life of her past. she’s sitting next to you—alive, breathing, beautiful you—as the both of you sit on the balcony of an abandoned apartment. she remembers this mission well; it was a simple scouting one, observing the movement of the oni, and you had even brought peaches with you.

she watches herself watch you as you bite into the soft, overripe fruit, the juice trickling down your chin. a smile creeps onto her younger face—you’ve always been a messy eater. your expression scrunches up as she reaches out to wipe away the spilled sweetness, but you let her do so anyway. a beat of silence passes between you both, but you break it first.

“hey, ▇▇▇?” you hum, and her current self lets the sound of you saying her true name wash over her. there are many vices in the universe, but none will ever be as potent to her as you.

“yes?” her past self answers, a curious look on her face. in the dim light of the storm-shrouded sky, her red horns gleam like rubies. her heart jumps the same way it always has when you turn to look at her.

“let’s switch tags,” you say. your expression is one she can’t really read, at least not back then, and her hand that had been on your face falls. her past self tilts her head in curiousity.

“switch… tags? why?”

you eyes flicker back to the fruit in your hand. it’s falling apart, sticky flesh heavy with sweetness turning mushy and falling to the cold, damp concrete. “i dunno,” you answer after a while. “i just… feel like it, i think. if i gotta die in this stupid fucking war, then i wanna be buried under your name.”

she should have known, then. you’d always been strangely perceptive—it shouldn’t have surprised her that some part of you anticipated your own death. but that past her had only indulged you with a smile, because she had never been able to say no to you. she slips her tags off from around her neck, then loops it around yours, and you do the same. you take the oppurtunity of being so close to her to kiss her, and she giggles. you taste like peaches.

that day, she became ‘acheron’, and you became ▇▇▇. and not even a week later, it is the name they engrave on your tombstone.

(it’s fitting, really. because when you died, so did she.)

in reality, acheron lets ‘origin’ slip back into its scabbard with a click. her umbrella lies discarded on the ground, and the downpour soaks her form, but that’s alright.

at least like this, she can pretend that the tears slipping down her cheeks is nothing more than just the rain.

[adachimoe]

Atlus, please tell me the lore behind Adachi's mp3 player

Even just looking at Adachi, he doesn't exactly have the image of someone who gives a shit lol.

And this is intentional. Soejima talks about this aspect of Adachi's design in the P4 Design Works. Adachi is said to be an elite officer, one of the best of the best, and Soejima thought an elite might be smart, but lacking in other areas. For this reason, Soejima designed him with that crooked tie and messy bedhead.

That's certainly a common thing in fiction - someone who's good at one thing, but a complete space case in something unrelated. Though he comes off as incompetent in-game, to the extent that him showing competency in December surprises Dojima lol. And even when you get into the real dumb plot stuff that I write 10k words about, it took him like 4 months to figure out that "people can come out of the TV". Ma-Maybe his record was better at his old station.

Even in what Atlus has mentioned about the setting for P4 that doesn't get discussed in-game, Adachi's red tie is something Dojima gave him, and only because Dojima got tired of seeing him wear the old shabby tie he wore before and gave him one of his spare neckties.

If Dojima had never just given him a different tie to wear, I imagine Adachi would still be wearing his old shitty tie until it completely fell apart... Is Adachi pathetic enough to try and like... tape a tie together? Probably.

Him not caring too much about appearance and being a messy guy seems to extend to other aspects of his life. Even in his character profiles for P4 and P4AU, both say he's terrible at cleaning his room and the P4 one also says he sucks at filing paperwork lol.

This continues in his P4AU narration. The investigating detective pulls out 3 pieces of "evidence": A TV which ends up being used to get Adachi into the plot, a model gun which fits with his hobby being doing gun maintenance at home, and some kind of random off brand iPod-esque thing.

The actual music player itself is unimportant. Instead, it's used for a little characterization moment where Adachi confirms that it is indeed something that's his (he even remembers how he got it!), but he didn't particularly care about it and just left it wherever.

All things considered, I get the mental image of Adachi being the kind of guy who uses that meme 13-in-1 ~for men~ product, and his room is just a mountain of cup noodles and piles of random bullshit. Maybe there are more iPods and model guns to be unearthed from underneath his other stuff.

All of this is only talking about the more physical and material aspects of him, but I think you can extend this to who he is as a person and his mentality as well. Granted, some guys in real life end up being useless slobs as adults because they're used to their mom/sister/family/etc babying them, but uhhhhhhh from what Adachi says about his past, we can instantly rule that out with him.

(Edit: As a comment pointed out, upon re-reading this this does sound weird. When I wrote this, I was thinking more about doormat pushover moms. I don't see Adachi's mom doing domestic stuff as her babying him as a child because it strikes me as the Default Gender Role thing where the dad makes the money but the mom takes care of the household. And from how Adachi talks about it, you get the impression she wasn't hyper attentive towards him, as if she did like the bare minimum lol. Adachi's attitude towards the whole thing also strikes me as different than the dudes who grow up as spoiled little kings in their households.)

It seems pretty sensible to correlate his physical state and the way he uses it to express a lack of care for himself to something going on in his brain. Adult burnout, depression, lack of self-esteem & self-worth, all of the above.

I like the random anecdote about the music player, especially since it's him. A bingo game at a New Year's party............... A bingo game at a New Year's party???????????? Adachi, you went to a New Year's party? Hoooly shit dude I don't even do that.

Since he was in jail during New Years 2012 and only arrived in Inaba during spring 2011, for him to have won it during New Year's implies this is from before the events of Persona 4. E.g. it's not something Dojima dragged him to. I assume it was some work-related New Year's party when he was still stationed in Iwatodai. Keeping up appearances for the higher-ups? Did he just want free food? A bit lonely and wanted company and absolutely not gonna say that outloud? (All of the above?)

In both his P4 dialogue and his P4AU inner thoughts, he tends to look down on others. He's annoyed by the old woman at Junes (...though his voiced line on rank 6 expresses he liked her doting on him), he calls the protagonist a dumbass (...but only after admitting he misses him, Dojima, and Nanako), he doesn't think he'll ever get married (even tho I'm available).

And yet, as little blurbs like this go to show, we know he still participates. ♪(´▽｀)

Did he even use the iPod thing before chucking it? What did he put on it? Idols or something? Answer me, Atlus.

[justyouraverage-simp]

call me dad// tony stark

pairing: dad!tony stark x daughter!reader

warnings: mentions of injury, death of a parent, mentions of abortion, time jumps, shitty ending

summary: when tony first met his daughter she wanted nothing to do with him but when she thought she lost him she realises just how much he means to her

REQUEST

Being the child of a single parent is hard. But losing that parent is even harder. But what is even harder is finding out that the person you now have to live with is the one person who couldn’t have cared less about you in the past 15 years of your life. 

This is what happened to Y/N after her mother died. It was hard for her losing her mother but it was even harder when her case worker told her she would be living with her father over her grandparents as they believed they were not suitable to raise a child due to their age and health. Y/N had never met her father, she only knew about him because her mother would tell her stories of how they met and how everything was before his parents died, she would also use him as an example to her daughter on how to not be treated by a man, to show her daughter you can be successful and raise a child. 

//

Tony was stood in the living room at Stark Tower looking at the folder he had been given by Coulson when his phone rang.

“Hello”

“Hi, is this Mr Stark?”

“It is? Can I ask who’s calling”

“Of course, my name is Tia. I’m calling from Child Protective Services, it’s regarding your daughter”

“Umm, I think you have the wrong number. I don’t have a daughter” Hearing the word daughter caught Tony off guard, he doesn’t have a daughter there is no way he could. 

“Well do you know a Miss Stephanie Taylor?” That name. He hadn’t heard that name in over 15 years, of course he thought about her on occasion but not since Pepper. 

“Umm yes, why is she relevant”

“Well, I hate to be the one to tell you this Mr Stark but she passed away a few days ago and she has a daughter”

Tony was shocked to hear she had passed, but why was CPS telling him this. To say he was confused was an understatement. 

“I’m sorry but why are you telling me this I haven’t spoken to Stephanie for over 15 years”

“That’s the thing, she has a 15 year old daughter”

As soon as Tony heard those words he almost fell over, immediately he knew why they were telling him this but none of it made sense how the hell does he have a child…

//

“It’s only me honey” Tony called entering Stephanie’s flat that he had a key too. 

As Tony walked through the flat he was confused, normally as soon as he walks through the door he is being jumped on by his girlfriend but this time there was no sign of her. 

“Honey, where are you”

“I’m in the bathroom” He heard a small voice call out breaking slightly.

As he walked through to the bathroom the sound of sniffles and whimpers became slightly louder.

“Hey, what’s going on? What’s got my girl so upset” Tony said sitting next to Stephanie on the floor, causing her to rest her head on his shoulder.

“Tony, I’m pregnant” Stephanie said to him looking up at him slightly

“Oh, is that what’s got you all worked up, it’s going to be okay I promise”

“But I don’t think I want to keep it, we are too young, you’ve just lost your parents and we just aren’t ready”

“Breathe baby, it’s your body so you do whatever you need to do okay and I’ll be with you no matter what you choose” Tony said pressing a kiss against Stephanie’s forehead.

2 weeks later…

It had been 2 weeks since Stephanie had found out she was pregnant although she hadn’t decided what she was going to do about it. It’s such a big decision for the two of them. There was a part of Stephanie that wanted to keep the baby, she had always wanted a baby but just not right now, well it wasn’t planned to be right now. 

Stephanie walked into the party Tony had decided to throw for no reason but because he wanted a party which was very normal for him. Stephanie was wearing a deep red silk dress with a low back and a v-neck, and as she entered the room she was immediately looking for Tony. She needed to talk to him about their situation and it had to happen now she needed to get it off her chest. 

She turned the corner and saw Tony talking to a blonde women and before Stephanie could say anything he kissed the blonde. Stephanie felt sick, he was cheating.

She quickly left the party and rushed to the bedroom and packed her stuff up. She ripped a piece of paper out of a notebook she found a wrote this note on it:

Tony, 

I saw it all. I hope she makes you really happy, more than I could obviously. I’m leaving, I’m not going to sit back and watch as you convince her you love her more than anything in the world when I know for a fact you can’t love more than one person. Not really. That one person for you is you! 

Goodbye forever, 

Stephanie

//

Tony thought back to the moment he found the letter. He knew he screwed up badly but he also knew Stephanie and he knew she was stubborn and independent and there was no amount of words that could convince her to come back to him so he saved his breath and let her leave without a single word. 

He thought she had the abortion, she seemed so certain about it. If he had known about her he would have made more of an effort, actually been in Y/N’s life but instead she grew up without a dad and honestly it made her closer to her mum and grandparents because they stuck around but it also left her with some internal problems, it was hard for Y/N to trust people in case they would change so quickly just like her dad did and the thought of being alone scared her more than anything.

Tony agreed to take Y/N after the situation was explained by your case worker, it was either go with him or end up in the system and neither him or Pepper wanted that. She had agreed to help Tony raise Y/N and he wanted to be better, he felt lots of guilt already for not being around although he had known about Y/N for approximately 10 minutes but that was long enough. He had always said if he ever became a dad he would be more involved than his own father was but instead he was nowhere to be seen in Y/N’s life, it was almost as if she didn’t have a father at all. 

//

6 months later…

It had been an adjustment for Y/N to have a dad but to have that dad be Tony Stark was a completely different experience. Granted he was trying to be there for Y/N but with the current situation with Loki he wasn’t overly present, leaving Y/N in the trusted hands of Pepper and Happy. 

Both Y/N and Pepper were on the jet on the way to DC when they saw on the news that there was an attack on New York and of course Tony was there. The tension in the jet was felt by everyone, something pulled at Y/N’s chest although she wasn’t sure why as she had no major feelings towards her father he was just her responsible adult, he wasn’t her father, her dad, nothing. Just another man, she hadn’t even called him dad yet. 

She felt her phone vibrate in her lap which pulled her attention away from the TV, when she saw Tony’s name lighting up her screen. 

“Hello” Y/N said, confused as he was supposedly fighting Loki and his army. 

“Hey kid, look I need you to listen to me okay. I don’t know how much time I have left” Tony said.

“Yeah, um okay” Y/N said walking to the end of the jet away from the noise and other people.

“I’m sorry for not being there for you, I always promised myself I would be better than my dad but I ended up being just like him if not worse. If I could go back and try and find your mum before it was too late I would in a heartbeat. I wish I could have been there for all your firsts. These past 6 months have been amazing, you are going to do amazing things I just know it. I love yo…” Tony said as the line began to crack, eventually losing all signal. 

“Tony, Tony…” 

// 

3 hours later…

No one knew what actually happened that day, whether Tony survived the fall or not; they just awaited the teams return at Shield Headquarters. Both Y/N and Pepper were sat waiting in one of the empty offices when a car pulled up outside, without even seeing who pulled up the flashing of cameras from the paparazzi stationed outside the building told the two of them the Avengers were back. 

Both Y/N and Pepper rushed down to the foyer to see if he was there but they couldn’t see him. How had she gone from having a mum, then no mum to having a dad then having no one all in the space of a few hours. A few tears began to fall slowly down her cheek until she heard his voice. 

“Did you miss me?” 

Y/N rushed into Tony’s arms without even a second thought. There was slight confusion on Tony’s face, what had happened for Y/N to go from wanting nothing to do with him to now hugging him and crying in his arms. 

“I love you dad” Y/N said quietly

Tony was gobsmacked. He never once expected to hear those words come out of her mouth but he loved it nonetheless. 

“God, I love you too kid” Tony said holding his daughter close for the first time feeling content for the first time in years.

[elexaria]

brother’s best friend! johnny & simon pt 3

the journey back to manchester was daunting, seeing the same old architecture from your past felt like a punch in the gut. the phone call you make to simon was awkward, it was just to tell him that.. well, you would pop by to see him. didn’t tell him anything else, didnt even mention you left years ago.

after checking into a shitty little hotel with the little money you had, you made your way to the pub simon said he’d be at, and where johnny mactavish would also be. mactavish. it’s been a really long time since you’ve thought about him, and it feels strange to know you’ll get a glimpse of him as a 26 year old man, as opposed to the pimply faced teenager you remember.

“the strongest stuff you have, please.” you say dryly to the bartender, who glances at the clock— it’s barely noon, before looking back at you again. “joking. you got any J20?”

with your little bottle of orange and mango juice and a thin paper straw, you nestle down into a booth, pulling out your phone as you begin your wait. simon did say his train would arrive at around 10am, so where was he? that’s fine, the pub at least has free wifi you can use to mindlessly scroll through. and scroll, and scroll and scroll and scroll until—

“fancy seein’ ye here, wee riley!”

you glance up from your phone, mouth agape as you look dead straight at a grown up, scruffily bearded johnny mactavish. “jesus christ—“ you mumble under your breath, eyebrows furrowing at how.. massive and grown up he is. he grins down at you, still standing. “what? gonnae give me a hug or whit?” he chortles, wiggling his thick unruly eyebrows around you. yep, it’s definitely still the same old mactavish brother you remember.

“ye look different than when we was wee bairns. yer definitely the better lookin’ riley.” johnny grins as he shoots a playful wink at you, taking a big swig of lager to parch his thirst. your eyes flit to the beer foam that sticks to his moustache, which makes you giggle. “you’ve got a lil something on your moustache. you saving it for later?” you tease, motioning to where the foam sits on his face.

“yeah, soap, you savin’ that for later?”

if your head had turned around any faster, you’d have probably broken your fucking neck. simon.

he’s… he’s so different now.

rising from your seat, you glance up at your brother with a nervous gulp. you can tell from the way he glances down at you that his heart is damn near close to bursting when he sees how grown his baby sister is, she’s not the little chubby cheeked scamp he remembers. but he quickly shoves the emotions down, his shoulders squared up as he watches you draw closer to him.

“simon,” you mutter quietly, biting your lip as you awkwardly hug his side. it’s been so long, you almost contemplate whether a hug isnt appropriate. a handshake? awkward fist bump? simon grumbles, patting your back as he reciprocates the hug with the same awkwardness. johnny cringes slightly at how uncomfortable you and simon look.

you find out that johnny is known as sergeant soap, while simon is simply lieutenant ghost. “yer brother’s fuckin’ brilliant on the battlefield, he’s saved my arse more times than i can count.” johnny grins, nudging his shoulder into simon’s, who just simply looks down at his drink with furrowed eyebrows. you nod, chewing the inside of your lip. “why do they call you soap?” you ask, tilting your head at johnny. he howls with laughter, shaking his head at you. “ye don’t want to find out, lass.” he simply says, shooting a teasing wink at you. you shouldn’t be attracted to that, but it does gets your heart pumping a little faster.

“so, lass, what about ye? any’hink goin’ on in the life of wee riley?” johnny hums out, propping his arms up behind him on the booth’s rim, his muscles bulging out from his tshirt sleeves. jesus christ, he’s ripped.

stealing your gaze from his biceps with a flushed cough, you shrug and take a sip of your drink. “i’m studying for my masters up in leeds. i.. haven’t been to manchester since i left.” you finally admit, eyes glancing over to read simon’s face, which is stoney and unperturbed. johnny whistles, grinning as he nods at you. “leeds, eh? northern girlie, are ye?” he teases, nudging simon yet again. “can ye believe it, monsi? wee riley’s all grown up, doin’ her masters n shit. damn.”

you roll your eyes, feeling a rush of blood to your cheeks as you fidget with your drink bottle. “there’s two years between us, johnny. ‘m not as young as you think i am.” you mutter quietly, your gaze flicking up to read his reaction. he’s still grinning, though he nods in agreement. “aye, canny argue with that.”

simon doesn’t speak much the entire time you’re all there, it’s almost like he speaks through johnny at times. “si’s been wafflin’ on and on about today, ye ken. been lookin’ forward to the ol’ riley-mactavish clan finally gettin’ back together.” johnny says, the two of you glancing over at simon who simply grunts, the corners of his lips twitching up into what looks like a hybrid of a grimace and a smile.

but at least johnny doesn’t make it awkward, always going on and on about whatever floated through his mind. he gives you updates on his sisters, practically glowing when he gets the chance to gloat about becoming an uncle. “the wee bairns, they like me. mam reckons i’ll make a good dad one day.” he hums as he shows you a picture on his phone, one where he’s flexing his muscles while holding twin baby boys like the deadliest missiles that cute tactical intelligence could muster up. it’s cute, the way he lights up when talking about his life, even how excited he gets for your achievements in life. simon doesn’t seem to want to get a word in edge ways.

as the catch-up comes to an end, you awkwardly slide out of the booth, rubbing your hands together. “well.. it was nice seeing you both.” you say on bated breath, a look of disappointment flashing across your face momentarily as you glance at simon. johnny pouts as he stands, patting simon on the back with a solid thwack. “we’ll have to do some’hink together, all three of us. like the good ol’ days.” he says, grinning up at simon, who nods. “spose so.” is all simon seems to add to the conversation, looking down at you.

and as you all exit the pub together, johnny giving you one last hug with a content groan, you give them a small smile and a wave goodbye, asking them to just let you know what they decide on doing.

as you lay down in the grotty hotel bed, curled up between thin sheets, you think about this sudden revelation that the two boys from your childhood aren’t cherubic anymore. life isn’t full of giggles and adventures, it’s ruthless and it’s dangerous. and the sight of your big brother, stone faced and silent, it makes you feel guilty. does he resent you for not staying in contact? has it been too long to attempt to reforge your relationship with him?

with a sigh, you reach out to grab your phone from the bedside table, eyes watery as you check the time. 1am.

ping. you receive a text.

it reads, “hey wee riley, it’s johnny m. we’re thinking abt going clubbing sat night. u remember jamies near the maccies? just lmk if ur interested xx nice to see u xx”

looks like you’re gonna have to pick out a dress for saturday night.

tag list:

@waves-against-a-cliff @cassiecasluciluce @dead-cipher @hayleybarnesx @maliakealoha @sunflowervase @spicyspicyliving

[thesharkwhalewhoohooooo]

Bridget x fem! Oc

"Red, my dearest, don't cut your hair like that." Hecate had walked in on a 17 year old Red, sitting begrudgingly at her vanity chair and was about to snil a whole chunk of hair off, probably because she was frustrated at it.

"Go away Hecate."

"Mh, sure, after you've given me those scissors, or else my head'll be the next one rolling." She joked, something that was strictly forbidden.

"What would you like me to do princess?" Red held up her hair in a half up half down, which she had been trying to do for a while now, but it just wouldn't sit right.

"There, no need to cut it all of, it takes longer to grow lost things back than it does to cut it off." She smiled at Red through the mirror, patting her shoulders and staring at her for a bit as she did her makeup.

"Creep."

"I'm allowed to stare at you kid, you've grown so much Red, it's weird how much you're like your mom." Red scoffed, hooding up her tube of mascara as if it was her mom's scepter and mocking her accent.

"Off with their heads!" Hecate laughed, the same loud and warm laugh that's been in every good memory Red has ever had.

"Exactly like that kiddo, just add a bit more black to your eyeshadow and you'd be a carbon copy!" She stopped laughing and looked at Red suspiciously.

"Well, i'd say your tutoring session is already done, but apparently Maddox had forgotten to give you some homework." Red frowned in confusion, what the fuck was that old lady on about?

Maddox landed on the couch she had but in the corner of her room, waving at them through the mirror with some papers.

"Good morning my Hecate!" The woman smiled at him, patting Red's shoulder once again before turning around and leaving.

"Gods, she's changed so much." Maddox reminisced about his past memories of the witch, not realising that Red had turned around in her chair.

"Has she really changed that much?"

"Mhm, there used to be a time where she was engaged... not that she'll ever be able to have a love life anymore though, so I wouldn't dwell on it too much." He shrugged, handing her the papers and quickly rushing out before she could ask more.

"Stupid Maddox and his shitty cliffhangers."

-

Red wasn't going to tell anyone that Maddox's words had intrigued her, so she obviously also didn't tell anybody that she was 'lurking' around in the court magician's quarters, even though it was her home sk it wasn't considered lurking, it felt as if she was, because she had never been in this hall before.

Much like how the queen had a hall of portraits of past rulers, the court magicians had a similar hall, with their engagements, accomplishments and marriages depicted on a plaque under their portrait.

When she had finally gotten through the endless sea of bright purple blue hair, and her eyes landed on Hecate's face, she searched the portrait for anything first.

She had an axe swung across her shoulder, the same muscled build, mostly same clothing, the hearts on her trousers were shades of pink, not red... weird, especially when the hearts on her shoulders kept their pink.

Her eyes trialed over her portrait, she saw a mass of bodies piled up behind her, making up the entirety of the back of it, but just far enough that you won't spot it when you first look.

"What the fuck..." she breathlessly muttered, leaning closer as she distinguished the bodies of human beings, including massive giants and sea creatures.

"Oh wow, she's a fucking monster, good to know." Red rolled her eyes, then went on to read the plaque.

"Hecate Spades and her weapon: the princess of Hearts, engaged to Queen Bridget Hearts- WHAT?!" Red's eyed widened, leaning closer and rubbing over the plaque as she saw her mother's name.

"Yeah, that was such a long time of my life, i'f wish it upon my worst enemy... but y'know, don't have any anymore." Hecate shrugged, as if she hadn't just scared the life out of the girl she considered a daughter.

"What?"

"YOU NEARLY MARRIED MY MOTHER?!" Hecate nodded, looking down at the princess with a smile.

"Mhm, definitely almost did." She shrugged, "but, someone has to carry on the court's magician line, and i'm not sure how that would work if we merged with the royal line." Red suspiciously eyed her, that was not the real reason for the break up.

"Then where is your heir then? Mh?" Hecate smirked at her.

"You." Red choked, then saw Hecate laughing and slapped her.

"Hey! Not funny!" Hecate stopped laughing, staring at Red for a while, seemingly out of it before she nudged her arm.

"Hellooooo?"

"Right, actually, i'm training my niece for it, she's my father's sister's son's daughter, she had a high affinity in magic, and if she gets my magic when I pass, she might be up to par with me." She looked down at the plaque, eyes zeroing in on the queen Bridget of Hearts part, if she ever found out, she'd have no niece to teach.

"Let's leave before she finds us here-."

"Red. What are you doing here." The queen herself had left her throne room purely to find her daughter, now that was rare.

Hecate stiffened up, which Red noticed, and pushed the girl to her daughter, standing in front of her portrait with a matching grin.

"What'cha think? Do I still look as amazing as 2 decades ago?" She put her hands on her side and puffed up her chest, Red let out a giggle at it, and Hecate looked at her with soft eyes, remembering more and more of her Bridget the longer she spend with her.

"You look utterly stupid, stop this nonsense at once." Speaking of the woman, she was staring straight into Hecate's eyes, who smiled at her.

"Will do so, my queen." She bowed, disappearing into nothing in less than a second.

"Hey, mom? Were you ever engaged-..." Red trialed off with a frown, looking at the plaque, where once stood engaged to to Queen Bridget of Hearts' now laid a blank spot.

"Why are you spouting such nonsense, out of this hall! Now! And I better not find you snooping here again! I bet Hecate put you up to this, didn't she?!"

-

"Can I see the princess of Hearts?" Red had been begging Hecate for a few weeks now, and was officially hanging off of her leg to try persuade her.

"Okay! If you stop... whatever this is?" Hecate groaned out, stopping in front of Red's quarters, where she was supposed to drop her off.

"You are not small enough to do that anymore!" Red smirked as she stood up, crossing her arms as she stood before her heart shaped doors.

"Show me!" Hecate pulled out a mirror with a cheeky grin, Red glared at her.

"Okay! Okay! Calm it kid..." She trialed off, gesturing with her hand, and then the axe was there, giant pink heart and all.

"Here you go." She held it out to the princess, whose former titleholder it was named after.

"Is it named after... you know?" She spoke softly, as if trying to preserve the magic the weapon held in her eyes.

"Your mom? Yeah, but my cover up story is that she has a heart and it's my princess." Red rolled her eyes once more at the lame coverup.

"Don't roll your eyes at me young lady!"

"It's too late to go back from being the fun uncle Hecate!" Red teased, her arms slowly starting to tremble from the weight of the axe.

"I'll hold her for you, i'll place her down in your room so you can inspect her all you want." She had to get out of there before Red reminded her too much of Bridget.

"Yeah sure, what kind of stone is that?"

"A lover's secret, ironically enough."

"That's so corny."

-

"I can go back in time and see how Hecate looked for myself now?! I've always wanted to see how she defeated that giant seamonster!" Maddox snatched the watch out of her hands.

"No Hecate related trips until you're older! Promised?" Red hiffed, crossing her arms and tapping her foot on the ground.

"All right! I won't go on any Hecate related trips in the near future!" Maddox nodded, relieved.

"Also, I have the Princess of Hearts in my room right now, you wanna go check it out?" Maddox shook his head yes wildly.

-

"-invited to join Auradon Prep." Red saw Hecate's features sour from besides her mother, who looked shocked for a while.

"We accept!" Even Hecate seemed surprised, and she was never surprised at anything her mother did.

"Wait what?"

"You shall go to Auradon Prep! Now go and pak your bags!"

"Did my mom just grow a heart?" Red frowned as she asked Maddox, who also seemed confused.

"And dress in something respectable! For once try not looking like Hecate..." Red shrugged, that was a compliment in her books.

"Okay so half a heart, i'm gonna go ask Hecate why she looked so sour! Bye!"

"Why did you look so sour?" Red popped up in Hecate's office through the hidden door behind one of the paintings, Hecate staring at where she popped up long after she had jumped down.

"Mh?" She snapped out of her memory of having to catch Bridget from when she tried to come in through there, swallowing the knot in her throat for later.

"Why'd you look so sour?"

"I went to Auradon Prep..."

"HUH?!"

"It wasn't called that yet stupid, sit down somewhere, I'll tell you a story about your mom that not many know, only like... three people are left." Red quickly plopped down onto the comfortable chair she had Hecate place close to her desk in a corner.

"Tell!"

"Okay, so, it used to be called Merlin's academy, because, of course, Merlin was the big man there." Red nodded, urging her to continue.

"And my dad was a douchebag, so he said I could 't join Bridget there unless I defeated an entire army, which I did by the way! And then when I finally got there Bridget didn't recognise me. Blah blah blah, almost a year later, family day, her parents show up-."

"Mom had parents? She didn't just... spawn?"

"Shut up kid. -and they revealed that I was her childhood best friend, she was all shocked like what?? Oh my good gracious heavens how did I not recognise you?!"

"She cussed like that?"

"It's not about that?!" Red sighed and rolled her eyes.

"The end, not happily ever after because we eventually broke up after like... 7 years." She let that information sink in.

"You guys were in a relationship until I was like...5?"

"I think it's more 6? Who cares, we're both shit at math, which is why you need to find yourself a girl who's good at counting stuff because we're both fucking bad at it, and I already found a girl like that but it didn't work out for me but it will for you!" the princess rolled her eyes, leaning back in the chair.

"You wanna help pack?"

"Hell yeah!"

-

"Don't forget to brush your teeth every morning and evening, and then don't forget to do your skincare, you never know when you might end up in a picture that they might post, having pimples when that happens is so fucking annoying." Red slapped Hecate's hands away, who was fussing over her even though she was supposed to put her luggage into her dorm.

"Hecate?" A blue haired woman was looking at them, and Hecate grinned at her, the girl standing next to the blue haired woman staring wide eyed at the woman.

"Ella! I'm not really allowed to talk to you... is this Chloe? She's way prettier in person! Where'd she get all that from?" Red awkwardly stood next to her, trying to leave but instead being kept there by Hecate, who gave her a shove into the direction of Chloe, who was freaking out about the fact that thee Hecate Spades was standing in front of her.

"Well obviously from me."

"Mh... not sure, i'm way prettier."

"Hecate... we're adults now, we're better than this."

"You might be, i'm still not over the fact that you threw that rock at my forehead, I think I even have a scar! Look!" She held up her hair and leaned her forehead closer, Ella laughed and slapped her arm.

"Oh my god! You normally would've punched me... has royalty pressure changed you?" Ella looked away from her.

"It did? That's not good-...."

Red zoned back in on the girl now holding her hands.

"Hi!i'm Chloe? You must be Red! My new roomie!" Red witheld a grimace, instead slowly nodding.

"Yeah... sure."

-

"Bridget, don't." Hecate spoke up before the queen could say what she wanted to, but she only gave her a glare and stood up to pronounce war onto Auradon, throwing her cards up.

Hecate sighed as she stood up, holding out her hand for Red, who slowly shook her head as she looked up at the woman who had essentially raised her.

"I don't want to die, please don't let me die." She heard Hecate whisper into the breeze, empowered only by hope and her own strength that it might reach someone's ears.

"I don't want to kill, I'm not good for anything else, please don't do this." It was really Hecate, Red watched as her mouth moved, only whispers coming out that she could only half hear.

"Please don't make me use her."

-

"Sweetheart!" Bridget smiled as Hecate walked into the courtyard, Red's eyes widening as she saw the stray blood splatters on the bottom of her trousers.

That certainly explained why they're red now  -it didn't, but maybe???-

"Princess!" Hecate grinned, rushing towards Bridget and picking her up to spin her around, pecking her lips several times.

"Hey! Big lady! Let the princess down!" Ella kicked Hecate's shins, the girl glaring down at her as she held Bridget close.

"Shut up Ella. I got you this!" She smiled as she fished a small bag out of her pocket, presenting it tk Bridget like it was priceless, carefully setting her down.

"Is this?" Bridget gasped, eyes wide.

"I saw one of them on my way back from fishing for those fish you wanted, I got a few of its teeth and grinded it to the powder for you! Also I put an anti stink spell on the fish... why do you need them though?" Bridget smiled, placing a finger to her lips.

"Secret!"

"Awwwww!" Ella kicked her again. "Hey little ant girl! Stop that!"

"Sunfish!"

"Dwarf!"

As the two continued exchanging insults, Red and Chloe glanced at each other.

What the fuck.

-

Well, they stopped the prank, ish? And headed back, but they ended up still not back, instead they were in a very specific room in the Hearts castle, the Queen's, it seemed like they weren't there in person, more like their conscious was.

"Bridget? Where are you?" Hecate called out into the room as she walked in, walking through the two girls.

"I'm here, no need to be sk worried." Bridget giggled, looked at Hecate from the bathroom doorpost.

"Are we interrupting something?"

"Shhhhh."

"Why sre your eyes red? What happened? Do I need to-?"

"Kill someone?" Bridget finished with a frown, looking down at the floor.

Hecate kneeled down in front of her to be in her line of sight, holding her knees and placing her chin on her stomach.

"what's wrong?" A tear fell onto her forehead, Hecate didn't stop looking up at the no-darker pink haired woman, who's hands were shaking as they gripped onto her light pink sleeping gown.

"Why do you always kill everything?"

Red's eyes widened, the Hecate she knew had begged her not to have her kill, not to die, not to use her most prideful weapon, this was a whole other Hecate.

"I'd burn the world down for you, my queen." Chloe Awwed, Red hit her for it.

"I don't want you to burn the world for me, I want you to be here with me and watch the world flourish, not burn, I don't want to hurt the world anymore than I have to." Hecate kept silent, she knew what this meant.

"I won't kill for you anymore, I can swear on my life-."

"Don't do that, you'll just kill yourself, that's not what I want, I don't want the world to burn, but all you do is set it ablaze further. I don't want that." Hecate's eyes began to water, leaning back a bit so the can look down and lean with her head against her.

"Just say it."

"What're they talking about?" Chloe whispered to Chloe, who had walked closer to hear their hushed conversation, as if the whole world was in this room, as if their whole paradise was about to crumble within these walls, nowhere further.

"Shut up Chloe."

"I don't think this engagement is a good idea.... We're not right for each other." Hecate's tears finally hit the hardwood floors, Bridget slowly combing her fingers through her hair.

"Don't do this, don't do this to me." The queen's tears fell onto Hecate's hair, slowly rolling off or sticking in between the ruffled strands.

"I have to, I can't let everything burn for us, it's not who I am."

"And I respect that! I don't need to set it all ablaze for you! I can just.... Not do that! I'll watch everything grow with you! I'll watch Red grow up and be just like you! Please don't-." She stopped talking abruptly, slumping down and sitting on her knees completely slouched.

"We'll watch her grow up, just not together."

Red hadn't noticed her own tears until Chloe was stood next to her, gently holding her hand and leaning against her.

"It's allright, you can cry about it." Red let a soft sob escape her lips, hiding her face in Chloe's shoulder and crying as Hecate slowly stood up and exited, leaving Bridget, who fell on top of her bed and sobbed into the pillows.

-

"Red! My daughter!" Bridget held open her arms for her daughter, who hesitated a bit before accepting the hug.

"Where's Hecate?" She felt her mother tense a bit under her, but she didn't see it otherwise, and she was greeted by a warm hand on her back.

"Wassup kid, i'm happy you're going to attend almost the same school as us! We had such a good time here..." Red glanced at Chloe, who was next to her, both in silent understanding that yes, that was a really sad tone.

"You'll find friends in no time!" Bridget smiled brightly, hugging her again.

"The castle will feel incredibly empty without my little felon."

"Well maybe it will be easier to clean up without you influencing her every move." Hecate jokingly crossed her arms, turning away from them slightly.

"Stop it you crybaby!" Red grinned out, grabbing Hecate and pulling her into the hug, cautiously eyeing her as she stared at her mother with soft, lovesick eyes.

"How about I show you guys where your pictures are, they still have them, you know." Ella nudged Hecate, who dragged both Chloe and Red with, Bridget trying to stop them.

"Come on princess!" Bridget stuttered in her step, eyes widening as she nearly got sucked into a memory of the three of them running around, her usually after the two others, who were wrecking havoc, and always with the same two sentences being thrown at her by Hecate and Ella.

"Yeah! Let's go!" Ella grabbed Bridget's wrist and dragged her with, leading the group towards the wall filled with pictures.

"Oh! Castlecoming! You two were announced cutest couple!" Ella excitedly pointed out, her finger pointing towards the two, wrpaped up in a loving embrace, Bridget in a beautiful light pink ballgown, and Hecate in a matching white suit, with a light pink blouse.

"Always matcht the lady." Hecate shrugged it outt with a proud grin, "also helps if the lady doesn't give me dead rats."

"You know, i'm thinking about kicking your shins again, i'm wearing pointy heels!"

Bridget watched as her family ran around again, and even though she had never wanted to see the world burn, she'd have loved to watch this flourish with Hecate by her side.