#when it is cold I want to be buried under a pile of knitting

[thecozycuttlefish]

I've been spinning a lot, even though it's winter.

[ophelia-writes-fics]

hold me close and hold me fast [alec hardy x reader]

It's winter in Broadchurch, and you've noticed a habit of Alec's.

Tags: GN!reader, fluff, romantic fluff, established relationship

Word Count: ~900

TWs/CWs: none, this is pure self-indulgent fluff :)

It was another frigid Broadchurch winter. The entire town had been covered in a blanket of snow and ice that was six inches thick and refusing to let up anytime soon. But despite the endless bad weather, life didn’t stop, so every morning you went to work as usual, and Alec went to the police station. He worked long, exhausting hours, and he was usually either gone before you woke up or out until after you went to bed.

You always knew exactly when he came home on late nights, though. Because if Alec was one thing, it was a goddamn stubborn bastard, and he was a stubborn bastard who refused to wear gloves, a scarf, or a hat in the winter. 

No matter how much you pestered him about it, no matter how you insisted he’d get cold, he would swear up and down that a coat was enough and he “didn’t need all that stuff”. And yet, every single night that winter, he’d come home, change into pajamas, climb into bed with you, and put his freezing cold hands under your shirt to warm them up. 

It would have annoyed the hell out of you, but when you finally confronted him about it, he looked so taken aback that you realized he’d had no idea he was doing it. Still, he’d apologized, and from then on, every time he came in late, he’d be absolutely sure that his hands were kept outside of your clothes. 

That is, while he was awake. 

After another few nights of being woken up by freezing hands clutching your chest, you quickly came to a conclusion: whether he wanted to or not, Alec would subconsciously seek out your body heat to warm himself up the moment he drifted off to sleep. 

As the weather got colder and colder, you woke up dozens of times to Alec holding you close like you were a teddy bear - every limb wrapped around you, ice-cold hands under your shirt, his face buried in the crook of your neck. It didn’t even bother you anymore. It was adorable, honestly. You knew he’d get all prickly and deny it if you told him, but he really was such a sweetheart, even in his sleep. The peaceful look on his face as he cuddled you made your heart melt every damn time, and no amount of cold hands could compare to how much you loved seeing him happy. 

Still, you really wished he would wear some damn gloves once in a while; if not for you, then to avoid getting frostbite when it was below zero outside. So, that winter, you decided to take matters into your own hands. 

You took your knitting bag everywhere you went, working on your projects whenever you had downtime, making sure Alec never saw what you were working on. Within a couple of weeks, you had a hat, a thick scarf, and a pair of mittens all completed, so you decided on a plan: on your day off, you’d wait until Alec left for work, then wrap the gift and meet him down at the police station to surprise him. And that was exactly what you did. 

---

“Darlin’, what’s goin’ on? What’re you doing here?” A worried look crossed Alec’s face as he met you at the door. 

“No, everything’s all right! Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” you reassured him, giving his hand a comforting squeeze. “I brought you a gift and figured I’d surprise you, that’s all!” 

You handed him the small parcel and watched with anticipation as he opened it, revealing the multicolored pile of warm winter clothes. 

He was quiet for a moment. 

“Do you like them?” you asked, a bit nervously. 

He looked up at you, a shocked smile on his face. “Did you make all this?” 

You nodded, and before you knew it, Alec was at your side, embracing you so tightly your feet left the ground for a moment. 

“They’re beautiful, love,” Alec murmured, still smiling as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. 

Your heart fluttered with pride. 

---

The next morning, you were at the breakfast table when Alec was leaving for work. Something was different this morning, however. 

“Hmm, someone seems to be dressed rather warmly today,” you teased gently. “Whatever happened to ‘Oh, I just need a coat, darling, I’ll be fine without a hat or a scarf or gloves’?”

He gave you a playful glance of warning, then smiled. “Well, someone put a lot of effort into making sure I’ll be warm, and it’d be a shame to let all that beautiful work go to waste, hmm?” He leaned in and caressed your cheek as he kissed you goodbye, whispered a quick ‘I love you’, then he was gone. 

---

As the winter wore on, it was much the same as all the winters before it, except two things had changed. 

One, Alec never left the house without the winter clothes you’d made him. He treasured them, and you could always tell - he handled them with so much care, folding them gently every night when he got home and running a loving hand over them every now and then when he thought you wouldn’t notice. 

And two, Alec never came home with freezing cold hands again. 

And you were absolutely delighted to find out that even when he kept warm during the day, he still held you close in his sleep, every single night.

A/N: thank you for reading! i know this is a shorter one and it's a bit silly. honestly, i really just wanted to give alec some love, he's such a sweetheart and the poor thing needs a break lmao. i'll be back soon with some smut! as always, feel free to like/rb/comment/whatever else, and my requests are always open! :)

🍓 this fic's title is from the english version of 'la vie en rose' 🍓

[puppyypaws]

ghost!

cg! clockwork / feminine! regressor! reader

AN: this is for ageretober day 3! i’m doing it out of order i suppose :B also, clockwork does live in slendermansion, but she’s not necessarily a proxy because she hates slenderman. i dunno, don’t think too much about it lol! i hope you enjoy reading! sfw interactions only please!

CW: a tad angsty, but it’s more hurt/comfort! use of the f word. unfortunately, i don’t know how well the creeps would be able to control their cursing lol

pitch black darkness filled your room, only a sliver of moonlight peeking through your large window. clutching your comforter, you had tossed and turned all night, unable to sleep.

it was silly. you lived in a mansion full of less-than-friendly-looking people and you were scared of this.

earlier that night you had stood in the kitchen, making some tea before bed. you were feeling perfectly fine and perfectly big. that was until you heard a large thump come from the laundry room.

fear instantly feared your veins. usually you wouldn’t be so scared, just chalking it up to someone in the mansion being loud. however, you knew for a fact everyone was in their rooms. you were the only one down here.

fearing it may be an intruder, you grabbed the closest thing you could find to defend yourself with, your teacup. creeping into the laundry room with trepidation, you swung open the door.

no one was in there.

the shelf which held various laundry detergents was now on the ground, somehow broken off from the wall. you looked around and absolutely no one was in here.

it had to have been a ghost!

your fear instantly made your mind go fuzzy, sending you deep into your headspace. you bolted to your room, slamming the door shut and burying yourself under the covers. the ghost couldn’t see you if you couldn’t see it.

for the whole night, you couldn’t sleep. you desperately wanted your mama, knowing she would protect you from anything. however, her room was across the hall. the ghost could easily snatch you up in a second.

you whimpered, fat tears rolling down your face. you know you had to be brave. nats room was just a few seconds away, and if you brought your stuffie with you, they would protect you.

screwing your eyes shut and taking a deep breath, you threw the covers off. cold air instantly met your skin, causing chill bumps to litter your legs. the grating sound of squeaky hinges made you flinch. you clutched onto your stuffie. you were fine. you could be brave.

as soon as you opened your door, nats room came into view. it was just across the hall, but it felt like it was miles away.

you made a run for it, little feet pitter pattering across the creaky wood. when you finally reached her door, your gently pushed it open. nat left her door unlocked at night in case you needed anything. you felt a little bad about disturbing her sleep but this was an emergency!

one you safely made it into her room, shutting the door behind you, you let out a breath you had no idea you were holding. you were safe now.

nats room was slightly messy, but it brought a warm comfort to you. her desk was filled with pens and colorful pencils. sketchbooks sat piled atop it, and drawings you had made her were pinned on the wall.

clothes littered her floor, even though she was very strict about your room staying clean. in the middle of the room was her bed. sheets and blankets alike were messily strewn across the mattress, and you could faintly make out a natalie shaped lump in the middle of it.

nat was a light sleeper. almost everyone in the mansion was. you tiptoed closer to her sleeping form.

“mama?” you shakily called, poking her arm ever so gently.

natalie shifted a little before opening her eyes groggily. you could tell she was a little disoriented, and then her eyes turned to you. bushy brows knitted together with concern at your weary demeanor. it wasn’t often you woke her up in the middle of the night.

“ma minouchette?” she asked, raspy voice sounded confused. “what’s wrong? are you okay?”

the sound of your mamas warm, comforting voice immediately made the floodgates burst open. you had been so scared all night, and you were so small. you hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep because of the supposed ghost. too many big emotions swirled in your belly, and it was too much for you.

“m scared mama,” you weakly sobbed, moving to climb into her bed. you quickly settled in her strong arms, finding your molded place on her lap.

“angel, what happened? did someone hurt you?” she asked with a dangerous tone lacing through her words.

“t-the ghost did!”

“what?” natalie asked in amusement, running her fingers through your hair.

you explained to her the story of the supposed ghost. how you were in the kitchen when you heard a loud sound come from the laundry room, but when you went to investigate nothing was there. you told her it immediately caused you to be small, and that you were so scared of the ghost you ran straight to your room.

by the time you finished explaining, natalie was biting her lip in order to hold back a smile. she didn’t want to laugh at you and embarrass you. however, sometimes you were just too cute.

“my silly girl, there’s no ghost.”

you looked up to her with wide eyes, conviction written across your face.

“mama, no one was there! the ghost made the loud sound,” you nestled deeper into her chest as you explained.

natalie hummed, pulling you closer. “it was probably one of the boys. most likely ran after they fucked up. it’s okay, angel.”

you whined, wanting to believe her but convinced it was a ghost.

“and even if it was a ghost,” she continued. “you have nothing to worry about, mon amour. you know mama will always keep you safe.”

you nodded your head, letting the wave of comfort wash over you. here, you felt safe in your mamas arms, and you knew she would let absolutely nothing get to you.

“have you slept at all tonight?” she asked gently, to which you shook your head in response.

she cooed, gently laying the both of you down. you remained cuddled up next to her. her scarred arms rubbing your back in comforting circles.

you felt your eyes grow heavy. the tic, tic, tic of her eye gently lulling you to sleep. now, you had completely forgotten about the ghost and the fear that came with it. you knew you were safe.

chapped lips were pressed against your forehead in a tender kiss. “goodnight, mon bébé.”

-

-

the next morning during breakfast, ben and natalie both walked in together. the blonde sporting a black eye, and natalie looking at him with a smug look.

later on that day, ben holed up in the laundry room to begrudgingly fix the shelf he broke. he silently cursed clockwork for ratting him out.

translation from french:

ma minouchette - my little girl

mon amour - my love

mon bèbè - my baby

@cupidspup i hope it’s okay to tag you! i know you said you wanted to be tagged if i wrote anything else :B

[icybluepenguin]

A Cozy Evening

Summary: A snowstorm is building up outside and you hunker down with Astarion, a fire, some cider, and your knitting. For the #BG3HolidayFluffle23 prompt "cozy"

Pairing: Astarion/GN!Tav(reader)

Tags: post-game, knitting, coziness, short utter domestic FLUFF

--

The snow was coming down fast enough to make it hard to see, thick clouds blocking the sun and making everything look flat and dim. 

You hurried down the last few streets, wishing you could wipe the snow from your face but not willing to put down your armful of baskets. 

“Oh my gosh!” you exhaled as you tumbled through your front door, muffled by your scarf.  “Boo was right about this storm!”  You put your baskets and packages on the dining table and stripped off your mittens and unwound your scarf and peeled off your powder-dusted cloak.  “Astarion?” 

That was odd, he usually welcomed you home with a light complaint about taking too long or a whine about the cat not loving him as much as you or some other ridiculousness.  He couldn't have gone out.  The sun was still up, although between the thick clouds and the heavy snow, it was hard to tell. 

You kicked off your boots, wiggling your very cold toes.  The shopping could wait to be put away, you wanted to get warm first. 

You had left Astarion sitting in his armchair by the fireplace with a book.  When you walked closer, you saw his book on the arm of the chair, but Astarion was nowhere to be seen.  And on the fur in front of the fire was a pile of blankets. 

“Astarion?” you asked in disbelief, poking the pile with your toe.  You could just see the tip of Astarion's ear as he lay facedown on the fur. 

“‘S warm,” he mumbled.  “Fell asleep.”

“Can't blame you there.”  The house was much colder than normal and Astarion loved being warm, even if this seemed a little extreme.  He must have had at least three blankets piled on him.   “Make space for me?”

With a groan, he rolled onto his side and moved the blankets so that you could sit down in front of him.  He started to curl around you, then hissed.  “You're cold.”

“Give me a minute, I just got home.  I was half snow monster by the time I got to the door.”  You'd gone out a few hours ago to get some last minute supplies for the storm, in case you were stuck inside for days.  Food and treats for you, healing potions and scrolls so Astarion could drink from you without worry, and a few new books, among other things. 

“Did Gorukk have anything good today?”  Astarion's voice was slow & deep with sleep. 

“Mm-hm.”  You wanted to stroke the tip of his ear, slightly flushed from the heat, but your fingers were still chilled.  “A history and two romances that looked decent.  I also got a guide to Zakhara, if we want to pretend we're somewhere warm.”

“I am somewhere warm.”

“You can't stay on the floor forever.”

“Watch me.”  He rolled back over onto his stomach with a small huff. 

You slowly got to your feet, but one of Astarion's hands snuck out to grab your ankle. 

“I'm just going to get some cider.  If we’re going to stay on the floor, I want to be cozy too.”  You extracted your foot from long pale fingers which then disappeared back into the mass of blankets.  Smiling, you gathered your baskets from the table and headed to the kitchen.  

As you put away the groceries, you found one of your other purchases tucked under them.  You stuck the package under your arm, then ladled out two steaming mugs of the cider you've had mulling on the stove all day. 

You set one mug down near Astarion's buried head and put the other in front of your spot, sitting cross-legged by his stomach.  With a sip of cider warming your throat, you tear off the paper wrapping of your purchase, revealing a big soft ball of yarn and a set of needles. 

It had been a while since you had knit anything, but you had seen the yarn and knew it was the perfect thing to do in a snowstorm.  You had fond memories of your father teaching you how to knit as you spent the days on his fishing boat, waiting for a catch. 

“What's that?” Astarion's head poked out of his burrow, no doubt attracted by the sound of the paper and hoping it was a surprise for him. 

“Just some yarn I picked up.”  You wove the yarn through your fingers and looped it over the needles in a quick, practiced motion.  You wondered if your hands would ever forget how to do this, it was as natural as breathing.  “I'm going to knit some warmer socks.”

Astarion watched with fascination.  The way your fingers darted to and fro, the smooth rhythm of it- it was a bit hypnotic. 

“I didn't know you could do that.”

“Hush, I’m counting.”  Satisfied you had cast on a decent number of stitches, you paused for some cider.  “Do you want to learn?”

“I… Yes.”  He sat up, pushing blankets out of the way. 

You held up your project.  “Hold the needles and the yarn like this,” you demonstrated, “Then, take this needle and slide it into the stitch over here.  Wrap the yarn around… pull it through and off.”

You handed him the needles, putting your hands on top of his to find the right grip.  “Good.  Now slip the needle in… Wrap around… Oh, you're good at this.” 

“You've seen me unlock chests harder than this, darling.”

“I've seen you blow them up too, so let's not get carried away,” you teased.  “I haven't taught you how to purl yet.”  

You were unsurprised when his fumbling beginner movements became sure and smooth within a few stitches.  The things this man could do with his hands…

His grip loosened on the needles as he became more comfortable, the yarn flowing smoothly from the ball to his dexterous fingers.  You smiled, cradling your mug in your hands.  You could watch him all night. 

“And this will become a sock?” 

“After a lot of knitting, yes.  And then you have to make the second one.”  You grimace dramatically.  “We used to carry our knitting everywhere, on the boats, in the pastures, walking to town.  Any moment your hands weren't busy was a chance to be knitting.”

“Perhaps a habit to get back into.  These needles could do considerable damage to someone's eye.”

You shook your head fondly.  “A friend of mine stabbed someone in the thigh with one.  It was horrific, it went in more than an inch.  I've used one to jimmy a lock more than once.”

His eyes lit up at that.  You looked up at the heavy snow swirling past your window, a small frown developing on your face.

“What are you thinking about?” Astarion asked.

You heaved a long sigh.  “I should have gotten more yarn.”

-

Master Post

[outpost51]

Tiny Scene Sunday

Dredge has consumed me im not sorry for the amount of nautical shit coming up

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

Lady of the Lighthouse

Cold hands, warm heart.

My wife never knitted clothes for herself.

She painted intricate patterns with wool and formed them to my shape, and then she’d steal back her gifts after I’d worn them a few times. It was like a hug from me, she said, when I had to leave our bed in the darkness of early morning, before the sun had even shucked off its velvet covers and risen for the day. As long as she stayed safe and warm indoors, I told her, she could steal the boots right off my feet if she wanted. She was a sight, she was, but when she scrunched up her freckle-dusted nose with her smile? Captains would sink their whole fleets for a glimpse.

The things that danced in my lantern-light, feasting on whatever poor souls had missed the lighthouse and ended their journeys dashed against the rocks, weren’t ever meant for her to see. They’d take one look at her big brown eyes, wide with the innocent wonder of a fresh doe, and no amount of light would keep them from climbing right up the salt-worn stone to steal her from me. I never imagined I’d see such horrors rising from the frigid depths of the dark water, and I never wished such a thing on her either.

Someone had to keep watch in the lighthouse, though, and someone had to put more wool in her spindle, and not a goddamn soul on this earth would have convinced her to stay cooped up in that drafty house alone for months on end. She wasn’t a treasure to bury in a box beneath the sand, anyway; she could’ve lit the sea by herself if she wanted.

“Do you think they’re cold?”

Her voice nearly startled me over the railing. She settled my heart with a soft laugh so quiet it was nearly swept away by the water below. “Go inside, love, you don’t need—”

She cut me off with a huff, planting her hands firmly on her hips. A sudden gust whipped her nightgown around her ankles — she really had stolen a pair of my boots, mischievous thing. “I’ll be the judge of what I need, thank you.” Glancing back over the railing, she carried on: “They must be freezing in that water.”

“Who?” I asked, hoping she meant the sailors staining the rocks a deep crimson.

She didn’t answer, instead giving me a look that confirmed I’d been dead wrong. Dread soured my stomach. My wife kissed the salt from my cheeks and went back inside without another word.

A week later, something heavy fluttered over the railing, and I thought for one heart wrenching moment she’d gone mad. Gone over. I couldn’t bear to check.

“I hope it fits,” she whispered behind me, giddy and proud.

Sure enough, when I looked over the rail, the terrible things, previously lounging in the crags between the rocks while they waited for their next meal, were investigating the four-armed garment my wife had tossed over. The one I’d pegged as their leader — it was dappled with patches of bone-white, where the rest were dark, solid colors — figured it out first, slipping the sweater over its head and turning around and around for its comrades to see.

“Do you think they like it?”

I couldn’t live with myself if I put out that light in her eyes. “Seems so,” I replied. When I turned back to the things after watching her head back inside, the leader was staring up at me.

I kept an old pistol in the bedside drawer, just in case. It went under my pillow that night.

Just in case.

Wet thumping woke us a few hours from dawn. At first, I didn’t know what it could be — the room was as dark as always.

Then I saw their eyes shining back at me. Seven of them, smelling of low tide and so much bigger up close, were gathered at the end of our bed with dark, dripping bundles in their arms. All at once, they dropped their cargo, and all at once, they melted back into the night. We were alone when my wife lit the lamp.

Piles of sopping plants carpeted the floor.

“Oh,” she murmured. “I suppose wool wouldn’t be the best material in the water, would it?”

My wife never knitted clothes for herself.

She spun yarn from sea grass and made garments for the things that lived in the fathoms below.

[earlgreydream]

cozy.

| draco x reader x theo | smut | fluff |

anon requested. Draco x reader x Theo smut

The fire in the hearth crackled nearby, offering warmth in the common room made of marble and glass. You knelt on a satin pillow, curled up between the legs of your lover. Your head rested against the inside of Draco’s thigh, your back against the chair he was perched in. You felt safe at his feet, leaning into the touch of his hand in your hair.

Your friends were all piled on the couches and on the floor around the coffee table, all fighting for a seat near the warm fire. You were wrapped in one of Theo’s knitted quidditch sweaters, his body above yours, draped over the arm of Draco’s chair.

You let your mind wander, tuning out of the conversation about where everyone was spending Christmas. You were almost asleep, lulled into drowsiness by Draco’s fingers carding through your hair.

“Y/N, love. Pansy asked you a question,” Draco hummed, his fingers brushing over your cheek.

“Hm?” You hummed, struggling to open your eyes.

“I asked if you were still awake,” she teased, and you yawned, hoping you could continue leaning on Draco without being disturbed.

“Let’s go to bed, sweetheart,” Theo’s voice broke through your sleepy haze, and you held your arms out, too tired to really open your eyes or stand up. Draco laughed gently, and Theo bent down to pick you up.

“Draco?” You mumbled, your arms draping over Theo’s back.

“I’m going to stay down here a bit longer. I’ll be up later,” Draco kissed the back of your hand before letting Theo carry you to the dorms.

“I want to go to your bed.”

“My bed?” he teased, kissing your cheeks. You nodded, resting your head on his shoulder.

He carried you to Draco’s prefect dorm, the large, private room where the three of you often slept. 

Theo gently set you down on the edge of the bed, stepping into the ensuite and returning with a washcloth. You scrunched your face as he cleaned your makeup off gently, holding your jaw in his hand. You relaxed, letting him wash your makeup off, appreciating that he was doing it for you. 

Theo loved to dote on you. He was gentle and sweet, and enjoyed caring for you and showering you with attention. It extended to Draco, too, who basked in the brunette’s affections. 

You slipped off your jeans and crawled under the covers as soon as Theo was finished with your face. He smiled at you when he returned, amused by how cuddly you got when you were tired.

“I want Draco,” you murmured, reaching out to his side of the empty bed.

“What am I to you, then?”

“I already have you here with me,” you pulled him into a kiss, feeling him smile against your lips. 

Theo changed into joggers before sliding in bed with you. You moved to lay on top of him, wrapping your body around his. His hands moved to rest on your backside, gently brushing his thumbs over your skin. 

Theo felt your breathing deepen as you fell asleep, curling up tighter into him. He kissed your head, listening to your soft sighs as you exhaled. 

You were warm, like a little heater curled up on his chest. You snuggled deeper into the sweater as you slept, seeming to bury into the coziness. He pulled the duvet up higher over your back, and you relaxed, your fingers resting on his chest.

Theo looked up when the door opened later, Draco slipping inside. He smiled at the two of you, his two favorite people. Draco walked over, setting his hand on Theo’s shoulder and kissing him firmly.

“I love you,” Theo whispered, and Draco nodded, saying it back. 

He brushed hair from your face, leaning down and kissing your temple. He sat beside the two of you for a while, murmuring softly with Theo about plans for the weekend before finally getting ready for bed. 

They were careful not to disturb you, and Draco slid under the duvet, settling against Theo’s side. Theo removed an arm from you to wrap around Draco, playing with his silvery hair until they fell asleep.

You woke up between the boys, all three of you half-asleep. You stirred and realized both of your boyfriends were hard.

“Hey, hey,” Theo murmured, grabbing your hip as you ground back against him. 

You rolled over and wrapped your arm around his neck, dragging the boy into a heavy kiss. Your fingers trailed over his defined abs, below his waistband. He moaned into your mouth, weakly bucking his hips into your hand as you stroked him. He was heavy in your fingers, his skin soft like velvet. The feeling was making arousal soak through your panties, smearing on the inside of your thighs.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Theo moaned before pushing his tongue into your mouth, deepening your kiss. 

“Watching you two go at it is making me horny,” Draco murmured against your neck. He pushed his sweats down and began to grind against your ass, making you gasp. He hooked his fingers in the lace that barely covered you, pulling it aside. 

“Keep touching Theo, baby,” Draco encouraged, pulling your leg over his to give him better access before he carefully pushed the tip inside of you. You stuttered for a moment before sliding your thumb over Theo’s tip, making him whine. Draco decided to tease you, a hint of sadism breaking through your early-morning softness. His thrusts were shallow at first, just barely entering you, edging your entrance.

“Draco, please fuck me,” you cried, trying to squirm back to take more of him in.

“I am, baby,” he feigned innocence, amusement sparkling in his starry eyes.

“N-no, you’re teasing me. Please, I want all of you!”

Draco gave you what you wanted all at once, his entire body connecting with yours. You arched your back off of Draco’s chest, ecstasy consuming you as the ridges of his cock dragged against your walls. Draco’s hips thrusted forward, burying himself as deep as possible inside of you. Your head dropped back on his shoulder, your vision blurring as his fingers rubbed circles on your clit. 

“Come for me, Theo,” you begged sweetly, feeling him twitch in your hand. 

His hand went to the back of your head, dragging you into another kiss as he came. His hips stuttered as he released in your hand, making a mess of his joggers.

“You’re taking Draco’s cock so well, sweetheart. You look so pretty getting fucked like this in my sweater,” Theo praised you, laying his hand on the space between your hips.

“He’s so big, I can feel him in your belly, stretching you out. I bet you’re so tight, squeezing the life out of him,” Theo’s words made Draco fuck you harder, chasing the relief he craved.

Theo kissed you, his hands slipping under your sweater to gently fondle your tits. He lazily rocked into your hand, still-half hard from the erotic sight of you being railed by Draco.

“I’m so close, fucking hell,” Draco swore, pulling your hips back to meet his as he wrapped his body around yours. The pressure building up inside of him exploded, and soon he was filling your pussy with hot white ribbons, buried all the way inside of you. You cried out against Theo’s lips at the sensation, overwhelmed from feeling so full.

Draco’s torture on your clit didn’t cease, and soon you were tumbling over the edge, throbbing tightly around Draco as you came with a shudder. Your orgasm washed through you in waves, drawing out your euphoria until you were shaking.

You winced as Draco pulled out of you, moving your panties back in place, keeping your releases inside of you. Some of it seeped through the lace, making you feel even more lewd. Draco swore at the sight, gathering it on his fingers before tasting you, making your cheeks burn. You hid your face in Theo, who lovingly stroked your hair.

Peacefulness settled back over the room, and your mind and body softened, leftover endorphins simmering and making you relaxed.

Both boys admired you, whispering soft praises about how lovely you were and how amazing you treated them. They adored you, showering you with affection and making sure you knew how terribly loved you were.

The boys let you rest for a few moments, catching your breath and letting the high wear off. You felt a bit dazed as you opened your eyes, gazing up at the two gorgeous boys on either side of you.

“We gotta shower, sweetheart. We’re all filthy. Your hand is messy and your pussy is spilling all over the place,” Theo kindly teased, cupping you between your legs and making you shudder and lean back into Draco.

“Sensitive, love?” Draco asked, leading you toward the shower.

“A little,” you confessed, your steps unsteady from the force of Draco fucking you. Theo helped you out if your clothes and tossed them aside, opening the glass door.

Steam rose from the shower and you welcomed the hot water as you moved under the stream. It washed away the filth from your body, and you leaned back into Theo’s chest so he could properly cleanse you.

He squeezed vanilla soap into his hands before rubbing and massaging it into your body, the sweet scent wafting around you. You let him turn you so he could wash your back, and Draco kissed your shoulder. You faded from reality as they washed themselves, your mind wandering to your warm bed that you desperately wished to get back to.

It took some convincing to get you to let them wash your hair. You reminded them to be careful of your tangles, and they promised to be gentle.

“Baby, did I hurt you?” Draco’s worried voice broke you out of your dreamy thoughts.

You looked down and saw the bruise on your hip, matching up with his hand. Theo tensed, his fingertips brushing softly over your marked skin. He hated to see you with any sign of injury, wanting to protect you.

“No, not at all,” you promised Draco, giving him a reassuring kiss. The boys exchanged a silent look, and Draco knew he was in for it later, bound to receive a lecture from Theo about being careful with you.

Draco guided your head under the water, rising the soap from your hair before shutting it off. You squeezed the water out of your hair, hesitating to leave the warm shower.

You shivered, goosebumps breaking out over your skin as you stepped into the cold air. Theo noticed, wrapping you in a towel. You giggled as he playfully rubbed you through it, tickling your sides and dragging you against his chest.

“It’s so cold! I want to go back to bed,” you complained, trying to make your way back to the magically cleaned sheets.

“Let’s get breakfast first, then go to Hogsmeade with everyone,” Draco suggested, and you sighed, unable to deny the attractiveness of the idea.

You slipped into fur-lined leggings and a warm sweater, pulling wool socks onto your feet to go inside of your boots.

Two cardamom buns and a cup of coffee later, you were braving the icy temperatures in order to go shopping and get some butterbeer.

You walked between them, holding each of their hands as you popped in and out of shops, chattering excitedly with your friends.

Giggles erupted from you as both boys kissed your cheeks, making you squeal with delight as you entered a pub for some butterbeer. You slid into a booth, closed in between their bodies, deciding there was nowhere else you’d rather be than with them.

.

part 2: cozy (2).

[teyvattwriter]

Christmastime with the Genshin Boys

❧ Genre: fluff with a touch of suggestiveness 

❧ Includes: Kaeya, Childe, Thoma, Itto

❧ Warnings: kinda sad (Kaeya), implications of making out/sex (Childe)

❧ A/N: lets pretend Christmas and Santa exists in Genshin for this post pls and thank u  

~※ Main Masterlist ※~

The night sky was decorated with speckles of white snow falling down onto the streets of Mondstadt. Snowflakes danced around your face landing on your cheeks. You shivered from the cold as the snow melted on your skin. You curled into yourself as you continued to walk trying to keep yourself warm. 

“Y/N?” 

You turned towards the voice, a smile appearing on your lips once you caught sight of who was calling out to you.

“Hi Kaeya!”

“What are you doing out here?” his voice was laced with concern, “It’s freezing out here and you barely have a proper jacket on.”

“I was looking for you.”

You extended a silver wrapped box with a beautiful bow on top towards him. He looked down at the present and then back up at you. 

“What’s this?”

“It’s a gift for you,” you smiled giddily, “Come on! Open it!”

Kaeya hesitantly took the box from your hands. Honestly, he didn’t want to accept it but he couldn’t say no to you; especially with how excited you looked. He ripped the beautifully wrapped paper off of the box and opened it up. Inside was a blue scarf. 

“It’s been so cold lately and your clothes don’t have the most...coverage so I thought you could use something to keep you warm!”

Kaeya stared at the knitted scarf inside the box. He was silent for a while.

“Do you not like it?”

“Ah, no darling. I love it,” he smiled 

He pulled the scarf out of the box and wrapped it around your neck. He adjusted it so you were enveloped in the soft fabric. 

“I think you need it more than me right now.”

You let out a giggle admitting you were, in fact, very cold. His arms wrapped around you in a tight hug, his face burying into the scarf. You accepted his hug, your own arms winding around him. You stood there in each other’s embrace for a while just basking in your body heat. 

“Come on. Let’s get you home,” Kaeya said

As he pulled away, he hoped the darkness shielded you from seeing the small tear stains on his cheeks.  

“Shhh! You need to be quieter!” Childe whispered, “You’ll wake them up!”

You tiptoed quietly into the living room with gifts piled up in your arms. Childe was still placing some under the tree like a game of Tetris. The colorful lights decorating the tree reflected off of the neatly wrapped gifts making them look like they were glowing in the darkness. You knelt down beside Childe and helped him place the gifts. 

“They’re going to be so excited when they see all these gifts,” you commented, “You’re such a sweet older brother.”

Childe didn’t say anything but you could see how his face turned a dark pink even in the dim living room. 

The two of you stood staring at your handy work. The bottom of the tree was overflowing with presents for Childe’s younger siblings and the rest of his family. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you close to him. 

“It looks good,” he nodded, “I’m excited to see how happy they look when they see all these presents.”

“They’re going to be so happy, Ajax.”

He smiled brightly at you and pressed lips to yours. You hummed contently against his lips as you wrapped your arms around his neck pulling him closer to you. You pulled away after a bit, not wanting to start fully making out in the middle of his family’s home. 

“Come on, lets go to bed. We need some sleep.”

You attempted to walk towards the bedroom but were stopped by Childe grabbing your arm and puling you back towards him. His arms wrapped around your frame keeping you stuck in his arms. You let out a small whine as you tried to wriggle out of his grasp but he wasn’t letting you go.

“Seriously! I wanna sleep,” you groaned

“Aww come on sweetheart! Lets have a little fun~” he smirked

“Not in the middle of the living room!”

“Then...in the bedroom?”

You playfully rolled your eyes and agreed letting Childe lead you off into the bedroom. 

“Ok you can’t laugh, promise?”

“I can’t promise you that, Thoma,” you snickered, “Just come out already!”

“Alright fine!”

Thoma stepped into the living room wearing an a bright red suit and a long white beard on his face. You tried to stifle your laughter but couldn’t contain yourself. Thoma just glared at you with a pout on his lips.

“Stop laughing! I know it looks silly but not that silly.”

“I’m sorry but you look ridiculous with that fake beard.”

He tore off the beard and tossed it onto the table in (playful) anger. He crossed his arms with a huff. 

“Aww don’t be upset,” you cooed

You got up and stood in front of him. His arms immediately wrapped around your waist. You cupped his cheeks with your hands making his lips pout. You kissed his puckered lips. 

“I think you’re the cutest Santa I’ve ever seen,” you said sweetly, “And what you’re doing is very kind of you. The kids are gonna love your costume.”

“You mean it?”

“Yes I do.”

“They aren’t going to make fun of me like you were?”

“Hey, I wasn’t making fun of you. I was laughing with you not at you.”

“Well, I wasn’t laughing so you must’ve been laughing with someone else.”

He began to pout again as you let out a hearty laugh. You kissed that pout right off of his lips. He smiled softly at you, his heart filling up with so much love as he stared at you. You gently pinched his cheek as you let go of him and grabbed his hand. 

“Come on Santa. It’s starting to get late and the kids want their presents before it gets dark.”

“Hey hey sunshine!” 

Itto casually walked into your home as if it was his home (to be honest, it basically was his home too with how much he stayed there). You let out a small sigh as you put down your book. He plopped down beside you on the couch slinging an arm around your shoulders.

“Soooo I got ya something!”

“You got me something?”

“Yeah! Did you forget it’s Christmas?”

“No, but it’s not Christmas yet,” you chuckled, “It’s not for another week.”

“Yeah, I know but I just couldn’t wait to give you your gift!”

Itto got up from the couch and quickly went outside. You couldn’t help but laugh at the giant oaf getting so excited at the idea of giving you a gift. He popped back into your home and closed the front door behind him. He did slam the door shut but you can’t really blame him. He’s just too excited. He sat down beside you on the couch again this time with a poorly wrapped box in his hands. 

“Ok, here it is,” he said giddily, “Open it!”

You took the box out of his hands and placed it in your lap. You ripped off the paper and opened the box. You stared at the contents for a few moments before looking up at Itto.

“You got me...a beetle?”

“Not just any beetle! It’s an Onikabuto that I spent all week finding!” he exclaimed, “I even had the whole gang looking for the perfect one!”

“Ok...” you stared down at the little purple beetle, “But why did you get me a beetle?”

“So we can fight them, of course!” he looked down at the box, “We haven’t had much time to spend together recently and I’ve been kinda missing you and I thought it’d be fun to play around a bit.”

Your heart melted at the real reason behind this gift. The poor oni just missed you and needed an excuse to spend extra time with you. Even though it wasn’t the best gift, you couldn’t help but love it. 

“It’s a great gift, Itto,” you smiled, “I love it.”

“I knew you’d like it!” he said gleefully

He picked the little beetle out of the box with one hand and grabbed your hand with the other. 

“Come on, lets go see how well this guy fights!” he laughed, “If you win, I might give you a kiss~”

[siriuslyshewrote]

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐦𝐧 𝐋𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐬 - 𝐉𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐏𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: In which you are sick and James comforts you.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: mentions of sickness, tiny mention of sex.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.1k

Requests are currently open!

Over the past few weeks, autumn had invaded Hogwarts, with golden leaves slowly dropping from their places on the trees, leaving a delightful crunching noise whenever you wandered around the grounds of Hogwarts.

Hogwarts had started to take on the typical cool chill and drafts which ran through the castle and struck when you were walking around the corridors, and it was due to this, you thought, that you had ended up with possibly the worst bout of flu that you had ever had.

You, in truth, were rather resentful that your favourite season - a time for bundling up in knitted jumpers and curling up in front of the fire with a good book - had targeted you in this way. Feeling rather sorry for yourself, and your utter lack of being able to breathe properly through you nose, you had elected to spend the Saturday tucked into bed, under obscene amounts of blankets and quilts, with a rather large stack of tissues building up in the bin besides you.

Your bad mood over your cold was furthered by the fact that, if you squinted slightly out of your dorm window, you could see the Gryffindor versus Slytherin quidditch game that the whole castle had been abuzz with excitement for over the past several weeks. You couldn't stop thinking about James - the boy whom you had been with for months now - who would most definitely be looking for you in the stands, confused why you weren't there embarrassingly cheering for him as per usual. You really had meant to go - and had been halfway out of your lovely, warm, bed, before your legs started to shake underneath you, and Lily had rather forcefully buried you under so many blankets that you could hardly move to sneeze, let alone get out of bed.

You sneezed again, and let out a very self-pitying groan, before your eyes started to flutter, and you fell into a drowsy, sickly, sleep.

You awoke later to the door opening - having always been a light sleeper - what you realised with a start must have been many hours later, as the dorm room was now shrouded with the last, dusky, light of the day. The house elves must have been, too, as several lamps were lit, lighting the room with a comfortably golden glow.

You blinked sleepily, trying to rid yourself of the exhaustion, glancing towards the person stood in the doorway.

A soft smile appeared upon your lips as you saw James - his hair even more haphazard and windswept than usual, his cheeks red from the cold outside - a worried look on his face.

"'M sorry I didn't make it, Jamie." You mumbled from underneath the mountain of blankets, reaching out a hand into the cold air, reaching out for him.

"'T's fine." He murmured in a way that told you that he wasn't angry, crossing the room in only a few short paces with his ridiculously long legs. "Lils told me you were sick."

He was still wearing his slightly muddy Quidditch robes - he must have come straight here. The thought made your heart swell, and your already hot face warm.

His fingers brushed against your forehead, brushing away some of the hair that was plastered to your forehead.

"Did you win?" You gazed up at him, fingers wrapping his own and squeezing.

"Course." That half-arrogant, half-endearing smirk took its rightful place upon his face as he said that.

You tried to cheer, pride swelling in your chest, but it ended up being a rather pitiful half-cough.

"Merlin, Y/N, you're burning."

His fingers touched your forehead again, as if to confirm what he had just said. Instead of the joy that should have been on his face, was worry, his forehead creased.

"'M fine, James." Your voice was slightly muffled as your blew your nose into another tissue. "Just a cold."

His fingers lingered on your face.

"I should get you to Madame Pomfrey."  He spoke, decidedly.

You gave a small grin at that.

"Honestly, James, I'm fine." You spoke quietly. "Why don't you go to the party that I'm sure Sirius is destroying the common room with right now? Celebrate your win."

He shook his head, instead pulling off his robes and leaving them in a pile on your floor, leaving himself in only a t-shirt and his boxers, which, admittedly, was not a bad sight.

"I know I said I'm fine, but that doesn't mean I want to have flu sex-"

You teased the bespectacled boy, and he let out a slight huff as he rolled his eyes good-naturedly.

"Just want to hold you." He spoke in a gravely, tired voice, and it was only then that you realised that he was probably exhausted, too. He always was after quidditch.

You shifted along to the edge of the bed, making as much room as you could in the tiny Hogwarts twin bed, and felt the slight draft of freezing air as he climbed in next to you. The first few seconds were an awkward mess of trying to coordinate limbs, but, finally, he was curled around you, arms wrapped tightly around your waist. You sighed, nuzzling into his chest, your freezing body warming slightly with his radiator-like heat.

"You're gonna get sick too, you know." You mumbled into the thin fabric of his shirt, breathing in the smell that was utterly him - expensive cologne, pine, and the slight musk of sweat.

Somehow, even being near James made you feel a little better.

"Doesn't matter." He murmured back, resting his chin on the top of your head, tracing patterns with his fingers up and down your back.

You were almost dozing back into a more comfortable sleep, when your eyes flickered back open again.

"Wait-" You blinked owlishly up at him. "How'd you get past the stairs?"

The girls stairs at Hogwarts were notorious for turning into a slide every time someone of the opposite gender tried to climb up them - which all of the Marauders, and most distinctly, Sirius, had proved multiple times over the years.

He let out a gravely laugh at that, the mischief that had been missing creeping back into his voice.

"Prongs helped."

You bit your lip to prevent you laughing and hurting your cold-infested chest.

"You know," You muttered, with a small smile, "People are really going to start talking if they keep seeing a deer try and make it's way up the stairs."

He snorted.

"It wasn't graceful, I'll admit. Hooves don't work as well on stairs."

You let out a giggle, and once more drifted off to sleep, and this time, your dreams were permeated with the image of a fully grown deer trying to climb some very steep stairs.

Sure enough, the next morning, James woke you up with a very loud sneeze.

[onlyonekenobi]

prompt: cas likes to be barefoot but his feet are coLD

Cas had decided to view this as a lesson in temperament.

He had always loved being barefoot; it was probably his favorite thing about taking a human vessel. Being able to feel rough stone, soft dirt, cool grass beneath his feet… it always made him feel so connected to the earth. It made him feel alive.

So, when he had become human, he decided his first order of business would be to relearn the world through his feet. The absence of his grace was still palpable and raw, but it was almost worth it for how electric everything felt through humanity. And when Dean had realized what Cas was doing, he had dropped everything and driven all night to take him to Salt Lake, muttering wildly about how “angels don’t feel temperature.” Cas had insisted that it could wait— that he had felt sand before, Dean— but of course Dean had been right. When Cas took his first step onto the grainy sundrenched beach, he had actually gasped aloud from the feeling of the warmth between his toes. At this revelation, Dean had positively beamed—and then promptly buried Cas up to his knees, only freeing him to go let the water lap at his ankles.

Of course, the obvious and unfortunate downside to all this was that he could now feel cold also.

They had yet to move out of the bunker, with its old cement and tile floors, and in the summer, Cas had loved the cool stone under his feet. Dean, however, had formed a habit of materializing without warning, gruffly offering socks of increasing volume and thickness. All this achieved, though, was creating small piles of abandoned socks all around the bunker, as Cas hadn’t had the heart to refuse them outright, and also didn’t want to put them on. Though as winter approached, the stone had started to bite at him with each step, until he learned what it felt like for toes to go numb. But still he refused the infinite wool socks, which now seemed to appear almost on their own, preceding him into rooms with a nearly alarming frequency.

He refused because he was adamant that there was a lesson to be learned here, and though he couldn’t quite figure out what it was, he thought he was getting closer. Cas wanted to feel, and he understood that sometimes feeling was unpleasant. He understood that meaningful, beautiful things could still hurt. So, he continued to walk the halls barefoot, even as Dean’s eyes twitched over his blanched feet, because it continued to make him feel… something. Stable, perhaps. It kept him aware of his condition— of the incredible nature of human survival at its most basic.

And Cas was contemplating all of this now, sitting stoically in the library, when Dean once again appeared before him.

“Dean,” Cas heard himself beam.

“Sit,” Dean practically growled, level determination in his eyes. “I am-” Cas started, earnest and confused, but a scowl cut him off again. “Then stay,” the hunter grumbled, kneeling onto the floor and grabbing one of Cas’s ankles. “I’m not putting up with this anymore, Cas,” he continued as he began forcing a pair of frankly enormous green knit socks onto the former angel’s feet. “You’re gonna get pneumonia, and you’ve barely even been human, so I’m not gonna let you die of a cold just because you’re stubborn, do you hear me?”

Cas blinked at him. He should have seen this coming, really. Dean had always tried to take care of him, even when he had been roughly immortal. So, for all the beauty Cas was trying to find in his new human fragility, he should have known that it would drive poor Dean to a breaking point sooner or later. So he allowed the socks to be put on this time, and he smiled softly to realize what a lucky human he was. He had panicked, in the beginning, when he realized he wouldn’t be able to watch over Dean the way he always had before, but he had since found comfort in realizing that Dean relished being able to reverse the roles and watch over Cas.

He placed one hand softly on Dean’s cheek; he loved the way the stubble scratched at his fingertips now. Dean huffed in faux agitation as he started rubbing one of Cas’s feet between his hands, determined to stir up warmth.

Cas would have chuckled then, if he weren’t so moved. He placed his free hand on Dean’s other cheek and kissed him lightly; Dean’s hands froze. “Thank you,” Cas whispered, trying to meet Dean’s lowered eyes.

He huffed again, but Cas caught the smile that quirked at his lips, and—heaven above—felt the heat from the flush playing across his face. He let his fingers trail indulgently down Dean’s cheek, as Dean himself settled into the floor and switched feet.

Could a person die of love? Cas still felt like he might, even though the internet had assured him that, no, that didn’t happen.

So he allowed himself to gaze at the freckled face bent in front of him and felt his heart ache in a way that was becoming beautifully familiar. Maybe, it struck him, he had been looking for a lesson in the wrong place.

Cas knew, after all, that there were many things to feel in the world, and he looked forward to learning them all. But now, in this moment—warm and soft and here—he also knew he had already learned the very best thing he would ever feel: loved.

[munsnz]

TRICKS OF LIFE — STEVE HARRINGTON

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐢𝐢. — 𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠?

Tags: @itsnottilly

Summary : after the troubling interrogation, Y/N sets back off, possibly created contact with an ex-friend, a bully, a douche bag. Learning the conflict and grudges, tension is brought to them.

Navigation — Mixtape

“Y/N, Y/N. Y/N!” A shout flickered the girl back to the futile, cold office, accompanied by the principal, chief, and the officer, who seemed slightly worried about the girl who seemed to have dozed off into the abundance of memories and thoughts overflowing her own emotions, a sense of guilt welling up on her, “Are you listening?”

Her eyes blinked, watching the concerned adults, who were looking back at her. She shakes her head, her brittle hair moving from side to side, trying her best to hold back tears, not wanting to know of the possibilities of Will not being safe. Remembering a bit of the event that carried on last night, she spoke forward, “I-I only remember leaving early, since I had to be home by six. Will was with the party, so I don’t know much from there.”

Callahan cleared his throat, taking the seat next to her, “Do you know what street he usually takes to go home?”

”Mirkwood,” Y/N fixes her jacket, watching her dad rolls his eyes, remembering the fuss the party made while they interrogated them about a few hours ago. She looks around, the diplomas displayed on the back, tears slightly welled up in her E/C eyes, feeling a pit in her stomach, “I-I’m sorry. Is there any way I could help?”

She snapped.

Heavy streams of tears dropped onto her pale cheeks, now one of her responsibilities of whom she had promised to take care of was gone. If she should’ve stayed a little longer, just an hour more, she could’ve prevented it. It’s all her fault, all her fault. No wonder she was a failure, maybe those dorks from years ago were right. It was all her fault her mom ever divorced Hopper. It’s everything, all her fault-

“Y/N,” A large hand rubbed her back up and down, making her try to feel better, the girl that had her hands buried into her face, looked up to see her dad, sitting beside her, “You just have to keep a brave face, and no investigating okay?”

Her heavy eyes drift towards the bearded man, watching her sternly beside her, she frantically nods. Later then, she provided a bit more information about Will and his family, now that she’s been with them for five years now. Ever since that broad decision was made, it would become one of the most treasured moments in her life, the strong bond brought them together.

Excused from the staff, she strolled back to the hallway, barging through her cluttered backpack to try to find a fresh pack of cigarettes, but none were to be found. She sighed loudly, to swing her backpack to its default position and pacing along the hallway. The realization kept hitting her, her eyes burned, while she quivered, biting her lip. That same feeling inside the principal’s office, the guilt. What was there to be guilty about anyways?

“Oh, won’t you look who it is!” A cocky tone appeared from afar, Y/N gave no shit to turn to the voice but instead continue watching the shiny floor, reflecting the lights above, “I guess Hopper is weeping for her mommy. Oh right, she doesn’t have one.”

Furious at the remark, her eyes darted across to find a brunette, with ‘perfect’ hair, leaning against the metal lockers. Steve fucking Harrington. This boy had it all against the girl, ever since those harsh words being repeated over and over, like a broken cassette, threw her into the lowest state. Y/N’s expressions turned bitter, her nose wrinkled, and pursed her lips, “Stop acting like you’re ten, Steve.”

”I see you’ve been listening,” He raises his eyebrows, snarlingly commenting, shifting his hands to his pockets in his khaki jeans.

“So?” Y/N spoke back, slowing her pace down to be able to talk to him although feeling like the need to ignore back again. Why was she going to bother her time with him?

Oh right.

Steve, her old friend. Accidental friends after he was helping his mom bringing in the groceries on a cool December day, back in her elementary school years. After the kind offering Y/N gave during a small ride around town, it evolved to an odd friendship, one to which Y/N had been too attached. Steve might have found it odd that a girl, a girl, like Y/N Hopper would be around him so much. Clingy, was the word he gave her, was it offensive?

Maybe.

But due to stereotypical construct, you would’ve guessed everyone calling them annoying names, couple names, like two romantics although they were only like, twelve. From “When are you going to marry her?” and the “Where’s your girlfriend?” Honestly, no one else was surprised by Y/N’s small reoccurring crush on him. Stuck like glue, Steve didn’t like this bubbly, excited Y/N anymore, she was pushy. Sick of the repetitive comments to him and meeting new friends, who were dickheads in the girl’s eyes, he wanted to push her away, she was annoying, bratty, and clingy. He listened to those kids, these kids that Steve considered ‘friends’ were total assholes, persuading him to become sort of like them. Only the beginning of the 6th grade. They were stupid, naive, reckless, are what other parents claimed to be, couldn’t they move on.

To this day, she still reckons why she ever told Steve, why was she so dependent on someone with who she’d only been friends for months? Why Steve? Why out of all the friends she supposedly had, why him? It seemed like an utter dependency she had for him, she even knows she must’ve scared him off for being well..... her. Y/N was young, it was one mistake to tell a secret to someone you somewhat knew would tell everyone, right?

”Can I tell you a secret Steve?” Y/N crossed her legs in front of him, playing with her fingers nervously. Awaiting for a bit of truth to be let out. As everyone has supposedly known, Y/N had a supposed mother and sister who were alive, and together. Everyone believed that the Hopper’s were the happy family, her sister was alive along with her mom that was still with them. Truth was, Sarah was dead, Diane divorced Jim when the girl was eleven years old. A broken family, from papers to fighting for custody, it was all crumbled to pieces, unlike close and tight-knit families.

Steve looked up from the ground to meet the girl’s eyes. He slowly shuffled closer to her, “Yeah okay tell me.”

Y/N breathed in and out, before leaning into his left ear, “I don’t have a sister nor a mommy.”

”What?” His chocolate eyes widened, scooting away from her, getting up rapidly to avoid contact, “That’s weird! Everybody has a mom! You’re a freak!”

Frazzled, Y/N sat still, watching him running away, feeling a bit hurt due to his reaction. She thought maybe she trusted him with her life although he didn’t feel the same, she thought that he could’ve been more supportive. What if he was right? Anyways, it was ok, it was his first reaction, it’s normal, right?

Nope, it wasn’t. After finding such intimate information about this girl he wanted to get rid of due to popularity, he set off to tell every single kid at school. Maybe this was for the best, he would get her out of the way to focus on his supposed friends. Creating such influence in the school, he somehow got ahold of everyone to turn their backs on Y/N. Oh, what entirety of hurtful words that they targeted poor Y/N with. Everyone excluded her, the freak, weirdo, dumb girl that didn’t have parents and a dead sister. Everybody no longer liked the lonely Y/N, just a bit of trust would be one to ruin a life. It consequently grew worse, it wasn’t even verbal teasing, it became physical. Steve being stupid and reckless had ruined her life, and for what? Just getting rid of her. Realize, how the effect of one's words to make a benefit can create a rumble over people, they were young and stupid..... can’t that be a proper excuse to move on?

Everyone knows Y/N. Y/N Hopper, the stubborn, tired and selfless girl who held grudges against everyone. They all knew she wasn’t going to move on anytime soon. Subtle changes to herself and her personality, she became quiet, reserved yet so outspoken about her opinions. Everyone seemed to have moved on, back into high school, more mature and old enough to hold responsibilities, but Y/N. A slow hatred burned inside her, even though it was years back, everyone liked Steve. That stayed the same for sure, he was more prissy and above it all, unlike Y/N. It may have seemed like........ they never knew each other. Strange, maybe it was better that they stayed apart.

Gallantly watching her feet stay still under her, she looked back at him cheekily smiling as if nothing had happened. Why did he forget everything? “Shouldn’t you be in class, since when has the Y/N Hopper been so rebellious?”

”I was called to the office,” Y/N mumbled, shrugging her shoulders, trying to drift off into the narrow hallway, “What about you?”

”Thought I could skip, Mrs. Wyatt doesn’t do shit.”

Without spatting anything back, the annoyance of the school bell rang for the third period, students piled out of the classrooms in the crowded hallway. Girls and boys trudged along the place, like birds migrating to their destinations automatically, it may seem like a normal fall day in town, but it would be a life changing experience for some. No one knew Will Byers, why would they care anyways?

Before Steve could look back at the girl, she disappeared into thin air, never to be seen for now, back to the boring classes, but with a small change of Will’s disappearance. One disappearance that could change the whole fate of small-town Hawkins, Indiana.

[chudleycanonficfest]

t-shirt

Day 8, Story #1 is by @accio-broom

Title: t-shirt Author/Artist: accio-broom Pairing: Ron Weasley / Hermione Granger Prompt: Cuddling Rating: T Trigger Warning(s) (if any): None

In the morning when you wake up, I like to believe you are thinking of me And when the sun comes through your window, I like to believe you’ve been dreaming of me.

Hermione Granger isn’t the kind of girl who struggles to get out of bed, especially when there are pressing Head Girl duties to attend to. Her to-do list is as long as her arm, she has five essays to write and a whole raft of other bits and bobs she needs to see to.

But right now, with the sun peeking through the edges of the heavy curtains surrounding her four-poster bed, she wants to bask in the aftermath of her dream just a little longer. Even as her dorm mates start to clatter around the room, getting ready for the day, she snuggles deeper under her duvet and shuts her eyes, trying her best to get back to her own little world.

Is Ron doing exactly the same thing right now? He loves his bed, and always complains when she forces him out of it earlier than he wants. Is he having the same lovely dreams as her? Probably not, he’s been away on an extremely secretive training mission for the past five days, and he isn’t a fan of sleeping on the floor. Still, she likes to think that even the memory of her has been keeping him warm at night, even if he isn’t comfortable wherever he is.

Dreaming.

Her dreams last night were amazing. 

They were in the Gryffindor common room, sprawled across the comfiest sofa next to the fire. He’d untucked her blouse, and one of his hands was under the white material, massaging her bra-clad breasts whilst he buried the other somewhere underneath her school skirt. He was only wearing his plaid pyjama bottoms, which were doing nothing to hide his growing excitement, and the faded orange Cannon’s t-shirt he often wore to sleep.

She loves that top. It’s threadbare and far too small for him, accentuating his muscles, and exposing patches of his skin. She likes to wind her fingers through the holes, count the freckles she can see as they explore each other’s bodies. Dream Hermione couldn’t get enough of Ron’s skin; she licked and sucked at his neck while her hips lifted to press against his, grounding into his erection and causing the delightful friction she can never get enough of.

Despite their public position, there had been no panicking about being caught or interrupted. She was consumed in Ron, and he in her. The most perfect dream.

But it was all a dream. Hermione is still at school and Ron is in the Auror Academy, and they are facing months of separation. If he does well in his mission, he’ll pass his assessments and move on to the next stage. There will be no passionate make-out sessions, heavy petting, or sex anywhere until her Easter holidays at the earliest, and it definitely won’t be happening at school.

I know, ‘cause I’d spend half this morning, thinking about the t-shirt you sleep in I should know, ‘cause I’d spend all the whole day, listening to your message I’m keeping.

With a heavy huff, she rolls onto her back and reaches under the mattress for the pristine parchment she has hidden there.

Over the years she’s known Ron, she could safely say that he was rubbish at writing to her. Summer breaks and Christmas holidays passed without a single word from him. But their newly fledged relationship, combined with her leaving in September, seemed to inspire a completely different side to the boy. If he was at home, she could now expect Pidwidgeon almost every morning, and each letter the owl delivered was soppier and longer than the last.

It is clear that Ron misses her.

She finds her wand under her pillow and pulls it out, tapping it against the paper before discarding it again. It begins to unfold, revealing a whole pile of messages from her beau, Ron’s familiar unintelligible scrawl decorating every inch of them. If she hadn’t spent the last six years deciphering his essays, she might have struggled to read them, but now she devours every word, the familiarity somewhat easing her home-sickness.

In his first letter he reminds her that she has to keep these letters secret, to hide them safely away from prying eyes. Ron doesn’t want anyone getting their hands on them, a panic magnified by the fact that Hermione is sharing a dorm with Ginny this year. 

“Just imagine what they’d say,” Ron writes, and Hermione can picture the tips of his ears turning bright pink as his quill scratches against the parchment. “I don’t want them to take the piss.”

She’d written back, assuring him that his letters were safe and that he shouldn’t be ashamed of his ability to express his feelings. It’s the sign of a mature man. 

Plus, she finds the confidence in his words sexy.

Letting her fingers trail over the paper, Hermione allows herself to get lost in the things he tells her. There’s the boring, mundane things, like how work is going and pleading with her not to get riled up over her latest marks (which ended up being perfect, of course). Next, come the promises and their plans for life post-Hogwarts. They want to get a flat together and go on a lovely holiday, where they can be alone for a whole week. Each sentence makes the smile on her face grow even bigger.

She takes her time, savouring how close to Ron they make her feel. She misses him like crazy. When she packed her trunk last September, she couldn’t even imagine how hard being apart from him would be. She’s an independent woman, a war heroine, in fact, but the yearning and pining for the guy drove her mental on occasion. She hates that she’s so reliant on him now.

Still, there are only a few more months left of her school year, and then they’ll be together forever.

The words run out, and Hermione lets out a heavy sigh. She sits up, tapping the paper again with her wand before stowing it safely back in its hiding spot. Feeling ready to face the day, she swings her legs out of bed and throws back her curtains, catching Ginny by surprise.

“Good morning!” Hermione smiles as she springs out of bed.

“Is it?” Ginny complains in return. “It’s snowing, which means no Quidditch.”

Hermione collects her things and heads for the shared bathroom with a chuckle, not letting the thought of bad weather affect her good mood.

⁂

When I saw you, everyone knew, I liked the effect that you had on my eyes But no one else heard the weight of your words or, felt the effect that they have on my mind.

Today’s Head Girl duties include monitoring the monthly visit to Hogsmeade. As a seventh-year, Hermione is allowed out of the castle anytime she wants, as long as she tells her Head of House. But the younger children always need supervising. Even with the war over, and the threat of Voldemort over, they still need to be cautious.

It’s her favourite part of the month. Being cooped up in the castle is so oppressive after a year spent camping in forests and hiding on cliff tops, so being out in the village helps clear her head.

If she gets five minutes, she may even be able to pick up Ron’s birthday present. There’s still a week until the big day, and chances are, he’ll probably still be away for work, but she wants to collect it now, just in case. She’ll wait until she sees him face to face before she gives it to him.

The late February snow is trying to melt, but the keen Scottish wind keeps the last of it lingering around. Hermione stands in her usual spot outside Honeydukes, watching as the students enter the shop then leave with their arms full of treats. Her parents would have an aneurysm if they saw the number of sugary treats devoured by the children in the school. Just the amount Ron consumes would set them off.

The thought of her boyfriend brings another smile to her lips, though it does nothing to stave off the cold. What she wants right now is to be cuddled up in Ron Weasley’s strong arms, a mug of Molly’s delicious hot chocolate and a roaring fire, and in that particular order, too.

A loud pop distracts her as someone apparates at the bottom of the lane. Over the heads of raucous students, a tall stranger appears, bundled up warm against the cold. She finds her gaze drawn to the newcomer, and she immediately recognises the bounce in his step as he walks past the rows of shops and hordes of students.

Hermione’s heart beats in an unsteady rhythm against her ribcage, her eyes widen, and the air disappears from her lungs. As the man draws closer, she catches a peek of red hair under a bright orange bobble hat and the long, thin nose that so often grazes against hers as they kiss. But what draws her to the man is his deep blue eyes, which she can see shining up the street from a million miles away.

It’s Ron.

With an uncharacteristic squeal, she takes off from her spot, trying her best to keep her balance in the ice as she throws herself at her boyfriend. Arms and legs lock around his long, gangly body with such force he’s almost bowled over. He compensates with long fingers clinging on to her as she buries her head against the crock of his neck. Her senses ignite as she takes a long breath, drinking in the smell of him—clean, with a hint of sandalwood and eucalyptus.  

“What are you doing here?” she mumbles against his skin, her lips finding a path between his knitted scarf and stubble up his pale neck.

Ron moans at the assault from her kisses. “Missed you, is all.”

Hermione Granger has always been an intelligent girl, so it’s a surprise to her that a handful of words can turn her mind to mush. Right now, despite the fact she’s supposed to be on Head Girl duty, all she can focus on is the handsome man in her arms, and the fire blazes through her skin at their contact, even through layers of clothes.

Falling.

Forgetting that they’re in a public place, Hermione’s mouth seeks his, and they fall into a hungry kiss. Teeth clash, noses bump together, yet after weeks away, it’s the best thing in the world. The taste of peppermint and chocolate frogs spreads across her tongue, taking her straight back to lazy summer days spent snogging out by the lake at the Burrow.

Just as her lungs feel like they might explode, Ron tears his lips away from hers, and he flashes her one of his patented lop-sided grins. If she didn’t have her legs firmly wrapped around him, she might have gone weak at the knees.

With a chuckle, he teases, “Guess you missed me too?” All Hermione can do is nod in reply, overwhelmed by his sudden appearance. “Good! I missed you so fucking much. My mission finished early, but Harry is still away, and I didn’t know what else I could do to distract me from worrying about the results.”

“Oh, glad to see I’m your second option,” Hermione chides, although her massive smile does not falter. “How did you know I was here?”

“Ginny has been sending me your Head Girl schedule for months. Not that I’m keeping tabs on you,” he adds. “Just wanted to make the most of any opportunity I might have to see you.”

Impressed by his cunning plan, she presses one final hard kiss against his lips before removing herself from their reunion embrace. “Well, since it’s your birthday in a week, I guess I better start spoiling you.”

She tangles their fingers together before starting to lead him down the lane.

“But what about your duties?” he questions. “I didn’t think your slot finished until lunchtime?”

“It doesn’t, but I don’t think it will matter if I skive off a little earlier. Especially given the circumstances.”

With her back turned, she misses the look of glee that passes over Ron’s face before his eyes turn dark. She’s too absorbed in her mission to buy him all his favourite treats, cavities be damned, then curl up in a cosy corner by the fire in the Three Broomsticks so that she can do some serious catching up with him.

Their palms press together as they walk, filling her body with warmth. Ron is back where he belongs, and even if it’s only for a few hours, this feeling is a hundred times better than any of the letters he sends while they’re apart.

I know, ‘cause I’d spend half this morning, thinking about the t-shirt you sleep in, I should know, ‘cause I’d spend all the whole day, listening to your message I’m keeping,

Not that she plans on ever getting rid of them.

and never deleting.

[weirdlittlecorner]

Lin Kuei Hospitality: Cyrax

Notes: nsfw, 18+, comfort

Plot: A little slower, a little more sensual. Because Cyrax is a great character and deserves more attention and love

h/t = hair texture

Tags: @lilliannmac @onesillybeach @icy-spicy

—

The five men stood patiently as they awaited your decision. There was no doubt that any of them would show you a good time, which only made it harder to choose. You pursed your lips as you considered your options. Eventually, your attention shifted to the man in yellow. His dark skin and beautiful hair made him stand out as the most handsome of the men. But funnily enough, it wasn’t just his looks that drew your eyes to him. His demeanor was much different than the others. While he was standing at attention, as disciplined as the rest, there was a small crack in his stone exterior. As if he were in pain, though there was obviously nothing hurting him. That you could see, anyway.

It was almost as if he couldn’t stand being in the others’ vicinity. You wondered what could have happened to warrant such a reaction. This was the first time that you had ever seen any of the warriors up close, so you had nothing to go off of. It was most likely just some petty drama that was common amongst roommates- if they could even be considered as such. It would make the most sense. You, too, had your friends that you loved dearly, but you couldn’t imagine actually living with them every day. Either way, it wasn’t your place to pry.

The Grandmaster cleared his throat impatiently, motioning toward the line of men once more. Clearly wanting you to hasten and pick one so the rest could return to their business. Offering the dark-skinned man a warm smile, you nodded, “Come on, let’s get out of here,”

—

“Thank you for my new buzzsaw. I was able to try it out today; your work is very impressive,” The man, Cyrax, whispered as the two of you made your way through the long corridor to get back to your room. You smiled at the compliment, though that nagging confusion didn’t allow you to fully enjoy his words. His new buzzsaw. The one that had been amongst the new additions to the Grandmaster’s standard request.

What exactly did a clan like the Lin Kuei need all this new technology for? Again, it really wasn’t your business what your clients did with your products. But you couldn’t help but wonder... Whatever was going on, you just hoped that it was at least somewhat ethical.

__

The impending ‘improvements’ were a sensitive subject amongst the warriors. Cyrax had taken the most offense to the idea, as any normal person would, yet his fellow assassins thought that he was the crazy one. No, what was crazy was forcing one to give up their free will in exchange for the efficiency of automation. But he didn’t dare challenge the Grandmaster. Doing so would result in the most severe punishment; as if becoming a fusion of flesh and metal wasn’t already punishment enough.

“Hey, I noticed that you kind of… seem at odds with the others. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but I just thought I’d ask if you wanted to talk about it,” You broke the silence, sinking down onto the bed and patting the space next to you. He claimed the empty space, sitting close enough so that your knees touched.

By the way his brows knitted together, you half-expected him to tell you. But he merely shook his head after a moment, “I am not at liberty to speak on the matter. But thank you for your concern,” His voice was even and had that same cold quality that was the standard, but you could tell that there was great sadness behind his words.

Instinctively, you opened your arms out to him, willing him to position himself in between them. You weren’t really sure what you had expected to happen, but soon enough, Cyrax was locked in your warm embrace. You gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. The two of you stayed like that for a few moments, basking in the silent comfort of each other’s embrace. But soon you felt his shoulders stiffen, along with a kiss being pressed to the base of your neck.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” While you had been excited for tonight’s proposed activities, now was obviously not a great time. You wouldn’t ask him to perform for you just because it was what the Grandmaster had ordered. He needed, deserved, a break. And while you would certainly enjoy the contact, you refused to degrade the man. But he clearly didn’t think the same way. Not when his face was still buried in the crook of your neck.

“I understand that. This is something I want to do,” His words made you shiver as renewed excitement tore through your abdomen. Well, in that case…

A rough hand quickly found its way into your h/t, h/c locks, effectively undoing the delicate hairstyle. A pleasured shiver wracked your body as he used your hair to bring you closer to him as you two shared your first kiss of the night. You hummed as the tip of your tongue darted out to drag itself across his bottom lip, granting you an elicit moan in return.

Without breaking the intense oral lock, Cyrax’ hands freed themselves from the mess of hair in favor of untying the knots in your overshirt. You moved your dominant hand to assist him in the process while your other hand remained cupping his face. Shrugging to remove the fabric from your shoulders, you reluctantly pulled away to unclasp your bra. Seeing that you had things under control, Cyrax removed himself to focus on shedding his own clothing. But not before giving a hard, playful tug on the hems of your pants, effectively pooling them around your ankles.

A giggle slipped past your parted lips as you bent down, yanking your pants, along with your panties, off the rest of the way and kicking off your boots. You repositioned yourself so that your knees pressed against the soft sheets as you returned the favor to your partner. Eager fingertips clawed at the form-fitting armor, as if that would make it disappear faster. Cyrax hummed in amusement at your eagerness before unbuttoning the clasps and untying the knots for you. Impatience turned into wonder as your hands brushed over his chest. His abs. His shoulders. All of which were hard bands of muscle, but also soft in a way. Even his body reflected the gentle demeanor that had separated him from the others. The two of you were content to sit just like this, fingers exploring each other’s bodies.

You embraced each other, much like how you had done previously. Though this time, the intention was very different. The warmth radiating off of the two of you was almost unbearable, but you ignored it as you took to kissing each one of his prominent muscles. He sighed softly, enjoying your impromptu muscle worship. This continued until the pooling heat in your respective pelvises won out and you just had to go further. Cyrax shifted so that his legs boxed in your hips. Pressing himself against you once more, he brought his lips down to your manubrium to plant soft kisses in the crevice of your breasts. Meanwhile, his right hand was making quick work of his pants and boxers, his hard length pressing against your inner thigh. Which, if you might add, was already slick with your dripping arousal.

There was obviously no need to pregame, as you were both more than ready. You didn’t think that you could tolerate more teasing, anyway. Impatient once again, you wrapped your hand around the head of his penis to guide him in. The man groaned as your walls began compressing his cock immediately. With a few more pushes, he was completely in, reveling in the feeling of being consumed by your flesh.

Sighing, your arms found their way around his broad shoulders as he began thrusting into your tight core. The sounds of your mutual pleasure were only slightly louder than the creaking sounds the bedposts made as they scratched the wall behind them. Your e/c eyes closed in bliss as you enjoyed the rocking sensation of intercourse. His lips found yours once more as his speed increased and his hands made their way to your s/c legs. In a fluid motion, your ankles were craned toward the headboard as he pushed himself deeper. The sensation of your cervix being stroked caused you to scream, and you were glad that no one could hear you. You hoped not, anyway. What were once your gentle fingertips rubbing your lover’s back turned into talons that began clawing at the tingling flesh.

If it had hurt, he didn’t complain. But despite your muddled concerns, the feeling of you scratching his back only enhanced the warrior’s experience. He grunted each time your hips met, feeling his climax approaching. And you were right there with him, your smaller body trembling as the familiar knot twisted in your stomach. It kept building, and building until the knot finally uncoiled itself with a burst of wet heat. It felt as if the sun had just imploded inside of you and that you should be a pile of ash. But you were whole, despite the thick dick that was still stretching your pussy relentlessly.

Your screaming had grown impossibly louder as the warrior continued to batter your walls in anticipation of his own orgasm. What seemed like endless abuse to your cervix abruptly ended when you felt a spray of liquid spattering against the muscle. Your lover grunted, his brown eyes screwed shut and his bottom lip bleeding from his teeth cutting through the skin, as he hosed your insides with his warm semen.

Despite having finished, Cyrax made no move to pull out. Rather, he chose to rest over top of you, his cock warm inside your trembling hole. You allowed it.

There were no words. Maybe when you could think clearly again, you would be able to find your voice. It might be a little hoarse, to accompany the ache that would surely be present when you tried to walk in the morning, but that sounded like just that: a morning problem.

[pbandcas]

Hush little baby don’t you cry, Daddy’s gonna sing you a lullaby. Sweet little baby, don’t be blue, Please, my baby. I miss him too.

Angsty little ficlet under the cut <3 Read on AO3

There was a faint crying coming from the end of the hall that only increased as Dean got closer. He could hear Sam gently speaking but he couldn’t understand the words. Even as he pushed the door open and blinked, face devoid of all emotions, he didn’t understand. 

Sam turned to him, brows knit together in sympathy and desperation. He was speaking again as he bounced the screaming infant in his arms. Dean didn’t understand the words. It was all just a pounding in his head and white noise in his ears. 

But Jack— Jack he could hear. 

“Give him here.” He didn’t recognize his own voice. And he would have cared more had he not felt so damn empty inside. His brother seemed to hesitate before slowly approaching to pass him the crying Jack. The second Dean’s hands wrapped around his tiny body and he brought his lips to downy hair, silence echoed through the room. 

Sam might have said something. He might have made a questioning noise in the back of his throat. Dean didn’t hear it. He buried his nose in Jack’s soft hair. He breathed in that warm milky smell. He felt tears sting his eyes and he turned away. “Saw a nursery down the hall. Gonna see if C—“ he choked on the name and couldn’t say it “—if Kelly got everything needed for him.”

He could feel Sam’s gaze follow him from the room. He knew the look in his eyes but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Jack whimpered against his throat and he tightened his grip. “I know, baby, I know.” It was barely a murmur but it seemed to do its job settling the infant. 

He found a papoose smoothed out on a new changing table. The soft mint fabric was perfectly pressed and Dean could only stare at it. There was a lump caught in his throat and a burning in his lungs as he wrapped Jack snugly against his chest. His hands were shaking and he knew there were tears on his cheeks, but Jack was silent. And his watery eyes were finally closed. 

Sam found him what felt like hours later in the tiny dining room. “How did-- how did his body get here?” Dean flinched at the words, one hand pressing against Jack’s back, the other gripping the sheet covering Cas’ cold features. He didn’t answer. He continued his silent procession, Castiel deserved his full attention. Now more than ever as he gave his final rites. 

Below his chin Jack let out a small, almost pitiful whimper. 

It was only once the funeral pyre had all but burnt out that Dean finally relinquished his hold on the baby. Shaking hands unwrapped the fabric and passed the confused infant over to Sam. He didn’t look at either before turning away. Jack let out a soft cry behind him but he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t look back. He couldn’t, he couldn’t, he couldn’t. He fell to his knees beside the pile of ashes instead. He stared at all that remained of the one who held his heart. 

Hands stained black, he tried desperately to ignore Jack’s growing wails. It was his fault Cas was-- It was his fault. If only he had stayed with them, with him. He would have been safe. He would have been fine. Had he just stayed in the bunker... he would be here. He would be here, not this crying baby who stole his place. 

He didn’t take Jack back that night.

He couldn’t even look at him. 

Jack wouldn’t stop. Two weeks later Sam was frantically banging on Dean’s bedroom door, Jack’s screaming, red face pressed against his shoulder. He knew his brother was begging him to open up. Begging him to just try and calm him… but Dean couldn’t. He wouldn’t. That baby took Cas’ life. He wasn’t about to give him his place in the family too. He rolled over on his side and pressed the tiny capsule of ashes to his lips as he screwed his eyes shut. 

Tears burned his cheeks as they fell, but he couldn’t be bothered to wipe them away. He’d put the bottle away. Tucked away from prying eyes. Away from anyone who could take it away. Take him away.

Eventually Sam must have left because the screaming faded away. The crying never stopped. 

Another week passed and he finally left his room. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair to any of them. To Cas… to himself. It wasn’t fair to Jack. There was an ache in his heart that he couldn’t stop. A yearning in his soul that would never end. Pain filled wails met his ears as he walked toward the library on auto pilot. It was instinctual, the tugging toward the only living link to Castiel he had left. 

Sam was hunched over the table, hands buried in his hair as Jack screamed from the small bassinet beside him. He jerked his head around the second Dean picked Jack up. Silence. Tiny bright eyes stared up at Dean’s impassive face. And there were tears in his own eyes and he refused to look down at the baby but he just-- “He’s all that’s left of-- of him.” And he left the room. Jack cradled in his arms and Sam’s concerned voice calling after him. 

He only cried at night now. In the dark of Dean’s room he’d whimper before soft sobs would wake the hunter. He’d gently cry even as Dean picked him up and held him close. He’d taper off just slightly as choked out lullabies were pressed into his skin. He’d reach out and press a tiny hand to Dean’s neck. And Dean… Dean would let him. He let him cry into his skin, half hearted attempts to sooth him because he knew. 

“Hush little baby… don’t you cry--”

This wasn’t a hurt that soft words could fix. It wasn’t something he could easily comfort. He couldn’t just kiss and make it better. He couldn’t just wrap him in a blanket and pretend it was all okay again.

“Daddy’s gonna sing you a lullaby--” 

He could only hold Jack close and kiss the top of his head and bury his nose in the blonde hair. He could only close his eyes and pray the tears held back just long enough to get Jack back to sleep. He could only hope his infant found some semblance of comfort in his touch. He could only do so much when this crying stemmed from the same hurt buried in him. 

“Hush sweet baby, don’t be blue--” 

But he could only hold on for so long and as his voice cracked on the words, tears spilled down his cheeks. Because this was the thing Cas fought so hard to protect. This was the being Cas gave his life for. This was Castiel’s baby. This was Castiel’s baby and he missed him. Jack just wanted his father and he didn’t understand and he was hurting for it. He just-- didn’t understand that Dean did too. This was his baby. No matter the circumstances, and the heartbreak and pain it brought, this was their baby. 

“Please, my baby, I miss him too.”

Thank you @evermorecastiel and @lobotomycastiel for the push to finally finish this with the widower arc posting yesterday after sitting on it for the past 2 weeks. Ya'll the real mvps.

[august-anon]

Lullaby of Laughter

I've been trying to edit this for days but I've been having brain fog so it's been pretty unsuccessful lol. It was written months ago though and I edited it once back then so it's probably fine? Last time I did a fic poll this got the second-most votes so it made sense to post this next.

----

Fandom: Avatar: The Last Airbender

Ship(s): Suki/Sokka/Zuko

Characters (lee/ler): Lee!Sokka/Ler!Suki/Zuko

Word Count: 2038 words

Summary: Sokka's a bit too restless to fall asleep, and unfortunately all his fidgeting is keeping Suki and Zuko awake. Suki decides to show Zuko just how she tires Sokka out enough to sleep.

[ao3 link]

-----------------------------------

It was different, now.

Zuko had been worried that it would be different, that things would change. He often worried late into the night about it, if they would still like him after they all started to find peace. There was certainly something to be said about romantic bonds formed in the face of death itself, after all, and while Zuko was certain his own feelings were true, he worried about the feelings of his partners were simply in the heat of the moment.

After all, he had tried to kill them multiple times. And had their friends kidnapped, multiple times. And sent an assassin after them. And--

Zuko stopped that train of thought. Uncle Iroh had told him repeatedly how unproductive it was, and Suki and Sokka had started trying to convince him of that as well. He would begrudgingly admit that their methods were a bit more effective than his uncle’s.

But that didn’t mean Zuko’s fears had vanished.

The war was over, now. His father and Azula had been defeated, Aang had saved the world, and now Zuko was anxiously waiting on his own coronation. The heightened emotions from the battles were waning, and Zuko wasn’t yet convinced that Suki and Sokka’s feelings were not going to wane with them. It would be just his luck, wouldn’t it?

They were nothing if not persistent, though.

It was the first calm night since his father and Azula had been taken down. The past several days, everyone had been rushing around, putting out one political fire after the next, stopping battle after battle. Not everyone had gotten the memo that the war had finished. For the first time since Ember Island, the three of them were in the same building with no obligations.

Somehow, they all wound up in Zuko’s suite.

The three of them had slept in the same room before; heck, they had even slept in the same bed before, but they’d never done it alone. Team Avatar, as Sokka liked to refer to their group, was not only extremely close-knit, but also extremely traumatized. Odds were, if one person found their way into your designated sleeping area, five more weren’t far behind.

This was the first night the three of them would ever spend alone.

Zuko felt a bit out of place as he climbed into the bed, Sokka already sprawled out in the middle and Suki climbing in on the other side. Sokka had quickly made himself at home, letting his hair down and throwing off most of his clothing before climbing into the bed. Suki’d had much more decorum, but she certainly wasted no time in snuggling up in Zuko’s bed, cuddling up to Sokka’s side. They both glanced up at Zuko.

“It’s no different than any other time,” Suki said, her voice gentle.

“It’s a little different,” Zuko said.

Sokka rolled his eyes. “Can you at least have your crisis while cuddling me?” He said. “I’m cold, and I need my weirdly-warm firebender boyfriend plastered up against my side, like, yesterday.”

Zuko huffed a small laugh, steeling his nerves and sliding into the bed. Sokka stayed sprawled on his back, Suki’s arms wrapped around his waist. Not sure where to go, Zuko hesitantly mirrored her position on Sokka’s other side.

The three of them laid in silence for a while. Suki was clearly dozing in and out, though not fully asleep yet. Zuko himself felt his eyelids grow heavier and heavier, the spaces between each blink growing longer and longer. Sokka, though, seemed incapable of settling down. His eyes remained wide open between them, and he seemed incapable of controlling his fidgeting, despite how hard he seemed to be trying. After the fifth time he’d jostled them both awake, Suki sat up.

“That’s it,” she said. “Do we need to tire you out?”

Zuko immediately felt the energy in the room shift. Suddenly on edge and no longer sleepy, he carefully sat up, glancing back and forth between Suki and Sokka. Sokka had his hands raised in a placating motion, a nervous grin on his face. Suki looked downright predatory.

Zuko made a note to himself to never be in the center of the cuddle pile. He didn’t want to risk her wrath if he couldn’t hold still, either.

He couldn’t help but feel a little out of place in the situation, though. While this was a clearly practiced song and dance between Suki and Sokka, Zuko had no clue what was going on. He didn’t know why that grin was on Suki’s face, or why Sokka was blubbering incoherently, or why whatever this was would help Sokka get to sleep.

But then Suki looked over at him, her devious grin going a little softer at the edges. “Wanna help out?”

Zuko blinked. “With what?”

Suki smirked. “Sometimes, Sokka’s brain moves a little too fast for him to fall asleep--”

“I’m fine!” Sokka interrupted, deliberately snuggling back into the pillows on Zuko’s bed. “See! Totally tired.” He gave them a comically fake yawn.

Suki rolled her eyes. “So when that happens, I have a little method to help tire him out for the night.”

Zuko glanced back and forth between Suki and Sokka. “What’s the method?’

Suki grinned. “I’ll show you.”

Without any more warning, her fingers were suddenly spidering against Sokka’s bare sides. Sokka shrieked and thrashed around on the bed, but Suki didn’t let up. If anything, she tickled with more vigor, her grin growing. Sokka shied away from her fingers, shouting and pleading for mercy. Zuko’s hands twisted in his lap.

Suki looked up at him and her grin faltered. “Zuko?”

Zuko gestured awkwardly. “Are you sure that’s okay?”

Suki’s face immediately softened and she slowly reached out to him, allowing him ample time to pull away or tell her no. He did neither, and she took his hand in hers, interlacing their fingers. Zuko stared at their hands, almost with a sense of wonder.

“I know he’s playing it up a lot,” Suki said. “But he doesn’t hate it.”

“I’m right here,” Sokka said.

Suki rolled her eyes. “Then you can calm our boyfriend down, since you’re the one who worried him.”

Sokka let out a drawn-out groan, but reached out to link his fingers with Zuko’s free hand anyways. Zuko ignored the way his heart seemed to be skipping beats.

“Alright, fine,” Sokka said. “I don’t hate it.” A flush spread across his cheeks and he fidgeted a bit where he lay between them. “I kinda like it, actually. Just a little.”

Suki scoffed. “He likes it a lot, he means. I wouldn’t do it to him if he didn’t love it.”

“And all the yelling?” Zuko asked.

Sokka shrugged. “Involuntary.”

Zuko nodded. Suki gave his fingers one last squeeze before pulling away and wiggling her fingers threateningly in Sokka’s direction once more. Sokka started giggling before she even touched him, flinching away from her and raising his free hand in defense. He made no effort to pull his other hand out of Zuko’s grasp. Suki lunged.

“You wanna help out, now?” Suki asked over Sokka’s laughter, a bright grin on her face.

A smirk slowly started spreading over Zuko’s face as he stared down at Sokka. His cheeks and ears were flushed, and his eyes were crinkling at the corners from the force of his smile. His laughter shook his entire body, though it was hard to tell with the way he was thrashing around on the bed, trying to escape the fingers pinching evilly along his waistline.

“Who am I to say no to that,” Zuko replied, his smirk growing into a predatory grain when Sokka’s eyes went wide.

Slowly, Zuko used the hand he had interlaced with Sokka’s to raise Sokka’s arm above his head. Zuko’s speed was originally because of hesitance, but then he noticed how flustered it seemed to make Sokka, his thrashing and pleading growing all the more desperate. It made Zuko chuckle a little under his breath as he finally pinned Sokka’s hand to the bed above his head.

“Hey,” Zuko said, voice so low that Sokka could probably barely hear him above his own laughter. “This might tickle.”

While Suki’s fingers occupied themselves with Sokka’s stomach, sides, and hips, Zuko’s own fingers landed on Sokka’s tricep and began slowly spidering down with the lightest of touches. It proved to be very effective, with Sokka arching his back and squealing at a frequency that only flying bison could hear. His legs kicked as he whined through his laughter.

“Torture!” He yelled. “Torture!!”

Suki laughed. “Light tickles get him so bad. He’s usually too squirmy for me to be that mean.” She shot him an evil-looking smirk. “But now that you’re here and I’ve got the extra hands, we can torture him as much as we want.”

Zuko laughed, gaining confidence. He kept his fingers feather-light where they were wiggling down Sokka’s arm. Right when he was above to dive into Sokka’s armpit, Sokka’s thrashing getting more and more frantic the closer he got, he switched directions and started a slow spider back up to Sokka’s elbow. Sokka kicked his legs around at the end of the bed.

“Don’t tease!” He said through his cackling, burying his flushed face in his free hand.

“But you’re cute when I tease,” Zuko said. 

Sokka didn’t seem to have a response for that, but Zuko took mercy on him anyway. The next time Zuko made it back down Sokka’s arm, he continued into Sokka’s armpit, scratching the skin as lightly as he could with his blunt nails. It drove Sokka wild. Zuko hadn’t even realized Suki had stopped tickling at first, because Sokka was still thrashing and howling as desperately as ever.

“Are you tired, yet?” She asked Sokka.

“Yes!” Sokka cried, slapping at Zuko’s tickling hand with his free one.

Suki caught Sokka’s free hand and pinned it as well, scritching against his top rib with her nails. “Are you sure?”

“Yes! Please!”

Suki pulled back at that, so Zuko followed suit. She laughed as Sokka curled into a ball and started rubbing at his ticklish spots, trying to scrub away ghost tickles. Zuko couldn’t help his fond smile at the sight. Then, Suki grabbed his hand and leaned in for a kiss, once more giving Zuko ample time to pull away if he wanted to.

He leaned in.

Even through his breathlessness, Sokka wolf-whistled at them kissing over the top of him, and Suki giggled into the kiss. Zuko carefully kept his own smile under control, not wanting the kiss to end so soon, and brought his hand up to cup Suki’s face. He felt one of her hands run through his hair, while one of Sokka’s hands trailed up his side under his robe.

He flinched when Sokka’s fingers brushed a little too gently against his waistline, unfortunately pulling away from Suki in the process.

Sokka was grinning when Zuko opened his eyes.

“We are so exploring that later,” he said.

Zuko gave him a bashful smile, but didn’t protest. He let Sokka pull him down into a kiss, planting his hand against the mattress next to Sokka’s head for balance. The other hand went down to cup Sokka’s neck. Sokka’s hands cupped Zuko’s face, not letting him pull away until Zuko was properly blushing from the heady kiss. 

Not that Zuko would’ve been pulling away, anyway.

Suki leaned for her goodnight kiss next, and Zuko smiled as her and Sokka’s lips met. His heart felt like it was turning into liquid, warm and thick and heavy in his chest in all the best of ways. The feeling only intensified when Sokka pulled him and Suki close again, the two of them cuddling up to his chest. Suki and Sokka drifted off first, this time, leaving Zuko to admire the peaceful faces they made in their sleep.

He was sure the spiraling thoughts would find their way back to him at some point. They always seemed to after all, no matter how hard he tried. For tonight, though, Zuko let himself relax into the mattress and hold his partners close.

He was starting to feel like maybe he belonged here.

[elias-code]

Two Left Hooves [2/7] - Choice II

Choose your own adventure ~ “What’s Better than Breakfast in Bed?“

Characters: Technoblade x gn!reader, Philza

Summary: You've asked Techno whether he wants to sleep with you or not, and he makes up some excuse to join you. He cuddles with you into the night, but you're greeted with a nightmare, Dream's voice warns you of something to come, but refuses to specify what. Techno pulls you out of the dream and you sleep undisturbed until he greets you with breakfast in the morning.

Warnings: Cussing, Nightmares

IF YOU HAVE NOT READ THE INTRO AND CHOSEN YOUR ROUTE, DO SO HERE: INTRO

— The Bird —

"Techno-" I said, kneeling to his level, "What do you want? I mean, you can sleep with me if you want to."

He paused, expecting a quip, but instead, I'd forced him to choose for himself.

"Seeing as you’re already cold, even with the fire..." He clicked his tongue, testing his words, "I want to keep you warm."

Holy shit that's adorable, I thought. Techno never let emotions shine through his words. When I talked to him, I had to constantly read between the lines. His monotone speech was, I supposed, a product of his repressed emotions. Ever since meeting him, I felt like it was my responsibility to dismantle the fortress he’d put around his heart.

"Excuses, excuses," I teased, “but you’re right, I’m gonna freeze without you.” I smiled at him. He let out a small huff, but his expression was unreadable.

"It's not an excuse, it's a reason," he said, turning to me, "They're desperate for me to be at the banquet, but they won't let me go alone, alright? If I let you freeze to death, it wouldn't make for great PR."

I rolled my eyes and scoffed, standing up. I offered a hand to him, to help him stand, "Thank you for not killing me so you don't have to go," I whispered.

"No problem, heh," he took my hand and stood, "I'll be back in a bit, alright?"

"Where are you going?"

"Just downstairs, get ready for bed," He said, dodging the question. He let go of my hand and awkwardly pat me on the head, leaving the room.

I didn't know how the ball was going to work out. On the one hand, Techno would go to the banquet and it'd be as awkward as it's always been between us. On the other, I'd manage to tear down his walls and reveal his emotions, changing our relationship forever.

Techno presented himself as untouchable, calling himself 'the blood god,' but I saw him hold back tears when Tommy betrayed him. I saw the destruction his wrath brought upon L'Manburg. He has compassion, but if he bottled them up any longer, there's no telling who he'd become. He couldn't keep letting everything out as anger, or we'd all pay the price.

I dressed for the night, setting his cape on the back of his chair. I chose a simple shirt and pants, the thickest ones I'd brought with me. I was still cold, but I took the opportunity to inspect his room.

He lives in the attic, a small loft with sparse decoration. What little furniture he did have was extravagant and of the highest quality. His desk chair was made of dark oak wood, the velvet red cushion was well worn. The table matched, a knife was stuck in it, too hard for me to pull out. It was dull, probably used to open letters.

His bed was made, probably just before I got there since it was only roughly put together. Next to it, there was a giant bookshelf pushed against the wall. Most of the books were unmarked and dusty, but a few of them were clean, recently put back. The Art of War, Odyssey, and the Iliad were among them. Their spines were worn and multiple bookmarks were sticking out of the top of each.

"Do you read much?" Techno asked, startling me.

"Um, oh," I stuttered, "I don't know where to get books from, so..."

"No?" He reached over and pulled The Art of War out of the bookshelf.

"I live out in the middle of nowhere," I shrugged, "The only thing I read is my mail."

"That's pretty sad," he said matter-of-factly.

"I have plenty of things to occupy my time with, Technoblade," I crossed my arms.

"Mhm," he handed me the book. Its cover was more worn than its spine, the old leather was cracking at the corners. "Take that home with you, I've read it a thousand times. Might come in handy."

"I suppose I can use it to knock intruders out," I flipped it over. It was like a brick in my hand, heavy and hard enough to break a window. "Thanks."

I yawned, realising how late it's gotten. I left my house almost a full twenty-four hours ago and I rode endlessly until I got here. I was exhausted.

I walked over to my pile of stuff and carefully placed the book in my bag. I then took a bit of a running start and jumped onto the bed, landing in a pile of furs and knitted blankets. "Don't wake me up in the morning," I muttered.

Techno came over and sat on the bed next to me. "I'll try not to," He said.

I shuffled under the blankets and shivered. The furs were enough to keep my body heat in, but I wouldn't tell Techno that. I heard him pick the covers up to join me. Soon, I felt his arms wrap around me, his chest to my back.

My cheeks flushed bright pink and I stifled a giggle. The blood god is snuggling with me... This is not what I thought was going to happen when I joined the server. I smiled and put my hand on his, wrapped around my waist. No one was going to believe this ever happened.

--- The Bird's Dream ---

He’s there, he’s right there. I need to go see him, I need to get there before it’s too late. There are so many people in the way, I’m not going to be there in time to dance. Who are all these people? They whisper about him as if they know him, as if they watch his every step and live in his mind. Left and right, they whisper things about me, about him.

“Did you hear, he’s going to the ball!”

“Oh and with that beautiful bird,”

“If only they knew. Tsk.”

Their eyes were unmoving, fixated on me. I shoved my way through the crowd, suddenly falling into the void.

“Did you really think it was going to be that simple? That you’d just seduce him with the snap of your fingers? He’s not a dog, he can’t be trained. He’s a wild animal. He’s unstable, He’ll break your heart, little bird.” Dream's voice boomed, echoing in my mind.

"Who are you?" I tried to yell, but only air came out.

"I'm the one who whitelisted you, the one who trusted you."

"What does that mean?" I was desperate to stop, to wake up, but I was falling infinitely.

"That's not for you to know, Puppet. You're here because I have a job for you, nothing more. You're the only one that can get through to him."

"What- What's my job? Why am I here?"

"You'll know soon enough-"

--- Technoblade ---

I slept soundly until I felt them stir under me. It sounded like they were having a nightmare, they muttered my name. What the hell are they dreaming about? I pulled them closer, brushing my hand through their hair. I wanted to wake them softly, so they'd forget about whatever was just racing through their mind.

They took a deep breath, signalling their waking. I continued to stroke their hair, "You ok, Bird?"

They mumbled an 'ok' and turned to face me, burying their face in my neck. I did the same and took deep breaths for them to follow. Within minutes, they were asleep in my arms. It felt right.

I didn't have the heart to admit it. If I did, I'd just have to tear it all away again, I'd be the one thing I truly hated. I'd be a traitor.

Don't get attached, Techno. We get to break hearts now, not just crush them! If you name this one, you'll regret it. Nothing screams ruin more than you do.

-

I woke up to birds chirping outside my window. The weather had finally let up, now I could finally get real work done. It took me a couple of seconds to remember the person fast asleep in my arms. A lump formed in my throat, but I swallowed it.

Carefully, I picked up the covers and snuck out of bed. I wanted to keep my promise not to wake them up, and so I immediately left the room, avoiding the creaky floorboards as I descended the stairs to the kitchen.

I pulled half a dozen eggs out of their box and cracked and cooked them over the fire, adding the occasional spice so it wasn't too bland. I toasted some bread and stuck it all on separate plates. Four eggs for me, two for them. I was two times their size, after all. The image of them laying on my bed flashed in my mind, making me smile. I shook it off. I couldn't get attached any more than I was now.

I pulled myself together and went back upstairs with the food. I put my plate on my desk, pulling the knife out of it and stashing it in my drawer. I walked over to the bed, placing their food on the nightstand. I reached over and gently pat them on the head, slowly waking them.

"Good morning," I whispered.

They opened their eyes and mumbled "G'morn'n,"

"I made you some eggs," I said, still petting their head, "You should eat them while they're hot,"

"Ok," they sat up and I moved back over to my desk, sitting in my chair.

They yawned and stretched, their shirt raising over their waist, exposing their belly button. I looked away and busied myself with my food.

Oh, look at them, they're so cute... so naive... so vulnerable.

I wanted to scream at the voices to shut up. They had been plaguing me ever since Phil suggested I invite them. For some reason, they had a vendetta against the bird. They wanted to see them suffer to, in turn, make me suffer. The voice's presence itself was enough to turn my hair grey, but this added a whole extra layer to my agony.

"Techno?"

"Hmm?" I didn't look up from my food.

"Did you make me breakfast in bed?"

I looked at them, hiding my embarrassment, "You told me not to wake you, but I was hungry, and I thought you'd like some too."

They blushed and shrugged. "You know me so well," they sighed.

"And I thought you'd appreciate the origin of the eggs," I added.

"Oh, and where are they from?" Their mouth was full, making them mumble a bit. They looked a bit scared.

"Well," I leaned towards them in my chair, "They're from The egg."

"Bullshit," they called, stuffing their face with more eggs. Maybe I should have given them more.

I laughed, genuinely, "They're just chicken eggs, I doubt the egg would taste very good,"

We ate and joked like nothing was wrong in the world. They were so good at making me feel at home, but the voices were eager to remind me of my past. I wouldn't let them spoil this. What we had was new to me, and I wouldn't just lay down and take the voices at their word. Gods know they aren't worth their weight.

— Philza —

“Hey, you two…” I creaked open the front door to Techno’s cabin.

The bird smiled at me from the breakfast bar, “Hey Phil, good morning!” They seemed very chipper for having just woken up. Both of them were already dressed in the day’s clothes, excluding overcoats that hung on the hooks by the door.

“Hello, Phil,” Techno nodded at me. His hair was neatly braided and they were both already dressed.

"How was your morning?"

"Techno made me breakfast!" They laughed. That was a surprise, he didn't even cook for me.

"Ooh, nice," I said, "What's better than breakfast in bed, eh?"

"Riches beyond your wildest dreams," Techno chuckled. I guess they were both in a good mood this morning.

“It’s nice to see you, mate,” I said to the bird, wandering over to join them at the breakfast bar. I sat down on a stool next to them, putting the notebook on the counter in front of me. “I’ve got something for you.”

“Ooh, what is it?” They said, sliding the notebook over to them. I reached over and opened it to the page I was referring to.

“The banquet has a dress code, and I’m assuming you don’t have anything that matches it,” Everything they wore was forest green or yellow, sometimes they had black or white clothes, but it was few and far between.

“What’s the dress code?”

“It’s blue, black, white, and gold,” I pointed to two drawings on the page, “I’m thinking either I make you a dress or a tuxedo, or I can mix the two. A tux top with a skirt. What do you think?”

They pressed their lips together, surveying their options. I tried my best to draw them, although they were rough sketches of a fancier design in my head. I could draw buildings and architecture for my blueprints, but flow-y things were not as easy.

/// UNDER CONSTRUCTION, BRRRRR ///

Choose your garment! It only affects the story slightly, I promise! There is no gender attached to them, it just changes how you’ll interact with people :)

Dress

Tux-dress

Tuxedo

[thatslikely]

Seasons- G.W. Headcannons

dating George Weasley through the seasons

Warnings: mentions of food, but it's all fluff

Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: just thought it would be fun! Let me know if you want this for any other characters!

George Taglist: @hufflepuff5972

if you want to be added to the taglist, reply to this post, send me an ask, or dm me!

I recommend listening to this playlist while reading for the best experience!

----

Winter

On the first snowfall of the season, you two definitely built an adorable little snowman, complete with coal eyes (you probably stole Ron's scarf for his neck). You told George about the muggle story Frosty the Snowman, and he tried to find a spell to recreate Frosty.

The next day, you two gradually started amassing a large snowman army. Inevitably, in the middle of construction, George betrayed you with an icy snowball to your back.

Naturally, this incited a five day-long snowball war that increasingly got more and more intense. George was surprisingly good at building sturdy snow forts, so you never really stood a chance against his defences. He could have probably constructed a 7 foot tall barricade in a matter of minutes!

Even if you two are locked in battle, he'll always take time to admire the way the white snowflakes rest in your hair so beautifully, as well as the fiery determination behind your eyes.

Fiesty battles aside, George always made sure that you were warm and cozy after a long day in the cold, making homemade hot cocoa using Molly's famous recipe.

One day, long after the ‘Snow Skirmish’, you convince him to go ice skating with you; he absolutely fell in love with it. For a while, he had to hold onto your arms for balance, which led to a lot of falls considering he's a giant compared to you.

Eventually he got the hang of it and you taught him how to play muggle hockey, which he picked up quite quickly. He eventually got all the Weasleys hooked, and they held weekly tournaments. You were always George's favorite cheerleader.

If he ever became a little too cocky, he'd fall face-first onto the hard ice, which always brought a small smile to your face. He always laughed with you, too.

On snowless days, however, you two went on 'expeditions', which entailed peaceful walks through the woods, hand-knitted gloves intertwined.

You'd always keep your eyes peeled for birds or foxes, and occasionally he swore he saw a yeti. You were surprised he never got Fred to dress up in a yeti suit, at least not yet.

Spring

One word: picnics.

You spent the majority of springtime down at the Burrow, enjoying the pleasant spring weather. There were huge multicolored flower fields surrounding George's childhood home, making it even more fitting for the season.

Some days, he'd take you down to the creek past the Burrow, and the two of you would stand ankle-deep in the cool, flowing water. Sometimes, if he was feeling a bit mischievious, he’d splash you with some of the refreshing water, you quickly returning the favor.

Occasionally, he'd try to catch a little leaping frog, holding it carefully in his big palms. He was enchanted by the tiny creature, and without fail, he always begged you to let him keep it.

"But Terrance needs a home! We can make him a terrarium and everything! Please?"

Some days, he'd take you up to the Tree, which laid on a soft, grassy hill in the middle of a luscious yellow flower field. A single tire swing hung from its burly and ancient branches.

Often times, he'd sit at the base of the trunk, either dozing off or humming a song from his youth. If you chose to sit with him, however, he'd braid your hair perfectly and pick some colorful flowers to accent it.

"My little Angel, you look so pretty with flowers in your hair."

You'd always pick some petals for his ginger mop, too.

"Now we're matching, Georgie. Daffodils compliment your hair beautifully."

He loved to push you in the tire swing. He was far too big to fit in it now, to your dismay, but he was perfectly satisfied pushing you back and forth in it. It almost reminded him of rocking a baby cradle.

On rainy days, he'd fetch old rain boots from the attic. He'd always wear Bill's old pair, you wearing his'. The area around the small creek was all muddy, and you can't tell me he wouldn't make mud pies. Even if he's way too old for them.

"Darling, would you care for a pie?"

"And what does it taste like, exactly?"

"It's my signature flavor, mud!"

Summer

I firmly believe George is a good cook. He just is (see my chef!George fic for elabroation).

One sweltering day, you and him went out to the gardens and pick ripe, ruby-red strawberries to chop up and make into homemade strawberry ice cream.

His ice cream would surpass Fortescue's by a lot. Like it's scary. From then on, he made it every Saturday morning, even on chilly winter days.

Sometimes he'd turn adventurous and try some new flavors, which were normally pretty good, until he got a little too creative and made caramel watermelon ice cream. From then on, he stuck with the classics.

In the evenings, a small bonfire was lit and all the Weasleys spent the night drinking and dancing. Bill held a guitar concert, George and Arthur grilled up some hot dogs (which were juicy and delcious), Fred set off some fireworks, and Ginny held fiercely competitive broom races.

When everyone went inside, exhausted, you and George stayed outside, listening to the crickets chirping and admiring the clear, country sky. He pointed out his favorite constellations to you, reenacting the myths behind them with you as his co-actor (you can't tell me we wouldn't let you fake-stab him and he'd fall to the grass super dramatically).

Beach days: a must have.

George would definitely wear red/maroon swim trunks, and there would always be a white stripe of sunscreen on his freckled nose, even after he furiously rubbed it in.

He'd always love the bathing suit you sported, whether it was a gingham bikini or a gorgeous silver one piece. He loved you so much, you never felt self conscious around him.

He'd take you to a secret, tucked-away beach, and you two would spend the day building elaborate sand castles, burying you deep in the sand, and searching for pretty sea shells and sand dollars.

“Where do you think you’re going, Mister? You can’t just leave me buried under the san like this!”

“Someone’ll find you eventually. I just want all the icecream for myself, what can I say? Oh fine, I’ll dig you up, darling.”

Autumn

Autumn at the Burrow was like nothing else. There was always a seemingly endless supply of pumpkin juice and apple juice on tap, and traditions were ampted up to the max.

Pumpkin carving was taken very seriously, and you and George were no exceptions. You and him were never artsy per se, but you always tried your hardest together to crave an intricately designed pumpkin. It always turned out pretty decent, to your surprise.

George and Fred would constantly wear scary masks and hide around he Burrow, or plant fake spiders in the cupboards in hopes of scaring Ron. It always worked.

Since the weather was so nice and chilly, he'd always go around the woods with you collecting a pile of some good sticks for a tree fort. He always carried the branches, and you collected the prettiest orange leaves you could find, for a collage or scrapbook.

All fall, he worked on building a small, secluded tree fort, which was definitely worth it in the end. You two stayed up late into the night, telling ghost stories, kissing, or inviting the whole Weasley clan for a good old fashioned game of Truth or Dare.

As for Halloween, you guys already know he goes overboard. He decorated every inch of every wall with black and orange streamers, fake cobwebs, and little baby pumpkins. It was always really sweet; he'd always wear a proud grin after the whole house was adorned to his liking.

For costumes, I'm 99% sure that you two would always do pun-y couple costumes think him dressing up as a cereal box and you as a killer, or him as a ghost and you a pepper).

You two would also 100% go to a costume store, and buy as much cheap hair gel as you could, all so you two could make each spiky Mohawks (you'd never admit it to George, but he pulled them off).

One time, he let you take him to a muggle farm for the day. You decided it would be fun to do a corn maze. The both of you got lost for three hours. From then on, he just stuck with hay rides.

Spending time with George was always fun, year-round.