#but i have seen enough of them to determine that george would be a big fan

[sevinite]

my oc george blessing everyone with a silent hill/fatal frame inspired serve

[thatfandomslut]

Hands Off

Regina George x Reader

Trigger Warnings: insecurity, underage drinking, jealousy, threatening language

Word Count: 1.8k

Request:

I saw the movie a day after it came out and I have been desperate for jealous Regina x reader. Like Cady tried at the party and BOOM Regina like smothers reader with kisses. Btw thoughts on the movie?

My thoughts on Mean Girls: Initially, going into it, I was nervous due to being such a big fan of the musical and move. I loved the movie, and I think the cast is amazing. I have seen it two times in theaters, and I will be going for two more times, at least.

(Y/n) adjusted herself in the mirror, determining whether she felt confident enough for the outfit she had chosen. However, Regina's words rang through her mind: "Honestly, babe, this costume would look so hot on you." Regina didn't know that she had chosen to go as a devil, decked in red with a horn placed on her head. She went all out, even adding a touch of red, glittery eye shadow. The outfit hugged her curves in ways that she wasn't sure about yet. (Y/n) sighed before checking the time. She couldn't back out of it now. It was officially too late, and after looking at Regina's current location, she saw that the girl was three minutes from her house.

Grabbing the purse and pitchfork she bought to accompany her outfit, she made her way downstairs in order to meet Regina at the door. It also gave her an extra minute to adjust herself in a different lighting. Hearing a honk from outside, she walked outside, spotting Regina's orange jeep, the chill in the air making her wish that Regina chose a vehicle with doors. She shot a quick 'goodbye' to her parents as she made her way over to Regina's Jeep.

"Hey, baby," Regina greeted, pulling her into the passenger seat with a smirk. (Y/n) grinned as Regina kissed her deeply, and (Y/n) got so drunk on the kiss that she almost forgot about Karen and Gretchen in the back. "You took my advice on the costume. You look hot, (Y/n)."

Due to the way that Regina's eyes raked over her body as she got situated beside her girlfriend, (Y/n) began to feel hot, too. Pushing her hair behind her shoulders as the wind whipped it around, she smirked. "Thank you, angel. You look very hot yourself. I'm glad I took your advice. It seems to match your costume very well, huh?" (Y/n) traced her eyes over Regina's angel costume. There was no question when determining how amazing Regina looked. She was the hottest girl in school, and (Y/n) often wondered what she saw in her. To others, Regina might come off as abrasive or angry, but she was never that way with (Y/n). She was soft and flirty, and she was whipped. (Y/n) was, too, though. Not only was she whipped, but she was absolutely in love with Regina.

As they got to the party, the bass could already be heard from the outside, and a girl in a corn outfit had just puked off the side of the porch. The action made (Y/n) curl her nose before following Regina in, hands latched together. They tended to stick together at events like these. Not just because they were in a relationship, but because of the boys around them. "I'm going to go find Jason," Gretchen called out, separating as Karen followed her as she often did. (Y/n) didn't mind them going off together, leaving her and Regina alone as they made their way to the kitchen.

Regina began pouring drinks for her and (Y/n), passing the red solo cup to her girlfriend. "You really do look hot, baby. You should wear red more often." Regina complimented as she set her drink beside them, keeping an eye on it. Her hands fell onto (Y/n)'s hips and she leaned in to kiss her. (Y/n) wasn't one to object to a kiss from her girlfriend, allowing Regina's lips to dance on hers with ease. The base kept them at a pace as they kissed, not caring about the people around them. They were almost secluded in the little kitchen area they were in. The two would've continued to make out if it wasn't for the screams that caused them to jump apart, some of (Y/n)'s drink splashing onto the floor.

(Y/n) quickly went to clean it as Regina narrowed her eyes to see what everyone was screaming at. "Oh my God, Cady looks horrendous," Regina commented, her eyes widening as (Y/n) stood up to see what was going on. She was someone who often defended Cady due to being so new to everything in America. After all, it was evident that she was very sheltered growing up. Regina texted Gretchen, who said Aaron had invited her to the party. "Interesting… Did you know that Cady likes Aaron?" Regina personally felt that Cady was out of her league, but it was whatever Cady wanted, not her obviously.

"Really." (Y/n) said, drinking the contents in her cup before getting a refill. "I wouldn't really have expected it. I think Cady might be too pretty for Aaron of all people. I kind of thought she might like Janis since I've seen them talking a bit. Or, maybe she and Gretchen?"

Regina and (Y/n) tended to try to pair people up with each other for fun. Cady wasn't the exception to that. "Speaking of Gretchen, she's going to be upset if she sees Jason making out with that girl over there. I'm going to go break it up, but I'll be right back," Regina kissed (Y/n) before going to tell off Jason before Gretchen noticed. (Y/n) smiled at her as she walked off, grabbing her drink to keep it safe as she approached Gretchen and Cady.

"Hey, ladies," she greeted with a soft smile. Gretchen was about to respond until she watched Karen from a distance do something she wasn't supposed to. Quickly excusing herself, she ran over to the other girl leaving just Cady and (Y/n). "So, Cady, how are you enjoying North Shore so far? Find anyone you might be interested in yet?" (Y/n) just knew that there was no way that Cady had a crush on Aaron. He wasn't unattractive, Cady just was more attractive. Leaning in slightly, (Y/n) smiled widely. "You can tell me, I promise not to tell anyone. I am like a vault, you know?"

Cady blushed at her question, thankful for the abundance of makeup her mother helped her apply. However, even if (Y/n) couldn't see the blush, she saw the shy fidget. "Yes, actually, but Gretchen and Karen told me not to do anything about it. But… She is pretty cool." Cady answered, taking a small step forward. (Y/n) almost jumped up excitedly at the fact that Cady just confirmed her crush wasn't on Aaron. Now, she was thinking she was right. Cady had to like Janis if not Aaron or Gretchen. She only took Gretchen out of the equation because Cady confirmed she had told her who it was. Cady might be a brainiac when it came to math, but (Y/n) was the best matchmaker on campus.

Too bad she didn't realize that Cady was insinuating her. Sipping the alcohol in her cup, she leaned back a bit to examine Cady, trying to figure out who it was. "Oh, come on, Cady. You can't always listen to Gretchen and Karen, no matter how amazing they are. I say if you like them, you should go for it. Is this person here at the party? Do I know them?" (Y/n) glanced around, seeing Regina return from pairing Jason back up with Gretchen. This was a task she hated doing, but she knew Gretchen was head over heels for Jason for some reason.

"Yeah, she is actually, and you know her very well," Cady answered, placing a hand on (Y/n)'s wrist since her hand was full. (Y/n) was now suddenly very aware of who she was hinting at. Unfortunately for Cady, Regina was now right next to (Y/n) and kissing her deeply before sending a death glare to the girl in a black wig. (Y/n) shook off Cady's hand gently, taking a step closer to Regina who wrapped a hand around (Y/n)'s waist. Cady looked shocked, dejected, and embarrassed. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have… I should go."

Regina provided a sickly sweet smile at this. "Yeah, Cady, there's no hard feeling or whatever, either. Just next time, hands off my girlfriend. I hope your night gets better." Regina said, taking one of the drinks from (Y/n), waiting for Cady to make her way away from them or out of the house. As Cady practically rushed out the door, Regina felt herself crushing the red solo cup before releasing it and replacing it.

(Y/n) didn't feel bad in the sense of Cady's feelings towards her, but seeing Cady sad made her feel bad. But it was awkward now that she had practically admitted that she had feelings for her without saying it. "Regina, I'm sorry. I didn't realize until she took my wrist that she was coming on to me." (Y/n) apologized, hoping Regina wasn't mad at her. She had never made Regina mad before, and she didn't want to.

"It's not your fault that Cady can't keep her hands to herself. What were you two talking about anyways?" Regina questioned, drinking a sip of the alcohol in her hands. She knew her mother would come to pick them up and have someone grab her vehicle in the morning, so she wasn't worried about drinking. Plus, now she needed the drink having witnessed the girl she was trying to help fit in touch with her girlfriend. She was jealous, and she didn't want anyone touching (Y/n) that way ever. "It must've been pretty good seeing as Cady felt the need to grab your wrist. It looked like she was about to kiss you."

(Y/n) finished her second drink as she ran a hand through her hair. "We were talking about how she had a crush on someone, and I was trying to get it out of her. I didn't know it was me so I said go for it, and then when she grabbed my wrist, I was like 'oh, shit.'" (Y/n) explained, hoping Regina believed her. She was telling the truth after all, and Regina was really good at reading the truth about people. Especially (Y/n), not that (Y/n) really ever lied. It was more so little white lies like 'Oh yeah, I totally didn't just take a three-hour nap, I lost my phone.'

"Okay, baby, I believe you. But if Cady ever tries that again, she won't get another chance to be a part of our group, and she will be a social outcast. I will not let her think that she can touch my girlfriend and get away with it." Regina glared at the exit as if Cady might re-enter. Regina then took (Y/n)'s hand. "But let's forget about that and her. Let's just go to my house. We can watch Halloween movies and make out if you want?"

(Y/n) smirked at the offer, nodding slightly. "You know what, you got a deal, angel. Let's do it."

[ukulelevillainwrites]

who follows the rules anyway?

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9

complete

pairing : anthony lockwood x she/her reader

word count : 7.3k

content : fluff scenes where i was kicking my feet as i wrote them, angst too with another fight, the plot thickens

taglist : @cassiopeiia24 @archiveoftara

note : it's like i blinked and suddenly 3 weeks had passed, i have no idea where the time went but i certainly did not want to post this so late thank you everyone for your patience i really hope you like this part (i like it a lot let me know what you think)

“What do you mean?” She asked with round eyes.

“There’s been a sudden increase in missing sources in the past two weeks. This happens at the same time you see Dufour selling a source she stole from a client. That’s too big to be a coincidence.”

“Well, that’s my cue.” Lockwood said as he was heading for the door.  “You should watch out, y/n, he’s going to be rambling for the next two hours.”

“Actually, I kind of want to hear this.”

She settled on the couch next to George, pulling a blanket over her legs. In this moment, there was nothing other than the light shining in George’s eyes as he went into further details and the softness of the blanket underneath her fingertips. About a week ago she thought she had seen him for the last time. That the last image she would have ever had of him was carrying his stuff in a cardboard box so damaged it was a miracle nothing was falling everywhere. Now here she was, listening intently as he told her about the operating system of an industrial-sized source-burning oven used at the furnaces and how time-wasting and inefficient it was to turn them on late. Her anxiety had made itself silent, her tears were dry, her breathing had slowed down. Maybe it was thanks to Lockwood’s comforting peace. Maybe it was thanks to her determination to see the positive even on the darkest days. Maybe she was lying to herself, drawing way out of proportion her ability to keep her emotions in check. Either way, she felt peaceful and warmth flooded her as she realized she got to listen to George’s crazy theories once more. She hoped many more evenings like these were to come. Her career plan may be out the window, but here she had found something she never got close to having at Fittes. She had found her home.

Lockwood left the room without a sound, smiling at his best friend’s enthusiastic tone and energetic hand gestures. She was too caught up in George’s explanation to notice him exiting the room and throwing her one last glance, relieved to see her smiling again. They stayed up well into the first hours of the following day, not paying attention to how late it was actually getting. They hadn’t realized how tired they were either apparently.

A ray of sunshine shone directly into her face. She reluctantly opened an eye to see the sofa in disarray and her blanket on the floor. She was exhausted. Her limbs were heavy, her clothes seemed to be made of lead. She turned her face away from the light, drifting back into peaceful slumber. She heard some light rustling and thought it was another one of her dreams. She was too tired to confront that girl again. But to her surprise she never came. Instead, she felt a cover being draped delicately over her. It was soft and smelled faintly of cinnamon. It was enough to put her back to sleep. As she was drifting in and out of consciousness she could have sworn she felt something brushing her cheek. She must have been dreaming.

She woke up crouched into the sofa, her legs resting on something harder than cushions and covered with a queen-sized blanket she thought she had dreamed of. Light was shining through the windows, the sun already high. She went to get up, but as she tried to move her legs a groan came out of the opposite side of the sofa. George was sleeping on the couch too, his legs underneath hers as well as a part of his torso. They were tangled up in one of the most uncomfortable sleeping position ever. Seeing them like this triggered her laugh which made George pull up the blanket over his head. She got up as delicately as she could so as not to disturb him. She stumbled into the kitchen, sleepy-eyed and unaware of her surroundings.

“I was starting to worry you two might be in a coma.”

She jumped, bumping into the foot of the closest chair.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.”

“What time is it?”

Lockwood told her it was almost one, laughing as he poured himself a cup of tea.

“I thought you’d be sleeping all day.”

“It would have been nice but we have a case tonight, right?” She mumbled. She wasn’t entirely up quite yet.

He smiled and handed her his cup. She warmed her hands on the mug, feeling more awake already. He went to pour himself another one but winced as he picked up the kettle.

“Your arm is still hurting?”

“Just a little, it’s nothing really…” He said, struggling to pour the hot water.

She got up to help him out but had to battle him to take hold of the kettle. She looked him straight in the eyes to silently convince him of letting her do this. He reluctantly let go, and she noticed his tie was undone.

“When did you wake up?” She asked as she poured him a cup.

“About two hours ago.” He said, taking a sip.

“And you didn’t tie your tie because…?”

“I didn’t have to go out yet.”

She might have only been living with them for a week, but during her time here she only saw him without a tie late at night once they had gotten home from a case.

She sighed and went to tie it for him. She raised her hands towards his collar. Before she could take hold of the blue fabric, he reached for them.

“I can do it myself, I swear-”

But his fingers had barely brushed her skin that he had to take hold of his arm. She looked back at him with a disapproving stare. He lowered his hands. She smiled with a triumphant grin, satisfied. He stood straighter with a sigh to allow her to focus on the knot. Slowly, she passed one band over the other.

“How did you manage to button your shirt in that state?”

“It… took longer than expected…” he admitted hesitantly, his eyes looking up at the ceiling.

She passed the larger band around the thinner one, passing it inside the forming knot.

“You need to learn how to ask for help.”

He looked down at her work and scoffed.

“You need to learn how to tie a tie.”

At that she tightened the knot around his neck, enough to startle him. His breath caught and for a moment he looked into her eyes with surprise. After a few seconds, she figured she had taught him a well-deserved lesson and loosened the knot carefully, maintaining eye contact. He still seemed to be holding his breath when she finally let go after neatly replacing his collar and making a few adjustments to the knot. Maybe she’d scared him. That would teach him to criticize her necktie expertise in the morning.

She sat back down, taking a sip of her tea before asking him if he was going to be okay on the case tonight.

“I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

“That probably means I should keep an eye on you. It could have been a very close call yesterday.”

“If you’re gonna keep an eye on me you’ll have to work on your rapier technique.”

“You’re so unfair! First of all, I saved your life. And second, I’m excellent with a rapier, Kipps mentored me every day when I was on his team.”

He let out what was probably the most honest laugh she had ever heard. She crossed her arms, vexed. He could be so infuriating.

“Kipps is mediocre at best.”

“Yeah right, like you could take him in a fight.”

“I could actually. I even brought back a trophy.” He winked at her. “Poor Quill never got over it.”

“Is that seriously the sole reason for your stupid rivalry?”

He nodded, smiling into his cup. He looked so proud. It was rather funny, but she was really close to slapping the grin off his face.

“That, and the fact you humiliated him.” George chimed in, coming through the door barely awake.

“Lockwood! I thought you were better than this.” She acted shocked, but they were all laughing.

“He’s the fully grown man holding a grudge.”

“Oh, right. And you’re just an idiot.” She teased.

He put a hand to his chest, like his feelings were hurt. George interrupted their banter to remind them of the case they had that night and what they were getting into. They organized the rest of their day, Lockwood insisting on training her this afternoon.

---

“Your stance is all wrong and the fight hasn’t even begun.” He left his position and took a step closer to her. “You’re already standing back in defense when nothing has happened yet. You have to look more confident otherwise you’ll lose the upper hand right away.”

“Sure, because confidence is a famous ward against ghosts.”

He wasn’t amused. Right then he looked like a strict fencing teacher bothered by his student’s lack of progress. She hadn’t realized placing her feet improperly could upset him so much.

“Just show me then.”

He came to stand right behind her, telling her to place her right foot a few inches farther from her left. He got closer, a serious look on his face. He really wasn’t joking anymore. He turned slightly around her and lifted her chin to make her look right in front of her. His eyes were sharp and focused. They didn’t linger on her face and he didn’t seem to notice hers getting rounder at the sudden contact of his fingers with her jaw. His other hand was on her waist, adjusting her position a few inches. He then came closer, mimicking her stance like he was her shadow, and took hold of her arms. She felt his breath in her hair. He strengthened her grasp on her rapier and lifted her right arm at the correct angle. It must have triggered his pain because he lost his balance, leaning against her before staggering backwards.

“Are you okay?”

“My arm’s a little sore, that’s all.” He was already trying to get her back into position.

“Maybe we shouldn’t do this today.”

“Really, I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. I’ll cover you for tonight, I’ve done it before I can do it again.” She said, leaving her position to look at him. “No matter how skilled you are you’re not in the right state today, Lockwood. It’s okay to rely on others, you know?”

He didn’t even acknowledge what she just said before adding

“Just try to hold your arm lower than you usually do so you don’t cramp up. It’ll allow you to gain stamina and it could save us some time.”

George called them from the kitchen, he needed help with the bags.

“How did you know-”

Lockwood was already climbing the iron stairs. She shook off the feeling that he could see right through her. It was good advice. She focused on that part and made a mental note to remember it tonight.

---

The case had gone even better than the night before. Sure, it was just a Type One so it wasn’t as dangerous. But they were more coordinated, more organized and more methodical. Lockwood hadn’t gotten into a near death situation, which was a significant improvement. He had been in the last two cases they had been on together, it was enough for her to think it was a common occurrence.

She felt like she was part of a proper team again. However, now she didn’t feel the need to impress anyone. She wasn’t craving the praise and admiration of her team leader. It was liberating. She was free to do her job without worry. It made her feel more confident in her abilities too. She didn’t need to prove anything and she didn’t feel watched all the time. She had found a team that helped her grow.

They established a rotation of their roles, alternating who had to dispose of the source, who had to oil the chains and who had to give the keys back to the client the following day. The guys made her feel instantly like she was an essential member of the team.

The following day, two new clients made appointments. Then two others called. It was like she had blinked and then it had been a week since she’d been officially hired. The cases kept coming but she didn’t mind. Before all the drama of her professional life, she had loved her job and being part of an agency. It was risky, most of the time it sucked. But it was rewarding. And in the end she felt like she had a purpose, like she was making the most of the circumstances and helping out in her own way. The clients kept calling and the cases kept piling up, as if there was an outburst of paranormal activity. It wasn’t unusual to see an increase in hauntings nearing November, but she had hardly seen anything like this. Though Fittes had a lot more resources and maybe it hadn’t affected her team as much. With just them three they had a lot more work on their hands. It could get overwhelming at times but it kept her mind busy and she was thankful for that. It helped keep her dreams under control too. She hadn’t woken up in a cold sweat since she had seen the girl at the foot of her bed. And whatever she wanted from her, she was too busy to even think about it.

Another week passed. Time was flying and she had really gotten used to Portland Row. After a case she threw her rapier in the broken flower pot that stood as an umbrella stand with the others, smiled at the smell of toast coming from the kitchen, she was home. She knew what steps to avoid on a late night or an early morning, she started to know the names of the books in the library, she was even familiar with George’s filing system for their cases and his research, something even Lockwood found hard to follow.

She was grateful for George. He had brought her here. Well, she had followed him here but he was the reason she had stayed. And ever since he had made his best to make her feel at home. They had grown closer, they were actual friends now. Sometimes she assisted him on research, but mostly during the few moments of rest they had she sat at the kitchen table while he was cooking. Listening to him rambling was probably one of her main activities. But it kept her mind off her future, her responsibilities, her family who still thought she worked at Fittes. And she got to learn about random things that could always be useful someday. Once, she managed to find a source that had been hidden in a compartment inside a fireplace thanks to George’s detailed description of their nineteenth century construction technique.

Lockwood would sometimes join them, but it was rare. When they were home, he either had errands to run or paperwork to fill out. Late at night if they had a moment of rest he mostly sat in the comforting silence of the library with a magazine. He was still somewhat of a question mark. She hadn’t figured him out quite yet, but they got along. Training had become a regular thing. Once his arm had healed he had turned into the fencing teacher he aspired to be. He helped her improve her technique, her reflexes and stamina. She immediately saw the difference with the way Kipps used to train her. Kipps followed the rules, he’d always been behaving according to a script and every single one of his movements had been rehearsed. Because of him she had always thought that using her rapier was something that had been decided upon. There were rules and if she wanted to be good she had to stick to them. Anthony Lockwood was different. He was an artist with a weapon in his hand. He knew all the rules, sure. But he was creative, resourceful. Everything she had been taught so far was just a blank canvas to him and he used it to paint the most beautiful pictures. During their fights, he always found a way to gain the upper hand even when she thought her maneuver couldn’t be overpowered. He was so imaginative it was impossible to beat him. And he always looked elegant, no matter how long they fought he remained graceful until the end. It annoyed her every time. She always ended their sessions drenched in sweat and out of breath, her hair a mess. He looked slightly disheveled but overall unaffected. He didn’t even have the decency to act like she was a worthy opponent. His lessons were formative but also a great source of frustration. But it was all in good fun. It had helped them get along better. Though she didn’t feel like she had made much progress since the night he hired her. They would tease each other every now and then but aside from their training they didn’t spend that much time just the two of them. She didn’t know if he kept his distance intentionally or if it was just the normal relationship they should be having as colleagues. The night he comforted her was still very clear in her mind. She remembered vividly the gentleness of his tone and the warmth of his smile. She thought after that it would feel like they were actual friends but something was missing. She still considered that night to be special. It held a meaningful place in her mind, she hoped she would feel closer to him at some point. If she got George to come out of his shell, anything was possible.

Though, her optimism slightly faded the more she saw his behavior with others. She’d quickly learned that he had a natural charisma he used quite often, with clients, DEPRAC or anyone that might get in the way of what he wanted. He had different tricks he’d combine to make the best impression: listening intently to the requests, or sometimes orders, to seem polite and respectful, shine a wolf like smile to seem convinced and reasonable, then start a great speech with a serious tone and a hint of compassion, to end with that same grin she had soon learned was hard to say no to. What bugged her was that when she listened to those seemingly understanding tirades and saw him subtly smile, she got flashbacks from the night he hired her. It seemed a bit too familiar. It particularly disturbed her one night when the client they had been working for joined them right after they finished clearing her house. She had gone away during their inspection but was too preoccupied to sleep and had decided to stay nearby. When they debriefed the case and told her the ghost was very aggressive and was in fact her mother like she had suspected, she got emotional. Even more so when she was told the source was her own childhood stuffed animal. She was overcome with grief and the team tried to comfort her the best they could. She was on the steps in front of the house, too devastated to come in. She was barely older than them. y/n had felt much pain for her. Yet her attention was drawn to Lockwood, and how he comforted her. She was angry at herself for thinking about this. That girl was going through a lot and all her mind could focus on was how her colleague was behaving with her. She didn’t know what to say to ease her pain so she decided to make her tea. When she brought it to her she found out Lockwood was much more at ease than she was. As she reached the doorstep, she saw him sitting with their client.

“I’m so sorry that happened to you. I guess we’ve got that in common. How fun.” Their client tried to sound sarcastic but she was still sobbing.

“It gets better, I promise.” Lockwood put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Don’t be afraid to let people in, you might be pleasantly surprised.” He gave her a warm smile that, from afar, looked terribly similar to the one he had given her. It was like she was watching the scene from a few weeks ago, replaying here in front of her. Only this time she wasn’t part of it. And that smile wasn’t for her. She slowly closed the door, went back to the kitchen to pour a new cup of tea for Lockwood. She went back out and handed them their cup. He thanked her and smiled the same way he had a few moments ago, but it didn’t mean as much now.

She had tried not to pay too much attention to it yet she couldn’t help but feel like Lockwood had been lying to her somehow. She thought he had cared about her, since he had acted like a close friend would have. But every time she saw him shine his smile to someone else she realized it hadn’t really meant anything to him. Maybe getting close like she and George were would be harder than expected. Every time she thought she was close to figuring him out she went back to square one. It wouldn’t be the only thing that had made her notice how wrong she could be about him. His whole rivalry with Kipps and overall pride he made no effort to hide instinctively indicated that he was someone who would understand why she needed to clear her name, but apparently not.

After two weeks of late nights and intense work, they finally caught a breath. The phone had stopped ringing and they could finally enjoy a day off. They woke up late, George cooked a breakfast so big it could only be described as a feast. They had all planned to relax but George being George he intended to go to the Archives anyway.

“But you spend all your days there already!” y/n told him.

“Yes, but today I can research stuff I never have time to look into. Like that whole Dufour thing.”

“You’re not still into that, are you?” Lockwood lifted his eyes from his magazine.

“I just want to see if I was right!” He said, exiting the room.

“Of course you’re right. You are every time.” Lockwood mumbled, going back to his reading.

There was silence after he had gone. It was the first time in weeks that she was alone with Lockwood and they didn’t have to talk about work.

“You really think that he’s right?”

“From experience I’d say so, yeah.”

“Then I think I’m gonna go with him if you don’t need help with anything.”

“Oh. Sure.”

“If that bitch is involved in something big I have to find out!” She meant it as a joke, but part of it was true.

She got up to join George, but Lockwood caught her hand.

“You should let go of that whole thing, y/n. It’s not healthy to dwell on it.”

It took her a minute to answer. Her mind had gone blank the instant his fingers had brushed against her wrist.

“That woman fired me and is selling stolen sources. I want bad stuff to happen to her.”

He laughed lightly.

“I get it but… just be careful.”

“I will… I am.”

He nodded slightly, releasing her hand. His eyes didn’t leave her as she went to find George. Her hand still tingled as she stepped through the front door.

When they got to the Archives, the streets were buzzing with activity. They reached the inside of the building and the noise fell silent, everyone inside focused on their task. Despite the crowd, they managed to find an open spot. George was happy to have her with him that afternoon. Mostly because he wanted to go through the news coverage over the last month and had selected not one but four different newspapers for the task. With a hundred and twenty papers to read, he was glad he had extra help.

“What are we looking for exactly?”

“Anything that could be relevant to Dufour or relic-men. Something that could be part of a bigger operation linking them to the furnaces.”

“That doesn’t really narrow it down…” But he didn’t even notice what she said, he had already started reading.

They had two newspapers each, covering every day of the past month. She picked up the first one on her pile and started looking through the pages for any useful information. There wasn’t anything addressing relic-men or a dealing of sources. The columns dedicated to the Problem were focusing mainly on the advances made by the Rotwell Institute or the donations Fittes had provided to the victims of ghost-lock. One more death by ghost-touch wouldn’t make the headlines. She closed the first newspaper and reached for another one. George was scribbling at high speed in his notebook.

“Did you find something interesting?”

“Yes, about 3 and a half weeks ago there was a short article that mentioned the death of a man the police assumed to be a relic-man. Usually newspapers love this kind of story because relic-men really apply themselves when they kill a rival. It’s the kind of gruesome tale that boosts their sales. But here it’s very brief, talks succinctly of a settling of scores but nothing more. It’s a little surprising, maybe there’s more to it.”

His imagination paired with his attention to detail led to impressive discoveries in seemingly random information.

“Maybe you should double check mine when you’re done…”

She kept reading, the pile of newspapers decreasing slowly. She didn’t manage to find any groundbreaking piece of information, but she did notice the repetition of burglaries in different neighborhoods. It had been mentioned five or six times over the last few weeks. The stolen objects where the usual type of thing: jewelry, money and anything worth selling. But some objects stood out in the list made by the reporter because they were all antiques. The articles suggested that the culprit or culprits might be collectors, but George would certainly find another explanation. She pitched him her theory and he started to write even faster. She didn’t think that was possible. She was glad she could finally help, they had been here for two hours and she hadn’t contributed at all until now.

George got right back to his research but y/n needed a break. She told him she was going to get them some tea but he was already deep into another newspaper.

She got up and started to make her way outside. She climbed down the stairs, putting her jacket on. She headed for the door, but someone caught up with her and grabbed her arm. She turned around to see Quill Kipps with an uncomfortable look on his face.

“y/n, hello… I’m glad I ran into you…”

“I really don’t have time, George is waiting for me.” She dismissed him. She wasn’t over the comments he had made and she lacked the patience to have an entire conversation.

“Oh, some work to do for Lockwood & Co?” He said with an uneasy laugh. That kind of small talk didn’t seem to be his forte.

“Yeah.” She looked at the door, trying to send a message.

“I-I didn’t know you were… um… working there.”

She pressed her lips into a thin smile. She was actually curious to see what he was going to say next.

“You should watch out, Lockwood’s an idiot.”

Unbelievable. For arch nemeses they were behaving awfully similar. Though it would be unfair to say that his comment wasn’t accurate sometimes.

“That’s funny because I hear similar things about you back home.”

“Oh, it’s your home now?”

“Kipps, seriously what do you want?”

“I wanted to apologize.”

“Well, you’re doing a fantastic job!” She pushed the door and rushed outside. She didn’t know if it was Lockwood’s loathing of the guy that had rubbed off on her or if it was simply this conversation but she had had enough of him. Unfortunately for her he was persistent. He ran after her, telling her to slow down.

“What?” Her tone was cold and menacing.

He took a step back.

“y/n… I’m really sorry about what happened at the furnaces. It was insensitive and really dumb of me and I’m sorry.”

He seemed honest enough. She looked up.

“I’m worried about you. You were one of the best agents I’ve worked with but now there are some pretty bad rumors going around Fittes…”

“What rumors?”

Something shifted in his attitude. He was worried but he also seemed afraid of something she couldn’t pinpoint. He tried to put the next part delicately but it had the opposite effect.

“Many agents have been saying things about you going… bad? Like… on the wrong side of psychical work…”

Her stomach twisted and the fact that he spoke in riddles didn’t help. Was he afraid of her?

“Just spit it out, Kipps.”

“According to some probably unreliable sources, you’d be working closely with… relic-men.”

“You can’t be serious.” The blood left her cheeks.

“George too…”

She felt light-headed.

“Given your reaction I’m guessing I was right not to believe them.”

“How gracious of you.”

“y/n I’m serious. I may have only worked with you for a month but I know how seriously you took your job. And given the proportions this is taking I just wanted to offer my help.”

“What do you mean?”

“You haven’t seen today’s paper?”

“No… why?”

He pulled out a newspaper. On the front page the head title read “Rogue agents: should we be doing more?”. She looked up at him, a million questions flooding her mind. That article couldn’t be about her, right? He gave her an apologetic smile and asked her if she wanted a cup of coffee. He didn’t wait for her answer and led her to the coffee shop next door. Her eyes hadn’t left the article as they sat down. The reporter was explaining in great details that agents, after seeing so many traumatic things, needed to be eased back into society before returning to a normal life. He invoked psychological explanations that remained unclear. He advocated for the creation of a rehabilitation program to keep ex-agents under control so they didn’t end up on the wrong side of the law. He went as far as offering a mandatory two-month long camp of sorts for troublesome young people. He justified his remarks with murky reasons. Having worked in the field for many years, she knew this was all bullshit. But to someone who had never been in her shoes, it would be convincing without a doubt. But the worst part was yet to come. To emphasize the urgency of this issue, the reporter used examples of agents who had apparently gone wrong, citing several supervisors as his source. Apparently, a certain Fittes supervisor had been the witness to concerning behaviors coming from two young people, now ex agents, who had been caught committing several felonies, including maintaining business relations with known relic-men. Right there, on the following line, appeared her name. The reporter ended his piece in a dramatic tone, underlying the fact that those wrong doers hadn’t been apprehended by DEPRAC and remained at large.

She threw the newspaper back on the table.

“It wouldn’t have surprised me that much to hear that Karim was part of this. But you… It seemed impossible. And I really wanted to check up on you.”

She didn’t know what to say. Her name was being dragged through the mud. And what, she was going to be forced in a rehabilitation program made up by some trashy reporter and all  because of the same person who fired her? Like ending her career hadn’t been enough. She was taking the blame for the crimes she had seen Dufour commit.

“I need to… get out of there.”

Kipps got up as she stood up.

“Can I keep this?”

“Yes, whatever you need.”

She smiled, or at least tried, and pushed the door of the coffee shop. Before she left Kipps called her.

“y/n, I’m on your side okay? You can count on me.”

“Thank you.” She answered faintly. She was still shaken. She couldn’t believe the proportions this was taking. She had finally started to let go of her time at Fittes and all her efforts were reduced to nothing with just one page in a newspaper.

She rushed back to the Archives, desperate to show the article to George. He hadn’t noticed how long she had been gone, he didn’t even say anything about the tea she didn’t bring back. His notebook was filled with new facts and arrows linking some of them together. She sat down next to him. He didn’t look up, he just started talking, saying something about repetitive power outages. She pushed the newspaper Kipps gave her in front of his notes.

“What’s this?”

“Today’s newspaper. We made the front page.”

“What do you-”

His eyes were fleeting across the paper. They grew wider as he went further.

“This is a joke, right?”

“I wish it was. Maybe it’s just a nightmare and I’ll wake up on the couch with your feet in my face.” She tried to ease the tension she was feeling but none of them laughed. She was self-conscious about being in a place filled with agents. Did they read the paper too? Did they know who they were? She heard two people whispering on her left, she turned to look, George did the same.

“Maybe we’ll be better home.”

“Yeah let’s get out of here.”

No one had said a thing the whole way home. They were both lost in thought. George opened the front door. They took off their jacket and instinctively went down to the kitchen. She put the kettle on while he got some biscuits. They sat facing each other, seeking comfort in the sweetness of cookies and the warmth of their tea. Lockwood entered the room and was taken aback by the look on their face.

“What happened to you both? You look like you’ve seen a ghost in broad daylight.”

“We ran into Kipps.” George said without elaborating.

“I can understand how this could ruin someone’s day.” He smiled broadly.

“It’s not about him.” y/n snapped. “It’s about this.” She handed him the newspaper.

Lockwood skimmed through the article, still smiling. He didn’t look affected at all.

“Well, this is obviously ridiculous. But there’s no need to panic over a badly written article.”

“Lockwood this is on the front page!” George exclaimed.

“Rumors are starting to spread at Fittes.” y/n said in a monotone voice.

“I understand that this is an uncomfortable position to be in but it’ll blow over. There’s no need to overreact, juts keep a low profile.”

“I’m not gonna sit still while Dufour is out there ruining our reputation after already ruining our careers.” She stood up. “We’ve got enough dirt to bury her with what we found today.”

Lockwood gave her an exasperated look. George didn’t notice and began going over his notes, explaining the connections he had made.

“There’s clearly a link there and we can act on it!”

“Absolutely not!”

The temperature had dropped several degrees. The tension in the room was palpable. At least y/n felt it. But George had kept on going, starting to come up with a plan to follow Dufour and see what she was up to from up close.

“George.” Lockwood interrupted. “You’re reaching. It’s a coincidence at best and you know it. It wouldn’t be the first time relic dealing affects other industries.”

“Come on! Don’t you think that-”

“No. I don’t. Please try to focus on the real cases this business needs and don’t get stuck on another obsession.”

“You’re so unfair! You’re the one who keeps telling me that George is always right and that we should listen to his instincts!” y/n cut in.

“And I also told you that you shouldn’t do what he does. The last time you did, it got you fired.” Lockwood turned to her, his arms crossed. How often was he going to go into that well?

“Because you’re always so good at following made up rules…”

“I’m being rational and grounded, which in this case makes me exemplary.”

“Right, and that’s coming from the guy who disregards his own safety most of the time and doesn’t acknowledge that the risks he takes are completely unnecessary.”

“You’re the one who wants to play right into her game! Can’t you see that she’s waiting for one of you to slip up so you can take the blame for everything she’s done?” He gave both of them a warning look. He made a good point, but he was much too aware of it and she didn’t want to acknowledge it.

“I’m serious when I say do not act on it. Dragging Lockwood&Co into this mess would be the last thing we need.”

His last words ignited the flame already burning inside her.

“This is all this is about, isn’t it? If your name was the one being tied to crimes you didn’t commit you’d be the first to convince us to do something about this. But when it’s the other way around you have to think of business first.”

“This company is all you have left!”

“Rather you’re all we have left, right? The great Anthony Lockwood rescuing us and being a hero. How glorious of you!”

He scoffed and closed exasperated eyes as he pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“You need to keep your ego in check, Lockwood. You need us as much as we need you!”

“If you want to cut your safety net then you can go! But as long as you work in my company, you’ll have to listen to what I have to say. It’s my name on the door and it’s my decision.”

She stormed out of the room and went up to the attic. His lack of understanding was too much to bear. She wished he had listened. Was it really too much to ask? She really thought that he would see why she needed to do something instead of laying low. Him of all people should understand. She guessed she didn’t know him as well as she thought.

She spent the rest of the day in her room, brooding, thinking about Dufour. The nerve she had to blame her for everything she did. All of this because she offered a different solution than hers to a client? Sure she broke into her office after that but it still seemed extreme.

She didn’t feel like going downstairs for dinner. She wasn’t really hungry anyway. But even if she had been, she didn’t want to face the obvious tension that would follow. She had gotten used to Lockwood’s warm brown eyes, but today they had been cold when he looked at her. She hadn’t been arguing with a friend or roommate or whatever they were, he had been her employer and she was expected to follow his orders.

There was a knock on her door. It was George, bringing her some food. He put the plate on her nightstand and sat next to her on her bed.

“Thought you could use something to eat.”

“That’s sweet of you, thank you.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Upset. And overwhelmed. But I’ll be okay. It’s just a lot you know?”

“Yeah… I still tried to convince Lockwood over dinner. You were right not to come down, it wasn’t a pleasant conversation. He’s dead set on burying this whole thing.”

At least she had one ally in this house.

“I don’t understand his reaction. It doesn’t make any sense.”

“Don’t overthink it. He’s just… like that sometimes.”

She didn’t say anything for a while, lost in thought. George went to get the plate he had brought up and put it in her hands.

“You should eat. Don’t worry, you’ll be back to teasing each other in no time.” She froze. After a second, she looked up and saw him look so proud of himself.

“That’s not what this is about! What are you even getting at?”

He laughed and put a hand over her shoulder, rolling his eyes. She wanted to push him off her bed, but one bite and she surrendered, forced to compliment him yet again on his cooking.

The following morning y/n was the first one up. Sleep had cleared her mind. If Lockwood wasn’t going to help them, then she would take matter into her own hands. The plan George had started to elaborate the night before had grown into her mind. Following Dufour would really help her know what she was up against. George’s theory was a good start, but to take action she needed to know more about her operation, her clients, her associates. What was she in charge of exactly? How did she cover her tracks?

She walked into the kitchen with purpose. Today, she was taking her life back. She brewed some tea, poured herself a cup and ate toasts as she started to devise her plan on the Thinking Cloth. She remained vague on purpose. If Lockwood saw it, he would think it was just theoretical, like one of George’s ideas. She was so focused that she didn’t hear him coming in. He poured himself a cup of tea, but it was only when he spat it out that she noticed he was there.

“Why do you always make your tea so bitter?” he asked way too loudly for this hour of the morning.

“I think it suits you…” She mumbled, her eyes still set on the table.

He poured more water in his cup but still groaned when he tried it again. Desperate for silence, she got up and grabbed the sugar.

“Here, maybe it’ll soften your mood too.”

“No!” he exclaimed too late. She was already adding sugar to his cup. The opposition only made her pour more of it.

She felt him glaring at her. She tried not to smile, knowing it would infuriate him further and make her morning even less enjoyable. She sat back down and grabbed licorice from the bag that rested on the table. As she went to take a bite he slapped her wrist, making her drop it.

“Ow! What was that for?”

He didn’t bother to answer. He simply took the bag of licorice and left the room. She thought many things of Anthony Lockwood. He was a prick and an idiot, hot headed and impulsive, stubborn, but she didn’t know petty was also part of the list. He quickly said something about meeting an old friend before slamming the front door on his way out. It must have woken up George since he stumbled into the kitchen sleepy-eyed just a few minutes later. She didn’t intend on filling him in about her plan just yet. She wanted to have tangible result before dragging him into it.

She took a while longer to get all the details of her plan. She had tried to plan an itinerary that checked all the important places she needed to stake out. She would try to do as much as possible in one day. Once she had a clear idea where to start, she went up to the attic to finish getting ready. In the hall, she told George she had some errands to run. She put on her shoes, grabbed her coat and was about to open the door when the bell rang. She looked through the peephole. A tall thin man and a woman where standing in front of the door, a DEPRAC van parked right outside the house. She hesitantly opened the door.

“Good morning. I’m inspector Barnes, this is inspector Wade. Is George Karim here?”

“Um… Yes. Yes, he’s here. Should I go and get him?”

He ignored her question.

“Are you miss (y/n)?”

“Yes… I am…”

“I’m gonna have to ask you both to come with us.”

———

PS : I'm probably gonna open the next part with a couple of scenes from lockwood's pov ;))

[tarosin]

The great adventures of y/n tubbo jack niki and george

requested:yes/no

pairing: platonic y/n,tubbo,jack,niki and george

summary: minecraft cave in real life

content warning: cursing

an: the word love is used a couple times but this is all platonic <3 i still don’t know how to add read more on mobile i am sorry about that, part 3 to great adventures series

it was around 4 am when the heat became a problem, unable to sleep you grabbed your phone and decided to facetime ranboo just as he was ending stream

“hey boo...you look like you’ve seen a ghost what the fuck were you doing”

“fnaf vr”

“I’m sure it’s not that bad you’re being dramatic”

“okay we shall see how you like it when I make you play it when I’m in the UK”

“okay bet I’ll add it to our list of videos and stream ideas anyway I can't sleep it’s too hot and I’m so confused as to why Tommy keeps asking me if I like and I quote being high”

“tubbo was telling me about that he keeps teasing him about planes you never know maybe you’re all going on an international adventure... or being pushed out a plane”

“doubt it there’s no way Tommy would pull something as crazy as jumping out a plane it would be pretty cool, I was thinking about doing it for my birthday”

“with a parachute? I hope”

“eh with or without, either way, is fine for me”

an hour passed you and ranboo sat talking about what was happening tomorrow and how you wished he was going to be there with you, after all, you knew how it felt to be watching people you care about making plans and doing things without you.

“didn’t you say you were going to a cave tomorrow? Minecraft in real life, nice”

“I’m begging please touch grass”

“I’ve already done that it made me want to become an engineer now get some rest y/n you’ll be getting up in a few hours, I’ll call you tomorrow goodnight”

“see you tomorrow I love you”

*y/n has ended the call*

•••

when you woke up at 9 you couldn’t shake off the awful feeling you had, today just didn’t feel like a good day you needed some time to yourself to recharge however you knew you’d be okay later on

Niki: good morning y/n!! would you like us to pick you up now or do you need a bit longer

y/n: don’t worry about it I’ll make my own way!! :]

Niki: okay see you soon!!

George: we will pick you up in an hour and a bit

Tommy: wait what are you guys doing

tubbo: following jack and Niki around

y/n: what he said

Tommy: have fun then guys without me

y/n: don’t you have work to do big guy

Tommy: don’t you have to get ready

y/n: leave me alone

•••

soon enough you saw jacks car pull up outside so you grabbed your bag from the other day as it still had everything you needed except this time you decided to bring along a mini first aid kit as you knew your clumsiness and a cave wouldn’t mix well. now you were fully awake you couldn’t wait to go explore the caves, you sat next to Niki who decided to play with your hair and spent half of the journey on a call with an unhappy Tommy who was in college waiting to go to lesson the other half of the journey was spent singing along to the radio

•••

jack started recording and turned around to see you Niki and tubbo leaning over looking down at the floor

“oh hi jack” you waved at the camera “so what’s the plan of action”

“we’re going up there”

you loved heights so hearing that you were going to go on a cable car made you pretty excited once you all got into the car you and George tried opening all the windows whilst tubbo complained

“stop trying to open things”

“it’s a window”

“scared you’re going to get pushed over the edge hmm? scared you’ll have to free fall? it’s not that high you'd probably survive the fall, it’s not like I'm trying to open the door on a plane”

“y/n I mean this in the nicest way possible I’m never going on a plane with you”

tubbo laughed and joined the conversation “we shall see about that”

you tilted your head to the side and blinked a few times trying to process what he just said

“heh?”

“tubbo if we fell we would die right”

“you know jack I've done a lot in my life”

you took the phone from jack and began filming him and George

“why is it slowing down”

“we’re going to die”

“I didn’t bring enough food”

you sat laughing at your friends' reaction before explaining that it’s slowing down for a reason

“they’re slowing it down so you can jump out, what I didn’t tell you is there’s actually a parachute underneath where you’re sat, good luck gamers”

“We could probably climb out the window”

“NO, where do we go”

you just sat shaking your head laughing whilst your friends sat screaming about it stopping

“y/n we’re going to die”

“oh no.. let me just text ranboo to start planning our funerals”

eventually, the cable car began moving just very slow you then ended the recording after jack made jokes about it moving as fast as a George video comes out, you all then spent the rest of the time enjoying everyone’s company.

•••

tubbo noticed a park and ran to the ropes giving you time to update your community a stream will be happening later on

y/n has tweeted: I am outside, stream with ranboo when we get home :]

you laughed as you posted that as all the comments started rolling in questioning if ranboo had come to the UK. you walked back to your group and wrapped your arms around jack and Niki making them both jump out of shock

“Sorry about that ahah now if you don’t mind I want to play in the park”

they laughed as you ran to the rope trying to swing without falling that’s when you gave up and started climbing the net close to Niki.

“that’s not a swing George”

jack ran towards them “I’m getting on the swing with George”

Niki laughed as she recorded what was happening in front of her, she looked to her left expecting to see you stood next to her however she heard you laugh and run towards your friends

“I’m getting on the swing with tubbo”

a few moments later George pointed out a castle and tubbo mentioned the ‘wet rocks’ you just stood with your arm around Niki's shoulders enjoying the view of the castle that was until a dog caught your attention and you walked off to go ask if you could pet it

“Niki where’s y/n they were with you last”

“with the dog”

“tubbo when they come back just follow the path towards the castle, me and Niki are going to record”

“got it, boss man”

•••

after a few minutes, you walked back to tubbo and George realising jack and Niki weren’t there you tilted your head shrugged then sat next to tubbo on the swings as George began recording

“jack and Niki have left us but we’re having fun on the swings..”

“maybe we’ll lick some rocks”

“YEAH”

•••

“if we’re quiet we can sneak up on them”

the three of you ran down the path towards the start of the castle steps looking at the cameras that allowed you to see the top of the castle

“there they are”

“they’re vlogging”

“We can just see them through the castle cameras they have no idea we can see them”

you stood leaning against George until you all noticed they were about to make their way back down the steps so all ran off to hide

“there they go”

the three of you ran back down the path ignoring the stares from strangers and comments about how your hair was obnoxiously bright, the three of you scared the pair who were looking for you all

“I’ve never been less displeased to see George”

the five of you continued walking around after joking about the green water and questioning George on how he could tell what colour it was

“I’m a genius”

a few fans can over and took photos with you all and George began questioning them

“George you’re really self-promoting right now”

“George I am disappointed in you”

•••

“dude it’s boiling”

“ice cream?”

the five of you stood inline

“I’m dying to tubbo”

“I’m not going to ask questions, I love how you just accepted defeat”

“you’re next y/n” tubbo let go of George and began walking towards you

“FUCK OFF NO” you ran behind George and used him as a shield

“y/n George isn’t going to protect you”

“I will y/n don't worry tubbo fuck off” the three of you stood laughing not realising jack was walking towards you all with the ice cream

“thank you”

“you’re welcome how’s the ice cream”

“great thank you”

you laughed at jack who somehow managed to get ice cream on his nose

•••

you and tubbo noticed a wishing well and walked over to it

“wanna make a wish”

“yeah but we have no money”

you both looked at each other then at jack them looked back at each other and nodded

“what are you two doing”

“We wanna make a wish”

“come on give me your money”

everyone stood laughing at you and tubbo determined to make a wish whilst jack argued he had no money however tubbo noticed a £20 note and grabbed it

“y/n quick make a wish”

the pair of you held the note and then dropped it into the well

“yay!!”

“We made a wish”

the pair of you walked off whilst jack stood telling you both how he can’t believe you and the pair of you had stolen over £100 from him today making you both laugh

“tell me the wish”

“We can’t or it won’t come true”

•••

“right cave time”

“we’re going to die”

“well thanks for that George”

you stood next to tubbo trying to ignore your friends as they made comments about there being mobs like creepers in the cave

“you two really need to go outside more”

everything was going well for you until the worker said to everyone

“I think we do have some kids here who are doing a vlog”

you could feel your cheeks heating up from embarrassment although you loved your job you still weren’t used to people pointing it out

•••

“This cave has a door”

“naturally formed door”

“y/n tubbo were in the caves, where are the diamonds”

you pointed in a random direction then continued walking whilst tubbo kneeled examining the rock claiming there were diamonds, as you all kept walking you had to put up with tubbo jack and George making Minecraft jokes whilst Niki followed behind them staying rather quiet, everyone’s as focusing on the cave not saying much till George spoke up

“it’s turned into a horror movie”

“why’s the cave so low why can’t they just dig up”

“y/n did you really just ask that”

“yes I did my neck hurts from ducking under the rock”

“so sorry to hear that”

“thank you for your concern George”

“I’m not concerned”

“oh-“

the tour continued and you were genuinely having a good time, you found all the different rocks and information given to you by the worker fascinating and slowly stopped listening to what your friends were saying behind you

“so this little tunnel up here is where they would send the kids”

“off you go tubbo and y/n”

“please no”

you all continued for a while till you were told you were going in the dark despite the fact you were excited you were also very afraid of the dark so stood closer to tubbo who instantly noticed and pulled you into a side hug

“we’re going dark”

“oh wow that is the only source of light”

a minute or so later they turned on some softly coloured led lights so you could all look at the geode

“holy shit that’s beautiful”

“I thought a geode was a small animal”

“that’s a pokemon dude”

you were all given time to go for a wander however rather than walking with the others you decided to stay with the geode and started a group call with ranboo and Tommy

“hi guys can’t stay long break is almost over”

“that’s okay Tommy but look at this giant fucking rock”

you flipped the camera so they could see and went around showing them parts of the cave

“holy shit”

“looks great y/n”

“cool right I have to go the worker wants us to get ready to leave see you all soon”

“wait y/n one last question, how are you with heights”

“oooh I’m great I love them we went in a cable car earlier”

“awesome see you all later”

*Tommy left the call*

“I’ll call you when I get home boo I’ll see you soon!!”

“bye y/n stay safe”

*ranboo has left the call*

*y/n has left the call*

as you all left the cave you and tubbo noticed two rocks and went to pick them up

“hey look our wish came true”

“yeah we wished for a weird looking rock when we left the cave”

“you paid £20 for a rock”

“yes”

a few minutes later you and tubbo just started walking away only to be later followed by everyone else

“where are you going”

•••

you all got the cable car back at this point you were exhausted you used all your energy running around the cave determined to show Tommy and ranboo everything

“What did you all think of the cave”

“loved it”

“you lost your rock tubbo?”

tubbo pulled out the rock and smiled at jack

“no, I didn’t”

“but you chucked it”

“told you we wished for a magic rock”

jack finished the recording and you all just sat talking about your day and any future plans

•••

the journey back home was extremely quiet you and tubbo sat next to each other, you fell asleep with your head resting on his shoulder, Niki sat in the front with jack quietly singing along to the radio and George and tubbo quietly spoke to each other trying not to wake you up.

when you finally got home you woke up on your couch confused as to how you got there it was only when you checked your phone you got the answer

Niki: you looked exhausted we didn’t want to wake you, hope you don’t mind. your keys are on the table next to your bag!! see you soon it was lovely meeting you <3

you decided to reply thanking your friends for today.

•••

*incoming call: ranboo*

you accepted the call

“hey y/n tell me all about your day whilst you get ready to stream I'm already set up”

“oh they’re gonna be so annoyed I've joined in with making jokes about you being in the UK anyway so my day was pretty good but I did end up asleep on my couch and had no idea how I got there”

“heh?”

“let me explain”

[chudleycanonficfest]

Day 28, Post #1 by @floreatcastellumposts

Title: The Argument Author/Artist: FloreatCastellum Pairing: Gen Prompt: “Siblings: The only enemy you can’t live without” -Anonymous Rating: T Trigger Warning(s) (if any): Mild language

When he was a child, Ron had sometimes sat secretly on the stairs, feet in slippers too big for him, teddy tucked under his arm, listening to the goings on in the kitchen. Often his sister or a brother or two would be with him. This was especially the case when there was an argument, because they were a nosy bunch of kids, and they would grin gleefully at one another as they heard their mother roar over some issue, like when Bill came home with his first tattoo, or Charlie had done something dangerous like climb on the roof, or the many, many, many things that Fred and George had done. They would gather on the stairs and snigger and delight in their siblings being in trouble - that it wasn't them, and usually it was over something hilarious too. 

Today was quite different. The stairs were narrow, so Ginny was pressed right up against him, but she was gripping hold of his arm too. Behind them, Fred and George sat in grim, stony silence, their knees occasionally knocking the back of Ron's head, but, remarkably, none of them were squabbling.

'Is it so hard to just be happy for me?' Percy was bellowing, and that in itself was unusual, because it was never Percy in trouble. 

'It's not about that,' Dad was bellowing back, 'are you so naive? Are you really so foolish-?' This was unusual too, because it wasn't usually Dad bellowing. 

'Percy... Percy, we're just worried, we're just concerned...' Mum was sobbing. This was unusual, because she usually had a bit more fight in her, not this desperate pleading. 

'You're so cynical, the pair of you-'

'We're realistic! You've been promoted well above your grade before the dust has settled on the inquiry-'

'STOP BRINGING UP THE INQUIRY!' Percy sounded quite deranged; the ferocity of his voice made Ginny jump slightly, and grip Ron's arm harder. 'That - wasn't - my - fault! That was the point of it! That PROVED I wasn't to blame, I was acquitted-'

'Yes, and we were delighted,' said Dad, and to Ron's astonishment, his words sounded bitingly sarcastic, 'but even so, you have to see that mass scandal is not usually a precursor to promotion!'

'He SAW something in me!' 

'Yes, he did! He saw a potential spy! On our family - on Dumbledore-'

Percy let out a maniacal laugh, forced and sneering and sanctimonious, it made Ron wince as he heard it. 'And you say I'm arrogant?' 

'We've never said you were arrogant-' Mum tried to chip in desperately, but Percy continued talking over her. 

'You think you're important enough to warrant the Minister for Magic spying on you? You think he considers you in the same circle as Dumbledore? More to the point, you think Dumbledore truly respects the likes of you?'  

'Fudge has been going round making it more than clear that anyone who supports Dumbledore can clear out their desks-'

'Utter rot-'

'-He knows I'm friendly with him, he knows I have advised the school on muggleborn inte-'

'No one cares!' Percy screamed. 'No one cares about that stuff! You're ludicrous!'

'Ludicrous?' Dad echoed, with an uncharacteristic scoff to his voice. 

'Ludicrous! Not everything is a conspiracy, not everything has an anti-muggle agenda - I know what this is really about, you're embarrassed that your own son is rising above you, is succeeding where you haven't-'

'Percy!' Mum's gasp was so clear that Ron could easily imagine her hand leaping to her chest. 

'I've had to struggle against your lousy reputation ever since I started! Do you know how embarrassing it is? Do you know what it's like having people ask if I'm related to the muggle-mad Weasley on Level Two-' 

'That's enough,' said Dad coldly. 

'I lie to them, d'you know that? I tell them we're only distantly related.' 

'What the fuck?' Ron heard one of the twins whisper behind them. 'Is he serious?' 

'I never imagined I had raised you to be so small-minded-' Dad was spitting back.

'It's baffling that you raised me at all! You, who has no ambition, no sense, no idea of how ridiculous you come across with your obsession with muggles - is it any wonder you've always been passed over for promotion-'

'-Because of bigotry!'

'-Any wonder you've left your children to grow up in poverty? To be humiliated by the failures of their father?' 

'Stop it! Percy, stop it!' Mum was wailing, and whether it was Fred or George directly behind him Ron didn't know, but their knee was trembling against the back of his head. 

'It's not failure, it's a matter of principle and integrity!' Dad roared back. 'There are more important things than gold, that's what we've always-'

'You are deluded! You are so blinded by your persecution complex, by your victimhood, that you cannot be happy for your son!' Percy’s voice was hoarse and raw, whether from tears or overexertion, Ron wasn’t sure. 'You can't bear to see him succeed where you failed! To see him make something of himself!'

'Why would I be happy watching my son be manipulated and used? Make no mistake, Percy - this is no achievement, this is Fudge playing you as a puppet - if you're ashamed of your background, that's your prerogative, but there's no denying this family is known to be close to Dumbledore and Harry, and Fudge is waging a vendetta against-'

‘You’re an idiot to run around with Dumbledore!’ snapped Percy. ‘He’s heading for trouble - gone completely power mad the last few years - you know full well his glory days are over. You’ll end up going down with him-’

‘Fudge is fighting a campaign against Dumbledore when he should be-’

‘I know where my loyalties lie, and it is not with my old teacher! It is with my employer, the leader of my government, with people who look at the facts!’

‘The facts are that Harry-’

'Yes - Harry - here we go,' snapped Percy. 'You rank the word of a child above the expert testimonies and mountains of evidence brought up by the inquiry, above your own boss - no wonder he thinks you're cracked. You’re determined to see conspiracy everywhere-’ 

‘How can you say that? You saw the aftermath of what happened, you saw him-’

‘I saw the actual dead boy, I saw Diggory!’ snapped Percy. ‘Think what his family is going through, their child’s death being used as a political quaffle-’

‘That is Fudge’s doing! That is his choice! He has chosen to make a mockery of Diggory, to disregard Harry-'

‘To question the story of a teenager,’ corrected Percy. His tone was cold and quiet, the kind of sanctimonious "I'm being the grown up here, actually" patience that Ron found unbearably aggravating. ‘The only evidence is his word, it’s not unreasonable to question a witness. In fact, it’s a perfectly standard part of due process.’

Ron’s growing anger was now twisted with a kind of lurching dread. The snide little comments in the Daily Prophet, which they had all blustered and raged and gasped in revolted disdain at over breakfasts for the past week, suddenly felt sinister. As he thought about it, Percy had never joined in… had always been silent… 

‘Percy…’ said Mum, so faintly that, as one, Ron, Ginny, Fred and George all leaned forward to listen. ‘Percy, surely you… surely you believe him? Surely you can’t believe he deserves what they’re saying about him? He’s just a child - it’s like the whole world’s forgotten that he’s just a child.’ 

'Yes, he's just a child - so why should he be the centre of everything?' Percy demanded. 'Why should he shape our family? Impact our careers?' 

'Percy… if you had seen him in the hospital wing, if you had looked into his eyes…' 

'Mr Fudge was not convinced,' said Percy, as though that settled the matter.

‘Has he asked you about Harry?’ Dad asked abruptly. Beside Ron, Ginny was shaking. ‘Casually?’ 

‘I - no more than is to be expected when you have someone famous living under your roof-’

‘What did he ask? What did you say?’ 

They heard a brief, thick silence, and a sharp exhale of air. ‘He… he’s not relevant to this discussion. This is beyond - this isn’t the issue - the only evidence is his word, as I said-’ 

‘You don’t believe him.’ Dad’s voice was blank, stunned, quiet. ‘You… you know that boy, Percy.’  

‘You don’t believe in me,’ said Percy, and Ron could hear his tears now, the slight thickness to his voice, the sniffs between words. ‘You’d rather believe in some ludicrous conspiracy theory from a teenager who thinks he sees You-Know-Who around every corner than believe that your own son might have worked hard, might be talented, might deserve his career. You’d really think so little of me.’ 

‘That’s not it. That’s not it at all,’ Dad said quietly, and Mum was crying loudly. ‘We just-’

‘I don’t care!’ said Percy harshly. ‘I don’t care what you think! Not any more! Years I’ve put up with it, years! I’m going - I’m gone - I don’t want to see either of you again - you’ve made it clear that you don’t have my interests at heart, this was your choice-’

‘What do you mean?’ Mum shrieked, and they could hear the scraping of chairs being moved aside, thundering footsteps, Mum begging-

The door was thrust open, and Percy stood for a moment in the hallway, looking up at the four of them sitting on the stairs. His expression was unreadable. Tear tracks shone from beneath his horn-rimmed glasses, and his mouth was a thin, grim line. 

‘Move,’ he told them. 

‘You’re being a right bellend,’ said Fred at once. 

‘MOVE!’ 

They did not, and Mum had come running after Percy, hanging desperately onto his arm though he tried to shake her off. ‘Come on, Perce,’ she pleaded. ‘Come and sit down, let’s all cool off and talk about this-’

‘Get out of my way,’ Percy told his siblings once more, and now Ron stood. 

‘Harry’s part of our family,’ he blurted out furiously. 

 ‘He’s not, Ron,’ Percy growled. ‘He’s your friend, that doesn’t mean everything he says is right - move out my way.’ 

‘How can you say that!’ Ginny demanded. ‘What’s wrong with you? How can you say all these horrible things?’ 

Percy started climbing the stairs, pushing Ron aside and stepping over Ginny, furiously struggling past Fred and George who immediately made their bodies as big and awkward and gangling as they could imagine, shouting colourful insults at him as he pushed past and thundered up to his room. 

‘He just needs to calm down,’ Mum was squeaking. ‘Go - go to your rooms, let me and Dad talk to him-’ 

‘No chance!’ 

‘I haven’t said my piece yet!’ 

He returned just a few moments later, carrying a bulging bag with a jumper sleeve trailing out, a little line of abandoned socks and a pair of underwear left on the stairs. ‘I’m going to stay with friends,’ he said. 

‘You haven't got any,’ goaded George. 

‘Be quiet, George!’ Mum wailed. ‘Percy-’

‘Then I’m getting my own place, I’m not staying here anymore - I’m not letting you all drag me down with you. If you’re all going to be traitors to the Ministry I’m going to make sure everyone’s well aware that I don’t belong to this family any more-’

‘You do, Percy, you do - you’ll always be my son-’ Mum’s words were barely audible beneath her crying. Percy pushed past her, and stormed towards the door. 

‘Percy!’ Ron shouted, and to his surprise, Percy turned and looked at him. 

Ron could not find the words for his contempt, could not find an insult strong enough, could not decide what to do with the rage that was coursing through him. All he could hope was that Percy could feel it in his cold, hard stare. ‘How could you?’ 

Percy said nothing, simply looked back for a moment, and then turned his back and strode swiftly to the door. Mum was running after him, and though they heard the ear-splitting crack of disapparation, she stood in the doorway shouting his name. 

Dad had not followed, and with a creak, Ginny rose beside Ron and descended the last few stairs. She peered through the doorway to the kitchen. ‘Dad?’ 

Ron heard a splutter, and then dry, heaving sobs. Ginny vanished into the kitchen. Behind him, Fred and George were muttering mutinously, swearing and cursing. 

‘What’s he playing at?’ 

‘He’s an idiot. A big-headed, pompous, ridiculous idiot, we’ve always said it, we were right.’ 

‘Who does he think he is? Does he really think that promotion is normal? Does he honestly think he’s that extraordinary?’  

‘Moron…’ 

Ron’s jaw was aching from gritting his teeth so hard, his heart was trying to break through his ribcage and go after Percy to beat him. 

‘Do you really think he meant that stuff he said to Dad?’ George said. ‘It’s just…’  

‘I bet he does, the git,’ said Fred. ‘I bet he really does pretend he’s not part of the family. He’s ashamed of us. Slimy, brown-nosing prick…’ 

‘All that stuff about poverty? So uncalled for.’

‘That’s it, really, isn’t it? He’s a greedy arsehole.’ 

‘Well, he’s certainly written himself out of the will now, hasn’t he?’ 

‘He won’t care, nothing for him to inherit anyway, apparently.’ 

That prickling, heated anger was back - his very ears were hot with it, he wouldn’t be surprised if steam had been bursting out of them. The memory of Harry, pale and shaken in the hospital wing, his hands gripping Mum’s robes as she hugged him, was lingering in his mind. ‘Did you hear all that crap about Harry? Did you hear what he was saying about him? Harry!’

‘Yeah,’ muttered George. ‘Pillock.’ 

‘Why would he say that? What the bloody hell is going on with him? He’s gone bonkers. When did he turn into such a - a -’ He still could not quite find a word strong enough.  

‘Berk?’ suggested George. 

‘Something along those lines…’  

‘Easier than admitting he’s horrible, selfish, idiot snob, I suppose,’ said Fred. 

‘Money’s always been an issue, but blaming Dad like that is just…’ 

‘Nasty,’ said Ron, simply. 

‘You can make money without completely selling out and betraying your family,’ said Fred seriously. ‘You can do it and keep your integrity.’ 

‘He’s acting like we weren’t fed enough,’ said George spitefully. ‘Percy didn’t even get that many hand-me-downs, really - Mum and Dad were doing all right before they were hit with twins, and we all know Ginny was probably unexpected.’ 

‘Was she?’ said Ron distractedly.

‘Are you joking, you were only about eight months old, who picks then to decide to have another baby?’  

‘Mum.’ 

‘Fair.’ 

‘Anyway,’ said Fred, ‘Percy’s not exactly been hard done by, not really. He’s just always been ashamed we’re not as well-heeled as his smarmy new colleagues at the Ministry.’ 

‘It’s childish,’ said Ron, who was feeling another lurch of guilt as he thought back on the previous year. ‘It’s really petty…’ 

‘We’ve all wished the family was better off now and then,’ said George fairly. ‘Who wouldn’t? But that was a seriously low blow. God, poor Dad,' he added, his voice lowering further. 'I'm glad Ginny's gone in to comfort him, I don't even know where to begin.'

‘Do you think he’s really gone for good?’ asked Ron.

‘Hope so,’ said Fred viciously. ‘Hey - one less mouth to feed now, maybe the family’ll be better off.’ 

'You know what else,' Ron said sharply, his brain whirring, 'did you hear him dodging Dad's question about what he's said about Harry? Good thing he's buggered off before we go to the Order Headquarters, isn't it? Who knows what he would have blabbered about?' 

Fred was looking at him as though in a new light. 'You know what, Ronniekins, that is a really excellent and disturbing point. You're a bit of a bright spark at times, aren't you?' 

'Brighter than Percy,' Ron muttered.

[the-girl-in-the-box]

The Best Kind of Trouble

A/N: FINALLY Day 7 is here! Writing these oneshots for Barris Week 2022 has been so much fun, and I really hope you all have been enjoying reading them as much as I've been writing them. For my last piece, I tried to focus on keeping it mostly light- I don't believe this one actually needs any sort of content warning, even! A fun note here, though- this piece was vaguely inspired by the film noir genre, and as such I've left the time period entirely ambiguous. Hopefully, that means it'll fit the modern AU prompt, but if not... Oh well, I had fun writing it anyway! That said, thank you to everyone who supported me through my participation in this event, and I look forward to the next one :) Skål!

Summary: Detective Richard Ellis is brought a case by Lady Mary Crawley, and he soon realises he got far more than he bargained for.

--

It was a rainy evening in London when Mary Crawley first stepped into the office of Detective Richard Ellis, tall and thin with eyes which could cut right through him- could probably cut right through anyone. She was immaculately dressed in a tailored suit, hat pulled just so over her hair, so that he could tell immediately she came from great wealth. He sat up a bit and leaned forward against his desk as she settled herself in the chair across from him.

“Detective Ellis,” she greeted. “I’m afraid I have a case for you, and it isn’t one I’m happy to bring.” Richard’s eyes narrowed slightly, his brows drawing together as he focused on what she was saying. She seemed worried, more anxious than she was letting on, and his mind started working before she had even explained a thing. “This is my son, George Crawley,” she said, producing a picture of a young boy from her bag. He looked to be a kind lad, with big round eyes and perfectly styled hair- no doubt a sign of the wealth he’d been born into. “He’s been missing since this morning, but the police say it’s too early to declare him truly missing.”

Well, that sounded about right, and Richard couldn’t quite hold back a bitter chuckle. “I’m not surprised,” he told her. “You’d think with it being a child they’d get right on it- especially the child of one of the wealthiest families in England.”

Something tugged at the corner of her lips, a small smirk of agreement perhaps which added to the mask of nonchalance she wore. “I agree,” she said. “Children don’t just get up and walk away, not the same as adults are prone to do. And anyway, George had nannies around him as well as staff and his family in the house at all times. I can’t understand where he might have gotten off to that none of them would know a thing.”

“Probably because someone in your house does know something,” he figured. “If your son is George Crawley, I suspect that makes you Mary Crawley, am I correct?”

“You are,” she answered.

Richard hummed. “I’ll be in Downton village by late tonight, and I’ll see what I can dig up about your missing son.”

Relief flickered over her face, more subtle than the shadows of the raindrops from the moonlight hitting his window, but it painted enough of a picture that Richard already had some ideas forming about her. She was a worried mother, more worried than her wealth and status would allow her to show in their world, but it seeped through if one knew what they were looking for. Fortunately, he did.

He caught the last train out from London that was offered that evening and made it to Downton at about eleven, taking his luggage and walking up to the ticket booth when he arrived. Mary had left the picture of her son with him, in hopes that it might somehow be of use, and Richard had been determined that it would be before he returned it to her. If all went well, he’d be able to return it along with the boy himself.

The man in the ticket booth offered Richard a kind smile as he approached, and was prompted by his setting his luggage down to ask him, “What can I do for you, sir?” 

“I was wondering if you might have seen this child come through here,” he stated, passing the picture to the other man. “Can you recall perhaps selling a ticket to a person who had him in tow?” 

The salesman picked up the picture in his weathered hands, bushy eyebrows knitting together as he concentrated on trying to recall. “I’m afraid I can’t,” he said with a slight shake of his head. “It’s possible, as many people as come through here every day, but I don’t believe he’s come through here.”

Richard smiled tightly and thanked him for his time as he retrieved the picture, and then he started the walk up to the Grantham Arms, where he’d been put up for the night by Mary. In the morning, he’d come up to Downton Abbey as a guest, where he’d be allowed to begin conducting his investigation without raising any flags to warn those who might have been involved. It was a good enough plan, he thought, and should at least get him started in the right direction.

As he approached the aforementioned public house, he noticed a tall figure leaning against the wall, hat pulled down over his eyes and watching him walk up. He didn’t seem overly imposing, although he very well could have done, but he lifted his head a bit to show Richard that he had been seen. The first thing that caught Richard’s attention about this man was the shock of his icy blue eyes, and how they contrasted against his hair which was just about as dark as the night sky above them. Add to that his fair skin, and the smirk pulling at his red lips, and Richard was beginning to think he cut a rather imposing figure after all. If nothing else, he was the sort of man who spelled out Richard’s favorite kind of trouble.

Deciding to play the game, Richard walked right up to Thomas Barrow with a similar smirk on his own lips, and he sat his luggage down on the pavement beside him. “Do you normally wait out here to watch strangers, or is this something new you’re trying out?” he asked.

“Only watch the handsome ones,” Thomas replied, and shot a wink in Richard’s direction. “You staying tonight?” 

Richard chuckled a bit and answered, “Just tonight. Did you have something in mind?” 

“Depends,” he said. “How do you feel about some company?”

This earned him another chuckle, as Richard tilted his head just slightly to the side while he considered the offer. “I’ll buy you a drink,” he eventually decided, and the grin on the other man’s lips felt like a trap he was willingly walking straight into.

The two sat down together inside and spoke for some time, learning each other’s names and where they each were from- in addition to many other things. But eventually Richard began to stretch, and he looked over at Thomas, who was watching him carefully through the haze of smoke that came from his cigarette. “How about it, then?” he asked. “Are you ready to go up?” 

Thomas chuckled and put his cigarette out in the ashtray in the center of the table, giving the impression that he was ready to do so, before he said, “Not tonight, I don’t think. Can’t make it too easy for you after all, can I? There’s not enough fun in that.”

“Not enough fun?” Richard repeated curiously. “So there is some, you think?” 

“Handsome bloke like you?” Thomas pointed out, glancing over him as he spoke. “There’d be quite a lot of fun- but I think there’s more fun in making you play the game.” He winked again, and walked out, leaving a slightly incredulous Richard in his wake.

Richard went up to his room- regrettably alone- and settled in for the night, pulling out the picture of little George Crawley and looking it over once again. No, there wasn’t much left to be done that night, but he still thought it a good idea to at least consider what he knew so far. A missing heir and a house full of staff who could have taken him- a house full of family, too, as he wasn’t going to be too quick to rule that out. Anyone who had access to that boy was a suspect; he just had the task of sorting through them all until he found the culprit.

The next morning saw Richard rising bright and early to make the trek up to Downton Abbey itself, his mind set and focused on the task ahead of him. Well… when it didn’t wander to a certain handsome stranger from the night before. 

One could imagine his surprise when he knocked on the door, and none other than said handsome stranger opened it. He looked different now, with the sun reflecting off his face as opposed to the moonlight, and wearing a butler’s livery as opposed to his day suit from the night before. Still just as handsome, but less seductive and more endearing with the way his eyes widened and his mouth fell open in shock, before he quickly schooled his expression back to that of a servant.

“You’re Lady Mary’s guest, I take it, Mr. Ellis?” he asked, and Richard smiled as he nodded and stepped into the house.

“That I am,” he confirmed. “I didn’t expect to see you here, Thomas- or, I suppose I should call you Mr. Barrow now, shouldn’t I, if you’re the butler?” 

Thomas glanced quickly around them to be sure the space was empty before he gave Richard a conspiratorial smirk and answered, “Only when there’s people around. You can call me whatever you like when we’re alone.” Ah, so the teasing wasn’t to stop then, Richard noted. He couldn’t find it in himself to be disappointed.

They started in toward the staircase which led up to the gallery so Thomas could lead Richard to the room he’d be staying in, but the pair were interrupted by Mary herself descending, and she smiled just a touch when she saw Richard. He noticed that it was the same sort of guarded smile she’d allowed herself when in his office before. So… she couldn’t even be open in her own home? How interesting.

“Ah, Mr. Ellis,” she greeted when they met on the middle landing. “I’m happy to see you’ve arrived safely. I trust your accommodations last night were to your liking? If you hadn’t been coming in so late, I’d have asked you to come straight on, but I didn’t want to wake the staff in the middle of the night.”

“Of course, I understand,” he said, waving a dismissive hand. “I rather enjoyed the stop off, actually. I don’t often get to have a night off to sit and have a drink and a chat, but I managed both last night, and enjoyed them in equal measure.” He could just see Thomas bite back a smirk at the implications only they were privy to.

“How intriguing,” Mary commented. “Well, please don’t let me stop you from getting settled in- we’ll have tea in the library once you’re ready.” She turned to Thomas and gave him a polite nod. “Barrow,” she said, and then went on her way. 

Once they were in Richard’s room, Thomas shut the door and smirked at him, leaning slightly back against it. “I have to admit, this was a very pleasant turn of events,” he said. “Thought you’d be settling in somewhere in the village, and it’d be a while before I saw you again.”

Richard lifted a curious brow and asked him, “How’d you know I wasn’t moving on after last night?” 

“Suitcase isn’t big enough for a very long trip,” he explained, “but not small enough to think it wasn’t for travel. Took my chances on if you were just a town over, or staying here.”

His quick thinking was rather impressive to Richard, who lifted his brows curiously at the analysis. “Well, it looks like your risk has been rewarded,” he said. “The game is set to continue.”

Thomas grinned at him, and chuckled. “Good luck then, Mr. Ellis, though I’m not too sure you’ll need it.” Then, just as he had the night before, Thomas winked and walked out. 

Richard chuckled and shook his head in an amused sort of way as he watched the door shut. Thomas Barrow was trouble alright, but luckily for both of them, Richard rather liked getting into trouble.

Tea was rather revealing to Richard, and it didn’t take him long at all to decide none of the family had been involved in taking little George. They were all genuinely concerned, and genuinely irritated with the police for not taking up the search sooner, which wouldn’t have been the case if they’d been involved at all. So, that left the staff, and Richard found himself grateful for the excuse of going down to see Thomas to keep them from wondering why he was down there.

He quickly ruled out the cook, Mrs. Patmore, and all her staff, as well as Mrs. Hughes, the head housekeeper. The Bateses were clean, as well, which really just left Mrs. O’Brien- Lady Grantham’s maid- a few others on staff who didn’t seem to be the type. Well, and there was Thomas, but he didn’t seem to be the type either.

That fact made it quite a shock when O’Brien pulled Richard aside to hastily whisper to him, “I overheard Lady Mary and her Ladyship talking about how you were going to come in and try to find Master Crawley, so I think it’s important you know Mr. Barrow took a trip up to London the same morning the boy disappeared, and we haven’t seen him since.”

Richard’s eyes clouded a bit as he grew troubled. “Thank you, Mrs. O’Brien,” he said. “I’ll look into it.”

He wandered back upstairs after that, and went to find Mary, already forming a plan in his head as to how he wanted to handle this. “I’d like to take your butler, Mr. Barrow, back to London with me,” he told her. “We met last night at the Grantham Arms by chance and have gotten on rather well since, and I think it’d be helpful on this case to have someone with me who knows your son but wouldn’t be recognisable to just anyone as such.”

Mary’s eyes widened a bit at this, and she blinked a few times. “You need Barrow to help you on this case?” she asked him. “I suppose it makes sense, that George would be quicker to trust him than you, if that’s what you’re thinking… But still, it does seem odd.”

“I’m sure it does,” Richard confirmed, “but it’d still be quite a help to me- just in case we find him and I haven’t got time to send for someone he’ll trust without tipping anyone off.”

“Very well,” Mary agreed. “I’ll send him along with you, then.”

So Richard soon found himself on the train platform with Thomas, both of them packed up for a trip back to London, going to the ticket booth to buy their tickets. When they walked up, Richard knew he’d be dropping a bit of a bomb on Thomas by asking this, but he still had to do it. “Did you sell this man a ticket out of Downton village yesterday morning?”  Thomas looked at him, seeming to feel a bit betrayed, and Richard smiled apologetically at him. “Just have to cover all my bases,” he explained.

“I don’t recall having done so,” the man behind the counter said. “What would the name have been?” 

“Thomas Barrow,” Richard supplied.

They both watched as the man flipped through his book, and eventually he hummed, and nodded. “Yeah, one ticket for London to a Mr. Thomas Barrow right here, sold yesterday at eight-thirty in the morning.”

“What?” Thomas demanded, his eyes going wide. “I didn’t leave Downton yesterday at all- much less take George to London!” Something in the shock and outrage pleaded with Richard to believe him, and he frowned a bit at the new information. 

He ignored Thomas for a moment to tell the ticket seller, “Alright, sell him another one and one for myself as well- name’s Richard Ellis. Thanks.” The sale was quickly completed, and the two went to board the train at once. It was only then that Thomas brought up what had happened at the ticket booth.

“You really thought I might have taken George?” he questioned, and Richard shook his head.

“Not really,” he said. “O’Brien tipped me off and I wanted you to come with me anyway, so I thought I’d take the opportunity to check up on it. Says a lot to me that he sold to you, but not to you.”

Thomas’s eyes widened with realisation. “Someone used my name,” he said, and Richard nodded. 

“Exactly,” he confirmed. “Now, I won’t lie to you- I am trying to find George Crawley, and right now, O’Brien’s just jumped up on my suspect list for trying to paint you in a bad light. Is there anything you know that might be of some help?” 

Thomas swallowed, and Richard watched him shift uncomfortably in his seat. “Yeah,” he confessed. “Yeah, I think I might.”

Thus, the two men found themselves in a rather seedy establishment, which Richard realised rather quickly Thomas knew his way around well. In fact, Richard was rather surprised when Thomas put a hand on his back to keep him close and guide him through the crowd. He eventually brought Richard up to a man with a thin moustache and dark hair, leaning against the bar and sipping on a drink as he spoke to the bartender- Guy Dexter, who Richard knew to be one of the more influential men in London society. When he saw Thomas, he grinned.

“Ah, Mr. Barrow,” he greeted. “Coming to join me for another drink? Or who’s this you’ve brought with you? Surely you’re not replacing me already?” 

Thomas chuckled, and Richard noticed how he slipped back into that suave confidence from the night before, almost imperceptibly. “I don’t replace,” he said. “I either move on, or I don’t, you know that- and you know I’ve moved on anyway. But this is Mr. Richard Ellis. Richard- this is-”

“Hang on, you mean Detective Richard Ellis?” Guy interrupted. “What are you getting into, Barrow?” Thomas sighed.

“We think O’Brien’s gone too far this time,” he said, the facade beginning to slip slightly. “Lady Mary’s son has gone missing, and she’s tried to pin it on me.”

“You wouldn’t have done it though,” Guy said, his brows creasing. 

Richard interjected, “Which is why we suspect O’Brien- aside from the fact Thomas doesn’t think it’s out of her character.”

Guy hummed a little, knocking back the rest of his drink to give himself time to consider this information. His eyes followed a young couple as they laughed and squeezed past the three of them. “I haven’t heard anything,” he said. “But you know the right places to check, I couldn’t tell you anything better.”

Thomas gave a bit of a frustrated huff. “She’ll have that place locked up tight before we could get out, if we try to go in searching for anything,” he grumbled.

“Not if you get a warrant,” Guy pointed out, and Thomas’s eyes widened a little.

“You know who all that brings down if we go in with a warrant,” he said. “You really think that’s a good idea?” 

Guy shrugged. “Maybe not,” he said, “but if it gets the kid back…” He pulled out a sheet of paper and wrote something out with a pen he had in his pocket, which he then signed and slid over to Thomas. “Take this to my secretary and she’ll get you one,” he instructed. “I shouldn’t be doing this, since we don’t have any sort of probable cause other than a character witness and a lie, but I don’t think you’re going after her with no cause.”

“We’re not,” Thomas confirmed, and Guy nodded.

“Good luck to you then,” he said. “Both of you. And make sure you have the right plan in place when you use that thing.”

“We will,” Richard promised. “Thank you.”

With the written order for a warrant, Thomas and Richard left to start plotting. “I’ll tell you, I don’t think O’Brien will know I’m actually helping you just yet,” he pointed out. “I could get in while you get the warrant done, and then if I find anything I’ll call and tell you to come with help?” 

Richard frowned a bit. “That puts you at risk of being picked up in a raid,” he countered. “Absolutely not.”

“If it means we find George, then that’s okay,” he replied. “And if it goes south, Guy knows the right strings to pull- I wouldn’t be the first man he gets out of jail.”

“And I don’t want you to be the next,” Richard insisted.

Though Thomas didn’t fight it any further, he didn’t agree to anything either, so by the time they got to Guy’s office no plan had been derived except that they’d turn that warrant over to someone who could get O’Brien’s London flat searched, and hope something turned up. They walked into the building and a little bell rang overhead to announce their presence, which brought out a pretty woman with dark hair held up in a bun, her brown eyes warm and sweet.

“Thomas Barrow,” Phyllis greeted happily, walking around the counter to meet him. “I haven’t seen you in a long while- I hope you’re not in trouble again?”

“Steering clear of it as always, Ms. Baxter,” he replied with a grin, and kissed her cheek when she came to embrace him. “But I think it’s found me this time.”

Richard chuckled and smiled in an amused sort of way, shaking his head fondly. “More like I’m keeping you out of trouble,” he said. When Phyllis turned her attention to him, he offered his hand and introduced himself. “Richard Ellis.”

“Phyllis Baxter,” she replied, and shook it. “What can I do for the two of you?” 

“Mr. Dexter sent us to have you draw this up for us,” Thomas explained, handing her the order for the search warrant. “Think you can help us out?” 

Phyllis looked over the paper and chuckled. “Another forged warrant, hmm?” she said. “He asks for more of these… Let me see what I can do.” She disappeared into the back of the office, at which point Richard began to look around some of the various knick knacks and decorations scattered about. His attention was quite well captured by this, and so it took him a moment to look when the bell over the door rang again, just as Phyllis returned. “Oh, I’d have liked to have said goodbye to him,” she fretted, and Richard’s eyes widened as he realised what that had meant.

“Oh God, he’s already left,” he grumbled. Richard quickly took the forged warrant, which passed even to his trained eyes, and nodded. “Yes, this is perfect, thank you. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to find him before he does get in trouble.”

She wished him luck and watched as he ran out the door, but lost sight of him quickly as he made a straight path to the nearest precinct. If he was fast enough, maybe they could scope the place out before Thomas got there. After all, it wouldn’t do any good if he got there before Thomas without the police. He’d blow it all, then.

It wasn’t difficult to find an officer who knew him who’d accept the warrant and get a group together, fortunately, and so Richard soon had enough officers to be able to do the search justice once they reached the flat. Fortunately, they made good time, but as soon as they got there Richard got a bad feeling. It seemed far too empty, too silent, and if that was so then where was Thomas? That feeling got worse and his stomach sank when the officers knocked on the door, and Thomas himself answered, holding little George Crawley on his hip. Thomas, no… he wanted to sigh. 

“He’s got the kid!” one of the officers shouted, and then Richard was shoved aside when he tried to get through so they could pry a now crying George off of Thomas. As soon as they had him in hand, they started the process of arresting Thomas. No one heeded Richard’s protests when he tried to tell them what had really happened, and instead, Thomas was marched off as the officer who now held George- still screeching for “Mistew Bawwow”- turned back to Richard. “Thanks for your help again, Ellis,” he said. “Judge Carson won’t let him off easy for that one, I assure you- his wife works for the Crawleys, you know that?” 

Just over that, he could barely hear Thomas shouting out, “-Barrow!” And then, it was over. Barrow? Richard wondered. Why would he just shout his surname at me? Regardless of the reason, Richard knew he needed to get help. Charles Carson was the toughest judge in the system, and if Thomas stood before him there was next to no chance he was getting out of it. Maybe he should go back to that Guy Dexter and see if there were some other papers he could forge to help, or maybe he could just… go and bust him out himself somehow. No, there’d still be the arrest documentation, and he’d be a fugitive, so that was no good.

As Richard walked by the train station on his way back to his own office, he chanced a glance up at the train times, wondering how soon it’d be before George was on his way home. He did a double take, and suddenly laughed, earning the attention of all those around him. “Oh my God, you genius,” he said, and he wasn’t ashamed to admit he ran from the station and down to the CPS law offices. 

He hadn’t dealt with this man very frequently, but everyone in this sort of field knew exactly who he was. One of the toughest lawyers in the city, it had been his origin he’d heard Thomas shouting out, trying to send Richard to him. It didn’t come as any surprise that Philip Villiers, who had come from Crowborough, appeared shocked at the sight of a very dishevelled detective standing in his office, trying to catch his breath. “...Can I help you?” he finally asked.

“Yes,” Richard panted. “I need your help to get a man out of jail- he doesn’t deserve to be there and he’s going to trial under Carson, who I know won’t let him out, and-”

Philip chuckled and held up a hand to try and stop Richard’s rambling. “Slow down,” he said. “You do realise I’m not for the defense, don’t you? If you want him out, you’ll need to talk to his lawyer, I can’t do anything for him, Mr. Ellis, and I think you know that.”

“Then why did he tell me to find you?” Richard questioned. 

Philip sighed as he took a seat in his chair behind his desk. “I have no way of knowing,” he replied, “but you need to get a defense attorney, not me, if you want your friend to walk. And you’d better get a good one if you’re up against Charles Carson.”

“I don’t normally advocate to get men out of jail, but I know for a fact this one’s innocent. I’ll even tell you who committed the crime if you’ll find a way to help, and you can bring her in yourself if you’d like. I’ll take you straight to her door, I just need you to help.”

“Look, even if I did want to help you- which I don’t particularly see any reason to, and so I don’t want to- there isn’t anything I could do, anyway. I don’t know what the crime is, but I suggest you prepare your friend to deal with whatever the maximum penalty is for whatever he did. That’s what Carson will hit him with.”

Richard swallowed hard, gritting his teeth. “He doesn’t deserve this,” he said. “He’s going to jail for supposedly kidnapping a kid he helped me find and rescue. How does that seem fair to you? Is justice not a good enough reason to want to help? He sent me to you specifically, and I don’t know why Thomas had such faith in you, but-”

“Wait, Thomas?” Philip interrupted. “You don’t mean Thomas Barrow, do you?” 

“Yes?” Richard replied, blinking. 

Philip groaned and ran a hand over his face. “Finally gets arrested and not even for something he did,” he muttered. “Alright, I’ll get my coat and we’ll go get his arrest papers, and I’ll just burn them up so they have no reason to hold him.”

Surprisingly, or perhaps not so surprisingly, it wasn’t difficult for the pair of them to get ahold of those papers once they’d gotten to the jail. Philip casually asked after a copy of them for Richard’s records, having been the investigating detective that made it possible for them to even arrest Thomas in the first place, and was happy to hear it confirmed that he had the only copy of the papers. He sent Richard home that night and promised the papers would be burned, instructing him to go back in the morning so it’d be different staff on duty who wouldn’t remember the papers existing in the first place. That was exactly what Richard did.

Their reunion was brief, as Richard really wanted to get Thomas back to Downton Abbey, so he wouldn’t be in the forefront of the investigation any longer. He was hoping almost desperately that this would work, because as much as Thomas’s grin when he’d realised what was happening had made this all worth it… he still wanted to know the other man was safe.

When they returned to Downton village, Richard swung through and grabbed Sergeant Willis, telling him that they knew for a fact what had happened to George Crawley, and if he’d just come up to Downton Abbey with them, they would say. Fortunately, he acquiesced. Mary was the one who let them into the house, and George nearly knocked Thomas off balance with the way he hurtled into him to hug his legs. This made Thomas grin and simply lift the boy up, holding him on his hip again as they went into the house. 

“Lady Mary, could you call all the staff into the library?” Richard requested. “I know what happened to George, and I’m ready to wrap this up.

“Certainly,” she replied, and soon enough they were all standing around as he’d requested, with himself situated between Mary and Thomas- the latter of whom still had little George- with Sergeant Willis beside Mary.

Richard smirked a bit as he looked over the staff before him. This was always the most satisfying part, seeing justice play out. Being a detective, and a well known one at that, had its perks, the most notable of which included the fact Sergeant Willis moved the moment he said, “Arrest Sarah O’Brien for the abduction of George Crawley, if you would, Sergeant.” As was predictable, she immediately began trying to protest at which point Richard said, “Thomas, would you be so kind as to tell us what you found in her flat in London? Aside from Master George himself, of course.”

“A drafted ransom note,” Thomas said. “Along with various things required to keep a child alive, which she must have had someone coming in to use for him.”

“She told me herself that Thomas had been to London the day George went missing,” Richard added, “but when I went to check this fact, I learned someone else had used his name to purchase a ticket, in an attempt to frame him for this crime. Fortunately, I believe we’ve wiped out anything connected to that, however.” It didn’t hurt to briefly explain away why they might have found anything connecting Thomas to the abduction. “If you call London and have her flat searched, I think you’ll find all the evidence you need to convict. Which… should make this case closed.”

“Not quite,” O’Brien snapped. “I’d like to know why Mr. Barrow here turned on me, after everything I’ve done for him.”

Before Richard could say or do anything, Thomas was answering her in a calm, collected, overall smooth voice, “Easy. He’s the only person I’ve ever known who really believed I was good.” The two shared a small smile, and Thomas reiterated, “Take her away, Sergeant. We’ll all be happier for it.”

Sergeant Willis did as he was instructed, and Thomas handed George back over to Mary so she could take him up for a nap while the staff filed out, leaving him and Richard alone in the library. Richard smiled at him and took a few steps toward him. “I always like it when a case wraps up neatly like this,” he confessed. “No loose ends left.”

“You must be proud of yourself,” Thomas said.

“And of you.” Thomas’s eyes widened a bit, so Richard elaborated. “You were right. I do believe you’re good,” he explained. “Then again… I do have one complaint about you.”

Thomas lifted a brow. “And what’s that?” he questioned.

“This bloody game of yours,” Richard answered with a chuckle, and Thomas laughed, though he sobered again as Richard stepped forward and wrapped his arms around his waist. “You haven’t got to play it with me,” he said. “You are good, and you cared enough for that child to risk yourself. No more hiding behind that game with me, alright? Think you can live with that?”

Thomas smiled as his arms snaked around Richard’s shoulders, and he gave a soft chuckle. “I think I can live with that,” he confirmed, and Richard grinned before leaning down to finally kiss him. Perfect, just as he had imagined it would be.

When Richard had first seen Thomas standing at the door of a pub, beneath the glow of the moon, he’d had his attention captured immediately. He’d never seen someone whose skin looked so right with the moonlight reflecting off it, even with a shadow cast across his face from the hat he’d worn. But meeting him that night, even if they’d met because Richard had a case to solve, so far seemed to have changed his life for the better. They clicked well as partners, just as he’d told Mary, and Richard suspected that sort of click would spread through to other things as well. At the very least, it was something to explore, and with any luck… 

Maybe they’d find a bit of the best kind of trouble along the way.

If you've enjoyed this fic, please feel free to check out my masterlist!

Happy Barris Week!

@barris-week-2022

[mojave-pete]

What Would It Take to Convince You The Election Was Rigged?

By AL PERROTTA Published on November 10, 2020 • 2 Comments

Al Perrotta

Yesterday I laid out, with the help of the BBC and State Department, the six signs to look for when determining if an election was stolen.

There is some indisputable evidence — and many very suggestive indications — that each of those conditions for concluding fraud in this election has been met. But many still refuse to even entertain the idea that this election was as crooked as a witch’s nose. After she’s been in 100 MMA fights. And fell from her broom flat onto her face.

The media and Big Tech sensors are working overtime to crush the evidence. So a lot of people don’t even know what is being alleged in sworn affidavits. I desperately want to believe that people, if presented the evidence, will accept it. Or at the very least be open to it, awaiting further confirmation. Please tell me my belief is not unfounded.

But before we get there, I want to ask a simple question:

Remember that a) lying in a sworn affidavit to a court is a crime. And b) doing anything that is seen as helping Trump will subject you to all manner of hell.  In light of that, do you believe the countless witnesses who now have sworn to seeing illegal activity leading up to and through the election would lie?

Would Any of This Be Right?

Now, for those fair-minded people who support Biden, may I ask a few questions? Do you believe

It would be wrong for election supervisors to coach workers to correct mail-in ballots for Biden, but not for Trump?

That it would also be wrong for election workers to coach voters to vote for Biden and Democrats, and follow them to the ballot station?

It would be wrong for poll workers to go out to a Biden-Harris van in the middle of the night and fill out ballots?

That it would be likewise wrong for poll workers to fill in the names of people who hadn’t yet voted when a “voter” comes in who is not on the voter rolls?

It’s wrong for poll workers to ignore matching signature requirements?

That it’s wrong for counting centers to keep Republican poll watchers from observing hundreds of thousands of mail-in ballots?

It was wrong for Philadelphia Democrats to ignore a court order that demanded poll watchers have their rightful access?

That it’s wrong for a Democratic- controlled ballot-counting center Fulton County, Georgia to tell GOP observers they were done counting for the night … then resume counting the minute the observers left?

It was wrong for Nevada voting officials to fabricate proof of residence data for non-eligible voters?

That it was likewise wrong for postal supervisors in several states to order workers to post-date late arriving ballots, so it would falsely appear they arrived on time?

It is wrong to cast ballots using the dead?

That it is wrong to count ballots from people ineligible to vote in a particular state?

It is wrong for a state supreme court to ignore state law and the U.S. constitution to change the voting rules right before an election? Rules guaranteed to make the process more susceptible to fraud?

Each of those statements is asserted in 131 sworn affidavits from poll workers, poll watchers and whistleblowers or happened in broad daylight.

Please Support The Stream

: Equipping Christians to Think Clearly About the Political, Economic and Moral Issues of Our Day.

So please answer me honestly: How many of these wrongs laid out in lawsuits are you willing to outright dismiss? Doesn’t fairness dictate you at least listen to what these people have to say? How many people must swear under penalty of imprisonment for perjury before you acknowledge the vote tallies are horribly tarnished?

Would Any of This Be Suspicious?

Now, my Biden-supporting (or Trump-hating) friends, can we do a little gut check? Aren’t you a little bit queasy about …

Tens of thousands of ballots suddenly appearing from out-of-state with only the presidential race filled out … and all filled out for Joe Biden?

Hundreds of thousands of votes popping up overnight election night … after the inexplicable halt in counting … in some places, 100% for Joe Biden?

Philadelphia, a city notorious for election fraud, absolutely refusing to let Republican observers anywhere near the people handling mail-in ballots?

In several states, piles of Trump votes suddenly getting taken from him, then the same exact number suddenly popping up for Biden?

Dominion, the company behind the election system used in these states, being connected to the Clinton Foundation and George Soros?

Dozens of states accepting Dominion’s system, despite its security weaknesses being so evident that Texas rejected it three times?

The Associated Press reporting just last year that Dominion and its sister companies “had long skimped on security in favor of convenience and operated under a shroud of financial and operational secrecy despite their critical role in elections.”

Lindsay Graham’s report on evidence of a ballot harvesting operation at Pennsylvania nursing homes which could have netted Biden 25,000 votes? (Ballot harvesting is illegal in Pennsylvania.)

Biden vote totals in specific swing cities … and nowhere else … exceeding Obama’s by up to 40%?

Vote tallies for Biden in Milwaukee exceeding Obama’s 2008 landslide … despite Milwaukee having fewer people than it did in 2008? (And despite Donald Trump greatly increasing his share of the minority vote.)

Joe Biden underperforming Hillary Clinton almost everywhere … except in a couple crucial swing state cities … and only after counting in those states was halted?

Joe Biden handily losing bell-weather states Florida and Ohio, but somehow defying history and won? This despite very little campaigning, a non-existent ground game, and a campaign message that ran counter to the economic interests of the American people.

Honesty is the Path to Unity

Yes, it is possible a good percentage of people could go, “I don’t care. Orange Man Bad.” But I want to believe that a majority of Biden voters will be honest enough to check their dislike of Trump long enough to acknowledge the reality of all the smoke, and the possibility of fire.

That they would rather have an honest count of legitimate — and only legitimate — votes. And they would want to see those who have committed fraud punished.

I hope they agree that the only path to re-unifying the country is the assurance of an honest count. And it is worth a few weeks of time to check it all out.

Even if Orange Man is Bad, a Stolen Election is far, far worse.

Al Perrotta is the Managing Editor of The Stream and co-author, with @JZmirak, of The Politically Incorrect Guide to Immigration. You can follow him at @StreamingAl. And if you aren’t already, please follow The Stream at @Streamdotorg.

[freddie-weaselbee]

Stupid//F.W.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Underaged drinking, drunk characters, Fred has a problem in his pants, undressing someone, one lil dirty joke, one horrible dad joke

Summary: Y/N decides to let loose one night at a Gryffindor party, making a slightly less drunk Fred resort to being her babysitter and hearing some confessions that sober Y/N would never dare say.

Prompts: Getting Drunk Together with dialogue prompts “I think I forgot how to breath,” and “were you dreaming of me again?”

Word Count: 1.8k just a lil shorty

A/N: Day 4 of @theweasleyslut‘s 2k writing challenge -- WAIT GUYS THIS ONE’S ACTUALLY LIKE ONE OF MY FAVS --

“Freddie catch me!” You launched yourself off the back of the velvet couch in the Gryffindor Common Room, arms and legs spread wide like you were a flying squirrel. Fred, who had his back turned to your antics, saw you right before your feet left the couch and he dove frantically toward you, catching you right before you would’ve broken your nose on the floor. “Again!”

Fred chuckled and continued to hold you much to your dismay. “I need to keep a better eye on you, don’t I?”

“Put me down!” you said, squirming in his hold. Fred decided to give you what you wanted, so he placed you down on the couch. And then he sat right on top of you. 

“Fred!” Your voice was muffled by his jumper, which you were now trying to spit out of your mouth. “Let me out, let me out you big stupid.”

“Oh I’m the big stupid?” he asked mockingly. “You almost just killed yourself for the third time tonight. I knew letting you get this wasted was a dumb idea.”

“T’was also your dumb idea,” you said, still trying to push him off of you to no avail. 

Fred glanced around the common room at who was still left. After the Quidditch match earlier and a great win for Gryffindor, Fred and George had thrown the best party that Hogwarts had ever seen, with music and food and dancing. And, of course, lots and lots of firewhisky. 

Most of the festivities had died down about an hour ago and only a handful of people remained downstairs, most either too wasted to move or babysitting those who were too wasted to move. Fred got the honor of being one of those babysitters.

He realized that he had probably pinned you down for long enough and he moved to let you have your space. You sat up gasping for air, wrapping your hands around your neck and leaning from side to side.

“I think I forgot how to breathe.”

Fred rolled his eyes and moved closer to you, grabbing your hands in his and removing them from your neck, placing them on your lap instead.  

“C’mon, stupid, it’s not that hard. Breathe in. Breathe out.”

You tried to do what he said but ended up doubling over in a coughing fit, small tufts from his jumper coming out of your mouth. 

“Bloody hell, did you inhale my jumper?!”

You giggled bashfully before sticking almost your entire hand in your mouth, pulling out a long thread and gagging in the process. 

“You’re disgusting,” he said, grabbing a nearby napkin to clean off your spit-covered hand. 

You stuck out your hand as if going in for a handshake. “Hi disgusting, I’m dad.”

“That’s not even how that joke works, dummy.” He wiped you down, grimacing as some of the spit got on his hand. Fred was not sober enough to deal with this. Earlier, when you had told him you’d never really been drunk before, only tipsy, Fred thought that tonight would be the perfect night to have you let loose if you wanted to. He promised he’d watch you and take care of his friend, which is why you finally let yourself go and had a wild time. Unfortunately, Fred had never been the responsible one before and you were good at being sneaky, so you had a lot more alcohol than he would have liked. 

His head buzzed with the firewhisky burning inside him, wishing he would’ve decided to stay sober instead of taking a handful of shots. But you just looked like you were having so much fun out there on the dance floor and he figured a few wouldn’t hurt. Now the both of you were drunk and only one of you knew how to handle their alcohol. The other now had their head laying in their best friend’s crotch. 

“Y/N!” he hissed, hoping no one was looking at the two of you, but they were all either too drunk or too distracted to notice. “Get up, what is your head doing down there?”

“You’re soft,” you said, snuggling into his lower half. 

He quickly lifted your head and put it on a pillow, grabbing another to hide a growing problem where your nose had just been. “Yeah, that’s definitely not true,” he said, laughing quietly at his own joke. He shifted for a few seconds before deeming it ok for him to stand. 

It was getting late, and Fred knew that you were already going to have a rough morning, so he’d better get you to bed as quickly as possible. 

“Alright, love, let’s--”

He cut himself off when he looked back down at you lying on the couch, completely asleep. He sighed but smiled warmly, wondering where all of the energy you had minutes ago just went. “C’mon, let’s get you to bed.”

He reached down to pick you up, carrying you bridal style to your prefect dorm. He walked ever-so-slowly, stumbling a bit from his intoxication but determined to make sure you got back safe. After effectively ascending the stairs (thank Godric he and George had found a way past the no boys allowed charm years ago) and getting to your private room, he laid you down gently and grabbed a t-shirt and shorts for you to change into. 

He was crouched down and digging through your drawers when he heard your small voice whisper. “Freddie, I love you Freddie.”

He grabbed the clothes and sat next to you, seeing that you were still asleep. “Hey,” he said softly, shaking you awake. You swatted him away a few times before allowing yourself to open your eyes. 

“Were you dreaming of me again?” he teased. He grabbed you under your armpits and lifted your torso up, gesturing for you to put your hands in the air. You did, using all of your strength to keep you from toppling over. 

“Mhmm,” you said. “I was dreaming of you and me, and how much I love you.”

You elongated the word love, saying it in a singsong voice and bringing a smile to Fred’s face as he lifted your old shirt over your head. “I love you too, stupid, your my bestest friend.”

All of a sudden you were shaking your head, looking annoyed and angry. “No, I love you. Like love love.”

“Uh huh,” Fred replied, brain not working fast enough to catch onto what you meant. “I love love you too. Now help me get this shirt on.”

You hphmed crossly and pulled the shirt over your head. “You’re the stupid, Mr. Big Stupid. I love love love you. In my dream, you were there and you kissed me! Like this.”

You leaned forward and planted a big sloppy kiss onto Fred’s lips, immediately slumping forward into his shoulder. It took him a couple of seconds to realize what had just happened, but before he could say anything you started talking again. 

“You kissed me, then you told me how you loved me too, and how I was your favorite person in the whole wide world, even more than Georgie!” You suddenly gasped, covering your mouth with your hand. “Don’t tell Georgie I said that, I love him so much, he can’t know that I want you to love me more than him. Don’t tell, ok?” You seemed as though you were going to cry from what you had just confessed to Fred. 

“I won’t, I won’t, I pinky swear,” Fred said quickly, thrusting his pinky into your face. You frown washed away and was replaced with a gleeful smile as you shook his pinky, sealing your promise. 

“Good, I don’t want George to hate us.”

Fred pulled you into his arms and stood you up slowly, grabbing the shorts he had picked out for you. “Ok, can you take your shorts off for me please? You need to put on new ones.”

Nodding, you reached for the pants but tried to put them on over the skirt you were already wearing. 

“No no no, not like that.” Fred sighed in exasperation and decided that had had to help you with this too. “Ok hold still.”

He sunk to his knees in front of you, one hand firm on your waist in order to keep you from falling. Trying to avoid looking as much as possible, Fred fumbled around the waistband of your skirt and pulled it down, leaving you standing in only your shirt and panties. He tried not to look, but his drunk brain was making it really hard for him to control his eyes. He had you step forward into the pant legs and pulled them up nice and snug around your waist, hoping he hadn’t done anything that he shouldn’t have during the encounter. 

“Thanks love,” you slurred, falling immediately back onto the bed. “Wanna kiss me again? Like you did in my dream?”

Fred plopped down next to you, letting his fingers play with your hair as you cuddled up on your side. “Yeah, I do. But not tonight, ok? We’re both a little crazy tonight aren’t we?”

“We’re both a little stupid”

“No, we’re big stupids. Mr. and Mrs. Big Stupid.”

You laughed loudly rolling over a few times and almost falling off the bed before Fred caught you. “I wanna be your Mrs. Can I be your Mrs., Freddie? Pretty pretty please?”

He snickered, pulling the blanket up over the both of you. Staying the night would probably be for the best, especially since you didn’t have anyone else in the dorm to take care of you. “Of course, you’ll be Mrs. Freddie Big Stupid, how does that sound.”

You clapped your hands smiling into your pillow. “I’m gonna marry you. And we’re gonna have the biggest bestest wedding ever. And everyone’s gonna be there. Oh no, but we have to go on a date first. We’ve never been on a date.” You pouted. 

Fred put a finger to his chin, thinking. “How about tomorrow night we go on a date. I can take you on a beautiful picnic and we’ll watch the sun set and then you can kiss me again like you did tonight. Sound good stupid?”

“Hmm,” you said, voice trailing off as sleep threatened to overtake you again. “That sounds perfect.”

Fred bit his lip, trying to hold back a loud whoop of joy. Instead, he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you back into him. 

“Freddie?” you asked quietly. “Am I gonna remember this tomorrow?”

He laughed and nuzzled his head into your hair, happier than he had been in a long long time. “Probably not. But I will, and I’ll make sure to remind you.”

“Okie dokie, g’night Big Stupid.”

“G’night Big Stupid. See you in the morning.”

Tag List:

@famdomhideout @amourtentiaa

[citydreamgrls]

yes, captain

fred weasley x fem!reader

words: 2,675

a/n: thank you so much for all the love on ‘a christmas treat’ it’s been crazy how many of you enjoyed it <333

warnings: smut , 18+ 

“What do you mean he’s sick?” The twins cried out in unison. I had heard voices before I’d reached the common room, but seeing them shocked wasn’t what I had been expecting. In fact it was a rarity to see them surprised at all.

“What’s up?” I asked them both, just as Lee was leaving. George had his head in his hands and Fred’s lip was blatantly chewed up.

“Wood’s sick, he’s off for 2 weeks.” He explained.

“Oh shit, that’s not good. So does that mean you two ar-”

“Co-captains.” They groaned in unison, used to having people follow them but not usually having to be in charge of anyone.

I put my arms around Fred, who was still in his quidditch uniform from practice, and gave him a much needed hug.

“You guys will be great, I’m sure of it.” I promised the twins, letting them clean up before dinner.

-

“So… how does it feel to have a boyfriend who’s the quidditch captain.” Hermione teased me, finding this to be more interesting than her book of all things.

“Fred’s co-captain, remember, and besides they only found out today.”

Harry came and sat in front of us with Ron as his side, who was more bothered by his food than his older brothers.

“I think they’ll be great captains,” Harry said, excited to have the troublemakers taking charge.

“Well of course you’d say that,” Hermione scoffed, opening her book again.

“What do you mean?” I asked. Ron looked up, clearing his throat as though to speak but the girl beside me cut him off before he had the chance.

“Harry’s the team’s seeker, he just has to do his job. That’s easy. It’s the chasers that cause trouble, they’re always squabbling over who goes where and how many goals each of them scores.”

“Yeah, what Hermione said.” Ron rolled his eyes and carried on eating.

“Guess we’ll see tomorrow afternoon eh?” Harry sighed.

“Do you think you guys will be ready for the match against Ravenclaw?” I asked.

“Hard to tell, we’ve got some time… but we’re out of a keeper now Wood’s off sick.” He huffed.

Just on cue both Fred and George turned up, looking as confident as ever as people congratulated them on their temporary promotion. Fred sat down beside me, giving me a kiss quickly before any of the others could complain.

“Ron, we need you to be our keeper.” George told his younger brother without hesitating.

Poor boy almost choked on a mouthful of potato when he realised what the twin had told him. Harry had to slap his back to get him to look alive again, making Hermione giggle from behind her book.

“Me!”

“Yes you, come to practice tomorrow and we’ll see if you’re any good.” Fred added, giving my hand a squeeze under the table.

-

“So I guess this means you’ll be too busy with captain duties,” I teased Fred as he tried to write an essay on the common room sofa.

“Oh yes, too busy for girlfriends. Especially when I have so many.”

I rolled my eyes and mindlessly played with his long hair.

“You don’t have the energy for too many girlfriends, me and George are enough for you.”

“You’re not wrong.”

He closed his potions book with a sigh and threw it to his feet, finally able to relax a little bit and lay with his head in my lap.

“Are you nervous Fred?”

“About what?”

“About being captain silly, you do have a practice tomorrow remember?”

“Oh no it slipped my mind, because I really have so much more going on right now.” He huffed sarcastically.

“I’ll take that as a yes then,” I laughed and he nodded sheepishly. “It’ll be fine, I said I’d help Ginny with some homework tomorrow though so I can’t come and watch.”

“That’s actually a bit of a relief, I’d hate to embarrass myself in front of you.” Fred sighed.

“You’re the most confident person I know, not to mention the goofiest. When have you ever been worried about embarrassing yourself?” I pointed out, and he couldn’t help but agree.

-

The next day, after practice, the team filed into the common room kinda quietly. Making both Hermione and I frown at their sudden gloomy nature.

Fred and George were last and stopped at the two of us leaning up at them on the sofa.

“How was it?” I asked, still hopeful.

“Pretty bad,” George grunted before kicking off his boots and flopping into an armchair.

“Two of the chasers got into a fight and targeted each other any time we tried to play, it was useless!” Fred exclaimed as I played with his quidditch robes.

“Told you so.” Hermione hissed, but I just ignored her.

“They’re bound to be a bit unruly, it’s probably because they’re used to Wood.” I tried to reason with them, but neither twin seemed convinced by my theory. “It’ll get better.” I whispered to Fred.

-

It could’ve been possible that I cursed it, because things seemed to spiral from then on. Ron had doubts about being a keeper, Harry was always turning up to practices late and leaving early. The chasers refused to talk to one another, and things just took a turn for the worse when the twins started to argue over how to fix things.

It was 3 days before the match and the team was more divided than ever before. Making Fred feel responsible for the downfall.

“It was two weeks, that was it. And I couldn’t even control things for one day!” He complained aloud as I sat on his bed, hoping he would chill out a bit. I opened my arms, letting him crawl into them as if he was a child.

“I’m helpless y/n.” He huffed.

“No you’re not.” George walked in, saw his brother and immediately went to walk back out. They had been avoiding each other ever since their argument, and it was time for things to go back to normal.

“Oi stop right there.” Both boys froze as I spoke, I moved Fred off me and stood up. Not that it was intimidating to either of them, but it was worth a try. “You two need to forget whatever you were mad about and forgive each other, because nothing’s gonna go right if neither of you can agree.” I stated, their heads hung in the realisation that what I was saying was right.

“If we did things my way we could actually win.” Fred grumbled from his bed.

“I don’t care,” George seemed caught off guard that I wouldn’t immediately take my boyfriend’s side. “If you did win, it wouldn’t feel as good than if you did it together.”

“She’s right.” The boy by the door finally spoke up, holding a hand out to his brother. Fred shook it with an awkward smile. “Sorry Georgie.”

“Now. let’s figure out what to do with this team.” I sighed.

-

After a whole night of negotiating, Fred and George settled on a game plan and went to the last practice with hope in their hearts. Hermione  and y/n watched them fly about from the stands, unable to hear the boys talk, but unable to spot any problems as they played through the upcoming match.

Once it was over Fred came straight over to y/n. He was grinning wider than she’d seen all month.

“Better?” She laughed.

“So much better.”

-

“I like seeing you happy,” The girl told her boyfriend later that night, promising not to keep him up too late. They needed to be awake early of course. Her and Fred were standing at the top of the astronomy tower looking over the grounds as the sun went down.

“Thank you for helping us,” He whispered. He loomed behind her and rested his arms on the balcony in front of her, caging her in.

“Yeah well you owe me, big time.”

“Oh don’t worry, you’ll get a reward.” He smirked, making a chill run down her spine.

They’d had sex before, plenty of times, and many after winning games. But something more rested on this game, if he won there would be an even bigger feeling of achievement for the boy. Who was usually quite happy to take sidelines as one of the two beaters in the team. Now, he was a captain and it would look good if he won.

“Stay with me tonight?” He asked y/n.

“I shouldn’t distract you, rest is the only thing you need Fred.”

“It’s not what I want though,” She felt his body press up against her and she wondered whether getting fucked by him up there would be all that bad. However, she decided to wait, knowing it would be even better after they won.

“Fred. I’ll see you in the morning okay?” y/n smiled and slipped out from under his trap, giving his cheek a kiss and running off.

“Oi, that’s not a proper goodnight. Come back here!” He called out with laughter, a chase beginning on the twisting steps back down to the castle.

-

Hermione always claimed she couldn’t care less about quidditch, but as soon as she saw Ron as Gryffindor’s keeper she suddenly became yet another teenage girl screaming his name in support. Y/n laughed, seeing her friend switch up so quickly.

Then again, her voice always went hoarse after cheering on Fred and George so violently it sometimes felt like she’d never talk again. But she would never do it differently. Seeing the twins in their captain’s robes made her heart swell with pride, especially when Fred flew past their stand to give her a wink like he did before every game. It was practically tradition by this point.

“Go Fred!!!!” She screamed as he swung his bat around, sending bludgers flying through the air and towards Ravenclaw’s chasers. One of them almost fell to the ground trying to dodge it, and in turn losing possession of the quaffle to the Gryffindor chasers who had finally learnt to work together. They flew in formation, passing the ball between one another to throw off the other team. Then as one of them went to score, the other two held off opposing beaters so they could score.

To Hermione’s joy; Ron was amazing. He barely let a single goal in, kicking them off and thwacking them away with his broom. After a while he began to show off, but no one minded because he still managed to defend the goal.

Fred and George were working their asses off trying to hit off bludgers, not stopping for a single second to notice what else was going on. Y/n could watch her boyfriend work like that all day, his face laced with determination and joy whenever he hit one off successfully. Even more so whenever they scored another goal. Ravenclaw had never had a chance against them.

The match ended as always, with Harry just about catching the snitch before the other team’s seeker got there. He flew down to find the team hugging one another in joy, the rest of Gryffindor house racing from the stands to join the celebration. It wasn’t long before Fred and George were carried back to the common room, their names being chanted like gods.

Y/n caught a flash of her boyfriend’s red hair disappearing into the crowd as her and Hermione followed the flow of people into the castle.

-

“There you are!” Fred had called, finally finding y/n amongst the people partying later that night. “Thought you’d sacked me off.”

“As if, you’re the winning captain now I’m basically a celebrity by default!” She joked, taking the drink from his hand and sipping it hesitantly.

“Oi, what was that for?” He complained.

“I don’t trust my own drinks round you and George.”

“You’ve learnt then,”

“Yep, the hard way.” He smirked at my words and pulled me aside to talk quietly.

“Speaking of hard things, I’m on an absolute power high and really need you.” He said, never one to beat around the bush, well they’d done it once in a bush.

“Give me 10 minutes,” she told him.

“I’ll be waiting in the secret hallway, near potions?” y/n nodded and Fred disappeared off to wait for her, hoping no one would stop him on his way there.

Y/n went up to her dorm room, quickly knocking back a few shots before fixing her makeup and making her hair look less flat. Hermione saw her sneak through the common room and sent her a wink, making the girl blush as she slipped out into the main castle.

It was a Saturday night, and everyone would be gathered in their common rooms by now if there wasn’t already a party going on, so the castle was quiet as she walked through it. Footsteps sounded from somewhere in front of her. The girl slipped inside the transfiguration class, keeping the door just ajar to see filch walk past. Seconds past before she ran back out and straight to the secret passageway her and Fred had discovered a few months prior.

“Fred?” She called out quietly, not able to see him yet. He came out of the shadows with a smirk on his face and rested on the cold stone wall.

“Hello beautiful.” He said, as she took no time to jump on him. Y/n wrapped her legs around his waist, immediately enthralled in his kiss and the slight taste of licorice that seemed to constantly linger on his tongue.

“It’s been so- so hard not to just come f-fuck you right away,” She moaned admittedly between breaths, struggling to speak over the sheer lust coursing through her body.

Fred’s hands played across her neck, rough as always from the cold air, and travelled across her body. He didn’t dare waste time taking off clothes, and grabbed her waist to push her away. She gasped at the sudden lack of touch, but obeyed his every move as the boy laid himself down on the cold steps. Y/n knew what to do. Fred pulled out his cock as she took off her panties from beneath her skirt. She straddled his lap, letting him slip inside her.

In that moment, as their heads were involuntarily thrown back, both groaned out with immense pleasure. Y/n knew how cocky Fred would get after a quidditch win, this position being their own kind of celebration. But there was something different about the boy this time.

He was pounding harder, and deeper, and encouraging the girl’s sweet moans every time one slipped from between her beautiful lips. She could feel his grip, tighter than ever, leaving little finger sized bruises on her hips as she rocked back and forth.

The sheer size of his cock inside her made y/n tense up, Fred having no choice but to speed up.

She screamed, suddenly very appreciative of the passageways seclusion, her chest heaving as the girl had to take a second to adjust to the growing desire in the pit of her stomach.

“You’re close aren’t you?” Fred laughed, revelling in how good he was making her feel. Y/n could only nod in response, her lip tight in her teeth. The boy laughed again, but she could never feel nervous around him.

A hand came up to her neck, she felt it first before she saw it. He clenched the sides with his long fingers as y/n gasped out. He watched her moan lightly, almost begging incoherently as he got her closer and closer.

One last push with his hand made the girl scream, her pussy tighter than he’d ever felt it before. The boy struggled to hold back much longer, pushing her off so he could cum.

“Fuck,” Fred groaned.

“Please, promise me one thing.” Y/n asked, making her boyfriend frown.

“What?”

“Never let anyone else be captain again,” She gasped, still worn out from how ruthless he’d been with her.

[forthehpfanboys]

Navigation

Fics- Closed  Drabbles- Closed  Headcanons- Closed

Key: Work In Progress  *Headcanon  (MDI) Minors Don’t Interact

Prompts can be mixed up, but limited to 2 per request. Ya’ll should know how prompts work, but just in case: just say which numbers you want from which lists and what character and reader specifics.

Please DO NOT repost my stories anywhere else without my permission.

Calling It Even: You just moved 'across the pond' from Ilvermorny to Hogwarts, but before you actually moved you'd made a friend! Well, two and you just so happen to bump into them at the Leaky Cauldron!

Quidditch and T: Harry surprises Ron with tickets to the Quidditch World Cup after the war, after Hermione and after finding out Ron has a crush on the first professional trans masculine the Chudley Canons or the World Cup has ever seen.

I’m Sorry (Angst): You hate Ron, Ron hates you. Pretty simple. It only becomes complicated when the bloke says something about your cologne in Potions class.

Hush-Hush: After pestering turns arguing with Ron about keeping your romantic relationship a secret, your big secret comes tumbling out in the library, in the middle of the night, with a few witnesses.

Gold Strings and Red Picks- Part 1, Part 2 (Smutty), Part 3 (Smut): The Weasley's invented a band! Having a band, means you need a band manager; someone to help find venues, gigs and sponsors. After finding one, Ron seems to be hopeless drawn toward them.

Count Your Losses (Smut)

Neither (Smut/Drabble): You and Ron have history together.

❄️Cold Hands (Drabble)

A Shared Bed (Smut/Drabble): You and Ron have always shared beds, it was normal.

*Reader Comes Out as Trans to the Weasleys

*Ron’s First Boyfriend

*Ron’s First Date

*Reader and Ron’s First Time (Smut)

Home Alone (Smut): Harry plans on giving you something important to him when your home alone leading to you two get carried away and end up in your bedroom.

Bloody Knuckles and Sunshine (Angsty): Harry loved his ball of sunshine and will do anything, including throwing hands at a dude a head taller than him, to protect it from harm.

Into His Hands (Smut)

Try to Understand

Different (Smut/Drabble): You expected a lot, but not everything.

Soft (Smut/Drabble): Harry manages to get you alone and learns your as soft as you look.

Admirable (Fluff/Smut/Drabble): Harry convinces you that you’re worth it.

❄️Fireplace Snuggles (Drabble)

Some Random Smutty Thingy

*Harry and Black-Lupins Trans Son

*Harry’s First Boyfriend

Tough Hufflepuff (Angsty): Reader is a shy bean who is willing to teach the DA for Harry and everyone and ends up falling for a specific witch in doing so. He ends up winning her after a fight with a specific bleached ferret.

Not Going Anywhere (Angst): You’ve kept a pretty big secret from your bird for a while, but what happens when you end up revealing it on one fate filled night where she sees it first hand?

History: Hermione swore she would hate Slytherins since Draco Malfoys blonde self rolled into town, but your relentless flirting and charming smile causes her to feel stuff.

White Out (Angst)

After Party Bliss (Smut)

More Than Reading Books (Smut)

Better Than A Protection Spell

Cuts Deeper than Bone

Broken Stitches (Smut, Drabble): Hermione usually gripes about your dirty clothes being everywhere.

❄️Story Time (Drabble)

Broken Stitches (Smut/Drabble)

Line Without a Hook

❄️Snowman Building (Drabble)

*Reader Comes Out as Trans to the Weasleys

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

Tan Lines (Smut): George didn’t tell anyone; Fred just figured it out and then Fred told you. It was quiet simple.  So, you take some time to appreciate the younger prankster.

Thin Walls (Smut/Drabble): You end up alone in a tent with George.

❄️Holiday Decorations (Drabble)

*First Boyfriend Headcanon

*Reader Comes Out as Trans to the Weasleys

Two Years: You got back to Diagon Alley after the war and desperately wanna talk to him and explain why you were basically non-existent during the war. But is Fred ready to talk to you?

Obvious Enough? (Drabble): Fred hates seeing you with his younger brother when he’s right across from you.

Will You?

❄️Christmas Photos (Drabble)

*Reader Comes Out as Trans to the Weasleys

*Fred’s Dominate Boyfriend (Smut)

Dirt Smudges

I Hate Blue

❄️Hot Cocoa Movie Night (Drabble)

Scary

❄️Mistletoe Kisses (Drabble)

Gay Panic

Firework Distraction

You're an Idiot (Smut): Draco is being a brat.. Again. No one's surprised when you run into him after getting back late from Hogsmeade. Also, the reader is Hermione's older brother.

Dance With Me: Draco really wishes he asked you to the Yule Ball. He wishes his father wasn't such a prude. He wishes you were on his arm, not Potters.

Match Already Made: Hermione tries to play match maker. She is so determined to see you and Harry get together she's obvious to the fact you're already taken. Even if you’ve kept it a secret.

A Good Look On You: You and Pansy have been friends since- since forever! Draco was fine with it until Pansy found out his little secret and decided to flirt with her close friend, leading arguing and kissing.

Christmas Break (Smut): You liked Winter Break Draco. Unfortunately, he was replaced by Usual Dick Bag Draco who becomes ruthless. At least Harry is there to make you feel better.

Into His Hands (Smut)

Tunes

Noise (Smut/Drabble): Draco wakes you up early for a quicky.

New (Smut/Drabble): Draco doesn’t appreciate you disobeying him.

It Doesn’t Hurt (Angst?/Drabble): Draco bothers you until you snap at him.

Glass (Smut/Drabble): Draco has a nice, long mirror hanging from his wall.

Dust and Dirt (Smut/Drabble): Draco loves that you want to try something new.

❄️Ice Skating (Drabble)

*Blaise’s Hufflepuff Boyfriend

*Blaise and Golden Trio’s Brother

*Blaise and His Boyfriend (Smut)

[wandsandwheezes]

NASCAR III | G.W

WARNINGS // 6.9k // SMUT 18+, George x Reader // Fred x unnamed OC, Angry Fred, Racer!George, light angst, fighting, rough sex, soft sex, breeding kink af, mentions of alcohol, cars, sex, possession, praise kink, a (tiny) amount of degradation, oral, unprotected sex, one ass slap.

A/N // the series that nobody expected to become a series has now officially done just that. @darthwheezely​ and I do be hoes for these racer boys xoxo 🏎🦋 ILYSM PHIA MWAH <333

“Fred, have you seen my jumper?”

“Yeah, it’s on the bed, baby” he called. Fred was not often a meticulous man, but (as Lee said) ‘if the fit called for a bit of work, it was always worth it.’ 

And to Fred, going to a press conference with his exceptionally hot fiancé warranted at least basic perfection, right?

Fred made a low whistle as she came out of the bathroom, a towel around her. “Well, aren’t you just a sight for sore eyes.” She came to stand in front of him, pressing one, two, three kisses to his mouth, the flavour of fresh toothpaste still on her mouth. He hummed in contentment and wrapped his hands around her waist.

“Love, it’ll be fine, this will be my tenth, glorious win-“

“-and you almost got in a crash last time because you were being a tosser, remember?”

“Mmmm, that’s in the details,” he said softly. He searched her eyes and sighed, pulling her flush  into his body.

“I promise I’ll be okay this time, you know I’m a great driver and that this isn’t anything different...I still intend on marrying you in one piece, you know.” She chuckled at that and he tilted her chin up, pressing a kiss to her forehead and murmuring:

“I love you, you know that?”

“And I love you, Freddie...even though you are a tosser.” 

He slung her over his shoulder, rolling his eyes dramatically, and threw her on the bed, her giggling at the action.

“There’s my saucy little minx, now how about a pre-press test drive, yeah?...”

—

“I can’t just not go, babe.” George sighed, pushing the hair from his face, a sudden clammy feeling of his clothes against his skin indicating just how nervous he was for the up and coming press conference. 

“You’re running a fever, George, I’ll call Lee and tell him that you need the rest and that–” You rambled, pressing the cool back of your hand against his forehead, then neck and chest, feeling that thin veil of sweat forming against his hot skin.

“Don’t.” He mumbled all too abruptly, cutting your flow of words short. Furrowing your brows, you looked down at him before shaking your head. He recognised the tone at which he had spat his word, immediately pulling your hand into his, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “I’m sorry I snapped, I know you’re only looking out for me.”

“It’s okay, Georgie, I still think you should stay here with me.” You sighed, climbing over his legs to be sat in his lap as you breathed out softly, watching as his eyes softened only for his eyebrow to raise, a smirk soon finding his lips while his hands rested on your waist.

“Any old excuse to keep me at the hotel then, eh?” George licked his lips, pulling you closer into his chest as he eyed your expression, the giggle that fell from his lips like pure music to his ears.

“I just want you better for the race, idiot.” You rolled your eyes, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose, his lips finding your cheeks to pepper kisses there with a smug grin on his face.

“I think I could win this one you know, regardless of me being sick or not, I have a good feeling about it.” He hummed, forehead pressed against yours lovingly.

“What makes you say that?” You prodded, running your hands through the hair at the back of his head.

“I have one thing nobody else has; you.” He praised, only for you to bury your face in the crook of his neck, taking a deep breath as his hands ran up your back. “I love you so much, angel.”

“I love you too, George, more than you’ll ever know.”

—

The conference room was packed - that’s an understatement, really. Every journalist alive came to talk to the new dominators of modern NASCAR racing, George and Fred Weasley. Although, as George spitefully knew:

He was somewhere because of Fred. Again.

That familiar feeling of resentment threatened to bubble in the younger twin’s throat, and he immediately began to push it down. The fights, the mutual disgust and disdain - that was done now. Ten wins for Fred should mean legitimately less than nothing but excitement for his older brother. 

So why was that feeling still there? 

“Hello, everyone, I’m sorry I’m late!” Fred entered from the back of the stage, nothing but glimmer (and gloat) in the elder twin’s face. Good mood Fred could always either be an impending disaster, or one of the best things the world has ever seen.

Of course he’s late, he’s always late, George thought, before guilt immediately settled in. 

Fred took a bottle of water, winking playfully at the young lady who got him one, before settling in his seat next to George. 

“Right then, questions?” Fred boomed, that familiar sunshine of a smile very evident on his face. The man behind them, George’s manager was directing questions, and George swallowed at what questions would appear. 

“This is for Fred, do you predict another victory in this race?” The journalist asked.

Fred leaned a bit forward in his seat and dipped his mouth into the microphone:

“Does the pope wear a big hat, love?”

George however sniggered to himself at the question, holding back a laugh at Fred’s answer. Of course he would answer in the cockiest way known to man, only lighting a fire under the younger twin’s arse to kick into gear and take the baby driver down a few pegs. 

“Something funny, Georgie?” Fred turned his head slightly to the side, the smile still there, but dark eyes venturing into icier territory.

“Nothing, Brother, just think you should remember there is always tough competition, no matter how cocksure you are.” George murmured loud enough into the microphone for his words to reverberate around the room, some reporters eyeing each other before vigorously taking notes. 

Fred had been taking a sip of his water and nearly choked, eliciting a “sorry everyone!” into the microphone. He gave George a brief side eye, but no - he wasn’t going to let him ruin his moment again. They’ve moved past this, George can have his own fun, why couldn’t he be a little confident for a change?

“Hi, this question is for George,” Fred only heard that much before a brief but very definite prickle of resentment tingled at his skin. He started to feel a bit warm but was determined to brush it off, turning towards George a bit.

“You’ve had a fantastic season these past couple years, and although you’ve lost the past ten races, you still stick to the top five - will we get our own Crimson Wonder back, or is that Fred’s title now?” 

George held back on his instinct to bite at his brother’s ego, instead taking a sip of water to collect his thoughts before speaking, his mind trailing back to the words he had said this morning; ‘I have a good feeling about this one’.

“Fred and I both train hard, as does every other racer out on that track,” George swallowed thickly before continuing his sentence, “But I think my own winning streak is far from over, who knows, as you say, you may get your Crimson Wonder back yet.” 

Fred attempted to register and probably stop the inherently blank expression on his face, but honestly? It was too much. Yes, George was great, and yes, he was proud of him but.

Why was there a deeply unsettled feeling in the pit of his stomach? Twintuition as they called it was something not out of the ordinary at all - but why was it that somewhere in the back of his mind he just felt this...this negative foresight.

There was one thing Fred didn’t like more than avocados (Fred hated avocados) and that was losing.

“My baby brother, so inspirational isn’t he? Gets it from my mum, absolutely.” Fred curled his lips into his mouth, gnawing on his bottom lip, in complete understanding of what he just said. The reporters didn’t have to know that any time he brought up their age or said my mum instead of our mum, it kind of lit a match in George. 

In short, Fred knew exactly what he was doing. And George didn’t really like that, but he wasn’t about to stoop to Fred’s level and ruin his public imagery, not with his wife-to-be and his sister-in-law-to-be watching and murmuring to each other with pained faces: they knew the tension was there too, of course they had.

“I think we should leave the rest of the heat for rubber burning on the track.” The moderator cut in, taking final questions from the press aimed at the others on the panel, letting the twins simmer in their own jealousy toward one another as the conference came to a close.

The boys’ demeanours had completely shifted, George staying behind to take pictures and leave autographs for fans, smile on his face and a sense of pride in his chest, while Fred had made a swift exit in just the way he arrived, looking absolutely miserable.

—

“Georgie,” Fred called out from the locker rooms, “just what the fuck was that?” His bare chest red while he angrily scrambled to get his uniform on.

“Please,” George scoffed, zipping his uniform up calmly, before pushing his bag into his locker with ease, “I could ask you the same question.” 

“I was actually trying to give the press what they wanted, a good show, you, on the other hand, just wanted to be a proper arsehole in front of everyone.” He slammed his locker door shut, his knuckles on his hand against it surely white now from childish rage.

George closed his locker with force, not so much anger, running a hand through his hair before picking up his helmet, his tongue truly in his cheek, the angel on his shoulder begging him to stay quiet while the devil paralleled telling him that it was about time he spoke his feelings. “I’m the arsehole? Check your own actions first, mate.” 

He breathed but he wasn’t done, the words flowing like vomit as he finally let go all of the bottled aggression, “You don’t know the first thing about being a racer, how fucking tiring it is and you use it against me like its something I’m not good at and I’m fucking tired of it.” 

George went to continue, but the guilt of spitting every thought in his brain suddenly overcame him, instead he clutched at his helmet a little tighter, taking a deep breath before muttering as he walked away, “Good luck out there, you’ll need it.”

Fred stood there watching him walk away, something a bit more unfair that self-loathing and resentment lingering in his chest. It was dizzying, it was a feeling he altogether hated and actively tried to pretend he didn’t have.

Fred Weasley, in short, was guilty. 

—

The Arizona sun was beating down on the track, everyone watching on with baited breath as each car lined up on the Phoenix Raceway, engines revving in anticipation of the start of the race. Fred was clutching at his steering wheel tightly, blinkered only on one thing; winning this one. George however, knew the racers he was up against; some of the best in the NASCAR cup and even some that had been driving as long as he had been alive, was lucky to find himself there, taking a deep breath. George wasn’t a religious man but in that moment he was praying to whatever god to grant him some good luck. 

The green flag waved, signalling the start of the race, each car zooming by as the engines roared. The race was a tough one and everyone watching on knew that. The first ten or so laps went just as smoothly as planned, a backhaul crash in the 18th lap just missing the twins, but nevertheless cutting the number of racers pretty much immediately in half. 

George grew more confident as he crept up the rankings, sitting comfortably in about 6th place for a grand majority of the race, while Fred trailed much behind him in about 8th place. The tension of the conference had truly stumped the older twin, pushing him to want to be up in the top dogs, but to no avail, every attempt was blocked for him. 

The final three laps, George was in fourth and Fred was nowhere to be seen, well sat in his 11th place, seething at his inevitable loss. The younger twin was content with his placing, watching the third place drop down to 5th pushing him into the top 3. George swore he felt every single beat of his heart as he zoomed past the lap line. Two to go. Third place was enough for George, especially in a race like this. He zoomed past the lap line again. White Flag. Last chance.

In a flash, a car from behind George pushed forward, striking the first place car, sending three cars spiralling off the track leaving behind only dust sparks and fire in their tacks. It didn’t click for George that he had passed the finish line in 1st place until it blared through his headset.

“I fucking did what?” He shouted as he continued speeding around the track, the confirmation of his win ringing through his ears as he let out a loud but satisfied yell, the stress of weeks of losses finally leaving him in an exhale, welcoming the new feeling of pride. 

Fred in the heat of the crash had fallen to 12th place, pushing him to be the last of all the cars on the track past the finish line - a loss he was not ready to accept no matter how much pride beamed from him hearing the news that the winner had been his own twin brother. 

—

“George, how does it feel to have a trophy back?” 

“Honestly, it feels so surreal - I’m so grateful for my team, crew, and absolutely amazing fiancée, Y/N - I love you so much, baby,” he shouted over the noise, cameras completely swamping the victory stage and hallway down to the bar. He had everything he could’ve wanted, you, a real win again, happy sponsors - but there was one thing missing.

Fred. Where was Fred? Did it really matter? He knew he hadn’t placed very far, but surely he wouldn’t be that angry would he? But then - no. No, George won, he deserved to win again after Fred had been hogging all the sunny days and he was still supportive. So where was his twin now? Even after everything.

He stopped you on his arm and said: “actually, there is one more person I really do have to thank.” He faced directly towards the camera, you utterly confused.

“Thank you, Freddie, for being the best supportive big brother a guy could ask for. You’ve always been a winner to me.” And with a shaky swallow, knowing he wasn’t here, knowing he probably could give a shit whether George thanked him or not, he went off with you on his arm to have a drink.

God knows he needed it.

—

The older twin sat in the lockers, his elbows resting on his knees, his bare arms and chest tensing periodically with pure and spiteful rage. What the absolute fuck had he done differently? He had been on his highest alert, his most pristine focus, what went wrong? 

He didn’t crash, he didn’t bitch and moan to his pit crew, he didn’t fly off the handle - yet - so why did he get the curt, “I’m sorry, son, we all lose sometimes,” from Vinnie, his new manager like it was just normal. 

Fred Weasley didn’t lose. Especially not after a ten time winning streak, no, he refused. 

So there he sat, knowing his fiancé was probably making excuse after excuse as to why her husband had fled the cameras and the questions, why he wasn’t congratulating his brother on his fantastic win - but he didn’t have the energy to feel guilt. All he felt was loathing. He barely didn’t register the soft clicking of his soon to be wife’s heels clacking against the tile floor. 

“Fred Weasley, what the fuck are you doing naked in the locker room, I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” she said with great exasperation. She looked stunning, in that pretty little two piece skirt and black crop number, not at all like a woman frantically in search of her formula 1 MIA husband. 

“You look great, sweetheart,” he mumbled, barely looking up at her before getting up and turning to his locker, getting out his change of clothes. She watched his back ripple with tension and at the sight alone felt her thighs break for a second.

“So were you planning on telling me where you were or just sulking in here?” 

“I was taking a shower, actually...I don’t get why you’re so pissed at me.” He snapped, not even bothering to turn around. 

“I’m ‘pissed’ at you because your brother loves you and you’re in here acting like a five year old who got his teddy taken away from him.” She retorted. Fred turned around then, slamming the locker door shut for the second time that day, the sound echoing in the bathroom. 

“I’m sorry, what did you just say to me?” He seemed to punctuate every word in the sentence, but his voice very quiet - too quiet. 

“You’re - just get your clothes on and knock it off, Weasley,” she scoffed, trying to walk off the very minor but very palpable fear she felt, and the evident arousal pooling in her thighs. Fred, unfortunately, knew this, and in Fred fashion, was feeling quite a good many ways about this. 

“Get your ass back here, right now, sweetheart,” he snapped, his volume gaining to a low roar. When she kept on walking to the door, his long legs loped to a brisk walk in front of the doorway, right in front of her. She didn’t realize that she was holding her breath for a second until she exhaled, and his thumb came up to grace her bottom lip.

“Open,” he said quietly, and then she did listen, her lips opening up to his thumb immediately. He always did this mannerism, when he said open he’d open his mouth too, almost showing her how she needed to be before usually saying “theeere, it is” but right now, he was silent, his mouth pressed in a thin line. 

But then she bit. And hard. Pushing him off her and making him gasp, her heels clicked down the tile as fast as she could walk. But Fred wasn’t going to let her get away that easy. In an instant he threw his elongated and toned arm out to grab her waist, pulling her back into the wall, caging her in his hold.

“You’re being an absolute twat, you know that?” She spat. He delicately slapped the side of her face and squeezed her cheeks to form an o.

“And you’re being a prissy little bitch, but I’m still here, aren’t I?” He said harshly, scanning her eyes before yanking her in for a kiss. She immediately released a desperate moan into his mouth and he slid his hand through her hair and all the knots and tangles possible to reach the back of her head. His other hand slid down up her skirt to grope her thigh, hoisting her legs around his waist. 

“You’re so fucking hot when you’re mad, I swear,” she breathed out, before his lips messily met hers. He always kissed with his jaw, she noticed that, when he’d hit his strong jaw out to move with her and nuzzle her face and then she always moaned like she was doing now.

In an instant he was carrying her back towards the shower, the shuffle of so many movements causing the towel around his waist to fall off.

“You ready to take a winner, baby?” 

— 

After a couple of drinks it was safe to say that you and George had gotten a little closer than you usually would have sober. He wasn’t even tipsy, feeling no more than the pride of his win but even with that he wasn’t going to ignore the fact that his girl was practically purring for him while clinging to his arm. You were so desperate to pull him in for a kiss, hell you probably would have let him have you in the hall out of pure lust for your husband-to-be.

It had been so long since you’d seen him smile the way he was now, pride radiating off his skin alongside the heat of his lingering fever, making you remember that not only had he won the hardest race he’d ever driven, but he’d done so while sick. A smirk spread over your lips as you went to push up on your toes, lips pecking a gentle kiss to his jaw.

“What’s that for, angel?” He smiled down at you, his lips now ducking down to press a loving kiss to your forehead. 

“Just a taste of how I’m gonna congratulate my winner later.” You mumbled playfully as his arm snuck around your waist to pull you in tighter, leaning to whisper in your ear as his lips grazed over your earlobe.

“Guess I should think about getting you to bed then, yeah? That what you want bub?” He pulled away from your ear with a grin stretching from ear to ear.

You nodded bashfully, letting him tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, the rosy hue on his cheeks apparent just from being close to you, in this moment. George didn’t care about the press or his manager or really even the win anymore, not when he had you right in front of him, begging him short of being on your knees. 

He made an excuse, whatever it had to be to get you alone, to get away from the champagne, cameras and chatting. His jacket was draped over your shoulders as you found your way out of the celebration lounge, giggling like teenagers as you walked hand in hand to his car, the echoes of laughter humming around the underground car park before he had you trapped between his body and the passenger side door.

“I can’t wait to get you back to our room.” He mumbled, lips just hovering inches away from yours. His hand slipped just under the hem of your top, his hot touch sending sparks flying through you.

“The things I want you to do to me, Weasley.” You breathed out, hand reaching behind his head to pull his lips down to yours, letting him leave no gaps between you, him and his car. 

“Oh yeah?,” he murmured breathlessly, nose knocking against yours, “Like what, princess? Don’t be shy, we have a whole journey for you to run that pretty mouth of yours.”

“You’ll ruin me one day if you keep talking like that, George.” 

“I think I’ll ruin you tonight instead, love.” 

—

“Freddie, please-“

“No, I’m not stopping until you cum on me, princess, I deserve that much,” he snarled, his cock rippling through her over and over. He had intended on fucking all his anger out on her ever since he pushed her into the shower, everything only mouths and melded hands. 

“Feels - feels so good, Freddie” she whined, her legs barely able to sustain being wrapped around him. His hips whipcracked into her at an entirely new angle, prompting her to mewl and claw at his back like a cat. 

“Oh my poor baby, can she not take my cock? Would another racer do a better job at - “ he pushed deeper into that new spot, her mewls and whines turning to wanton cries. “ - stretching you out instead of me?”

“No one can do this, Fred, I promise, love,” she murmured, her eyes rolling vacantly to the back of her head. He sensed her climax was arriving soon, she was like butter under his hot embrace.

“Look at me,” he growled, squeezing her face and tilting it upwards. “I want to see my prize when she makes a mess everywhere, you hear me, princess?” Her widened eyes bore into his deep chocolate ones and when she finished, she truly could not look at anything else except him, it was always him and only him that made her feel like this. 

“Thaaaat’s it, baby, look at you, being such a dirty little girl for me. You like making messes for me, princess?” He cooed, his soft and caring tone a total opposite to the way he pulled out and slammed back in, making her scream and be flush against him. 

“M-mhm,” she murmured, Fred shaking his head as he chuckled, carrying her dripping out of the shower, still inside her. “Do you want me to take you off?” He whispered, the anger still in his throat, but...she would always be more important. Making her feel safe was always important, even in the worst of his rage. Fortunately, she nodded at him and kissed his jaw, a soothing gesture that always meant she loved him, everything was okay, he didn’t hurt her. He smoothed the top of her wet hair down and gave the top of her head a kiss, his ring finger stroking against the centre of her spine.

But then, a certain thought excited him blackly. 

“Baby…who put that ring on you?” He asked pensively. No, he didn’t win that idiotic fucking race, and no, he didn’t beat his brother in this race but - he still won her. He suddenly felt his dick twitch deep inside her and he groaned, clenching his jaw at the sudden awareness of her engagement ring digging into his shoulder. He fully stopped looking at the ground and the towel on the locker hanger, reaching for it and dropping it flat on the ground.

“F-Freddie?” She asked weakly.

“Mhm?”

“What - what are you doing?” She released a high pitch whine at the feeling of Fred twitching again, and at that he flipped her over on the towel, backside up, his cunt and his ass being fully presented to him like that. And then he moaned, his eyes shutting after and his jaw rolling when he saw her buck her ass up to try and meet him wherever he was behind her. 

“God, you are just a good for nothing little Formula 1 whore aren’t you?” He breathed out, his hands sliding to cup her ass and squeezing, relishing in the scarlet rash of skin that came and went with a blink of an eye. 

“You’d like to think so,” she quietly quipped, his hands suddenly freezing on her ass.

“Oh...is that so? Well, then…” and at that he slowly began to squeeze again until she was squirming, then bringing his hand down to the centre of her ass, a loud smack echoing in the room. She cried into the towel and bucked her ass towards him once again. 

“Yes, yes, I’m a Formula 1 whore,” she wept, Fred chuckling and positioning his cock at her entrance, just barely letting his tip brush her cunt.

“What if I just stayed here, hmm? Didn’t even let you have my cock, just gave you a taste of what it would be like to get fucked by me and go use another checkered flag slut instead, that sound good, baby?” He said crisply, trying not to let the tortured feeling of his cock get to him. 

“Fred, I-“ and with a final growl, Fred pushed himself to the brim inside her once more. She cried out his name into the towel, his free hand not bracing himself from behind pushing her head into the towel. He was devouring every noise that came from her mouth, mostly strained cries and pants that registered with every crack of his hips inside her. He felt her near her release again, his as well, his hips losing tempo.

“Gonna marry you and stuff you with aaaall my babies, isn’t that right princess? Gonna make my trophy wife swell up, you won’t be able to even fathom seeing that pretty pussy of yours in the morning” He panted, groaning at the sight of his cock disappearing and reappearing in her - in his - cunt. 

“Please, wanna be so full, of your...of your babies, Fred,” she whimpered, his name falling from her lips like alphabet soup as she, with a final rock of her ass against him, came undone around him. He gripped her hips and with a sharp “I love you, fuck” followed her in the same way, his hips rolling ever so gently back into her to soothe their highs.

After a moment he pulled out of her, dismantling the baby hairs sticking to her forehead out the way, pressing kiss after kiss there. 

“Weasley, you got any car plush toys on you by chance?” She quipped, prompting a grin from Fred and a chaste kiss to her lips and nose.

“No, but the Babies R Us near home might…”

—

The second you were parked up, George had his hand snaked around the back of your neck pulling you in to peck your lips over and over, warm and comforting giggles slipping from your lips between every kiss. The trip up to your room took twice the time it would usually take, stopping frequently to evade the hotel staff, as well as missing your floor entirely in the elevator; too distracted by the taste of his lips and the way his hands gripped desperately at your hips.

Once well inside your hotel room, you found yourself underneath him, hair sprawled out beneath you as he marvelled at your beauty. A toothy grin spread across his lips before his head ducked down to press a kiss just below your ear, sucking a deep purple mark against your warm skin as a giggle erupted through his throat, the vibrations causing you to do the same, hands pressed against his shoulders to push him away. 

“Good lord, woman, I love you.” He breathed out, his lips moving to press a kiss to your forehead. You sighed out a moan as his fingers slipped underneath the hem of your shirt, bunching the fabric up as he pushed it up your torso and over your bra, exposing the plain but gorgeous lace.

His lips soon pressed against your exposed skin, sucking mark after mark down the valley of your breasts, humming in satisfaction at the way you writhed beneath him as your hands wove through his soft, ginger locks, tousling them perfectly as you giggled together.

“You may have won today, Georgie, but I’m winning now.” You whined, keeping him pulled close to you as his free hand snuck just underneath the hem of your skirt, fingers brushing against your sensitive clit as he swallowed each and every moan, taking pleasure in slipping the flimsy lace to the side to sink his fingers into you quickly and with no mercy, letting you chant his name as you begged for more. 

It didn’t take much for him to oblige, hardly pulling away from you to slip his cock free, teasing your entrance for a moment before he was pushing slowly into you, letting you get used to the feeling of the first few inches, only for him to pull back out, chuckling darkly at the way you writhed against the sheets. “Baby please, don’t tease me like that.” 

He pouted mockingly, dipping his head down to press a slow and intimate kiss to your lips, nose nudging against yours before he mumbled into the kiss, letting you lean into it. “As you wish, princess.” 

Almost all at once, you felt him move your hips to the right position, continuing to tease you as he sank slowly into you, not daring to pull away again as he eyed the way your face contorted with pleasure, your hands slipping under the thin t-shirt, he wore, pulling it over his head and tossing it across the room, your nails dragging down the freshly exposed skin, pulling a groan from him.

“I’m gonna fuck you so deep, bub, gonna make you scream and give you a baby.” He groaned, hands pressing your head down to the mattress as he cradled it, hot breath fanning over your face as his slow thrusts pulled moan after moan from you.

His strong arm hooked underneath you, pulling you up and into his chest, as his hips continued in pushing in and out of you at the most antagonising pace. He smirked at the way your head immediately fell to rest on his shoulder, your eyes squeezing shut from the new angle. 

“Bet you’re loving this aren’t you? Not so bold anymore, angel.” His gravelly voice rumbled through your ear, hand gripping that little bit tighter as he felt your small shallow breaths growing deeper at the intensely slow lovemaking you were far from expecting tonight.

“I’m still bold.” You whispered, nudging forward to pull his earlobe between your teeth before peppering sloppy, wet kisses along his neck.

“Funny one, love.” He smirked, beginning to pick the pace up a notch, enough to bring the hanging release down on you, pushing you to be clenching around him as you begged for it. “I knew you’d like that.”

He had a way of completely dumbfounding you, making you lost for words, finding yourself against the sheets fully again, this time he had hooked your legs over his shoulders only to lean down and press his lips to yours, all the time his skilled fingers toyed with your clit. 

You felt as if every sense had been awoken, stimulated by his very touch like a fire had been lit around you, pulling you into the embrace of the flames as you found yourself screaming his name, the inevitable high falling over you.

“That’s it, baby, doing so good for me…” He breathed heavily, his lips pressing to your forehead as he continued to ride out your high, his own release painting your walls as he fucked it into you, pulling true on his promise of filling you up.

You felt so full, his love washing through you from head to toe as he lazily kissed you, slipping your legs off his shoulders to pull you back into his arms, keeping himself bottomed out inside of you. 

“I’m dead serious about giving you a baby, princess.” He chuckled, hand trailing up and down your back as he traced languid shapes into your soft skin.

“Good, I’m dead serious about having your baby.”

—

Fred knocked on the door, his foot tapping on the carpet outside George’s hotel room. He was always a fidgety man, but today would be all too different for the eldest Weasley twin. 

He knocked once more, altogether considering just going home and leaving a lengthy but probably nonsense voicemail, if not entirely fueled by alcohol then by sheer force of nature that was his fiancé alone. 

He had decided on giving up, his legs stretching as he turned around. But then the door opened, the equally messy haired ginger behind it looking so much calmer and more serene than Fred ever could. 

“Heya, Georgie,” Fred breathed out. George would never have said it out loud, but Fred looked like absolute death. He could tell his older brother had gotten little to no sleep, his eyes sunken in. He knew Fred was hurting, and George never was one to rub it in. If anything, George would always be the one who understood him the most, they rarely ever had to apologize to each other for things like this, their souls simply understanding when pain was evident. 

“Morning, Freddie…” George spoke warmly, crossing his arms over his chest for a moment, smiling lazily at his twin as he pondered his next move. “D’you wanna come in?” 

“Yeah...yeah, that’d be nice,” he swallowed, smiling softly at his slightly younger (but in many ways, much older) twin. 

George stepped aside, letting his brother in as he shut the door behind him. He rubbed his hands together, a smile that rounded his cheeks on his face as he sensed the awkwardness in the room. This wasn’t like them at all. “Everyone missed you yesterday, Fred, parties aren’t the same without you.”

“As in, no one drank all the rum and Coke at the party without me is what I’m hearing?” He cracked a small smile, attempting to avoid as much eye contact with Georgie that wasn’t necessary. 

“George, I’m so sorry.” He said softly, his jaw stilling. 

“You don’t have to apologise, Fred.”

“No, but I do. I...I know how special being behind the wheel is to you, and you’re right. I don’t know what it means to win, at least not like you, and...George, you’re my best friend, stupid.” He aggressively wiped under his eyes. “I want to be happy for you and lately I haven’t even been thankful for you and that isn’t fair, mate, I...I love you. So much.”

“I feel like I was losing you there, Freddie, I’ve hardly seen you, we don’t talk unless it’s a press conference and just… Fuck I hate this, I miss being able to call you and talk about all the dumb things we can do together.” George sighed, looking up to the ceiling to stop the tears from falling.

Fred’s, however, were already hitting the ground. “I hate it too, Georgie...I hate it so much. It’s fun, being a racer like you - with you - but I just...I want to fix your tires again, man” he tearfully chuckled, watching George do the same. “I want to say stupid shit like ‘baby brother, your blinker fluid is out’ over the headset and listen to you cuss me out, and I want to be able to know I’m still on your team at the end of the day.” He curled his lip inward. “That’s all I’ve wanted. Is to be on your team.” 

“You have no idea what it’s like to win without you, when you’re out there making sure that everything is okay I just know my big brother is there looking out for me and I miss it, I miss telling everyone that it was you who made it possible, Freddie, you’re my star man.” George smiled, scratching his arm nervously, wanting nothing more than for things to be like old times.

Fred let out a breathy laugh, his eyes still brimming with fresh tears. “I’m the last one to thank, you big wanker, I don’t drive the damn thing constantly, that’s all you and your foolishness.” He swallowed. “I just...if you’ll have me back, I already talked to the Wood Brothers and everything but um...there’s a deal where I would be able to also drive once a month or so, and be your Pit Crew Pit Bull the other races. If that was okay with you - I want to be there with you again.” His knee bounced in the silence, his guilt and fear bouldering in his throat.

“I’d want nothing more than to have you back, I think it’ll be good for you to still stay driving, you have to get that adrenaline fill somewhere… I don’t say it enough, but I’m proud of you, proud of what you’ve achieved.” George smiled, the toothy grin brightening up the room as the awkwardness seemed to fade. “Even though you do become a cocky bastard sometimes.” 

Fred scoffed and rolled his eyes. “One does not become a cocky bastard, Georgie-kins, one is a cocky bastard...also, I have to be,” he said getting up and moving to where George was sitting. “if I’m going up against my snot-nosed little brother who’s getting married and is going to expect me to babysit for a thousand hateful children,” he waggled his eyebrows and threw a pillow at him. “But thank you...I mean that. You know you’re easily the best on that track every time. Every time. I’m...I'm proud to be your twin, Georgie.”

“I don’t know how I survived without your brilliant humour gracing us all, Freddie, I truly missed the inspiring wit,” George chuckled, gently nudging his twin with his fist, “After all, you’re not too bad of a brother to have, not everyone can be me but you’re as close as anyone’s gonna get.” He smirked, eyebrow raised as he looked over to his twin.

“I truly am so distraught I did not destroy you in the womb when I had the shot, but here’s to the wish anyway,” full on slamming George in the face with the pillow and howling at the action. “Top that, bitch,” he barked.

“It’s on now.” George laughed, throwing the pillow back at his brother, sending an eruption of laughter echoing around the hotel room, the two boys flinging cushions around like there was no tomorrow.

But the laughter didn’t end, only continuing as loud roars and giggles as time passed. You found yourself swinging your legs out of bed, trudging towards the source of the noise, only to find feathers everywhere and the twins laughing together in a childlike manner. “Could the two of you be any more loud?” 

“Sorry, baby… didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“Yeah, sorry, Y/N.” Fred chimed in.

“You’re damn lucky it isn’t early, Weasley.” You sighed, rolling your eyes as you shuffled off towards the warm embrace of the morning shower, thankful to see the twins as they should be, happy and together once again.

A/N //  so phia and i have pretty much decided that we’re gonna keep this going so... part IV coming sooooon ;))))

taglist // @slytherinsunrise @gcdricreads @theweasleysredhair @vogueweasley @vivianweasley @feetoffthetablee @thisismynerdyself @witch-and-a-half @loony-loopy-lupinn @rip-us @hopemalfoyweasley @whizboingies @pansydaisy @darthwheezely @lumos-barnes @starlightweasley @valwritesx @weelittleweasley​

[sunrisefairy]

Let me take care of you

Pairing: George Weasley x reader Word Count: 2.1k Warning: NSFW! fingering, unprotected sex, female receiving oral, dirty talk, swearing  Summary: Y/N is feeling stressed from university so George decides he needs to help her relax.  A/N: I dunno, kind of very proud of this one. Tried something new and decided to write some smut. Think it turned out okay.  Taglist: I’m assuming these people would still like to be included in the taglist for smutty fics, please tell me if you would like to be taken off or added! @hufflepuff5972 @inglourious-imagines​ @georgeweasleyswhre​ 

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It was nearing the end of the school year which means the deadline for final assignments and exams were fast approaching. Y/N was in her final year of her psychology degree and had spent the majority of her time cramming in revision or working on some essay.

You could find Y/N either at her part time job at the local florist or at home, hunched over her desk with numerous opened textbooks and half-drunk coffee cups strewn around. Unfortunately, she didn’t have a lot of time recently for her boyfriend, George. He didn’t mind though, he knew how important getting good grades were to Y/N so he would help out where he could, mostly by making sure dinner was ready when she got home from work or running to the library when Y/N needed another textbook.

Normally he could convince Y/N to take a 15 minute break without much persuasion if he presented her with freshly baked cookies, they’d sit on the couch and munch on the treats while George played with her hair before she’d sigh and say she better get back to her essay. But for the past 2 weeks Y/N has hardly moved from the desk chair only getting up when she had work. George has found her on more than one occasion slumped over the many books and papers, lightly snoring because she fell asleep. As soon as George would try and guide her to bed, she’d jolt up and mumble about needing to keep studying.

George was starting to get worried for Y/N’s mental and physical health if she didn’t slow down and rest, no matter what he tried nothing seemed to work so he had one last trick up his sleeve.

Y/N was once again sitting at her laptop typing away frantically, she had gotten off of work at 5pm, scoffed down some dinner and immediately opened up a textbook. It was now 10:45pm and Y/N had no plans on taking a break soon.

“Georgie babe, can you grab me another coffee?” Y/N called out over her shoulder.

George ignored her request and came up behind her, resting his hands on her shoulders massaging them lightly. “Darling, I think you’ve had enough coffee for the day. How about you finish up and we can lay in bed and get some sleep?”

Y/N shook her head not looking up at him, “can’t George, I’m so close to finishing this essay.”

George sighed; he could see the dark circles forming under her eyes deciding now would be the perfect time to try the last thing which might get Y/N to relax. He pushed Y/N’s hair off her shoulder. She was wearing one of George’s old band tees which was way too big for her and left some of her shoulder exposed. George lent down and started leaving soft kisses along her skin.

“Georgie, I don’t have time” Y/N mumbled quietly trying to shrug him off.

George persisted and kept leaving kisses along his girlfriend’s shoulder before stopping at the base of her neck and sucking a dark purple mark, causing Y/N to let out a breathy sigh.

“Come on baby, I feel like I haven’t seen you in so long. I miss you, let me take care of you.” Y/N turns her head slightly to see George better and he takes this opportunity to connect their lips. Y/N moans into George’s mouth. “I miss that pretty little pussy of yours, princess. Don’t you miss my cock and how well I fuck you? I’ll make you feel so good baby, promise.”  

Georges words go straight to Y/N’s core and she can already feel herself getting wetter by the second. There is no way she’ll be able to concentrate on her work now. So, she nods and stands up, pulling George up with her. “Want you to take care of me Georgie, need you to fuck me.”

George grins and grabs the back of Y/N’s legs, instructing her to jump, which she does and wraps her legs tightly around his waist. Y/N tangled her fingers into George’s red hair and connects her lips to his neck. George walks them to the bedroom and sits on the end of the bed with Y/N now in his lap. He toys with the end of her shirt before pulling it off groaning at the sight.

“Fuck baby, no bra?” He begins peppering kisses down her chest before attaching his mouth to her nipple, his fingers massaging her other breast.

Y/N whines, her body aching for some relief she starts rocking her hips against George feeling his cock harden under his sweats.

“Look at you, being so desperate for me princess. Bet you can’t wait for me to fuck you huh?” George’s hands coming down to grip Y/N’s hips and helping her rut against him.

Y/N lets out a breathy moan screwing her eyes shut, concentrating on the feeling of George’s harden length beneath her.

“What do you need darling? My fingers? My mouth? Tell me and it’s all yours.” George asks kissing along Y/N’s jaw which opens slightly a silent moan falling off her lips. “Gotta use your words baby. Tell me what you want.”

Y/N opens her eyes and connects them with George, “both Georgie. Want your fingers and mouth, please.”

George immediately lays Y/N down on the bed, her head resting on the pillows. His calloused fingers caressing her sides before hooking into the waistband of her pants and pulling them down slowly.

A sharp gasp leaves Y/N’s lips as George nips on the skin on her thigh.

“Already so fucking wet for me.” George rubs his finger against Y/N’s soaked panties before pulling them off.

Y/N spreads her legs further for George, desperate for him. “Please Georgie, need your mouth.”

“Anything for you, my darling” Y/N’s cunt is already glistening and begging for some attention. George wastes no time and licks a strip from her entrance up to her clit before sucking on the sensitive bud. Y/N rolls her head further back into the pillow and attaches her hand into George’s fiery locks shamelessly trying to pull him closer.

George hums sending vibrations against Y/N’s clit while he massages her wet folds with his fingers before he glides two digits into her heat and starts pumping slowly.

Y/N starts rocking her hips against Georges face and fingers silently begging for more.

George smirks as he lightly nips Y/N’s clit continuing to fuck Y/N with his fingers extremely slow much to Y/N’s dismay. His mouth moves to her thigh, mumbling against her skin. “If you want something baby, you gotta use your words.”

Y/N groans at Georges request, he was always persistent in making her more vocal in bed. He knew exactly what she wanted; he was just teasing. She tugs on George’s hair forcing him to meet her eyes, “I need you to fuck me harder with your fingers, please, I need you so badly Georgie.”

If George wasn’t making Y/N feel so amazing, she’d wipe that smug smirk of his face but her thoughts quickly disappear as George adds a third finger and quickens his pace, his free hand pressed against Y/N’s stomach, keeping her still. Y/N whimpers feeling George’s long fingers start brush against her g-spot, her walls clenching around him as pleasure builds up in her stomach, “feels so good.”

“Fuck, look at you taking my fingers so well, darling. Being such a good girl for me, letting me stretch you out for my cock.” Y/N lets out a heavenly moan which goes straight to Georges already throbbing dick, which is aching for some relief in his pants. George starts rubbing circles against Y/N clit with his thumb, determined to make Y/N come on just his fingers.

Y/N starts panting, her hips bucking up to meet George’s movements tightening her grip in his hair, his name falling from her lips, “fuck, fuck. I’m close.” She uses her free hand to pinch her nipples in between her fingers as the arousal in her belly builds.

George sucks harshly on her thigh, stretching her out with his fingers. “Come on my fingers baby, show me how good I make you feel.”

With George’s words Y/N is coming hard against his fingers, her back arching off the bed. George continues pumping his fingers into her cunt milking her through her orgasm. Once her breathing has slowed, he slowly pulls out his digits, his mouth watering with how they are glistening. George lifts his fingers to Y/N’s lips and watches as she opens wide and circles her tongue around his long fingers sucking hard and humming as she tastes herself. He pulls them out with a pop dragging his thumb against her bottom lip, “so pretty. Think you’re ready for my cock now princess?”

Y/N nods her head eagerly, reaching up to pull of Georges shirt, “god yes please, miss being full of you.”

She drags her nails down George’s toned chest while he rids himself of the rest of his clothes. George wraps his hand around his cock and notices Y/N’s eyes glued to him as strokes himself, a smirk creeping onto his lips. “Like what you see babe?” Y/N only rolls her eyes at him.

George leans over Y/N, propping himself up with his forearm while his other hand is wrapped around his cock teasing her entrance. Y/N hooks her legs around George’s waist, bucking her hips up trying to find some friction. “Please George, need you to feel me up with your cock.” Y/N knows she sounds desperate, but it’s been way too long since George has fucked her and now that he’s right here she can’t wait a second longer.

George starts to slowly push forward not stopping until his hips are flush against Y/N’s. “Shit Y/N, you’re so still so fucking tight even after I stretched up out with my fingers.”

Y/N sighs contently feeling George’s cock buried deep inside her, she missed him stretching her out like this. The room is filled with moans and grunts at George starts pounding into Y/N. She can feel the tip of his cock rub against her g-spot with every thrust. Y/N grabs onto his shoulders her nails digging into his skin, most likely leaving marks, but she didn’t care.

“Taking me so well, baby. Such a good girl” He praises, his fingers coming down to rub circle on her sensitive bud, leaving open mouthed kisses against the base of her throat. “You feel so fucking good clenching around my cock, this sweet little pussy is all mine, hey princess? Tell me who this cunt belongs too?”

Y/N bites her lip trying to suppress a moan but failing, “you Georgie, you always make me feel so good. Always fuck me so good.”

George hoists Y/N’s legs around his shoulders allowing him to hit deeper inside her cunt. Y/N’s eyes roll back into her head at the new position, her fingers pinching and massaging her breasts. George is slamming into her harder now and more gasps are leaving Y/N’s mouth. “Fuck Y/N you look so fucking pretty like this. Letting me fill you up with my cock.”

Y/N reaches down to play with her clit desperately needing to reach her second orgasm. “Love being so full of your thick cock Georgie. Feels so fucking good.”

Y/N feels George twitch inside of her, he’s close but she knows he won’t finish until she has. He snaps his hips harder into Y/N causing her to moan his name. George can feel her walls clenching around him causing him to groan loudly.

Y/N tangles her fingers in Georges hair pulling his lips to meet hers, “Georgie. Fuck, I’m-I’m so close.”

George tugs on her earlobe with his teeth “want you to cum around my cock Y/N.” With a few more deep thrusts Y/N comes, her legs shaking from the pleasure rushing throughout her body. She squeezes her eyes shut George’s names leaving her pretty mouth like a mantra.

Y/N pulsating and tightening around George pushes him over the edge and he releases his load inside of her groaning into her neck. He slowly rocks his hips as they come down from their highs before gently pulling out and laying on the bed pulling Y/N into his side.

“I love you” Y/N whispers, tracing patterns into his sweaty chest.

George plants a soft kiss against her forehead. “I love you too darling, so much.” Y/N can feel her eyes getting heavy, sleep wanting to overtake her body. George notices this and squeezes her shoulder. “How about I run you a warm bath, get you cleaned up, then we can get some sleep yeah?”

Y/N mumbles a reply against his skin feeling exhausted. “Maybe I should overwork myself more often if it means you’ll take care of me like this.”

George chuckles and sits up, pulling Y/N up with him and gently stroking her back, “baby you and me both know I always take of you, don’t need a reason.”

Y/N smiles sweetly up at George, feeling very blessed to have such a caring boyfriend.

[stephspurs]

A Family Affair | Euro 2020 Football Fanfiction

Hi besties!! here is the long awaited part 9!! I hope you all enjoy it as much as I did whilst writing it!! a big thank you goes to @emwritesfootball for proofing this part & making sure its up to scratch for all of you lovely readers! Let me know what you think babes hehehe!! Love Always, Steph xx

Part 9. | nona parte

word count; 2006. writing tools; third person until dashed line, first person thereafter. next update; Friday 13/08 5pm AEST. Updates are three times/week (Monday, Wednesday & Friday)! tags (as requested by users); @footballffbarbiex @obsesseds-world @abysshaven link to fic masterlist here

The season kicked off in the middle of August and Amelia had been more than prepared for her first match in the premier league. She spent day after day analysing the players in the first team, introducing them to the magical world of rehearsed tactics. It wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows for the brilliant girl; she had to learn how to implement the plays coupled with the speed of the game. But so far, so good. Chelsea have been winning and her plays have been working, the boys were getting the hang of it - no matter how apprehensive they were at the start.

Jorgi played a big part in demonstrating the success of the play, performing best in his midfield role to guide the game and direct the change in play to his teammates. By the time they had played a few fixtures, they had really gotten the hang of her approach to set pieces and began to put their trust in the young girl. They were starting to see results and wanted to keep the winning streak going while they could. The fourth fixture in the new season was one that Amelia was looking forward to, personally: Chelsea v Aston Villa, Stamford Bridge, 3pm kick off.

Jack and Amelia had grown closer and closer, FaceTime‘dates’ as Jack would call them, a weekly occurrence. She had spoken to him just as much as she had spoken to Jorgi - and they were still carpooling to and from Cobham together. Her friendship with Jack was full of easy conversation and flirtatious banter, teetering over the line of friendship but being that they were kept physically apart, the friendship line remained largely intact. One person that had drifted even further away from her, despite her believing that it couldn't be possible, was Ben Chilwell.

Every time she walked into a room that he was in, if he didn't have to be there he would immediately leave. Amelia didn’t understand what the problem was. Yeah sure, they were flirty together in Mykonos but they never crossed a line together, no matter how many times the wine went straight to their heads. If anything, she should be the one running away from him. She was the one who sent him a couple of messages here and there that he just opened. She spoke to Mason, Jorgi, Billy Gilmour - who was another one of the boys she had developed a strong friendship with - and all of them insisted they didn’t understand their friend's strange behaviour.

On the evening before the Villa match, Amelia was laying on the couch in her townhouse binge watching yet another docu-series on Netflix when her doorbell rang. This was strange, most people that came past the house these days had their own set of keys (her parents, her brother, Jorgi) or they texted to let her know they were outside. Her townhouse was three stories high, so if she was upstairs on the top level vacuuming the chances of her hearing the door were slim to none. Either way, she got up off of her loveseat  and walked to the front door, peeking through the peephole - she lived in London, alone, she wasn’t opening that door until she knew exactly who was on the other side.

______________________________________________________________

“To what do I owe this visit, Benjamin?”

“Hi, Mils.”

“Wow, nickname basis already - I thought only friends called each other by their nicknames.”

“Did you think we weren’t friends?”

“Well, friends don’t treat friends the way you’ve treated me since the evening I left Mykonos.”

With a sigh, Ben looked down at his feet. I did feel a small bit of guilt for that one, but he deserved it. Continuing to find the cracks in the marble step of my door’s threshold more interesting than facing my expression, I took a step back and forced Ben to look up at me.

“Well, are you going to come inside? I’ve got the kettle on and a really good series going that I would like to get back to.”

With a charming smile, Ben took a step forward, took the door handle out of my hand and shut it behind him. Slipping out of his shoes, he followed me down the short hallway to my kitchen and pulled a seat out at the island bench.

“So, really now - why are you here? Nervous about tomorrow?” I questioned as I took two cups out of the cupboard and brewed one tea for him, one coffee for me. 3 years in Italy and coffee in the evening became the norm for me. It was my comfort drink.

“I’m here to apologise for the way I've been acting towards you for the past six weeks. I’ll be honest, I don’t know why I’ve been like this”

“Cut the crap Ben, you know exactly why you’ve been doing it. Now tell me the truth or, as far as I'm concerned, you never came here tonight and tomorrow we will be back to how we were yesterday - you running away from me and me pretending that it doesn't bother me. Even though all it does is bother me.” Not expecting that outburst to come out of me, and to be fair neither did I, Ben looked me in the eye and stayed silent, choosing his next words carefully.

“The first time I saw you, the night you told your brother off in the rec room at St. George’s Park, I thought you were the most determined woman I had ever seen in my life. Not scared of the 30 grown men who were very obviously all on the same side, literally. Then the next time I saw you, after the final match, how you comforted your brother when you were at the highest of highs and he was lower than low, I thought you had more compassion than every person in that stadium put together.”

“When you came to SGP again the next day and delivered the tactical analysis of the game you won, I thought ‘wow she is so intellectually brilliant’. And then when you turned up in Mykonos, all sunkissed and relaxed, sitting next to me and involving me in conversation with my pals but making me feel like you wanted my contribution...I remember it like it was yesterday. Amelia, you smiled at me and my heart did a somersault in my chest.”

“You shut me down outside the club that evening, and when we came back inside I caught the end of your conversation with Jorgi about Fede. Putting two and two together, I understood all that I needed to. The few days after that we carried on like normal. Then, you left and I didn't know if I would ever see you again to be fair. When you messaged me, I got too nervous to reply because I didn't know how to just be your friend. And then when I thought I had finally gotten through a day without thinking about my friend's little sister, you showed up at Cobham as my tactical analyst. I didn’t know what to do Mils, I don't know how to be just your friend when I've had nothing but unfriendly thoughts about you since the first time I saw you command that room of men you had never met in your life.”

The whistle of the kettle ringing out behind me is the only noise filling the kitchen. I’m staring at Ben; he’s staring back at me with nothing but truth behind his eyes and his heart on his sleeve.

“Benj, what you were feeling, what you are feeling is totally valid and I never want you to feel like you can’t share those feelings with me. You’re right, Mykonos changed things for me. What you were feeling was reciprocated, but Ben, I was going back to Italy. At that exact moment, I had no idea I would end up here. I thought I was enjoying a break before another high-intensity season in Italy. I wanted to kiss you so badly at the club that night, but I knew it would only hurt you. I’m used to being hurt, it's a feeling I've grown to expect. But you, you’re too pure to experience the kind of hurt that comes along with knowing you’re making a bad decision, but doing it anyway, because I wanted to be selfish with your heart.”

“Amelia, can I ask you something?” I nodded, holding my breath as I braced myself for the question poised behind his eyes. “If you were in the mood to be selfish, what would have come from that evening?”

“I can probably show you better than I can tell you,”

Walking around the island bench, I pulled the back of Ben’s chair slightly so he pivoted towards me. Standing in between his tracksuit-covered legs, I ran both hands up his arms until I got to his neck and finally beside his face. Threading my fingers through his hair, I pulled his face towards mine and our lips met. It was as soft as a butterfly kiss but as powerful as anything I had ever felt before. His hands wound around my waist and settled themselves on the small of my back before travelling down and giving my backside a gentle caress, forcing a laugh out of my lips and straight into his mouth. Pulling away slightly, so we both had a bit of breathing space to sort out our lightheadedness, Ben spoke his next words very softly.

“I need you to promise me something, Amelia.You need to promise me that you will stop thinking about my heart before your own. I am old enough to make my own decisions, and the decision to ignore you for these past few weeks has been one of the worst ones I've made in a really long time. But I did make it, and it was because I got scared, and I hurt you, and I am so sorry. The decision to come here tonight however, I feel like it more than makes up for that one very very stupid one”

“You’re such a smooth talker, Benj.”

“Say my name again, Mils, you don’t know what it does to me.”

“Down boy, your tea is going cold and I need to find out who killed Sophie in West Cork.Meet me in the lounge.”

A few hours had passed and it was nearing 10pm, well past Amelia’s bed time, but Ben was still sitting on her couch, feet on the table (despite her telling him to remove them) and arm around the back of her shoulders.

“Chilly, I don’t want you to think I'm not interested in you because I so am, I just don’t want to rush into anything. What I left behind in Italy was complicated and heavy; I'm still trying to learn how to exist without him if I'm honest. I want you to just give me the space I need to grow into my own here in the city, if that’s okay with you.”

“Of course it's okay, Mils. From what Jorgi has told me about Fede, I can understand why you want to take it slow now. But please, don’t call me Chilly. My friends call me Chilly, and Mills. I thought I made it clear before that I don’t want to be your friend.”

“To me, you’re Benj. Thank you. Wait - what do you mean what Jorgi has told you about Fede?”

“I may have asked a couple times about you, and for the record, he is team Bamelia.”

“Bamelia? That is the ugliest word I have ever heard. Never use it again.”

“How can it be ugly? It's mostly your name, and nothing associated with you could ever be considered anything less than beautiful.”

“Stop being so smooth Benj, you’re going to make me blush in a minute.”

“Good, can’t wait to see how you could possibly look even cuter than you do right now.”

“That’s enough Benjamin.”

“Okay I’m done now.”

Part 10. | parte dieci

[harrypotterbrainworms]

Flirty Bastards

Summary: “ is it possible to have a george weasley one shot where reader shows up and george’s world kinda just crashes because he’s so confused because he thought he was straight and is essentially just gay panicking because of a flirtatious reader? idk this confused me teehee runs out the door “ (request)

Pairing: George Weasley x Male Reader

Key: (Y/N)- your name, (H/C)- hair colour, (E/C)- eye colour, (Y/H)- your house

Word Count: 1431

“Why aren’t you just the cutest?” George heard a voice from behind him. 

“I-I’m sorry-“ He said, turning around to place the voice to a flirty looking boy with (E/C) eyes and soft (H/C) hair. He was the prettiest boy he thought he’d ever seen. 

He cleared his throat and adjusted his seating, trying to look a little less taken back by what the shorter boy said. 

“Flowing red locks and eyes to die for, tell me, sugar. What name have you been blessed with?” He said, cocking his eyebrow and taking a seat next to him in the hall, swiftly grabbing a small piece of bacon off his plate. Who did this show off think he is, George thought. He’d never really seen him around, at least he thinks so. 

“Uh- George” He stuttered out, silently cursing himself. Usually he was the flirting one, but he never flirted so openly with guys. He hadn’t thought of that… until now. 

“A lovely name for a lovely man” The boy said, finishing George’s bacon with a soft yet evil smile on his face. 

“I-I’m sorry, who are you?” He asked, very confused at the short fiery boy in front of him. 

“Name’s (Y/N), don’t you forget it” He winked and stood up again as he was about to leave Fred came into view from behind (Y/N) catching his glance too. 

“Hey George, who’s thi-“ Fred asked, curiously as to the boy who had completely winded his brother. George never backed out of flirty banter, but his brother’s jaw looked as though it would drop to the ground if it wasn’t held on his face. 

“Two of them? Wowee, a steal. Between you and me, you’re cuter. See ya, boys” He whispered into the redhead’s ear before waving them off dramatically as he took a seat back at his house’s table, only winking at George again when he looked over. 

“Who was that!?” Fred immediately stepped out of the table and took a seat next to his brother. 

“I have no idea.” He said, mouth still agape. His cheek hotter than central Africa and his hands glued to the Gryffindor table. He just kept stealing glances of him over at his house table, laughing with his friends. Were they laughing at him, please Merlin. George didn’t need that. 

“We should teach him a lesson, what a brat!” Fred said, slamming his fist lightly onto the table. Yet his twin still seemed fixated on the boy opposite them. 

“No” He answered, quickly looking back at his plate. The last piece of bacon left alone with an empty space next to it. His cheeks became redder. 

“What?” 

“I mean, I’ll do it myself.” He said quickly as he wolfed down the last of his breakfast. 

“Woah, big scary George going to punish him lone wolf style. Harsh.” His brother laughed and patted his back, George giving a half hearted chuckle in response. 

In reality George just wanted to get back  at him for making him so flustered, but he didn’t even know how to flirt with a guy. This was the first time in his short life he’d ever seen a guy like that. It made him feel hot and bothered for the rest of the day, just thinking about the pretty boy who he now recognised as the (Y/H) boy who sat at the back of his classes. 

He saw the (E/C) eyed boy once again at lunch, but this time he gathered all his courage matching over to the boy with the most flirty look he could muster up. 

“Hey there, (Y/N)” He said leaning his arm on the table, his large frame towering over the sitting boy. He just smiled in response, he looked like he just accepted whatever challenge George had started. 

“Do you believe in love at first sight or should I walk by again?” George said in full confidence, a shit eating grin in his face. 

(Y/N) scoffed, but George noticed the slight bit of a smile forming on his face at the banter. This made his heart beat loud in his ears, the heat on his cheeks fighting their way out as (Y/N) stood up leaning his face closer and closer to George’s. 

“Maybe try it again and I can wipe that grin off your face” He looked deep into George’s eyes which made him flinch hard backwards falling flat on his ass. (Y/N) looked satisfied enough and just sat back down to continue his meal.

And so it started, a raging war on who would break first. Even the other students had started placing bets on them, tallying their scores on who became the most flustered and who would break. Everyday at breakfast, lunch and maybe dinner. Sometimes they’d sneak in secret battles in class until one very tired day. 

George was usually the one to walk up to (Y/N) during meal times, but everyone was surprised when (Y/N) was sitting and swinging his legs on the bench next to Fred and George. This time was different though, (Y/N) had the most determined look on his face and George could tell. 

“You know, I just flirted with you cause I really do think you’re cute” He whispered so no one else could hear. He was being honest and upfront with his friend?. He didn’t really want this to continue much longer, it was weird having the whole school in on it. 

“If you’re gonna play with my emotions so much, why not just kiss me?” He said blankly, a very serious look on his face. He looked rather tired and bored of their antics. George however, froze on the spot. Not sure what to do. 

“I-uh-“ He stuttered out, unable to process all the emotions running through his head.

“I know it’s weird, I’m not even sure if you like guys or this was just some game to you. It was fun, but I really do like you.” He said with his eyes glued to the floor 

“You do?” 

“Yeah” He continued to swing his legs back and forth looking very nervous and flustered by the truth of the matter. 

George didn’t do much, he just got up very quickly and ran out of the great hall at lightning speed. Everyone in the hall cheered at (Y/N)’s flirt victory, the battle finally over. Yet (Y/N) just stared at the door, a little confused. 

“What am I supposed to do now?!” George splashed water on his face, he covered his face with his hands and almost screamed into them in frustration. How was he supposed to know that wasn’t a joke? He started it, so of course George had to finish it. Maybe he was being completely serious the first time, but that just confused him more. He never felt the way he did now for any guy he’d ever met. 

“George? Are you in here?” (Y/N) called out softly, not trying to gain any more attention than he did in the hall. 

He panicked and locked himself in one of the stalls hoping he’d just go away. He didn’t. 

“I’m sorry. If you don’t like guys, that’s okay! I just really like you.” 

He didn’t say anything, he just heard the boy sigh quietly. He couldn’t just hide forever, or could he? This was too embarrassing. 

“I’d hope we could at least be friends” 

George held his breath as he stood up to undo the lock, he just needed to face him. That was it. Maybe the feeling would just go away. 

“There you are,” He said with a warm comforting smile on his face, George’s heart froze again. He’s too pretty. 

“I’m sorry about all this, if i had just kept my mouth shut you wouldn’t be under all this pressure. You don’t have to be my friend or anything, you can just-“ He was cut off by George crashing their lips together startling him, but he eased into it as his fingers locked into the redhead’s soft hair. 

“You should just tell someone you have a crush on them, it’s easier.” He said looking down, his face burning up. He just smiled with equally flushed cheeks. 

“I’m sorry” He laughed as he hugged George’s yall frame with a smile on his lips. George letting out a sigh of relief as he realised it wasn’t just a fleeting thought, he really did have feelings for this weird flirty boy. 

The competition might’ve been over, but their flirting sure wasn’t…

[lemon-boy-stan]

bruises, boys, chasers and detention - fred weasley x reader requested by @yourlocalauthor, anon, and anon. i basically merged all your requests into one. sorry it took so long. for the anon who requested x ravenclaw reader, i’m sorry i couldn’t do that. instead, i’ll probably make a hc. hope that’s ok. warnings: lee jordan. sexual references.

You'd been looking forward to the first Quidditch match of the year all the holidays. And now you were positive that the match was the worst event of your day that had happened. Fred got a week's worth of detention, you were in the hospital wing and Adrian Pucey had a broken nose.

The rest of the day was actually pretty good. The bad stuff started halfway through the Quidditch match. The weather was terrible and you could barely see or keep your hands on your Bluebottle.

You only just managed to catch a glimpse of your boyfriend - a whir of bright vermillion, maroon, brown and yellow. He waved at you and you waved back. 

"L/N!" Snapped Oliver, "get your head in the game!" You nodded grimly and tried your best to concentrate.

"Oi, Y/N! On your left!" Shrieked Angelina, swooping to your right. Slytherin chasers Blaise Zabini and Adrian Pucey zoomed over.

The two of them grinned at each other before steering their Nimbus 2001s, hooking their brooms and going on your left and right side.

"Zabini and Pucey have cornered our beautiful Seeker of Gryffindor house, I've got a sinking feeling in my stomach here and a determined force in me - I think it's humor - that's telling me the two gits won't have a happy ending if Y/N’s boyfriend of - is it six years? - Fred Weasley is going to do anything about, I daresay the two pigs will find a lot of nasty surprises, sponsored by the Beaters in red -" began a gleeful Lee Jordan, sniggering loudly into the microphone. 

You could only just hear Professor Mcgonnagall barking at him to shut up. You would've laughed at Lee’s words to yourself but you had other things to worry about. Blaise and Adrian had cornered you.

You gritted your teeth and tried your best to spot out the Snitch in the dreadful weather - you certainly weren't going to let a couple of dickheads ruin your chance of winning.

When it came to cheating, however, Slytherin house certainly didn't give up. There was an upset roar from the crowd and an assortment of hooting and cheering which came from the Slytherin stands.

There was a bang and a grunt and your shoulder made contact with the fabric of the curtains.

Your stomach churned from the motion but you were determined to stay focused - you'd only just seen the Snitch and now you tightened your grip on the handle.

"She's seen it, lads and lasses! She dives! She escapes the violent clutches of Pucey and Zabini, only just making it out by the luscious strand of hair over -"

"JORDAN!" Bellowed Professor McGonnagall. Lee snickered loudly into the microphone as you puffed before diving again.

"Right, sorry for the biased narration, Professor," the snicker Lee gave off wasn't very apologetic and it distracted you long enough for Adrian and Blaise to get back on your tail again. “Can’t really help it when we all hate Slytherin house any - alright, alright!”

Something, a bone, most likely, in your arm cracked as you smashed into the wall, taking all of Pucey's weight. There was hooting from Slytherin and an outraged roar from Gryffindor. Oliver was almost as outraged as Fred was; the Snitch had now disappeared.

You took another hit and then another and there was a loud thud; you realised that you were the one making the thud, soaring into the dirt below.

There was more excited screaming and snickering from the wave of silver and green and an even louder outraged roar from Gryffindor as you tumbled.

"Exhibition B shows us the obvious cheating ways of Slytherin House and what an incredible (and furious) boyfriend Fred Weasley is, oh, look at him dive, look at him dive!” grinned Lee. "Angelina gets the Quaffle, but is there really any point when all eyes are on our gorgeous Seeker? Something doesn't seem quite right with Y/N! And look at this, everyone, Weasley's face is as red as his mother's hair!" Lee cackled into the microphone.

"JORDAN!" Professor McGonagall bellowed the words as the Gryffindor team flew down to your side. You groaned loudly, clutching your arm, gritting your teeth. “What’re you all doing?!” you exploded, “they’re going to win!” none of the Gryffindor team, not even Oliver, seemed the least bit frustrated about winning. George pointed and zoomed down to join you all. “Fred’s still playing, absolutely clueless. If he looked at what was going on more than he looked at her boobs, he’d be outrag -” 

“JORDAN! TEN POINTS FROM GRYFFINDOR!”

“Weasley dives down to join the huddle of red and gold, you can’t even see any of his freckles, they’re all camouflaged with the hideous anger, if you have Omnioculars, zoom in, look at how pissed he is - going to be, even more so when he finds out his girlfriend won’t be able to - alright, Professor, alright…” Lee huffed before silencing. The outrage from the Gryffindor stands endured a battle between the cheers and hoots from Slytherin house as Stacey Linkman caught the Snitch. “Slytherin cheats their way to victory in this one…” grumbled Lee, “Slytherin wins.”

“Get out of the way,” you could hear and see Fred shoving Angelina and Katie to the side. Soon he was by yours, George pushed the rest of the team out. 

“Think I broke…” you mumbled. “Arm,” you held your right up before cursing loudly, “ow!”

“I told you not to play!” Fred grumbled loudly. “I said ‘sit this one out, we’re going against Slytherin - your arm is already fractured!’ and you said, ‘no, Freddie, I want to play, it’s no fun watching you all!’ and I said, ‘well, fine, then, five Galleons if you break something,’ and you owe me five Galleons!”

You tried to cross your arms before realising you couldn’t, giving him a vicious death glare instead. “I’m going to kill those two cheats if it’s the last thing I can do…” he hissed, fire kindling dangerously in his eyes.

“No idea what he’s saying,” said Lee, still going on with the commentary. “Slytherin house looks like a bunch of smug cheats… and, look! Weasely’s playing doctor! Professor, let me have my fun!”

“Ouch…” you let out a small whimper, Fred’s eyes glowered dangerously as the Slytherin team walked over, smug smiles on each member’s face.

“Good game, L/N,” smirked Pucey, holding out his hand. “Let’s shake on it, eh? Oh, wait,” the rest of the team laughed loudly, cackling. “Must be upsetting, isn’t it, Freckle Fred, when your girlfriend’s the only toy you’ve got, you’re going to have to return her, you won’t even get fifty percent -” 

“Fred, stop,” you muttered. “Leave it alone,” Fred took no notice of your words. “Fred, it’s not worth it,” 

“Pucey has obviously said something offensive, Weasley’s face is even more red now, Weasley charges Pucey, Weasley Number Two doesn’t even bother to hold his brother back, this is getting interesting!”

“Got something to say, you -”

“Listen here, you little dingbat,” you were positive that you’d never seen Fred this angry since your second grade. “If you think for one second that Y/N is a toy -” he spat the words with disgust, nails digging into his palms. “You can go home to your little Death-Eater -” his snarl was furious, terrifying.

“Fred,” you muttered, “Fred, stop.”

“Come on, Fred, it’s not worth it, mate,” began George. You forced yourself to get up, knowing that Fred would never listen to anyone else. 

“Fred, let’s go,” you muttered again, “come on.” He ignored you.

Pucey smirked in satisfaction, crossing his arms with a snicker. 

“Well,” Pucey wore an even bigger smirk than he had before, “at least my parents spend their time with time-worthy people rather than yours with Mudbloods,”

Angelina and Katie let out angered gasps. You wished that you could shrink to the size of an ant - so small that not even derogatory terms would be able to hurt and embarrass you. 

Because even George was angry now. Not as angry as Fred was, but still angry. 

“Pucey calls Y/N a Mudblood, Merlin, he must be wishing for a good kick in the dick!” cackled Lee Jordan, a hint of disgust in his voice that only his close friends would be able to sift out. “Broken arm or two…”

“SHUT UP!” roared both Fred and Professor McGonagall. 

“Aren’t you thick?” growled Fred, “haven’t your foul parents taught you to read a room?”

“They have,” snapped Pucey back, “and I do, only when I want to.”

“You over entitled piece of -” began George loudly.

“Who are his parents, anyway?” Whispered Katie. Oliver shrugged, watching silently.

Fred’s lip curled.

“One’s in Azkaban,” he stood his ground, and the other’s friends with the Malfoys. Bill told us last year,” hissed Fred.

“At least my parents taught me the worth of Muggles and their kids. Which is -” Adrian turned to you, “a big, fat, zero.”

Fred charged him.

“Don’t - you - dare - insult - her - or her - family - in front of - me - STUPEFY!”

“Fred!” 

“Weasley casts Stupefy on Pucey, serves him right!”

Fortunately, Fred didn’t get all of him. He did get his nose, though, and because Stupefy didn’t really work on body parts, there was a loud crack. You and the girls gasped, covering your mouths in horror.

George shook his head in dismay. 

Professor McGonagall, Snape, Madame Hooch and Promfrey came running down.

“Fifty points from Gryffindor! Detention, Mr. Weasley! A week’s worth -”

“Now, now, Professor Snape,” Professor McGonagall came to Gryffindor (and Fred’s)’s rescue, tutting loudly. “Although duelling is against school rules, Mr. Weasley had a very good reason for it - Mr. Pucey did break Miss L/N’s arm (with aid from Mr. Zabini, who will be put on a week’s worth of Quidditch ban, Mr. Pucey will also be spending that week’s ban in the Hospital Wing, and Madame Pomfrey will put him in her utmost care (although not too comfortable)), and I will be deducting fifty points from Slytherin for the use of derogatory language and violence and I will ask Madame Hooch what she would like to do.”

Snape seethed through his nose.

“Yes, Minerva, a week’s worth of Quidditch ban will be perfect for Mr. Zabini. Miss L/N may have to take a few day’s break and because Slytherin cheated their way to victory, Gryffindor win.” Madame Hooch waved her wand and you assumed that the numbers on the scoreboard had changed.

“Lemons really do make lemonade! Broken arms award ten winning points! L/N, break a literal leg next week, please!”

Gryffindor house roared with laughter.

“Alright, Miss L/N, Mr. Pucey, come with me...”

I suck at endings lmaoooooo. I AM SO SORRY I TOOK LIKE TEN YEARS TO WRITE THIS OMG THE OTHERS ARE COMING I PROMISE GUYS

MASTERLIST

[princessofprocrastination]

Don’t Listen To Them (Sapnap)

MASTERLIST

summary : body shamers. they’re the reason why some people feel bad about themselves. 

warnings : this talks a lot about body shaming, and maybe a lot of cursing. 

a/n : although i wasn’t there to see it fully, twitter had been saying that the reason sapnap hadn’t been using facecam was cause people were being really mean about his looks and weight. so i thought this you sapnap simps would enjoy this. 

it’s been a tough a couple of weeks for sapnap. he ceased all use of facecams because he’s been getting hate. 

it breaks your heart to see him so down, feel so worthless. you reminded him that you will always be there for him, no matter what. 

and although it would calm him for the time being, it only helped for a split second. 

you wanted to see him happy again. lively again. you told him that there are still so many people out there who support him, and that he should ignore the harsh comments. 

you knew how hard that would be, you understood him taking his own sweet time to heal. but it broke your heart to hear him silently crying in the bathroom whenever you came over to cook for him. 

that’s another thing. he wouldn’t eat, not even a little. at first, since you didn’t live near him, you thought maybe facetiming him to remind him to eat was enough, but deep down you knew he would only tell you he would eat but he wouldn’t after he hung up. 

then, you tried getting him to eat in front of you, on facetime. that worked for a while. you encouraged him to eat, even if it was a little bit. but it didn’t last long until he gave you excuses that he’s too busy to call you. 

you soon had enough of it. you knew he stayed at home alone nowadays so you bought yourself a plane ticket to texas, to make sure he’s still breathing and alive at least. 

you heart ached while you sat in the plane to him. you thought about how he’s struggling alone right now, without anyone to help him physically. his friends are all over the world, no where near him. 

you wanted to let him know that there are still people that loved him. beyond his looks. you’ve told him that multiple times but he still has trouble believing you. 

you didn’t blame him. how could you? it’s not his fault this happened to him. no matter how many times he’s told you it is, you would never believe him. 

he’s told you multiple times to leave him, to go away. but you are a stubborn girl. you wouldn’t leave him be. never. 

you sat in the very uncomfortable plane chair for a couple hours until you finally landed. 

you heart skipped a beat at meeting him again. it’s been a couple months since you saw him in person. facetime calls don’t work the same after a while of dating. 

you two met through mutual friends. specifically, george. you two met when you turned fifteen and he was nineteen. you’re eighteen almost nineteen now. you two practically grew up together but you hadn’t know each other for long. 

since he was so much older than you, about 4 years older, you thought it was creepy that both your mums introduced you two to each other at that time. soon you found out that he isn’t that bad. 

you two know so much about each other and you loved him dearly. people even thought you two were dating when george started blowing up on the internet. you two laughed it out since he wasn’t your type. 

you hated saying things about body types since you knew how it would feel if someone commented about your body but george was built like a stick. sure, he was taller than you, but many people are already taller than you. 

you are not the tallest person. growing up was tough as so many people would tease you about how little and petite you are. but you grew up to embrace it. 

although you are petite, you still liked guys who are of a bigger build than george was. not muscular, no. 

george was tired of hearing you whine on how single you are that he sat you down and talked about you and sapnap going on a date together. 

at first, you told him no. you didn’t know if the distance would work. you lived in london and he was well over in texas. to you, it was the only deal breaker. you knew sapnap was a nice guy. 

the reason you ‘broke’ was because george had told you to just try, and if it didn’t work, he’d give up then. you agreed, feeling bad and annoyed at the constant nagging at you. 

your butt was sore from sitting on that plane chair for hours. you slightly stretched as you walk out to hail a taxi. 

you got into one, told the driver the address and there you went, another long journey to meet your boyfriend. 

the closer you got to his house, the more nervous you got. you didn’t think all of it through. what if he didn’t want to see you. 

you pushed aside all the stupid thoughts. 

you paid the driver once you’ve reached his place. your heart beating out of your chest. 

you knocked on his door, your luggage set aside. you heard footsteps from inside the house as you waited patiently. you looked down on your shoes as you waited, telling yourself to calm down.

the door opens, making you jump slightly. sapnap now standing right in front of your eyes. 

“wait, what? why-” you cut him off his questions as you jump on him to give him a big hug. 

you started tearing up when you heard him silently crying in your ear. it had been too long since you two have seen each other. 

“i’m here, bub. i’m here.” you told him. 

he held you tighter as you said that. he couldn’t believe that you were here. that you hadn’t left. 

-

days later, you two had spent hours together, talking and catching up with each other’s life. 

you spoke about it. you told him to tell you everything. it was the only way he could let it go. he needed to let it all out. 

you held him as he cried, telling you that he wanted this to end so badly. he told you to leave, go as far away from him as possible. but you told him that you wouldn’t. not in a million years. 

now that it had been more than a week, he has finally cooled down and was ready to use facecam, only if you would stay with him. 

he played for a while with his facecam on, you sitting on the floor with a blanket next to him, but making sure the stream couldn’t see you. 

you noticed he was holding back. on talking, laughing like his usual self. it hurt to see him like that, but you are determined to make it better again. 

he turned off his facecam for a while, and you could hear him becoming like himself again. that sent a painful pang in your heart. 

as you read through twitter, you could see that his stans saw it too. they saw it all. you liked a couple tweets about trending a hashtag to make him feel better. you put your phone down next to you, and looked at your boyfriend for a while. 

you sighed softly, not trying to interrupt his still ongoing stream. you rose up to stand slowly, trying not to distract him. 

with your blanket still draped around your shoulders, you walked up to him on his gaming chair. 

you pulled his chair back slightly as you got closer. 

“what are you doin-” he was cut off as you straddled him on the chair to cuddle him. you pulled the blanket to cover both of you and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, resting your head on his shoulder. 

you sighed as you cuddled closer to him. 

“i’m always here for you, always.” you whispered in his ears. 

you kissed him on the lips before going back to your position in his neck. 

he hugged you tightly for a while before pulling his chair back in between his desk to continue his stream.

“sorry, i was afk for a while, but now i’m back.” he told his stream. 

he played for a while more until you got sleepy. you heard him clicking away on his keyboard. 

“you should go to bed, princess.” he tells you.

you shook your head in his neck. “i want to be with you.” you replied to him, before finally drifting off into sleep. 

what you didn’t know was that soon after you drifted off, he turned on his facecam again, wanting to show the world how adorable you were in his arms. 

your face was still deep into his neck, arms around his waist now that you’ve drifted to sleep and couldn’t keep your arms up for that long. 

sapnap adjusted your blanket to cover you a little more as it moved to fall slightly when you moved to squeeze him.

his friends on discord started to tease him as they saw his stream. 

“i can’t believe i’d ever say this, but you guys are so perfect together.” george told him. 

safe to say that twitter and instagram blew up with the ship comments and encouraging words. 

he’s glad that he had met you, and that you stuck with him through the tough times, even when he told you to leave.