andrew-garfields-left-titty
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um can we make this a real thing??????
please tag any other fandom that could use this meme format
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jealousy. | slytherin boy headcanons
authorās note: im completely unhinged, as always. no surprise there. love me some angry snake menš„µ please enjoy.
-your boyfriend sees another guy flirting with you in the hall.
Draco Malfoy.
Sees you from down the hall as heās walking with his friends.
āYou know what, guys, Iāll catch up with you after.ā
Would literally ditch his friends to make his way over, collecting himself as saunters up to you and mystery man.
Would instantly grab your ass, no hesitation, grip firm enough to bruise. When you gasp, caught off guard, heād shift his arm up and around your shoulder, pulling you against him.
āWhatāre we talking about?ā Heād sneer.
His voice would be laced with feign interest, smirking down at you with blaring eyes before shooting daggers at the boy.
Heād simply chuckle at you when you tell him nothing, just school stuff, leaning down to place a possessive kiss on your cheek as he grabbed your hand.
āWonderful. letās head to class, yeah?ā
Heād pull you away from that dude, shooting him another look meant to kill, a silent warning not to fuck with him.
Finally gets you alone in an empty corridor or bathroom; would waste literally no time at all before pushing you against the wall and grabbing your neck/jaw.
āWho the fuck was that, hm?ā, āhe was practically eye-fucking youā¦give me five good reasons why i shouldnāt have him expelled or hexed into bloody Azkaban.ā
Heād be furious, but heād also know that youād never choose some other guy over him, so heād soften once he hears the innocence in your tone.
āYouāre mine, princess,ā heād loosen his grip, kissing you softly. āSay it.ā
Blaise Zabini.
Was listening to music while walking down the hall, instantly rips out his headphones the second he sees you laughing a little too hard with some dude he doesnāt know.
He doesnāt necessarily stop walking, but heād definitely slow his pace, kind of just watching, not wanting to interfere but also not wanting to look creepy stalking you from a distance.
When the guy doesnāt leave, heād tired of waiting, saying āfuck itā, before marching over naturally.
This man is so fucking cool calm and collected heād just saunter right up and join in, making himself at home.
Heād practically take over the conversation because heās literally just that chill in every situation, seamlessly fitting right in, so fucking charming and loved by everyone.
Youād kind of just end up staring at him, smiling in silent awe, knowing that this was his way of asserting his place, letting the guy know what the fuck was up.
After the dude leaves heād just causally look at you, smirking that charming smirk, wetting his lips as he hooked an arm around your shoulder and pulled you close, leaning down for a kiss.
āAināt no one getting you without getting me too, babygirl.ā Heād murmur against your lips. ālet that be known, right now, forever, always.ā
Lorenzo Berkshire.
Would literally stop everything. The second heād see you laughing and smiling heād be completely unable to focus on anything else and would completely zone out of any conversations with his friends.
Would get like super anxious and flustered pretty much immediately.
Wouldnāt want to intrude so heād just kind of hang back, wait for you against the wall and try not to stare too much.
His adorable little cheeks would flush, and heād know he seemed utterly ridiculous so heād try to busy himself with his shoelace or something while he waits.
Youād quickly cut off the conversation and move over to him, instantly being able to tell that heās overthinking.
Heād smile at you, though you could still see the concern on his features.
āWho was that guy, darling?ā
Youād tell him he was just a friend from class, no one special at all, pulling him in for a hug and giving him a quick smoochie on the cheek.
āDonāt worry enz, no one could ever take your place.ā
Heād blush, trying to play it off. āSorry love, I know youāre my girl.ā
Youād take his hand, squeezing him hard, never wanting him to doubt that for a second. āOnly yours baby, forever.ā
Mattheo Riddle.
āWho the fuck-ā
Would literally whip his bag at Theo, hastily shoving through the crowded hallway with blazing eyes, tunnel visioned as he tried to figure out where the fuck this dude found the audacity.
You wouldnāt even have to turn around to know heās there, youād be able to literally feel the anger radiating off of him.
Youād already know exactly where this was heading, but youād also know there was no attempting to stop him because itās pointless. Everyone in the school knows that.
Matty does what Matty wants, and right now, he wants to fuck up this guys face for even thinking about flirting with you.
Youād simply look up at him, noting his tensed jaw and his dark eyes as he glances between you and the dude, before fixing back on you, wetting his lips before he says,
āIs this fucker bothering you?ā
Unable to help it, youād smirk, shaking your head as you calmly attempted to talk him down.
āNo Matty, he just asked if he could borrow my study notes-ā
Heād heard more than enough.
āStudy notes? Yeah, I donāt fucking think so,ā
Without giving the guy a chance to react, heād reach for his collar, shoving his back against the wall, teeth barred and face contorted in a snarl as heād hiss:
āBother my fucking girlfriend again and the only study notes youāll need are the ones on how to drink out of a fucking straw, understand?ā
Not interested in the response, heād shove the guy away, eyes softening instantly as he moved back over to you, thrusting a hand through your hair as he kissed you like itād been a hundred years, right in the middle of the hall for everyone to see.
And judging by the intensity in his grip, youād already know, later that night, heād be extra fucking sure to ask you who the fuck you belong to while heās fucking you.
When he finally pulled back, heād smirk at you. āSome bloody nerve on that guy, huh?ā
Youād just shake your head and laugh, taking his hand as the two of you headed for class.
Theodore Nott.
Heād spot you from down the hall, his eyes instantly narrowing, gaze darting around as though he was missing something, as though this was some sort of sick joke.
Surely, this dude is mentally unwell, right? Thereās no fucking way that heās-
Doesnāt bother to think about it for even another fucking second, instantly shoving through the crowd to make his way over.
Proceeds to wrap his arm around your waist, other hand finding your jaw and pulling your lips to his before you could even process it.
Would proceed to full-on make out with you in front of the dude, and I mean tongue and all, his grip on your jaw so tight youād know exactly what he was trying to do.
His hand around your waist might even slip lower, grazing over your ass, and then thatās when youād attempt to gather yourself and push him back, completely embarrassed.
Heād just shrug, smirking down at you before heād finally acknowledge the guysā presence with literally nothing more than a glare meant to kill.
āMove along,ā heād say to the guy while pulling you away, grip tighter than ever. āThis oneās fucking taken.ā
As soon as he got you alone heād be damn sure to remind you that youāre his, and only his, making you beg and whine his name before he fucked you like you deserved the pain.
Tom Riddle.
āAVADA KEDA-ā
Lowkey kidding but not really.
No one would even dare because that man would make it clear as fucking day what would happen if they tried.
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Me when I see my little princesses š„°š (They are full grown men and most of them are mentally ill and would probably kill me if I got near. The others aren't even human š)
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Wonder how this queen is doing today
Edit: For those wondering, this is from a 70s nsfw sci-fi zine called "alien brothers" (more specifically, page 83). This little paragraph was right above a k/s smut fanfic written by this lady.
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Femmes in a sundress with no underwear deserve to be eaten out constantly
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āyouāre so mean to me ā yeah and you get off to it whatās your point
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Farewell, I-Chaya
Old unpublished art from 2021
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apologies for the terrible video quality but i NEED y'all fellow Spirk enjoyers to see this freakin' blooper
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and i don't necessarily believe any of this i'm just saying words recreationally
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i NEED anything with glasses reid or munch reid iām literally frothing at the mouth š
ty for ur request :D fem!reader
"Emily," you say weakly. "What is that?"Ā
Emily looks up from her desk, clearly desperate for a distraction, the lip of her coffee mug against painted lips. "What's what?"Ā
"That." You point. You feel sick to your stomach. "That right there."Ā
"Oh," Emily says happily. "You finally noticed. Yeah, Spence forgot to renew his contact prescription. He has to wear glasses for two weeks."Ā
Spencer stands by the photocopier with a perturbed frown, clicking a button, then another. His brow is furrowed and his hair is falling into his eyes. He has the stupidest, dorkiest, prettiest face, and practically every expression he makes has you weak in the knees.
"That long?" you ask.Ā
Derek looks up in concern at your pained tone, following the line of your eyes. When he realises what it is that's hurt you so, he skirts around the desk to shake your shoulder. "You could always tell him how you feel. I'm sure he'd keep the lenses forever if he knew you liked them."Ā
"I don't like them," you say. You sound faraway to your own ears. You hate them. They're gonna be your demise.Ā
Spencer runs a fingertip across the photocopier's screen, in his own world as the machine finally begins to chug out whatever it is he'd been wanting a duplicate of. The frames of his glasses sit snug on his nose. You can tell from even this distance that the lenses make his eyes look a tiny bit smaller. You could probably point out a misplaced freckle if he asked you to.
"Don't be cruel, he looks cute," Emily teases.Ā
Spencer collects his papers, shuffling them into a straight line as he makes his way back to the bullpen. You pretend to take interest in Emily's things. She sips her coffee too nonchalantly. Derek doesn't even bother pretending.Ā
"What?" Spencer asks, swift to spot your suspicious behaviours. "Is it the glasses?"Ā
You wince. "Of course not. You lookā¦ you look really nice, Spence."Ā
"You know he used to wear 'em every day?" Derek asks.
You would've died. "Before I joined?"Ā
"For a few years," Spencer says, looking you over. "You're unhappy. Is something wrong?"Ā
He looks to Derek and Emily for confirmation. Emily stutters for an answer while Derek laughs in the background, "Sheā you know. She justā She missed breakfast!"Ā
Spencer pushes his glasses up his nose by the leg and drops his copies onto the desk. "I have dried apricot in my bag. Two seconds."Ā
He bends over his chair to retrieve his bag from under the desk. Your eyes blow wide at his position, the sudden demonstration of well-fitted pants. Derek's laugh echoes up to the eaves.Ā
"And he has that twenty four seven," Emily says against the rim of her coffee.Ā
You scrunch your eyes closed and tilt your head back. After a few seconds, a hand touches your elbow gently, a hesitance that comes with only one member of the BAU. "You okay?" Spencer asks.Ā
"I'm okay. Headache," you lie.Ā
Spencer presses the apricot into your hands. "Maybe you should see an optician. You know they can tell if you have a brain tumour from one photo of your sclera?" He smiles morbidly, his glasses slipping down his nose. "They measure the size of your optic disk. It takes less than a minute. I can give you the name of my doctor, if you want. She's nice. Not as nice as you."Ā
Your throat is so dry you can't form words to answer him. He doesn't judge your rigid nodding.Ā
"I'll write down the number for you. And, Y/N?"Ā
"Yeah?" you choke out.Ā
"You look really nice today, too."Ā
Emily has to kick you in the leg to bring you back to earth. Stupid Spencer. Stupid lovely glasses.Ā
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wish it on your worst enemy
A/N: if you see me butchering british slang š¤Ø it never happened š¤«
Pairings: George Weasley x Fem!Reader
Summary: Your worst nighmare takes a nasty spill during a scrimmage because he was distracted by you. Itās only right you go and check on him. 1.9k words
Warnings: violence by bludger, description of injury, cursing, lovesick losers, enemies to lovers???? āenemiesā to lovers but really idiots to lovers
George taking a bludger to the face was not the kind of news you would have liked to wake up to. Something had gone wrong during an emergency weekend scrimmage. He was laughing at something Fred said or shouting at Ron or maybe he was just distracted by his own thoughts and hadn't noticed the pesky bugger barreling towards him with every intent to bludgeon him unconscious. So he took a nasty spill from a considerable height and has been passed out in the hospital wing since six forty-five.
You rush down the hallway in your pajamas, cursing under your breath, face scrunched into a scowl, dead set on your target. Bloody quidditch. A few first years watched you nearly trample a group of girls in the hall. They were traumatized. It was bad.
"He's gone daft! This is absolutely mentalānothing is that distracting!" you shout at Ron who is actively trying to defend himself against you. He stopped you at the door because he heard you storming down the hall a full minute before you arrived.
"Calm down! Heās still alive isn't he?" he says.
"Not for long if I have anything to say about itā"
"Oi," Fred shouts, lounging in a rickety chair beside George's cot, "would you wait 'till he's at least cognizant to threaten him?"
"You!" you fume, "why didn't you warn him!" Ron has given up trying to stop you at this point. You push past him, headed straight for Fred.
"I did! I shouted for him three times. The git was proper distracted. Must've been dreaming of something really special." He winks at you, and you think you could ring his neck right about now.
"I think you mean someone," Ron teases.
Both of them. You'll ring both of their necks.
"What the hell are you two chittering about?" you hiss.
"Oh, nothing at all, your graciousness. We'll leave you two lovebirds"āFred clears his throat, standing and nodding to his youngest brotherā"I mean friends... to it."
You grumble and flip them both off as they leave. You plop down into the chair just in time for Madam Pomfrey to come fluff the pillow propped beneath his left leg. She catches your weary glance over his limp body.
"I wouldn't worry too much, dearie. Nasty spills are what young men are made for. He just needs a little rest. Time to recover," she coos, smiling up at you from the base of the cot. You briefly worry the back of your neck before managing a nod.
"Thank you, madam. I appreciate it."
She grabs a quilt from the stack she had brought to his bedside and flattens it across his torso. You tug the side to even it out, a hitch in your breath when your fingers brush his cold knuckles.
"You know, when I attended Hogwarts, the quidditch boys were all the rage. My boyfriend was a Beater as wellā"
"Oh, Georgeā! He's not my..."
"He was wonderful. But of course, he was always getting into spills. It drove me mad to see the boy I loved in so much pain. In the end, I told him he'd have to be more careful or I'd call it quits. He told me he had to focus on his career anyway." She stands silently for a moment. Solemnly.
"That's terrible. I'm so sorry."
"You live and you learn. Boys will be boys, I suppose." Out of her trance, she shrugs and gestures to the clipboard sat on the desk. You hand it to her.
"May I ask... what became of him?"
"He retired from Quidditch very young. Only a few years in and, bam: traumatic brain injury. Some people can't be helped!"
You can't help but snicker at her frankness. She smiles, pats your shoulder, and sighs.
"You just have to love āem while you can."
"Thank you, Madam Pomfrey."
"Of course, dear. You let me know when he wakes up." She scuttles away.
You take the silence of the moment to look at him. While you can. You prop your elbows on the edge of the cot and rest your head in your hands.
"Not sure how I feel about all of that information. Not sure how much I trust that advice." You tell him like itās a secret, nose scrunched like thereās anyone else within earshot.
How fragile he seems laid flat atop this plastic wrapped bed. How rich the watercolor purples and yellows of his bruise. Down his neck, out across his jaw. The subtle swoop of his lashes, the rosy bridge of his nose. Then down to his bird bone fingers, your heart skips at the thought of tracing over the delicate skin.
He twitches, and you startle and sit pin straight. His muscles relax, though yours refuse to. You notice a rip at the hem of his folded quidditch robes and perk up.
Eight minutes later, youāre tugging just the edge of his robe into your lap while the rest is feathered out across the linoleum floor. Your emergency sewing kit is perched on your other thigh as you thread your needle and begin stitching.
George blinks the ache from his eyes, finally awake just to find you with a thin string caught between your teeth, your brow furrowed, and your fingers pinching fabric together. He reaches up and presses the heel of his palm to his forehead.
"Thank Merlin I wore something under my uniform todayā"
"George!"
The sewing kit clatters to the floor along with the robe and thread. Hopefully that needle will be easy to find. But you smile for now, and itās one of the sweetest things heās ever seen. No wonder he took a bludgerās hit. Youāre bloody distracting. Even when youāre not around.
āIāll go get Madam Pomfrey, she saidā"
"Were you... stitching up my quidditch robes?ā he says, just a hint of teasing in his hoarse voice.
You look down and gape at the mess.
"There was a tear ināwhen you fell, the bottomāthere was a rip! I had a sewing kit on me, I was just... helping a friend."
He blinks. If he wasnāt completely crushing on you before, itās safe to say that was the nail in the coffin.
"That's adorable," he warbles.
You look cross and put your hands on your hips and scoff.
āWell, you canāt very well play with a rip in your uniform!"
"No. No, of course not,ā he mumbles, āSilly me.ā
Usually, youād mock him. Youād call him names and tease him for getting knocked on his ass by and inanimate object. But that smirk has you incapacitated. He's making this very difficult for you.
"Well!ā he chirps, āDonāt let me bother you, Iāll just be lying here."
"But Pomfreyā"
"I'll live. My mind is alive, the neurons are firing. All is well, it can wait,ā he says, āPlease.ā
Goddamn you, George Weasley. You muster up a pathetic sigh and sit back on the stool, getting back to work on his robe.
But heās back to grinning like a fool, admiring the way your tongue pokes the corner of your mouth when you focus. Itās incredibly endearing.
"You're very beautiful."
Daggers. āShut up.ā
He chuckles. "What? I find you to be very agreeable, poppet."
"Gee, thanks, Weasley,ā you huff, āDo you want this stitch fixed or notā"
"Donāt get your dear panties in a twist, Iām only trying to compliment you. Would you just take it while Iām too ill to make fun of you properly?"
But he finds you very agreeable. And now you know that out loud. More than an inkling. More than friends. Oh, heās awful.
"Quit staring."
"Sincerest apologies."
You roll your eyes and glare at him while the needle punctures the thick fabric.
"Why donāt I just tell Madam Pomfreyā"
"And ruin a moment? Come on, let me get a good look at you, you're the reason Iām in this mess,ā George mumbles.
"Me?"
"Yes, you! Your stupid face won't get out of my head."
"Be serious, Weasleyā"
"I am! Youāve cursed me, poppet, can't think straight unless Iām thinking of you."
"That's not fair!" you say.
"No, itās not," he huffs, "I love you."
Shock. From both of you. More than friends, and more than a simple crush, now. But love. Love, for Merlinās sake! Do you love him?
"You're being idioticāā
"No. I'm not. I've thought long and hard about it, and I love you, and you can't change my mindā"
"George, quit it,ā you say.
"Everyone knows it, poppet, I adore you, andā"
"I love you, too, George, now would you shut up!"
Well, then. Secrets out, no holds barred.
And heās smiling all smug to himself, even though his left side is a bit swollen. And youāre back to fiddling with the stitched up tear in his robe. Youāve got crazy eyes. He thinks you might murder the stitched up tear in his robe. Or confess your love to it.
You groan.
"Stop smiling like that. You look crazy."
He shrugs. "I am crazyā¦"
"Do notā"
"ā¦ Crazy in love."
"I hate you"
"I know."
You look at him. And heās looking back at you terribly fondly. As fragile as he seems now, he feels invincible. You fold up his fixed uniform and set it on the desk.
"George,ā you sigh, āyou have to stop getting hurt."
He nods curtly. "Okay. Iām sorry."
You squint at him, suspicious and expecting just a little pushback.
"... It's... okay, I just worry about you. I don't like seeing you like this." The stool scrapes against the floor, and George reaches for your hand.
"I know you don't, poppet. It won't happen again,ā he says.
"Good. And if it does, thenā"
"Then Iāll quit the team.ā
"What!"
"Iāll do it. Iāll quit for you. Iāve got other things to worry about anyway. More important things than some silly sport where balls fly at your face."
Your eyes sparkle. For him, and it makes him absolutely giddy. He presses his thumb to the back of your hand and cocks a brow.
"Now,ā he sighs, āwould you come here and give me my hard won kiss?"
"Oh, so you won a kiss.ā
"Nobly so. Dutifully and honorably. Nothing less than the best for your highness."
"Fine, whatever, only because you think Iām beautiful.ā
You lean over his arm, trying not to nudge any of his tender injuries. While youāre being so careful, heās straining for your kiss, jutting his neck out and shuffling under the quilt. He grunts at the overexertion, and you sit back before he gets his kiss.
"Nope! Iām getting Pomfrey!"
"One peck! Swear, I wonāt move an inch!"
"Madam, he's awake!ā
"Wonderful news, darling!" she calls from the other side of the wing, preparing a jug of water and a two glasses.
"You're horrible, and you torture me. You donāt love me at all, witch!" he whines, voice low
"On the contrary, I love you a good deal too much, which is why Iām so horrible."
He grumbles something under his breath.
Then chirps: "Be my girlfriend.ā
You fold your hands in your lap. "If I must"
"And let me be your boyfriend,ā he pleads.
"Well, what else would you be?"
"Your servant, your house pet. A footstool if you needed it.ā
āGeorge Weasley, youāre a fool,ā you tease, reaching over to fix a strand of hair behind his ear.
"Yes, I am. A fool who loves you very much.ā
āSap.ā
masterlist
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YOUR USER IāM SCREAMING
BAHAHAA THANK YOUUU <3 <3
i made one severely unhinged decision 5 years ago & itās my proudest achievement
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everything is so bleak in this world but at least you can accuse old men of being gay for each other. they can never take that from us
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