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maraschinomerry · 2 months

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Meddling Git

Pairings: George Karim x gn!reader

Summary: When George connects with Arif's new shop assistant, Lockwood makes it his mission to make more opportunities for them to meet

Content: fluff, meddling Lockwood, insecurity about agent work, slight mention of blood

A/N: I'm back!! After an unintentional 7 month hiatus, I've finally been inspired to write again! I've also decided to switch from using (name) to y/n if anyone has any opinions on that. Thank you to everyone who shared anniversary/meet content for reminding me how much I love this fandom, and all my love to the multiverse of George chat for giving me so much inspiration and encouragement 💛

Word count: 4k exactly!

Taglist: @neewtmas @marinalor @ettadear @honey-with-tea @mischiefmanaged71 and also tagging @bobbys-not-that-small @bella-rose29 @oblivious-idiot @uku-lelevillain @lewkwoodnco

Lockwood, Lucy and George marched proudly towards Arif's. They'd completed another house call and been tipped generously by the owner, so Lockwood had promised to treat the team to breakfast. Of course, with the first rays of the morning only just beginning to peek through the clouds, there weren't any cafes open yet.

“I'll cook,” George offered, “as long as you buy the ingredients…”

“Of course.”

“...and those strawberry cream doughnuts.”

“Fine,” Lockwood rolled his eyes dramatically. Lucy grinned.

The bell above the door rang out lightly. Only agents would be around at this hour, and Lockwood & Co was the only agency who ever came to Arif's. In fact, their presence was so regular that the boy who worked the morning shift, Max, would greet them before they even came into view. Today, however, the shop remained silent.

“Morning, Max!” Lockwood called over a shelf when the quiet lasted a moment too long. “I don't suppose you have any of the strawb-” He hesitated as the group rounded the corner and finally came into view of the counter.

—

You frowned a little to yourself at the gentle chime of the bell. Surely there wouldn't be anybody about this early? Though you couldn't see the front door from behind the counter (a bit of a security flaw, you reckoned) there was a small window to your left which showed only the slightest hint of sunlight. Then again, Arif had mentioned a group of agents that would come by often. You weren't aware there was a local agency, but you were so new to both the area and the job that you didn't like to question it. The bell had been followed by overlapping footsteps and more than one hushed voice. Maybe this was them.

“Morning, Max!” one of the voices suddenly spoke up, a little deeper than you expected but unmistakably that of a boy and not a man. The footsteps drew closer. “I don't suppose you have any of the strawb-” At last the owner of the voice appeared from behind a shelf. The words stuttered to a stop, as did the movements of the tall boy in the black overcoat. Behind him, a girl in a blue jumper almost ran into him with the sudden pause.

“You're not Max,” she stated bluntly.

“No, I'm not.”

“Is he…?”

“Moved back to Cornwall with his parents,” you reassured her. You knew what it was like, wondering whether someone's absence meant the Problem had claimed another victim. “I'm y/n.”

“Well,” the boy cut back in with a charming smile, “morning, y/n. I'm Lockwood, this is Lucy, and George is around somewhere. As I was saying, do you happen to have any of those strawberry cream doughnuts?”

You returned his smile with one of your own as you fetched a square box from the chilled cabinet. “You're in luck, but I suppose you'll have to fight over who gets the fourth.”

“We won't,” another boy piped up from the far corner of the shop - George, you assumed. “If I'm making breakfast, I'm calling dibs.” Lucy giggled and you felt yourself suppressing one of your own.

“You'll have to forgive George, he's-” Lockwood began.

“No, no, he's got a point.”

“Finally, somebody gets it!” George's voice sounded triumphant, and much closer than before. After a beat, he arrived and you were able to put a face to the voice.

George was taller than Lucy but a little shorter than Lockwood, with dark curly hair and round glasses. Under his jacket was a vibrantly orange T-shirt, and in his arms he cradled a carton of eggs and a few different vegetables. He shuffled closer, attempting to place the produce on the counter without dropping the eggs but having trapped his hand in too awkward a position to keep a good hold of them.

“Let me,” you found yourself leaning over the counter, your fingers brushing the crook of his elbow as you rescued the carton and set it down gently. The boy blinked at you in surprise before quickly recovering and placing down the bulb of garlic he was holding. “What are you making?”

“Gojeh farangi, a sort of omelette.”

“Sounds good.” You handed him the ingredients, now bagged, and slid the box of doughnuts towards him as well. Lockwood stepped forwards with a handful of cash, and George shrunk back.

“It's been a pleasure meeting you, y/n,” Lockwood gave you another of those smiles. You got the sense he was the head of the team, the diplomat, the charisma. “No doubt we'll see you again.”

“Nice to meet you all too. I'll be here most mornings, in case you want to beat the regular crowd to the good doughnuts.” Without realising, you found yourself directing the latter part to the other boy, and you could have sworn you saw a flush tint his cheeks as he gave a slight smile and a nod of acknowledgement. What you didn't see was the glance exchanged by the other two.

—

The trio were back at Portland Row, the kitchen filled with the smell of fresh tomatoes and the glow of a job well done.

“Y/n seemed nice,” Lucy remarked as casually as possible.

“Mm,” Lockwood agreed into his cup of tea. “What did you think, George?”

They turned their attention quite unsubtly to their friend at the oven. He stayed with his back to them, and they couldn't be sure it was just because he was focused on breakfast, as he shrugged. “Suppose so. Didn't get much chance to judge.” He turned at last, not making eye contact as he slid two plates across the table.

“Ah well,” Lockwood continued after thanking George, who had turned away to collect his own plate, and he took the opportunity to throw Lucy a conspiratorial wink. “Plenty of time for that.”

Lucy almost choked on her mouthful.

The next day, George was halfway down the main stairs on the way to the training room when Lockwood poked his head out of his room. His hair was dishevelled, the collar of his shirt was wide open and his tie was hanging loosely around his neck.

“Ah, George! Do me a favour and run down to Arif's? We're out of detergent.”

“Why can't you go?”

“I've got that meeting with Mrs Pemberley to go over the details of the case and I'm running late as it is.”

“And Lucy-”

“Has gone to see Barnes.”

“Right.”

George held the door open for an elderly man just leaving the shop before slipping inside. He made his way to the detergent, stopping for a packet of chocolate digestives. Seeing you at the counter made him falter a little. You'd said you worked mornings, but it was almost lunchtime and he thought someone might have taken over by now.

“Oh, hello,” you greeted him cheerily. “Didn't hear you come in. George, right? Are your friends with you?”

“Just me,” George huffed. You picked up on the huff and wondered whether he was just having a bad day. From the small interaction you'd had yesterday, he seemed to get on well with his fellow agents and his annoyance was playfully exaggerated. Was it too soon to play along? You'd only met him yesterday. Then again, it was ordinary enough for shop workers to make conversation with the customers, and you wanted to at least try and make an effort at this new job.

“One of those days?” you prompted.

“Tell me about it.” The response was dry but not sarcastic, and you got the sense that he would have opened up more if he knew you better.

“Surely these will help,” you held up the biscuits as you passed them back to him, which earned you a slight smile. That was all you got, however, as he paid and walked away with only a muttered thanks. For some reason, you found yourself fishing for a way to make him stay and talk more. There weren't many people your age who came by while you were on shift (not many people at all, to be honest), as most of them worked the night shifts and barely went out and about until later in the afternoon. You just wanted someone, anyone, to talk to, and he was right there and getting further away by the second. Plus, you couldn't deny you were intrigued.

“Can I ask you something?” you blurted.

The boy turned, curiosity colouring his gaze. For a moment, you thought he'd still leave, but he came towards you and placed the detergent bottle back on the counter with a thud. You continued, “Which agency do you all work for? I noticed your rapiers yesterday, and Arif mentioned you being in the area, but I wasn't sure where."

George brightened. “We're Lockwood & Co, on Portland Row.”

—

A few more days passed, and the longer it went on the more George was unable to stop thinking about the new shop assistant. There was something about their question - most people didn't pay much notice to off-duty agents, much less care about which agency they were from. Sure, Arif had mentioned or warned them about Lockwood & Co, so perhaps it was just polite conversation, but they'd seemed genuinely invested in the answer. And with the shop opening in the early hours specifically for agents, it often took someone with Talent of their own to be brave enough to be out so early. Maybe…

His thoughts were interrupted by Lucy wandering into the study. She flopped into the armchair opposite, trying not to pay too much attention when George peered at her over the top of his book.

“Everything okay?” he asked. It wasn't often Lucy joined him for research.

“Lockwood's going to buy food so I thought I'd come and hang out with you. Don't mind me,” she shrugged. George took that rather literally, turning his attention back to the book on his lap. In the distance, they heard the front door open and close again, marking Lockwood's exit.

Lucy spoke again. “Oh, I almost forgot! He said we're out of cornflour but can he just use baking powder instead?”

George's eyes widened, and Lucy heard him mutter something particularly cutting as he dropped his book onto the arm of the chair and darted from the room. Moments later, the front door sounded again.

Lockwood turned in his stride and met George with a sharp grin, almost like he was expecting the other boy to come after him.

“I take it we do need cornflour, then?”

“You're such an idiot.” George fell into step beside him, and the two walked quietly for a while. George wondered whether it was worth going back to the house at all after this or whether to carry on to the Archives; it was early enough in the day that they might not be full yet. At least it would mean not being a part of whatever scheme his friend seemed to be cooking up.

—

You were greeted by Lockwood remarkably quickly after the bell alerted you to his presence, but he barely got a word in before you apologised, explaining that you hadn't meant to be rude when you first met, you just didn't know the agency to put his name to it.

“It was only when George explained-”

Almost as if you'd summoned him, the curly-haired boy stepped into view and gave you a small nod.

Lockwood's grinned, wider than before. “You didn't tell me you'd been chatting to y/n, mate.” He turned his attention back to you. “You must have quite the impact if you're getting more out of him than I am.”

A glowing warmth spread through your cheeks, and instinctively your eyes flew to George, whose expression reflected your own. The other boy glanced between you both with delight. “I suppose so,” you mumbled. “I was just curious because-”

“You have Talent.” It was George who had spoken, and he moved forward with his gaze levelled on yours. The words were spoken not as a question or a statement, more like a realisation. It struck you that behind the unassuming first impression the boy gave off was a quiet but brilliant intelligence for him to have figured you out so quickly. Very few people ever figured you out at all, especially not about your Talent.

“How did you know?”

George seemed to suddenly realise how close he'd come, practically leaning over the counter to study you; he pulled away and dragged his gaze to his shoes. “Educated guess.”

Lockwood, on the other hand, was having none of it, eyeing you up mischievously. “Don't be so modest,” he elbowed his friend in the ribs. You tried very hard not to fixate on the way the movement tightened his shirt across his chest and waist. “He's not our researcher for nothing, he's a genius.”

George sighed, but his head lifted with a burst of confidence. “I figured you must to feel safe working here before dawn, I just wasn't sure why you're not an agent. Oh, and the iron cross above the counter is new.”

There wasn't a single other person this week who'd noticed the cross you installed on your first day. This boy was really something.

“Wow,” you breathed subconsciously. George's cheeks reddened; this time he was definitely blushing. As for why you weren't an agent, what were you supposed to say? That you were less scared of the Visitors than you were of never finding your place within a team or worse, finding the right people but then losing them? How could you possibly explain that to him? So you didn't, and after a few more pleasantries Lockwood headed for the door. George threw you a backwards glance and a small wave, and the butterflies that had appeared in your stomach waved back.

Lockwood was positively beaming as they stepped out into the midday sun. Golden rays danced across his face, the air was mild, a soft breeze ruffled through his coat. It was all far too cheerful.

“What's got into you?” George frowned. “I haven't seen you this happy since we watched Kipps fall over his own rapier.”

“Am I not allowed to be happy?” Lockwood feigned outrage, clutching his chest. “And it's you that I'm happy for!”

George stopped. “What?”

“Come on, I've known you long enough to see there's something between you and y/n. Why don't you ask them out?”

“It's not like that! We've only spoken a couple of times, I don't know them well enough for anything like that.”

“If you say so…”

—

God, Lockwood was insufferable. He'd abandoned all subtlety, and it was driving George up the wall.

The smell of strong black coffee drifted up the stairs as George drifted down them. Lockwood had booked a big case for that night with absolutely no background information, so he'd spent the whole night on initial research. Hopefully caffeine would keep him awake long enough to get through the day.

Lucy was standing by the toaster, wielding a butter knife and humming to herself. George slumped into his usual chair with a groan.

“Coffee? Toast?” she offered.

“Please.”

“Sorry,” Lockwood appeared from the basement. “That's the last of the bread, you'll need to pick up more while you're out today.”

“You're joking,” George looked up. “There's still three slices in the bag there.” This was the third time this week he'd pulled something like this. The first was ‘accidentally’ stepping on an entire packet of biscuits. The second was announcing the milk was off, pouring it down the drain before anyone could check with enough force that it splashed back and went all over his trousers. And now this.

Lucy opened her mouth to respond, but Lockwood was faster. Before anyone could react, he pulled out the remaining slices, folded them all in half and took a massive bite. When he unfolded them, it left a gaping hole down the middle of all three slices, which he held up and peeked through triumphantly.

“You're ridiculous,” George scowled.

“ ‘m miwwian’” Lockwood mumbled around the wad of bread in his mouth.

George wanted to put his foot down. He didn't want to let Lockwood win. He knew he'd be so smug about it. But he also knew that every time he was sent to Arif's he stayed a little longer, talked a little more, watched you smile a little brighter. As much as he didn't want to admit it, he'd started looking forward to being sent out for things.

“Oh hey, Georgie!” Your face lit up when he entered the shop, and he smiled back. You weren't sure when you'd started calling him Georgie, he'd been here so often it was hard to tell which day was which any more. Not that you were complaining - he was easy to talk to, more interested in your Talent than anyone else had been, understanding when you'd finally explained your concerns about becoming an agent, and undeniably cute on top of all that. “What do you need today?”

“A boss who's not a meddling git,” he scowled dramatically, “...and milk.”

“I can only help with the second one,” you teased as you made your way out to the shop floor. Speaking to him from behind a counter felt so impersonal now, so you'd taken to wandering round the shop with him. You really hoped he didn't think you were overstepping or anything. As far as you knew, he thought of you as just the shop assistant, nothing more. You hoped it was more than that, could be more at least.

Another customer came and went, and George was still there, enraptured by your opinions on the Problem. He'd taken up a stance leaning against the shelves, one hand tucked into his pocket and looking the most relaxed you'd seen him since that first time he came into the shop. A light smile played across his face as he watched you hop onto the counter, not breaking your train of thought at all.

“I should get on before my shift finishes,” you sighed eventually. George immediately stepped forward and offered his hand to help you climb back down. His skin was warm and slightly calloused. You stumbled a little as you hit the ground and his other hand flew to your elbow, eyes scanning yours in concern.

“Thanks,” you murmured, painfully aware of how close you were. You'd put your hand out to steady yourself; it was clutching at the soft fabric of his orange plaid shirt. His eyes met yours once more and you both hastily pulled away.

“I'd better get back,” he cleared his throat.

“To the meddling git?”

He chuckled, a low sound which rumbled pleasantly in his chest. “Exactly. We're, um, we're out on another case tonight, but I'll see you soon, okay?”

“I hope so,” you replied, hoping he knew you didn't just mean because he made it back safely. “We'll have those doughnuts you like again tomorrow, if you're back in time.”

“I'll definitely be here for that,” he grinned.

—

It had been a hell of a night. The man who hired them had tried to bolster his ego by downplaying how intense the Visitors were. ‘A couple of Type 1s’ had turned out to be three particularly vicious Type 2s and it had taken until dawn to neutralise all the sources. The team emerged into the dewy morning covered in dust, rubble and, in George's case, blood. He'd taken a piece of debris to the face and, while it wasn't a serious injury, it had left him with a small cut which throbbed when he spoke. They were quite far from home too, and it was almost midday before they made it back to Portland Row.

George flopped onto a sofa in the living room as soon as they were through the door, while Lucy fetched the first aid kit. She sat down next to him, clicking open the case, and her face paled even more than it had with the exhaustion.

“We're out of antiseptic.”

“Lockwood,” George glared at his friend. He really wasn't in the mood.

“This isn't me this time! Look, you stay here and rest, I'll go and get more. Anything else we need?”

George pushed himself up to his feet. At least venting to you might make him feel better, and you had promised him doughnuts. “It's fine, I'll go.” Lockwood glanced at Lucy, taken aback by his insistence. He'd only been teasing George about going to see you, he never expected it to actually work.

“Please tell me you've still got those doughnuts, y/n,” George groaned as he pushed open the door to Arif's.

“Sorry,” came the reply from a voice distinctly unlike yours, as Arif glanced up from the shelf he was reorganising. “They took the last box at the end of their shift, maybe ten minutes ago.”

The last glimmer of hope that George had harboured fizzled out in his chest. Of course there was going to be no silver lining to the day. He was tired, he was hurt, and he didn't even get the doughnuts he'd been holding out for. Worse than that, though, he finally admitted to himself (and practically to his friends too) that he wanted to see you, that he liked you, and for what? Of course you weren't, you'd finished work and why on earth would you stick around just in case he showed up? It was unreasonable, he knew, but he couldn't help but feel disappointed. He'd have to wait until tomorrow, when he'd recovered a bit and could have a proper chat to you about everything. Ranting with Lockwood and Lucy was alright - they'd been there, they knew what he went through - but you were so gentle and understanding with him every time that he was desperate to hear your thoughts.

A figure on the steps of 35 Portland Row made George stop in his tracks. A new client, perhaps. Nothing unusual there.

The figure turned.

“Georgie?”

His face split into a grin the instant he recognised you. You'd changed out of your plain uniform into more casual clothes. The vibrant colours made you look almost radiant.

“Y/n, what are you doing here?”

You shuffled awkwardly on the step, suddenly aware of just how much of a risk you were about to take.

“When you didn't show up this morning… well, I was worried about you on the case. And I know I said I was scared of becoming an agent in case I made friends with my team and then lost them, but I realised I could just as easily lose you like this and I'd never get to really know…” George watched you in awe, silently gravitating closer with every breath. Your own breath was trembling, the sound of it echoing from your chest up to your ears. Finally, he was close enough that you noticed the stark red line on his cheek. “Oh my god, you're hurt.” Just imagining him in pain sent ice through your veins.

“I'm okay,” he assured you gently. “Just a scratch. I've just been to Arif's for antiseptic and…” he looked almost as nervous to speak as you, “I missed seeing you.”

You wanted to reach out to him, to take his hand or hug him close, but instead you held up the box you'd forgotten you were holding. “Me too. I brought those doughnuts just in case, figured you might need the extra one.”

His expression softened. “It's not an extra if you're here. I mean, if you want? You could come in and we can share them with the rest of the team.” Team. He gave you a look that showed he meant the implication behind it. You were one of them now, if you wanted to be. With a smile, you wound the fingers of your free hand into his and allowed him to lead you into the house.

#lockwood & co #george karim x reader #george karim #gn!reader #save lockwood and co #anthony lockwood

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wreckedandpolemic · 20 days

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85 and 143 for white and gold pls pls pls🙏🙏

dutiful hostess - matty healy

(mdni) in which your boyfriend needs a lesson in politeness. part of the white and gold universe. 1579 words.

Sometimes, you wonder if you’ve gotten yourself into something you can’t handle with Matty. Other times, like now, you’re sure he must wonder the same thing about you. You can’t help that he’s so fun to tease, that making him crumble is intoxicating. Even though you’re playing the dutiful hostess, you keep flitting back to Matty, sticking out like a sore thumb in your crowd of friends.

“Baby, I feel like I’m going crazy,” he complains, but cracks a smile when you press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “If I have to hear one more 2010s pop song, I’m putting my head through a wall.”

You huff a laugh, shoving him affectionately. “You’re ridiculous,” you scoff, then smile softly at him. “Thanks for letting me have my friends over,” you add. “Sorry it got a bit crazy,” you chuckle awkwardly, your shoes pointedly sticking to the usually-pristine floors.

“S’okay, angel. It’s your house too, now. But you’re cleanin’ this up hanging out of your arse tomorrow, okay?”

You giggle. “Yeah, okay.” You lean down close to his ear and speak in a low voice. “I promise I’ll find a way to repay you,” you purr, shifting slightly to obscure your hand from view as you slide it between his legs, swallowing his gasp when you squeeze his cock gently. “My sweet boy. Being so patient,” you croon, craning your neck up until his lips ghost against yours and pulling away at the last second. His chest heaves as you step back, leaving him needy and unsatisfied.

Later, you find him tucked away in a corner of your living room, watching your friends play Ring of Fire in bewildered concern. Spotting you, they shout your name, begging you to join them, and you wave them off, holding up a finger to say one second. “Why are you sulking?” you pout, splaying yourself in Matty’s lap and tilting his chin up to meet your eyes.

“Baby,” he laughs, taking hold of your waist and stroking the bare skin there in a way that makes you shiver. “I’m a thirty-mumble year old man at a college party, why do you think I’m sulking?” he scoffs.

You grind down in his lap, kissing his jaw as he groans. “These are my friends, Daddy,” you murmur, low enough not to be overheard even as you feel eyes burning into your back. “I like your friends, you could at least make an effort,” you tease, still subtly rocking your hips.

“You hate my friends,” Matty argues. You can feel him trembling with the effort of not grinding up against you.

“I hate the boring people from your work. You don’t even like them. I like Ross, and the Hanns, and Charli and George. I like your actual friends.” He looks unconvinced, and you sigh. “Fine, be a sulky little brat. S’not like I was about to get drunk and sloppy and let you do whatever you want to me later, or anything,” you say with a shrug, climbing off his lap and breaking his hold when he tries to pull you back down.

Matty practically whines. “You’re killing me,” he complains, and the state of him makes your eyes blow wide with lust. Flushed and practically gasping for breath, an obvious tent in his jeans and his eyes dark and glittering.

You honestly aren’t sure which of you is going to come out on top in this struggle, danger written across Matty’s face and your will unbending. “Good,” you smirk, joining your friends’ game in time to draw the four of spades. “Four for whores!” you crow, making eye contact with Matty as you lean purposefully on the last word, taking a long sip of your vodka. He breaks first, looking away and swallowing thickly, subtly adjusting himself as he gets up and leaves the room, to your disappointment disappearing up the stairs.

You can’t quite remember how many rounds you played, enough that your head feels light and your decisions are impaired. Thankfully, though, someone else drew the final king. The mere sight of the concoction of gin, red wine, rum and vodka mixed with varying sodas that you created made you heave, the thought of having it slide stickily down your throat enough to have bile creeping. You push the thought to the back of your mind, giggling as you stumble up the stairs. A couple of people are hanging around on your landing, apparently waiting for the bathroom, but you pay them no mind as you push your bedroom door open, finding Matty sprawled on your bed watching some mindless TV show.

You click your tongue and he looks up at you curiously as you throw yourself down next to him. “The only thing worse than sulking at a party is sulking upstairs during a party,” you chide. “You’re always telling me ‘be good,’ ‘make an effort.’ S’not fair if you won’t do that for me,” you pout. “C’mon, you can be a good boy for me for an hour, right? Then I’ll kick everybody out and you can have me, ‘kay?” You grab Matty’s hand by the wrist and slowly drag it down your body, letting him palm your tits greedily and drag your skirt up to play with the waistband of your panties. Truthfully, you’d let him have you here and now, but he has a weird hangup about people hearing him fuck you. You roll on top of him, moaning into his mouth as he tugs you in for a messy kiss, your hips rolling down and his hand tangling in your hair. Gracelessly, you slide out of your panties, press them into his open palm and climb off him. “There. You can have those as collateral. Now come down and be nice to my friends, or you can go to bed needy and watch me get myself off tonight,” you order, pulling on his arm to try and force him to his feet.

He doesn’t budge, and you groan, mentally preparing a tirade. “You like messing with my head, don’t you?” he says lowly, and the anger simmering in your stomach clenches into something else at his tone

“Only because it clearly turns you on,” you retort. “The fucking state of you, popping a boner in front of all my friends just from having me in your lap. S’that why you don’t wanna go down there?” you taunt. “You’re scared they’ll think you’re easy? Scared everyone’ll know my big, strong man of a boyfriend is just a needy, pathetic little slut?” you hiss. Matty whimpers slightly, and you know you’ve got him. Straddling his hips again, you grind your bare cunt against his jeans, moaning softly at the harsh scrape over your sensitive nerves. “Fuckin’ cuntstruck, aren’t you, Daddy? You’dve fucked me right there, wouldn’t you? Would’ve done whatever I wanted just to feel my cunt wrapped around you, huh?” Matty nods shakily, exhaling a trembling breath as you lean down with a predatory grin. “Get undressed for me, okay, baby?”

Matty shudders. “Th-There are people outside this door—” he hisses, and you press a finger to his lips, hushing him condescendingly.

“Well, this isn’t about them, is it?” you answer. “It’s about you and me, right, Daddy? You being a good boy for me, and doing as you’re told before I force you to come out and show all my friends what a little whore you are.”

Nodding slowly, Matty tugs his shirt off over his head, and you run your hands over the planes of his chest, tracing lovingly over the familiar We Are Kings tattoo on his hip. “Okay, princess. ‘M gonna be good f’you,” he murmurs, voice thick with lust. You climb off him to let him struggle out of his jeans and boxers in one clumsy movement, cock begging and drooling as it springs free.

You wrap your hand around him, spreading precum down his length as he bucks needily into your hand. “You’re so pretty, Daddy, you know that? Such a pretty boy, with a pretty dick to match,” you praise, his cock twitching in your palm.

“Th- thank you, princess,” Matty whimpers, and you coo softly, watching him slip into submission, his eyes glazing over as he stares adoringly up at you. He whines sadly when you climb off him, digging in your dresser drawer.

“Arms up, Daddy,” you instruct, and he obeys unthinkingly, letting you tie one arm to each bedpost so he’s splayed out for you. “There,” you say, admiring your handiwork. “You like being in this bed so much, you can fuckin’ stay here.” He gasps in disbelief as you climb off him, retrieving your discarded panties and deliberately flashing your cunt as you bend over. “I’m gonna go and be a good hostess, okay? You can just stay here and maybe think about not bein’ so sulky next time, yeah?”

“Baby, m’sorry, please don’t–” You ignore his pleas and slip out of the door, careful not to widen it far enough that anyone outside could see him — you’re not that much of an exhibitionist.

The group scattered on the landing gape at you when you emerge from your room. You shrug, unabashed. “Hope you all enjoyed the show,” you smirk. “Party’s over, if that wasn’t clear.”

#THIS IS SUCH A TEASE IM SORRY #matty healy x reader #matty healy smut #matty healy imagine #matty healy #the 1975 fanfic #the 1975 #the 1975 smut #writing #smut #smut prompt fills #request #white and gold

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writingchalamet · 2 months

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Ross had me going feral at my show so here’s an after show sex with Ross 💀😛 pretty much porn with a plot sorry not sorry.

Warnings: oral ( m receiving) semi rough sex p in v, no contraception because these people are horny

You could tell he was rilled up from the way he kept staring off into the distance, and the harsh plucking of the bass strings. Before he had gone on stage he knew he was done for, seeing you in your tiny black mini skirt and an oversized button down of his, left him feeling nothing more but primal. Seeing the full length of your legs shine under the light with every step you took towards him, and how you scented his shirt with your fragrance drove him crazy. He couldn’t wait to finish the tour to spend months plowing you into your mattress.

Now you stood at the side of the stage jumping around with Gabbriette, skirt inching up every time you bounced, steering Ross’s attention away from what should be an easy task for him. He could feel himself growing more frustrated as the night progressed, watching you have so much fun and look so good, he wanted nothing more than to pull you out onto the stage and show you off for all to see. Maybe even take you on the fucking sofa and have the camera man filming project it to the big screen for the thousands in the back to get a clear enough view. Ross had never been more relived to finish a gig in his entire life, the sprint back from B stage should have been enough to wear him down a little, but it seemed to only fuel his fire.

You were waiting, unknowing of his current state, with a huge smile on your face, already hugging and congratulating Polly on a great show, when he appeared. His brooding figure drew closer, pulling away from Polly, you skipped towards him leaping into his arms, laying your head onto his chest. His own arms encase your waist pulling you in tight. "You were amazing babe, as always" You beam up at him, standing on your tippy toes, to reach his lips, softly pushing against his own. "And you were a complete distraction missy, jumping around in that tiny skirt, I could hardly concentrate" Ross whispered as he bushed his lips against your own, your nose twitched shaking your head side to side slowly. One of his hands dragged down your body making its home on your bum, giving it a gentle squeeze, his lips move to brush along the shell of your ear speaking in hushed tones “I want you back in my dressing room for me, on your knees like a good girl” he felt your breath gasp against his neck, your body going rigid. His hand leaving you for a split second to lay a smack on your backside once more, “go” he nods his head, cocky smirk plastered on his face as he watches you stumble away from him.

When Ross eventually finds his way to the dressing room, albeit 15 minutes after he sent you on your way, he wanted to build up your anticipation so made sure pat each member of production giving them a ‘well done’ on his journey. Stopping to have a brief chat with George and John before finally landing at his dressing room door. When he entered the room was dimly lit. And there you were, kneeling in the middle of the room, half the buttons of his shirt unbuttoned exposing the lace of your bra and the delicate R necklace that always hung around your neck. Your skirt had ridden up sitting around the very top of your thighs no doubtably where you had been shuffling around in discomfort. He stood in the doorway just admiring you for a moment before stalking towards you, when he reached you he noticed how you instinctively straightened your back, rubbing your thighs together in anticipation. One of his hands gently caressed the side of your face, scratching backwards through your hair, pulling it away from your face, you gasp at the harshness of the tug, looking up at the man you knew you would give everything to. “Beautiful” his words are barely audible but you hear them nonetheless.

The hand tangled in your hair slowly but harshly balls the hair and draws your neck backwards as far as it goes, his other hand warps protectively around your neck, thumb stroking along your jaw as you look up at him with hazy eyes. He leans down brushing his lips across your own in a teasing manner, never fully pressing a kiss upon them. “I’m gonna fuck this pretty little mouth of yours, I want you to be a good girl and take it” you can’t help but nod instantly, the thought of having his cock inside you has your mouth watering. “Now open up” almost like a second nature your mouth opens at his command, you hear the swill of spit he’s conjuring inside his mouth as you lay your tongue out flat in front of him. Ross leans down close to you and spits on your tongue, lubricating it for you, before returning to his full height. He doesn’t play around any longer as he unbuckles his belt, and unbuttons his trousers, it’s now you notice the bulge laying straight in front of your face. You gently place your hands over his, placing a kiss above the button of his trousers before letting them fall down his legs, you snap the band of his boxers looking up at him giving him a wink just to be cheeky, palming him through the soft fabric, you can feel the predicament he’s been in, he’s throbbing in your hand, you give him a few squeezes before releasing him from his cotton confinements. As soon as he’s free, one hand wraps around himself and the other finds its way to the base of your neck. He pumps himself a few times biting on his bottom lip, making unwavering eye contact with you, he can’t help but love the way you lick your lips as you watch him throb in front of your face, he would never find anyone half as perfect as you, that much he was sure of. He lines up his member at your mouth sighing as he watches you swallow him inch by inch like a pro. “Fuck y/n” he pulls back slowly, allowing you a second to take a breath before shoving himself back in, more forcefully this time, enjoying the little squeak your throat let out muffled by his dick.

Your hands made their home on his hips, steadying yourself, you bobbed your head trying to keep up with his ever growing pace, fingernails piercing the flesh of his hipbones when his thrusts become more vigorous. One of Ross’s hands stroke along your face a jaw, a sign for you that you were doing a good job, although he was picking up pace, you could tell he was holding back, the sight of concentration on his face, brow lowered and eyes screwed shut, you wanted him to reach his full potential, you always loved it when he completely let go. Pulling back away from him with a pop, his eyes snap open, both hands caressing your cheeks afraid he’s done something to hurt you. “What’s the matter baby, are you okay?” Ross rambled words falling over each other. “I’m fine, more than okay, I want you to use me Ross, just let go” you pressed kisses along pubic bone stopping to look up at him before taking him back into your mouth again, “Christ I love you” he mumbles, head facing the ceiling, his fingers tangle in your hair again as he sets a new bruising pace.

Anyone walking past the room would be sure to know what was going on with how loud Ross was moaning and wet sloshing sounds coming from your mouth. You tried your best to breathe through your nose as he plowed into your throat making sure to bruise your oesophagus, your eyes streaming as you looked up at him with admiration. The ache in your throat being numbed out by the sounds coming from Ross, you loved it when he was vocal, it lit a certain fire within you, something you just couldn’t hold off any longer, your own hand slipped from his hip down the front of your body and under your skirt, only able to relieve the pressure for a mere moment before Ross caught wind of what you were doing. You felt the sting of his hand clapping against your cheek, before he pulled ripped himself out of your mouth, pulling you to your feet. You stumble from being on your knees for so long, Ross’s arms secure themselves around your waist and hoist you up off the ground, walking backwards until you are perched on his dressing table. He stands back a few steps, admiring the way your legs stay spread and the way your underwear were soaked through. “Did I say you could touch yourself?” His voice rough, demanding. You shook your head slowly, his fingers reaching to lift your head so you met his eyeline. “Words” leaving his touch there. “No sir” your voice was hoarse and sore to use, a true testament to his power. He steps forwards once more, standing between your legs spreading them further. Your head lulls back resting on the mirror as his lips brush the base of your neck, littering the skin with light kisses. Small gasps escape your lips as his fingers drift their way across your torso, finishing your work of unbuttoning the shirt adorning you, pads of his fingers trailing down your stomach, slipping over the fabric of your skirt, bunching it up further until it sat around your waist like a belt.

His hands land on the back of your thighs, pulling you in until you’re flush with his own chest. “Now tell me, what happens to girls who break my rules” his words were hot in your ear as he continued peppering kisses along your neck and chest, fingers tickling your skin, riling you up even more. “They get punished” he nods, hand moving from your thigh, hovering over the place you needed him the most. “That’s right angel, now tell me, if I fuck you’re pretty little brains out, because I don’t think I can hold out much longer, are you gonna do everything I say?” You practically mewl at his words, leaning into his touch. The rough pad of his thumb draws circles on your clit, finally touching you. His fingers dip into the side of your underwear, pulling them away from your centre, he watches the sex glitter under the light for a moment before a dipping two fingers inside, enjoying the warm and welcoming feeling of you drawing him closer. Your eyes meet and you can feel the intensity in Ross’s eyes, his pupils blown out, looking all over your face. Your lips meet in a feverish kiss, tongue practically prying your mouth open feeling every crevice, and receiving all your gasps and pleas as his fingers continue to penetrate their way inside you. “Ross I need you now” you pant into his mouth. He hums in return, reaching for his cock, fisting it a few times before running it through your folds letting the tip become slick with your wetness. A groan passes his lips as he pushes himself in inch by inch until he’s fully seated in your warmth. You moan leaning your head back against the mirror once more, relaxing into him. Ross gives you a moment, pulling out fully before pounding back in. He sets a ruthless pace, hands coming to hold the backs of your knees spreading your legs wider for him to fuck into you deeper. Your hands clasp around his shoulders coaxing him closer to you, planting your lips on his, the combined sensation of his lips on yours and him pounding deep inside you has you dizzy, you clench around him, walls fluttering at his incessant pace, Ross’s lips leave yours to plant kisses along your neckline, teeth nipping at the skin, he licked the sweat as it formed along your neck and chest.

His pace increasing hitting that perfect spot inside you again and again, one thing about Ross was that he never tires, his hips smack into your own chasing the high he was so close to mere moments ago. He looks down peering to where the two of you were connected, enjoying the view of your wet hole enticing him inside, his brow furrows in concentration, thrusting upwards sharply making sure to hit the sweet spongy spot that makes your head spin continuously, “come on sweetheart, I need you to be a good girl for me right now” your legs wrap around his middle, entrapping him with your entire being, you moan his name for all to hear when his calloused finger starts caressing your clit once more, begging for your release. You move your hips in tandem with his own, the melodic sound of your moans and skin slapping filling the room. He perfected his movements on the small bud eliciting a squeak from your mouth, feeling the build up of your high, you kissed along his chest and pulled the hairs at the nape of his neck while he pounded away at you, feeling your walls constricting around his length, your breathe grew tight as he fucked into you at a ruthless pace, your entire body feeling like it had been set alight, “that’s right sweet girl, cum for me” he kissed under your ear as he spoke the words. Hand wrapping around your throat cutting off your supply to oxygen making the feeling even more euphoric. As the band snapped his thrusts grow more sloppy, eventually going rigid, releasing his load all over your walls, feeling warm and full.

He stayed still inside you smile plastering his face, as you giggle, clinging to him some more, you trace his back with your fingers feeling the shirt stick to his sweaty skin. “Fuck I love you so much” he smiles leaning in for another kiss, more sensual this time, taking his time to kiss both your top and bottom lip. “I love you too Ross” you hum back relishing in the feeling of his soft touches, one of his hands places a light smack on your thigh as he pulls out slowly, “right missy let’s get you cleaned up”

#fanfiction #adam hann #ross macdonald smut #fanfic #ross x f reader #ross macdonald x reader #ross macdonald imagines #ross macdonald fanfiction #Ross smut #matty healy #the 1975 imagine #ross macdonald #george daniel

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vilentia · 1 year

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Electric Love

George Weasley x reader

George Weasley was someone who could light up a room with his infectious energy and sense of humor. From the moment you met him at Hogwarts, you were captivated by his vibrant personality and carefree spirit. He was always up for a good time, and his natural charisma drew people to him like a magnet.

Despite his outgoing nature, George had a kind heart and a genuine concern for those around him. He was quick to make friends and even quicker to make them laugh. As you got to know him better, you found yourself drawn to his lively personality and the way he made you feel.

At first, your relationship with George was purely platonic. You enjoyed spending time with him, and the two of you had a lot in common. But as you spent more time together, you began to see him in a new light. You noticed the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed, the way his smile lit up his face, and the way he made you feel like the most important person in the room.

As your feelings for him deepened, you began to wonder if he felt the same way. You started to look for signs that he might feel the same way, but nothing was ever clear. It wasn't until a chance encounter one day that George finally revealed his true feelings, and you were overjoyed to find out that he felt the same way.

The moment George confessed his feelings for you, everything changed. The dynamic between the two of you shifted from friendly to romantic, and it was like a spark had been ignited. You began dating, and it felt like a whirlwind romance that you never wanted to end.

Being with George was an experience like no other. His presence filled you with a sense of excitement and energy that you had never felt before. Every time he walked into the room, it was like the air was charged with electricity. You were constantly on the edge of your seat, waiting to see what he would do or say next.

You loved the way George made you feel alive, and he was always pushing you to try new things and take risks. With him by your side, you felt like you could conquer the world. His humor and light-heartedness were infectious, and you found yourself laughing more than ever before.

As your relationship progressed, you began to discover new layers to George's personality. You found out that he was incredibly caring and compassionate, always willing to lend a helping hand to those in need. He had a way of making you feel like the most important person in the world, and you cherished every moment you spent with him.

For you, being with George was like being caught in a whirlwind of passion and excitement. You never knew what each day would bring, but you were eager to find out. Every moment you spent together felt like pure magic, and you knew that you had found something special in each other. Your love for George was electric, and you felt like the luckiest person in the world to have him by your side.

One night, you and George collapsed into bed, exhausted but content. As you lay there, wrapped up in each other's arms, you felt a sense of peace and happiness wash over you.

Just as you were starting to drift off to sleep, George looked deep into your eyes, and the intensity of his gaze made your heart skip a beat. He whispered those three little words that you had been dying to hear: "I love you."

It was like the whole world stopped for a moment as you realized just how much you loved him too. You looked into his eyes, and you could see the depth of his feelings for you reflected back. You knew in that moment that he was the one you wanted to spend the rest of your life with.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you whispered back, "I love you too, George." You wrapped your arms around him tighter, feeling like you never wanted to let go. It was a moment of pure, unadulterated love, and you knew that it was something you would never forget.

From that moment on, your love only grew stronger. You spent all your time together, exploring the world around you and creating memories that would last a lifetime. And no matter where life took you, you knew that your love would always be there, shining bright like an electric spark.

#george weasley #george weasley x y/n #george weasley x fem #george weasley x you #george weasley x hufflepuff!reader #george weasley x reader #george weasley x slytherin!reader #george weasley imagine #george weasley oneshot #george weasley one shot #george weasley angst #george weasley fluff #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley fic #george weasley x oc

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topguncortez · 1 year

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What to Expect | Chapter 14

previous part | masterlist | next part

synopsis: Jake enjoys a day golfing with the guys, while you receive some shocking news.

word count: 4.1k

warnings: smut, pregnancy, cursing, questions of paternity unrequited love, fighting, mentions of blood work, mentions of abuse

“Fuck, that’s it,” Jake moaned as the grip on your hips tightened. You placed your hands on his chest to help you keep your balance as you rode him, “Oh fuck, ‘m not gonna last.”

Ever since that disastrous dinner at your parents house, you and Jake became insatiable. That night was the first night in nearly nine months that Jake had touched you like that, kissed you like that, loved you like that. He was a little scared at first, he didn’t want to hurt the baby or anything, but Doctor Miller assured you both that it was okay to have sex while this close to your due date. In fact, it might even help you deliver on time.

“Jake,” You cried out, feeling his cock start to twitch inside you, “Help, please.”

“I got you baby,” Jake answered, taking one of his hands and going in between yours and his bodies, circling your clit. You yelped at the feeling, arching your back in pleasure, “There ya go baby, I got you. Cum for me.” You nodded, not being able to think of anything as you felt your body start to shudder and spasm. Jake grunted, lifting his hips to bury himself deep within you and release his seed, “Fuck.”

“Oh god,” You moaned, sagging forward just a bit, pressing your weight onto your hands as you caught your breath.

“You okay?” Jake asked, running his hands up and down your back.

“Yeah, just give me a second,” You said breathlessly, “It’s not easy riding dick at almost nine months along,” Jake chuckled and brushed a strand of hair from your face.

“Well there aren’t many positions that we can do with you this far along,” Jake said, “And my dick is slipping out.”

You chuckled as you gently rolled, with the help of Jake, onto your back, “We shall see if there will be any more sexcapades after this week.”

You were nearing the home stretch, and you couldn’t be more happy and sad at the same time. The two of you had spent every moment that Jake was home spent working on the nursery and setting up the guest bedroom for Jake to use. Which, he had hardly been in, finding himself falling asleep in your bed most nights. He knew that this current sleeping arrangement wouldn’t last long, once the baby was here you weren’t going to want a single thing to do with him.

“We have another appointment next week, right? The last one?” Jake asked and you nodded.

“The grand finale,” You said and Jake chuckled. He rolled onto his side and lightly drew circles over your bump, “You know, Doctor Miller can still do the DNA test and we can-”

Jake shook his head, “I’m not letting her stick a needle into your belly.”

“Actually, she can do it by just taking my blood.”

“Why are you bringing this up again? Did George say something to you? Did he threaten you?�� Jake pushed himself up from the bed.

“No!” You exclaimed and pushed yourself up into a sitting position, “No one said anything but Jake, if getting the test done means that this baby gets a fair shot-”

“Why are you worried about the trust? You said you never wanted a drop of that money,” Jake looked at you confused.

“Things change. Jake, you almost died on your last two missions that I know about. And who knows how many other times,” You said and Jake’s eyes softened. He sat back down on the bed next to you and cupped your cheek.

“If something happens to me, you and her will be taken care of, without the Seresin trust,” Jake answered, “I have things in place already to make sure that you will never have to worry if I’m gone. So please, for the love of God, can we just drop this?”

You nodded and Jake smiled. He leaned in and kissed your forehead. On top of your due date being soon, Jake’s birthday was also approaching. He was going to be turning the big three-oh, and you wanted to do something to celebrate. Jake argued that he was fine getting drinks at the Hard Deck with you and the daggers, but you were not about to let that slide. Turning thirty and becoming a father in the same year was a big deal, and you were going to make it one.

“Hey, what are you thinking?” Jake asked, running his hand over your bump.

“Your birthday.”

“No.”

“You are turning thirty! We are celebrating!”

“Yeah, and we might have a baby by then,” Jake said, placing a kiss on your belly and you giggled at the feeling, “Seriously, nothing big.”

“Can I get you a cake?”

“I’ll allow a cake. Only! If it’s cinnamon shortcake,” Jake kissed your cheek before getting out of bed. It was Saturday and the only thing he had on the agenda was going golfing with Dylan, Rooster, Bob, Maverick and Iceman. Sarah and Phoenix were coming over to help you work on thank-yous from the shower and finish decorating the nursery.

You pushed yourself up from bed, feeling babygirl move around in your belly. You found your sleep shorts that had been taken off by Jake and slipped them back up your legs, before sliding on one of his old academy t-shirts. It seemed like most days you were wearing shorts and one of Jake’s t-shirts. You swore to yourself that next time you had a baby you were getting pregnant during the summer. Being heavily pregnant in the heat of the summer in California was something you did not want to endure again.

That was another thing you had thought of recently, was what would happen next with your family. You had never just wanted to have one child, you didn’t want them to grow up as an only child. You loved your siblings, and you loved how big your family is. Even though you don’t always get along with them, you couldn’t imagine a life without them. You wanted your child to have the same thing, but how was the question. Would you find someone else to marry and have children with? Would they accept this baby as their own? Or maybe, would you have another one with Jake? Or did Jake even want more than one? They were all questions that kept you up at night.

“You must really be in thought today,” Jake said, walking back into your room dressed in khaki shorts and a pink polo. Pink was really his color, it made his eyes stand out even more. You wondered if your baby would have his green eyes or the same blue eyes that ran in your family, “Hello? Earth to Y/N?”

“Sorry,” You said, shaking your head and looking at him, “Got a lot on my mind.”

“Well, can I help you think some of it through?”

You bit your lip, running everything through your mind again and then said: “No. It’s nothing you can help with,” You gave him a small smile. He nodded and kissed your forehead.

“Well, don’t think too much while I’m gone,” He said.

“I’ll try not to. And don’t get mad at Bob, you know he can’t golf,” You said and Jake chuckled.

“Thank god he can fly better than he can hit a golf ball.”

You walked Jake to the front door, and stood on the porch as he pulled out of the driveway and left to go get Rooster. You sighed and headed back inside, going to make yourself some tea before your mother and Phoenix came over. You couldn’t wait for the day that you could start drinking coffee again. Every morning Jake brewed himself a fresh pot, almost as if he were mocking you in some way. The smell was intoxicating and all you could do was sit at the breakfast table and watch it drip and fill the pot.

While you waited for the kettle to come to a boil, you looked through the stack of mail that was on the table. Most of it was bills for the house and from the doctor. You and Jake had agreed to split the cost of the prenatal care 50/50, since you weren’t technically on his insurance plan. You tossed most of the mail to the side, besides bills it was mundane things you didn’t really care about. Except for one white envelope with your name on it.

‘Y/N KAZANSKY

PATERNITY DNA RESULTS’

Your heart started beating rapidly in your chest as you looked at the envelope. The sound of the kettle ringing brought you out of your trance, and you stuffed the letter into the pocket of your cardigan, and went to tend to the kettle.

Despite Jake telling you to not get the test done, you had it done anyway. You really had no plans on telling him, but slowly the guilt of going against what he wanted was starting to eat at you. At first, you had the test done to prove George Seresin wrong, and to have it on file in case Jake were to change his mind. You weren’t going to have Doctor Miller send you the results, but then you changed your mind. But now, as they were here in your house, in your hands, you suddenly regret getting the test done at all. Jake trusted you, and you knew that he would love this baby no matter what that piece of paper said. You knew that you should just throw the envelope away, tear it up and shred it. But a voice in the back of your head stopped you from doing that. So instead you tucked the envelope away in your sock drawer.

— — —

Jake used to hate the game of golf. His father loves it and would spend hours at the golf course or driving range. Hell, he spent hundreds, maybe even thousands a year on tee fees, golf lessons, buying expensive clubs and playing at some of the top golf courses in Texas. Occasionally, George would bring Jake along, only when it would benefit him. Before Jake got into the academy, George took Jake on a golf outing with the dean of students, the athletic director and the head coach of the UT football team to try and win them over. Jake thought it was the dumbest thing ever and did everything in his power to make himself look like a fool. George was furious that night and took it out on Jake. The next day at school Jake told everyone that he fell from his horse and that’s what caused the black eye and split lip.

But now, as Jake was older and actually had people that he enjoyed being with, he found solace in the game of golf. Even though three out of the six of them could never hit the ball entirely straight. He was still in good company which made it all the more fun. Currently, he was standing behind the tee box watching Bob calculate his shot and line up his driver with the ball. Bob had never golfed before he started golfing with them, and it was obvious. Jake thought Rooster had a bad swing since he still had that baseball swing in him, but seven out of nine holes someone was yelling “fore!” when Bob was up to tee.

“What are the girls doing today?” Rooster whispered to Jake.

“Finishing the nursery,” Jake answered, “Y/N said I don’t have the feminine touch so I am not needed. Phoenix and Mrs. Kazansky are over.”

Rooster chuckled to himself, “She settled on a theme?”

Jake nodded, “Farm theme. Don’t ask me why, but there’s a giant picture of a baby cow hanging over her crib.”

You had found said picture at Home Goods and nearly bursted out in tears at the sight. Jake, of course, had to buy it and it was the first thing ever put up in the nursery. You loved the picture and felt like it made the yellow painted room feel like home. Jake thought the picture was kind of scary with its big brown eyes staring at you. But if you loved it, then he would love it too. The nursery furniture was all a distressed light brown color, which went perfectly with the farm theme that you wanted to go with. Jake and the daggers managed to put together all the heavy stuff, now what was left was the easy decorating.

“Has she decided on where she’s going to have the baby?” Iceman asked as Maverick took a step up on the tee box. Bob’s ball had taken a sharp left and ended up in another fareway that Dylan would have to take him searching for.

You had told Jake from the beginning that you wanted a home birth and he respected that decision. He helped you search for good doulas and midwives in the area and settled on one together. However the two of you were yet to decide on a location. Jake wanted to go traditional and do it actually at home, but you wanted to go to your parents cabin about an hour away.

“No,” Jake answered, “She still wants to go to the cabin but I’m not sure if she’ll make it that far. Every day she thinks the baby is coming. I’d much rather do it just right at home in the living room.”

“Dammit!” Maverick cursed as his ball hit a tree and bounced off somewhere in the rough.

“She’s a saint for wanting to do it unmedicated,” Rooster shook his head and stepped closer to the tee box, “I had stitches once without getting numbed and I thought I was going to pass out.”

“It’s what she wants, and she’s determined,” Jake shrugged. He wasn’t a fan of the home birth option at first, his anxiety gave him too much worry. What if something happened to you? What if something happened to the baby? But you assured him that everything was going to be okay. If something was wrong with either you or the baby they would send you to the hospital right away. Doctor Miller had signed off on the home birth and would be on call if anything was to take a turn.

The rest of the afternoon went off without a hitch, well, as without a hitch as much as it possibly could. Bob nearly broke his glasses and managed to lose a whole sleeve of golf balls in the first nine holes. They all decided to call it a day early and get drinks and sit outside by the pool. The pool was busy for it being a hot day, the loud screams and laughter of children filling the air.

“Are you going to get a country club membership now, Bagman?” Dylan asked.

“Why? Because I’m about to be a dad?” Jake asked, taking a sip of his long island iced tea.

“That’s exactly why,” Dylan laughed, “You and Y/N give off country club people vibes.”

Jake chuckled and looked at the various families and children that were in the pool. He could see himself getting a country club membership. Playing golf league on tuesday nights, bringing you and your daughter to the pool on the weekends, dressing up for certain fundraising events. But while he was thinking of all of that, he also thought of his parents and how they do the exact same thing. Jake grew up going to the golf course pool on the weekends with his nanny and mother. George and Margaret were always getting dressed up to go to some fundraiser for the club, and Jake even had to be in quintillion because Margaret was one of the sponsors. He hated every single thing about growing up as a “country club kid”.

“Well see,” Jake answered, his jaw clenching. Rooster looked at him questionably, but just shrugged and went back to talking baseball statistics with Ice and Bob.

The sun was starting to set by the time the six of them decided to leave. They were all feeling warm not just from the alcohol but from the time spent out in the sun. Bob was sure to have a sunburn on his arms tonight, and Rooster knew he was going to have a gnarly sock tan line that might go away by next fourth of July. They all said their goodbyes, and Rooster climbed into Jake’s truck since they had driven together. His brown eyes glanced at the carseat in the back seat of the truck. He tried to ignore the pang in his heart every single time he saw it, but he couldn’t help it.

“Think this is probably the last time I’ll see this truck this clean,” Rooster said as Jake climbed into the driver's seat. Everyone knew how anal Jake was about the condition of his truck. He treated it as if it was his baby, and cleaned it once a week, sometimes even twice if he had driven it a longer distance than just to base and back.

“Oh, it’ll stay this way,” Jake answered back, pressing the start button, “We’ve already talked about it.”

“You know that kids are just mess magnets,” Rooster chuckled as Jake started on the drive back to his place, “Your truck, your house, everything is about to come one giant mess.”

“Don’t even remind me,” Jake shook his head, “My sisters houses look like permanent hurricanes. I hope with one that things won’t be as messy. Well, one for now.”

Rooster was silent for the rest of the ride home, Jake’s comment settling in his head. He knew that he shouldn’t be thinking about you like that, he had Noel and she was good to him. But in the back of his mind he thought that maybe just maybe there was still a chance for him and you. That maybe, just maybe, you hadn’t completely closed the door on the idea. Rooster looked up from his lap as Jake parked in the driveway, his eyes seeing the white Nissan parked behind his bronco.

“The girlfriend is here,” Jake smirked and Rooster gave him the best fake smile he could muster.

“Yeah, she said she’d stop by later,” Rooster unbuckled his seatbelt, “Tell Y/N I missed her today. Would rather have her as a partner than you sometimes.”

“If you think I’m bad, wait until you play next to her,” Jake shook his head with a laugh, “She thinks she’s the next Tiger Woods, I swear.”

Rooster smiled, knowing exactly what Jake was talking about, “I’ll see you, man.” Rooster stepped inside his house, and leaned his back against the door. He noticed Noel’s shoes by the door and knew she was probably waiting for him in his bedroom. He reached into the pocket of his khaki shorts and pulled his phone out, seeing one single text from you.

‘Bug Kazansky: I got them back.’

He took a deep breath and locked his phone, sliding it back into his pocket before going upstairs to his girlfriend. Tonight, he was focused on Noel, not you. As much as it hurt his heart to think about, he couldn’t spend every moment waiting for you anymore. He had guilt from what had happened between the two of you, but if you had so easily moved on and forgotten about, so could he.

Jake parked his truck next to your car in the garage. At the old house in Lemoore, you two only had a one car garage and it was first come first serve on who got the spot. But now, there was no fighting when it came to it, and it made him feel domestic. He had basically moved in with you these past few weeks. The only time he’d really stop by his house was to get fresh clothing and to get the packages of dog food for Herc. He considered asking you if he could fully move in, but he wasn’t sure if you were ready for all of that quiet yet. He didn’t even know where you two stood as far as relationships go. Of course he wanted more with you, but he was willing to do whatever it was that you wanted.

He could see the house was dimly lit when he arrived home. The sun was almost down, lighting the earth with a pink and purple hue. Jake stood in the driveway for a moment, soaking up the last rays of the sun before heading inside. He could hear the faint sound of Greta Van Fleet playing from upstairs and knew that you were either in the nursery or in the bath. You had been ending your days by taking a warm bubble bath partially to relieve the pain in your lower back and to help you fall asleep easier. Your insomnia has come back these last couple weeks as you got closer to your due date.

Jake checked the nursery, not finding you but hearing the music playing a bit louder. He walked into your room, smelling the scent of your essential oils and seeing Herc laying in the doorway to the bathroom. The german shepherd had become not only your protector again, but also the protector of your unborn child. Jake would come home from work to see you napping on the couch or even sometimes asleep in bed, and Herc’s face was nuzzled into your belly.

“Momma in there, boy?” Jake asked his dog, kneeling down to scratch under his jaw. From the reflection in the mirror, Jake could see your legs resting over the side of the bathtub. He stood up from his position and walked into the bathroom, seeing you resting your head back against the side of the tub and a wash cloth over your eyes.

“Y/N?” He called out.

“Hm?” You answered, removing the wash cloth and looking up at him, “You’re home.”

“I am,” Jake answered and walked over to you. He bent down to place a kiss on your forehead, “How was your day?”

“Tiring,” You sighed and ran your hands over your bump, “Nursery is one hundred percent complete and so are the thank you cards. We started washing all the bottles, clothes and other stuff we got, which is going to take forever.”

“Well we got time,” Jake said leaning against the counter, “You about ready to get out?”

“Yes,” You nodded, “Can you do me a favor?”

“Sure.”

“Can you get me some pajamas please?” You asked, sticking your bottom lip out, “Oh! And fuzzy socks!”

Jake chuckled, “Of course. Be right back.”

You nodded, and moved your hands back and forth in the warm water, “How was golf?”

“Same as it usually is!” Jake yelled as he opened your dresser drawers, and found a pair of sleep shorts that you should hopefully be comfortable in.

“Bob go through another sleeve of golf balls?”

“I don’t know how he does it!” Jake said back and you giggled. A smile was brought to his face at the sound of your laughter as he found one of his old t-shirts in your drawer.

“It must have something to do with his glasses,” You said and pushed yourself out of the tub. You grabbed your towel and dried your body off, wrapping it around you the best that you could, and then walked to your bedroom, “Maybe he just can’t see where. . .you weren’t supposed to find that.”

Jake’s green eyes were staring down at the white envelope you had stashed away from earlier. The clothing that he had in his hands had clearly been dropped to the floor, and you could see them start to shake a bit. He looked from the letter to you, his eyes rimmed red.

“I can explain,” You said, and took a step towards him, but he visibly took one away from you.

“I told you I didn’t want this done!” He exclaimed, gripping the letter in his hand, “This is exactly what he wants! And you fell for his trap!”

“It’s not just for your father,” You sighed and ran a hand over your forehead, “It’s for me.” Jake looked at you confused for a moment and then at the letter.

“You couldn’t have done this without my DNA,” He said softly, “So unless you swabbed my mouth in my sleep or stole my kleenex, you couldn’t have-”

“Because I didn’t use your DNA, Jake,” You said and took a deep breath, “I used. . . I asked Bradley to do the test.”

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note: and thank you to everyone who has supported me not only today with the "Karen" anons but through this whole fic and the other works on my blog. my writing is supposed to be something that is enjoyable for not only you all to read, but myself included. I write the fics that I want to be able to go back and read. I write the fics that I will be happy with, and if that's not your cup of tea. . . then so be it. You don't have to like every single thing I put out, it's okay to not like something of mine. But there is no need to be rude about it. And this isn't just coming from me, this is coming from other writers as well. Be kind to us, we don't do this for pay, we don't do this for profit. We do it because we want to. anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter:) and I am sorry for getting angry and spoiling the fic earlier, I hope y'all forgive me or forgot that I even did that.

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footprintsinthesxnd · 10 months

Text

Midnights

Pairings: Eugene Roe x f!reader Summary: Eugene and Y/n have been in love with each other since Toccoa. The pair final admit their feelings for each other and things get a little heated. Warnings: smut, sexual images, 18+, minors dni Disclaimer: any writing of Band of Brothers characters is strictly based of their fictional representation within the show and is meant as no disrespect to the real hero’s.

The beer was cool against Eugene’s lips as he raised the bottle, taking a long swig of the golden liquid. He watched the scene unfolding in front of him, as George Luz tried hopelessly to flirt with the poor barmaid who wasn’t the slightest bit interested. He’d been at it for the best part of an hour but he still hadn’t given up hope. Eugene and Babe Heffron gave up trying to help him, wanting to preserve what little dignity George still had left as the barmaid landed another wounding blow to his ego and resigned to a game of darts with Buck Compton and Joe Toye.

“The winner gets two packs of smokes?” Joe asked, twirling the dart delicately between his fingers, a smirk on his face.

“You’re on,” Babe replied, dragging Eugene with him who followed reluctantly, downing the rest of his beer before taking the darts from his friend and lining himself up with the board. “Go on Gene, show 'em what ya got.” Babe cheered, clapping his hands enthusiastically and causing a red tint to spread across Eugene’s cheeks. He threw the first two darts with ease, not letting the noise of the bar or the jeering from his comrades distract him. Before he threw the third dart, the door swung open letting in the cool evening breeze and sending a shiver down Eugene’s spine, a pleasant relief from the sticky sweat beneath his class A uniform. His dark eyes moved to the door where they met those of a certain female medic who was smiling jovially and waving at a group of his fellow Easy Company men. Eugene gulped, averting his eyes back to the darts board when he felt a hand appear on his shoulder. “Do I notice a blush on those cheeks, Eugene?” Buck whispered into his ear, causing Gene to duck away from him.

“No…got nothin’ to blush about…just warm in here,” Eugene tugged at the collar of his uniform, emphasising how warm he was.

“Sure thing, Doc,” Buck smirked at him as Eugene took his last turn before handing the darts off to Joe.

“Buck’s right you know,” Babe chimed in, following Eugene as he retreated to the bar. “You’ve just gotta talk to her, she’s a nice gal and if the way she’s been looking over here all night I reckon she feels the same way.”

Eugene leant forward, coughing frantically on the sip of beer he’d just taken.

“Christ Gene, don’t die on me,” Babe laughed, slapping the medics back playfully. Eugene gave Babe a stern glare causing the young paratrooper to put his hands up in mock surrender. “Just think about it.”

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As the evening drew on, Eugene found his senses dwindling from the alcohol he’d consumed. He’d somehow been drawn into a drinking game with Chuck and Floyd and could feel his brain begin to falter as he fumbled his way through the bar to a seat in the corner. Eugene's mind was swaying aimlessly when a familiar figure sat down beside him, equally wobbly from their alcohol intoxication.

“Hey Genie,” she blushed, running her hand through his dark locks causing him to freeze. “How’re you doing?” She mumbled, slumping down beside him.

“I… ’m okay… good…you?” Eugene gulped, glancing at Y/n as she grinned.

“I’m good but I’m even better now I’m here with you,” she grabbed ahold of his hands. “Do you want to get some air, it’s a little stuffy in here.” She bit her lip and batted her lashes. Eugene gulped again.

“Yeah, course…I’d…love to.”

Y/n grabbed hold of his hand, leading him between the crowds of paratroopers to the door, a few whistles and shouts of ‘go get her Gene’ followed them.

The cool air brushed Eugene’s face, bringing some relief from the stifling heat of the bar. Taking a deep breath and watching as the air left his lungs in a small puff into the night, he began to feel some relief.

“Eugene, I need to tell you something. I’ve wanted to tell you for a while and now that we’re going back into combat I need to tell you before it’s too late and I don’t get the chance,” Y/n rambled, reeling off the sentences in one breath without turning to face him. Eugene moved slowly, fearful of frightening the panicked woman who stood before him. They were facing each other but Y/n wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Y/n?” He squeezed her hands lightly causing her to look up, his eyes pleading with her.

“You don’t feel the same do you?” She asked, her bottom lip began to quiver and her eyes watery. The image broke Eugene’s heart and he quickly stepped forward pulling the young woman into his chest. Her shoulders shook a little and he rushed to comfort her. “Shhh mon amour, please don’tcha think that,” Eugene begged, pressing his lips firmly to her hairline in a desperate attempt to bring her some comfort.

“I have loved ya since I laid eyes on you, ain’t ya the most beautiful, strong and brave woman I ever seen,” this time it was Eugene’s turn to ramble. “I was just too afraid in case ya didn’t feel the same.”

Y/n looked up a little shell shocked from his confession. She’d never heard the Cajun man speak so plainly or so much that she wasn’t sure how to reply, instead she grabbed hold of his collar, pushing her lips to his. Eugene let out a small yelp of protest before he too cercumed to the kiss, winding his arms around her waist and holding her firmly against him.

When they pulled apart Y/n was smiling widely, “Do you maybe want to walk me to my billet?” She bit her lip, watching as the cogs of Eugene’s mind turned frantically.

“Y…yes,” he finally stuttered, taking hold of her arm and they began the short journey to the house where Y/n was staying.

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“We shouldn't be doin’ this,” Eugene groaned as she began placing hot, open-mouth kisses along his jugular, nipping at the sensitive flesh. “Y/n.” His hands gripped ahold of her hips, stopping any movement and causing Y/n to look up, her eyebrows furrowed as she watched him worriedly. Had she overstepped the line? Did he not want her? It had been pretty clear how he was feeling when he’d carried her up the stairs, stripping her of her clothes as they went. Y/n swiftly climbed off his lap, stepping away from him and straightening the nonexistent creases in her uniform shirt. “I'm sorry… Gene, I'm so sorry… I didn’t,” she began digressing, unable to meet his eyes as her lips ran wild, words tumbling from them at an embarrassingly rapid rate.

Eugene stood quickly, stepping over towards her and grasping hold of her hands, bringing them up to his lips and silencing her ramblings.

“It ain’t that at all, ma chérie, of course, I want ya. I've wanted ya for so long but I needa make sure ya want this too. I need to know how far ya wanna go with this because honestly,” he paused, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck awkwardly. “I don’t think I'll be able to stop myself once we’ve started. God, I'm weak.” Eugene slumped back down on the bed, running his hand over his face with a low groan, “It’s just that I’ve never felt this way before and I know it's wrong and we shouldn’t but I…” Gene was silenced by Y/n’s lips pressing firmly to his, her hand winding around his neck and into his hair as his hands came to rest upon her hips.

“I want this, Gene,” she breathed, her breath fanning over the sensitive skin of his neck. “I want you.”

It was as if a switch flicked in Eugene’s mind because the next thing Y/n knew she was pinned beneath him, his strong arms resting on either side of her head, his mouth sucking deep bruises on her abdomen and his hands trailing down her sides, stroking her hips lovingly.

“Gene,” she gasped as he grazed his teeth along the skin of her lower abdomen. “God, yes Gene. Yes!” Eugene’s hands worked quickly, slipping her underwear down her legs and discarding them across the room, placing small kisses on her thighs.

Eugene couldn’t believe his luck when he looked up at Y/n, the woman he’d been in love with since Toccoa was here, beneath him, letting him make love to her. The smell of her hair, the soft moans that left her perfect mouth, and her salty, sweaty skin beneath his lips drove him wild. His lips worked quickly, lapping and kissing between her thighs until she was a moaning mess, hands fisted into the bedsheets, back arching off the bed.

“Eugene, please,” Y/n all but cried, fisting her hands into his dark locks, tugging him upwards to kiss him. Eugene’s lips curled up into a smirk, his dark eyes shining. “Please Gene, I need you.” She begged, pulling him flush against her body and fiddling at the buckle of his trousers desperately.

“Someone’s needy, ain’t ya Darlin’,” Gene asked, smoothing down the loose hairs from around her face. Y/n managed to slip her hand down into his underwear, fingers grazing against his hard cock, pulling it free from his trousers. Eugene let out a shaky breath, his hands stabilising himself against the headboard.

“God preserve me,” he muttered through gritted teeth as Y/n ran her thumb over his red tip. Y/n smiled up at him, running her other hand softly over his cheek.

“I love you, Eugene.”

“I love to too, Ma Chérie.” He sealed his lips to hers, stealing the air from her lungs. Gene’s hands shook with anticipation as he dragged the head of his cock up and down your sex agonisingly slow. Eugene let out a choked sound as he sunk into her, both of them reeling at the feeling of fullness. Y/n’s hands gripping tightly to his shoulders, leaving deep red marks on his pale flesh.

“You’re so tight,” he grunted, pulling back slightly before rocking himself forward. Y/n groaned, squeezing her pelvic muscles as Eugene bit back a pained whimper escaping from his plump lips.

Y/n chuckled slightly and did it again, his grip tightening on her hips and he sent her a warning glare. Eugene’s thrust became more desperate, needier. His hands moved to pin hers above her head, chests impossibly close.

The room was quickly filled with soft moans and needy whines as he brought her to the edge. Y/n’s eyes were closed, too consumed by the pleasure building in her stomach, the knot tightening deep in her abdomen.

“Look at me ma Chérie, I want to see ya. I need ya to look at me.” Eugene pleaded, his voice strained as he too fought his orgasm. As Y/n opened her eyes the band snapped and she was sent spiraling into her ecstasy, hips bucking upwards uncontrollably. Eugene soon followed, cumming with a loud cry as he buried his head into her neck, loud breaths muffled by her flesh.

The couple lay there for a few minutes, both too exhausted to move or speak, too wrapped up in their moment of satisfaction.

“Eugene,” Y/n spoke slowly, carding her fingers through his locks. Eugene let out a small hum in response, tilting his head to look at her. “Thank you.”

“What for, Darlin’?” He asked, propping himself up above her.

“For this. For making me feel this way… for loving me,” she admitted sheepishly. Eugene's normally shy features burst with love, his smile growing wider than ever. “It weren’t difficult ma Chérie. It was real easy to love you and I found it impossible to stop myself from loving ya.” He admitted, a red hue growing across his cheeks causing Y/n to smile too.

“Well, I’m very glad you didn’t stop yourself. I love you.” She caressed his cheek, leaning their foreheads together lovingly. “As do I, ma Chérie.”

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Taglist: @a-reader-and-a-writer @maggiescarborough @mayhem24-7forever @ssprayberrythings @xoxabs88xox @luckyladycreator2 @elenavampire21 @callmemana @t-nd-rfoot @desert-fern @cherrycola27 @jstarr86 @starkleila @alexxavicry @roostette @floralfloyd @soulmates8 @mayhemmanaged @shanimallina87 @shadowsintheknight @bcon24 @yeahcurrahhe-e @iceman-kazansky @softly-writes

#eugene roe #doc roe #band of brothers imagine #band of brothers #medic #Eugene roe x reader #101stairbornedivision #101st airborne division #airborne #ww2 #hbo war #hbo war imagine

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ynbabe · 1 year

Text

Lockwood & Co. Incorrect quotes, pt.6

Before Lucy

Y/n: It’s quick, it’s easy, and it’s free: pouring river water in your socks! Anthony: Why would I do that? Y/n: It’s quick, it’s easy, and it’s free!

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

*The Squad is eating dinner* George: Can you pass the salt? Anthony: *throws Y/n across the table*

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

George, after Anthony did something stupid: You should have realised, Anthony, if Y/n didn't kill you, I would have.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Y/n: When will Ted himself...finally show up to the talk? Anthony: The final boss. George: You guys know TEDtalks stands for technology, entertainment, and design talks, right? Y/n: I will not let Ted hide behind these lies any longer!

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Anthony, in love: How do you do that? Y/n, after having done something dumb: I'm fearless. George, having introduced the idiots and now regretting it: When we were kids, I saw you run from bees. You flailed around and tripped over a chair. It was both hysterical and sad. Y/n: I'm mostly fearless.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Y/n: My aesthetic is "would be sentenced to the chair by DEPRAC."

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Y/n: Who hurt you? Anthony, always on the edge of a mental breakdown: *snorting* What, do you want a list? Y/n, pulling out ALOT of iron/silver weapons: ...Yes, actually.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Anthony: Why would you think any of this was a good idea?! Y/n: Probably because I’m a dangerous sociopath with a long line of violence. Anthony: Oh... George, from across the room: *from across the room* I don’t understand how you keep forgetting that.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Y/n: It’s not gonna work, I’m not a snitch. George: Fine, let's try something else. Tag a friend you recently committed a crime with. Y/n: Lmao, @Anthony.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Anthony: I hate you. Y/n: Well, according to this picture I drew of us holding hands, that is untrue.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Anthony, after a fight with Y/n: The greatest trick the devil ever pulled was changing her name to Y/n.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Y/n, grave-robbing: I’m going to hell. Anthony, there for a case: Probably. Y/n: I'll pick you up? Anthony: *nodding* Carpool.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Anthony, pissed : Y/n! I thought you were dead! Y/n, back after running away for a year: No, just in deep cover. Anthony, about to lose his mind: ...But it was an open casket. Y/n, little scared now: It was very deep.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Y/n: Hold on, I can explain! Anthony: Really? Can you now? Y/n: I can if you give me a minute to think of a convincing lie.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Since Lucy

George, trying to joke: Hey, Joe said he's coming over this afternoon. Y/n, expecting a ‘delivery’: Cool. George: Do you know who Joe is? Y/n: JOE MAMA! Anthony, not even looking up from his phone: Damn, that backfired.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Y/n, just back home: Do you cook? Lucy: I made a cake once. Anthony: Yeah, it was good. Lucy: Really? Anthony: Don’t make me lie twice, Luce.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Y/n, back from sneaking around for state secrets: Anthony! For the love of god, please turn down that music. I have a hangover. Anthony, pissed at her: *blasting the mii theme at full volume* That sounds like a you problem, not a mii problem.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Anthony: For most of human history, vehicles had automatic collision avoidance and could even take you home if you were asleep or drunk. But then we got rid of the horse. George: You complete moron. You stupid fucking idiot. "Cars would be better if they could bite and shit" – that was you just now, dumbass. George: "Wouldn't it be cool if cars could piss? Wouldn't it be cool if cars could fuck?" Fuck off. Y/n: It would be cool if cars could fuck. Lucy: We... We still have horses.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Anthony, to Y/n, since they’re sharing a room,: I'm leaving for the weekend, so I hid 100 dollars in your side of the room for food. Clean your side and you will find it.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Lucy: It’s funny how well you and George get along. Didn’t they hate you at first? Y/n: George hates everybody at first. It’s their way of reaching out to people.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Y/n: I just found out from Lucy today that when I ‘died’ and George threw my weapons in the grave, Anthony said, “You should aim one at the coffin to be sure.”

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Y/n: I give up. I am so tired. George: Get the emergency supply! Lucy: *carries Anthony and throws him in front of Y/n* Anthony: *smiles* Y/n: AND I AM BACK BABY, LET’S GOOO

#anthony lockwood #anthony lockwood x reader #lucy carlyle #George Karim #lockwood & co #x reader #lockwood x reader

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acesw · 4 months

Text

new year, new angst

happy new years yall, if there is information that i never dropped here its the fact that im highly biased towards vertin and sonetto's relationship and i feel like i should drop a little scenario i wrote for the sake of it. its how i celebrate as an angst dweller :)

questions and questions. - A.D.

I didn't understand back then. I did not see you much after the incident, after Ms. Z had brought you back from the outside, drenched in rain. I would have gone to you if it were not for the guards that swarmed you both. You were the only one that came back. Why? Where did the others go? Did something happen to them? To you? What did you see in the outside?

I got the answer to my first few questions the following morning. When you came back, you did not talk for days; Did the things you would normally avoid. It was unlike of you, and I could not tell at that time if I felt relief or remorse. You didn't come up to me until the last night we saw each other up close.

On the night you left, you asked me to fix your hair, which was also an odd request. You normally didn't like doing this, but didn't exactly hate it either. (Perhaps I noticed too late that the reason you didn't hate it was because I was the one doing them.) I helped tie it into that rough and messy half-bun you only began to warm up to; I know you did, as it was the only way you could ever really stay still. You would talk about the frogs and the bugs you found near George the Oak, but you didn't. Not that night. Not in a time of wounds forced to be left unrefined by the white hands. When I made sure that the half-bun looked like the flowers you drew on your papers, you got off my bed and left with most of your things.

Why did you have to leave the dorm in such haste? Even left the toffees and pebbles on your night desk. I kept it for you when I thought you'd come back sooner. The frog was here, too. It croaked and whistled, jumping around the dorm and scaring the other girls. Then the janitor took it out the day after you left. And eventually I hid away the pebbles, ate the toffees. I accepted that I wouldn't feel the warmth of rough hands, showing me pieces of the outside for a long time to come.

There were no answers to the rest of my questions until graduation, and I saw you for the first time in a while. Your hair is fully tied to a side bun, the tiny freckles had faded, your hands rested on the hat on your lap. You wore an intricate suit that even I would have never guessed fitted you. You stood out amongst the black and white crowd as an indigo pawn. You looked far older, mature for our age; As if you had graduated years before. But I still saw the softness in your face, the baby face still made you look like the reckless child you were long ago. You looked…elegant and mysterious. Were you the same deskmate I grew up with all these years?

You graduated with us. A "special student'" like the principal called you once. They announced that you had become the first "Timekeeper" in the Foundation, a title of reverence and importance. You tipped your hat forward and placed your closed fist on your chest, finally speaking. "May the peace be with us." Those were the first words I heard in your low, gentle, and firm voice.

After that, you disappeared. Worked diligently, but left no trace around the Foundation until you came back to report weekly. We never spoke to each other until that fateful week in London, and the time that passed after that. Back then I did not understand what that title meant, but I do now. It sparked new questions full of wonder. And that wonder came with its concerns.

What did you really see outside? In the "Storm"? How much more did you lose? What will it take to break from the weight of the world on your shoulders? When will you realize it's okay to be vulnerable again?

More and more questions arise the more you shroud yourself into melancholic mystery. Perhaps, as time passes, all these will be answered and land into place.

But for now, I just want to spend more time with you, and rebuild what we lost. Make up for what could've been and discover new things together again.

#reverse 1999 #vertin #sonetto #vernetto #i wrote this roughly a month prior to today #angst #sonetto just wondering #pondering and reminsicing

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neewtmas · 2 months

Text

ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴀᴜɴᴛɪɴɢ ᴏꜰ ᴀʙʙᴇʏ ʜᴏᴜꜱᴇ // ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴠɪɪ

pairing: george karim x fem!reader

wordcount: 3.6k

summary: a case that takes longer than expected, an unrequited crush, and the hardest decision you ever had to make

a/n: the angst has finally started hehe

masterlist series masterlist

taglist: @maraschinomerry @sstrawberriel @poisonquinzell @holymotherfxrkingshirtballs @thl3c @oblivious-idiot @bobbys-not-that-small @myownpainintheass @taygrls @marinalor @y0urm0m12 @fearlessmoony @quack-quack-snacks @ahead-fullofdreams @aphroqite ((if you wanna be added or removed, just tell me)

For a moment, it felt like the world itself had stopped spinning. You were frozen in place, fingers hovering over the bag's zipper unmoving.

Your heart was racing almost as quickly as your thoughts as you stared down at your now trembling hands, trying to process what you had just heard.

"W- what?"

George didn't say anything, and with your heart beating out of your chest you willed your muscles to move, to turn around, expecting him to be looking at you.

But he wasn't looking at you. Instead, he had his eyes and the light of his flashlight fixed on a piece of paper.

"I love you more than you could ever know", he repeated, slowly lowering the paper and raising his head to look at you. His gaze was so intense it sent shivers down your spine.

"Love letters, (name)."

He came around from behind the desk with quick steps, pointing excitedly at the paper that had neat handwriting on one side.

"Do you know what means?"

You just stared up at him, unable to get a single word out or even just shake your head.

But he ignored you anyway.

"Lockwood! You gotta see this!"

As soon as he was out of the room, you collapsed on the floor. The hilt of your rapier, that was fastened to your belt, was pressing painfully into your stomach, but you ignored it. Over the ringing in your ears, you could hear George and Lockwood talking animatedly in the other room, but you ignored it.

Instead, you forced yourself to take one deep, slow breath after the other. Your chest felt so tight it might as well was the only thing that kept your heart from splitting into a million tiny pieces. Your vision was blurry, and you blinked away the tears frantically, though one still managed to escape and made its way down your cheek to your trembling lips.

Pull yourself together.

You bit the inside of your cheek so hard it almost drew blood and the searing pain was enough to snap you out of it.

Just as you had managed to get up, your knees feeling weak for all the wrong reasons, Lucy came in. Her brows furrowed immediately upon seeing you and she rushed over, her hand on your elbow as if she wanted to steady you.

"Are you okay, (name)? You look a little pale", she asked gently.

At that moment, you wanted nothing more than to just collapse in her arms and cry, but instead, you straightened your back and took a deep breath. You just nodded because you didn't trust your voice yet and together, you made your way over to the other room.

Lockwood and George stood at the desk, leaning over the letter, Lockwood holding the flashlight while George was running his finger over the page, reading intently.

You went to stand next to Lockwood.

"You good, (name)?", he asked after he glanced at you and you wondered just how much of the pain you were feeling was showing on your face.

"There is some stuff in here that I'm not going to repeat", George said finally and took a step back from the desk. "But it seems like the butler… well, let's say he isn't just a butler to her."

Lockwood crossed his arms.

"I think I know who the ghost is we're dealing with here."

Lucy looked surprised. "How did you get that from this letter?"

"Remember when I told you Lord Blackwood himself called me a few days ago?", he began. "Well, he didn't. I've been trying to figure out what it was that bothered me so much about the few words the butler said to us earlier, and why he hadn't been talking to us at all before that."

Lockwood ran his fingers through his hair, making it stand up in all different directions. Hedgehog, was all you could think of for a second.

In the dim glow of the flashlights, the darkness around his eyes seemed deeper than usual.

"You mean…" Lucy trailed off.

"He was the one who called me, yes."

"They killed him", George said slowly. He had picked the letter up again, holding it close to his face.

"(name), go check if you can find more letters", Lockwood said. "Ideally we find one where they admit to it. That will make dealing with DEPRAC much less of a hassle later."

You didn't find it in yourself to protest, so you made your way back to the other desk. The drawer was still pulled open, and you kneeled down next to it for better access. There was a neat stack of letters, it seemed like George had just picked up the one at the top. You put your flashlight aside to get them all out of the drawer, when the light flickered, then went out.

You cursed under your breath and felt around for the flashlight on the plush carpet when suddenly a loud thud sounded behind you. You startled, knocking your knee hard against the edge of the drawer which had a small yelp of pain slip past your lips.

"Is everything alright, (name)?" That was Lucy.

Just at that moment, your fingers found the cool metal of the flashlight and closed around it to pick it up. You aimed the light behind you, where a thick book was lying on the floor. It looked completely unassuming, but you knew better.

"Just a book that fell down", you called back, trying to keep your voice sounding calm and pleasant. "I'm coming back now."

You grabbed a handful of letters and stood up slowly, trying to level your breathing.

Do not panic.

You didn't dare turn your back to the bookcase so you were walking backwards towards the door. You were in the middle of the room, only a few steps away from - relative - safety, when you noticed a second book inching forward gradually as if an invisible hand was pulling it off the shelf.

You watched in horror as it tipped over the edge and fell, almost in slow motion. But before it could hit the floor, you whipped around and sprinted to the door.

There was no way for you to slow down as it slammed shut with a deafening bang, so you collided full force with the wood.

You felt dizzy for a few moments as you stumbled back disoriented.

On the other side of the door was a rush of voices and footsteps.

"(name)! (name), are you okay?!" George was violently shaking the door handle, it even sounded like he was throwing himself against the door, but it wouldn't budge.

"(name), get into the iron circle immediately!" Lockwood's voice was stern, but you could hear the worry behind his words.

You bent down to pick up the flashlight you had dropped, and your vision went black for a second.

It was when you turned around that you realised you never got as far as even getting the chains out of the bag.

"I'll have to make one first", you called over your shoulder.

George was now banging against the door. "Why is there no circle? You were supposed to make one!"

You felt tears prickling in your eyes at his accusing tone. With blurry vision you ripped the zipper of the bag open and pulled the chains out, trying to ignore how several other books fell out of the shelves behind you.

"(name), answer me! Are you in the circle?!" George was shouting now, and you were crying. The chains slid through your hands, banging on the floorboards, and you dropped to your knees to try and form a circle with them.

"(name)!"

"What?!" you yelled back, tears flowing freely as you stood up inside the iron circle, drawing your rapier with a shaky hand. This was all too much.

"Are you in the circle?!"

You laughed bitterly. His concern just made you angry now.

"I wouldn't have to be if you had just secured the door, like you were supposed to do!"

"Stop arguing, it's just gonna feed it of your anger!" This was Lucy.

You closed your eyes, trying to calm the storm that was raging inside you. You felt like you were submerged under water, your emotions like big waves and strong currents throwing you around like a puppet. If you wanted to get out of here alive, you need to get a grip on yourself.

"How am I supposed to stay calm when she is in there alone!?" George was pounding against the door so hard you thought it might fly off its hinges at any moment.

"George, stop it! You're just hurting yourself!" Lucy sounded exasperated and then lowered her voice to say something to him that you couldn't make out through the door.

Your head was pounding, the static noise that until now had just been like a mildly annoying fly in the corner of the room had increased in volume. When you went to push a strand of hair off your face, you noticed your fingertips came back red. Shit. You felt over your forehead and temple and winced at the sharp pain as your fingers brushed over a cut above your eyebrow. Your run-in with the door hadn't left you entirely unscathed, it seemed.

"(name), do you have the letters with you? Maybe you'll find something about what might be the source in there." You could tell that Lucy tried her best to stay calm, and you had never been more thankful to have her.

You sat back down, your rapier next to you, and with trembling hands, you ripped open the first letter. Luckily the handwriting was legible even in the dim light, but in your haste to read you stumbled over the words, sometimes skipping whole sentences and paragraphs. You briefly wondered why the letters were here, in this office. It couldn't be Blackwood's office then.

The pile of unread letters in front of you was shrinking as you were making your way through them, even though the freezing cold air had made your fingers so stiff you could barely move them anymore.

So far, you had found nothing. It was just pages over pages full of love confessions that frankly, made you sick to your stomach. There was nothing you wanted to think less about at that moment.

Staying inside the small iron circle you had made for yourself had kept you safe so far, though it was hard to block out the sounds of falling books, the rattling of pens in drawers and the sinister creaking of the heavy desk as if it might lift off the ground and smash you to death any second.

You got startled by a thick book that flew off the desk, skidding over the floor towards you and coming to a halt in front of you.

The surprised sound you made prompted a commotion on the other side of the door.

"What is it? Are you okay?"

You didn't reply. Your eyes were fixed on the book, which should have stopped before it made contact with the iron. Instead, it had made a dent in the chain circle.

The panic that you had been able to control so far was threatening to take over your body. The atmosphere in the room had shifted while you had been busy reading the letters, and you hadn't noticed the fine slivers of ghost fog that had gathered in the corners of the room.

George called out your name, banging against the door and shaking the handle once more.

"I'm fine", you said, but it came out as nothing more than a whisper.

You forced yourself to go back to reading the letters, even though every fibre in your body told you to run. You cursed yourself for the hot panic that was searing through your veins, that was making it hard to focus. What kind of pathetic agent were you that you couldn't even keep your cool in a situation like this.

The first time you read it, you almost didn't register it. It was only after a few more lines that your brain caught up and you realised that this was it.

"They strangled him", you called out, your cracking voice sounding just like Lord Blackwood's might have in his last moments.

At your words, there was a gust of wind that pulled on your clothes and whirled up the letters you had carelessly thrown aside.

"Is there more?!" Lucy yelled through the door and you flattened the letter on the ground, trying to hold it in place despite the supernatural wind growing stronger, and more books falling off the shelves and sliding over the carpet and the floorboards, some of them reaching unnervingly close to your circle of chains.

The static noise was getting unbearable loud, filling your head and making it difficult to keep your eyes open when you just wanted to squeeze them shut and curl up in a ball.

"The source needs to be in there somewhere!", Lockwood shouted. The banging on the door had stopped. The beam of light from your flashlight cut through the darkness as you shone it around the room, desperate for any sort of hint of a source. But nothing was catching your eye until you turned around.

The wallpaper was glittering under the glow of the light, tiny ice crystals blooming on the rough surface, spreading further out.

"Lucy! The picture!", you cried, and you heard someone take off running. The wind roared, and you almost lost your footing, flailing your arm around in an attempt to hold onto something, but your hand grasped at nothing. Another blast of wind, and this time it was strong enough to blow the chains apart. You screamed.

And then, just like that, silence.

You stood in the dark, breathing heavily, feeling strangely empty as the static noise was still echoing in your head.

The door burst open, and as soon as arms wrapped around you from behind, it was like all strength left your body at once and your knees buckled.

"Are you okay?", Lockwood asked breathlessly, holding you up.

You nodded feebly, and he released you as soon as you found your footing again.

He raised his flashlight and grimaced. "That cut doesn't look good."

Just then, Lucy came rushing in. She hugged you tightly, gripping your shoulders after she stepped back.

"I'm so glad you're alive!"

You smiled weakly. You felt like a truck had run you over.

"Where is George?" The question slipped past your lips before you could stop yourself. As much as you were trying to fight it, it did sting a little that he didn't seem to care enough to come check on you. Part of you had even hoped he'd be the first through that door, hoped for his arms around you instead of Lockwood's.

Lucy grimaced. "He uhm… he's not been doing so well for the past few minutes. We think it might be the after-effects of the boneglass."

George was sitting slumped against one of the bookshelves, staring off into the distance with an empty expression. You fought the urge to kneel down next to him, instead you extended your hand.

He looked up at you, and for a few moments, you just stared at each other, before he slowly raised his arm. His hand settled in yours, and you were surprised by how cold it was.

You helped him stand, and time seemed to slow down as he stood close to you, studying your face.

"You are hurt." It wasn't a question, but it did pull you out of the trance you were in and made you take a step back. His hand slipped out of yours.

"It's not that bad. What is wrong with you?" That question wasn't entirely just about the state he was in, but he couldn't have known that.

He shrugged. "Boneglass. I was just feeling … dizzy."

"Hey lovebirds, get over here", Lockwood called from the desk, where he had gathered all the letters.

Never before had a comment from Lockwood felt so much like cruel mockery, and yet you could still feel yourself blushing. But you didn't want to see George's reaction to that or to Lockwood's stupid comment, so you made it a point to not look at him and went to stand next to Lucy.

A glance at the watch on your wrist told you that it was just after 2 am.

"I think I know what happened here", Lockwood said and pointed out a few paragraphs on the pages spread out in front of him.

"Blackwood's daughter has some sort of a secret affair with the butler and they needed Blackwood out of the way. What do you do with an unpleasant parent?" He looked around, but no one was saying anything.

His finger came down on one of the letters. "That's right, you kill them. Strangled in this case, it seems like. For whatever reason, they felt the need to write that down in excruciating detail."

"But why would they leave these letters here?" asked Lucy.

Lockwood shrugged. "I have no idea. I had already guessed that they moved something out of the way last night and that's why they held us off until tonight, but I have no idea what and why it wasn't these letters." He picked up one of the pages. "They strangled him, so there is no murder weapon. Would explain why the painting was the source."

You realised that in your panic to read all the letters to find a way out of the room you hadn't really taken anything in.

"And why are we here?"

Lockwood was picking up one letter after the other, scanning it quickly. At that moment, he was reminding you of George.

"They want to sell the manor and leave with the money. Can't sell a haunted house, so we're here to remedy that. Obviously, they can't tell us they are responsible for the haunting, so the butler called me, pretending to be Lord Blackwood and then they just tell us he's sick so we don't ask any questions."

He grinned at you brightly. "But we're Lockwood and Co, so of course we're asking questions. I say we gather our stuff, sneak outside, call DEPRAC, and give them these for a little light reading." He gathered up the letters and stuffed them into the inside pocket of his coat.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

The rest of the night went by in a blur. After you stepped outside and took a few deep breaths of the crisp cold night air, you realised just how exhausted you were. Everything that had happened tonight had left you with aching limbs, racing thoughts and a deep sadness. You managed to push it all down while you were sitting and waiting for DEPRAC, while they were dealing with Genevieve and her murderous lover, while a medic patched up the cut over your eyebrow, even while you sat in one of the DEPRAC vans that took you and your equipment back to London.

It was only after they had dropped you off at 35 Portland Row, after you had turned down Lockwood's suggestion for all of you to drink a cup of tea before going to sleep, after you had changed into your pyjamas and had crawled under your covers, clutching them to your chest in the darkness of your room. Only after that the tears came, silently running down your cheeks as you replayed the scene over and over in your mind.

Having George say these words to you must have been the cruellest joke the universe ever played on you. It was a ten-second glimpse into the life you wished for yourself, a beautiful fantasy that had been shattered immediately after by none other than George himself. And he probably hadn't even noticed. He probably didn't think twice about it.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

You spent the entire next day in your bed. You didn't even open your blinds, instead keeping the room dark and slipping in and out of sleep every few hours. You ignored Lucy and Lockwood knocking on your door, and when George knocked, you just pulled your blanket over your head and waited until you heard his footsteps on his way back down the stairs. You did get up to get the cup of tea and the pile of toasts he had left in front of your door though.

By the time you heard George and Lucy go to their rooms in the evening, you had made your decision. You wanted to cry just thinking about it - but deep down you knew it was the right decision for you. You couldn't keep going like this.

And so you wrapped yourself in your dressing gown and snuck down the stairs to the library, where Lockwood sat on the couch reading yesterday's paper.

You knocked tenderly on the half-open door to alert him of your presence and closed it behind you after you entered.

Lockwood glanced at you and smiled, but it was quickly replaced by a concerned frown as he noticed your expression. He folded the paper and set it aside, then motioned you to sit on the couch.

"Everything alright?", he asked gently.

You felt a lump in your throat as you sat down, clasping your hands in your lap and digging your nails into your palms, hoping to get through this without bursting into tears.

"I want to quit."

thank you for reading <3

#george karim x reader #george karim #lockwood and co x reader #lockwood & co x reader #george karim x you #lockwood and co x you #lockwood & co x you #lockwood and co #lockwood & co

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whencyclopedia · 3 days

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Sioux Warrior Rain-in-the-Face (Eastman's Biography)

Rain-in-the-Face (Ite Omagazu, l. c. 1835-1905) was a Lakota Sioux warrior and war chief during Red Cloud's War (1866-1868) and at the Battle of the Little Bighorn (1876), after which he became famous as the man who killed Lt. Col. George Armstrong Custer, his brother Capt. Thomas Custer, or both of them.

How Rain-in-the-Face first became identified as Custer's killer is unclear, but the claim was popularized by the poem The Revenge of Rain-in-the-Face by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow – the bestselling American poet of his age – published in Keramos and Other Poems (1878). Although modern-day writers cite the poem as claiming Rain-in-the-Face killed Thomas Custer, it seems clear "White Chief with yellow hair" (line 9 of the poem) alludes to George Custer, and it is George's heart, not Thomas's, that Rain-in-the-Face rides off with at the end of the piece.

Rain-in-the-Face is best known today from two accounts of his life and the part he played at the Battle of the Little Bighorn – the 1894 report given by American journalist W. Kent Thomas based on an "interview" given at Coney Island, and the 1905 biography by the Sioux author and physician Charles A. Eastman (also known as Ohiyesa, l. 1858-1939) – which contradict each other.

In the Thomas interview, Rain-in-the-Face claims he killed Thomas Custer, cut out his heart, and spat part of it in his face at Little Bighorn as revenge for being unjustly arrested by Capt. Custer in 1874. In Eastman's account, he denies killing either of the brothers and, further, describes the Battle of Little Bighorn as so chaotic no one could have known who they had killed for certain.

As the W. Kent Thomas interview was given after the journalist got Rain-in-the-Face drunk, for the express purpose of getting the "real story" on Custer's death, while Eastman's account is a respectful transcript of the old warrior's life story, the latter is usually understood as more historically accurate.

Text

The following is taken from Eastman's Indian Heroes and Great Chieftains (1916), the 1939 edition, republished in 2016. It has been edited in the interests of space, but the full account will be found below in the External Links section.

The noted Sioux warrior, Rain-in-the-Face, whose name once carried terror to every part of the frontier, died at his home on the Standing Rock reserve in North Dakota on September 14, 1905. About two months before his death, I went to see him for the last time, where he lay upon the bed of sickness from which he never rose again, and drew from him his life-history.

It had been my experience that you cannot induce an Indian to tell a story, or even his own name, by asking him directly.

"Friend," I said, "even if a man is on a hot trail, he stops for a smoke! In the good old days, before the charge there was a smoke. At home, by the fireside, when the old men were asked to tell their brave deeds, again the pipe was passed. So come, let us smoke now to the memory of the old days!"

He took of my tobacco and filled his long pipe, and we smoked. Then I told an old mirthful story to get him in the humor of relating his own history.

The old man lay upon an iron bedstead, covered by a red blanket, in a corner of the little log cabin. He was all alone that day; only an old dog lay silent and watchful at his master's feet.

Finally, he looked up and said with a pleasant smile:

"True, friend; it is the old custom to retrace one's trail before leaving it forever! I know that I am at the door of the spirit home.

"I was born near the forks of the Cheyenne River, about seventy years ago…When I was a boy, I loved to fight," he continued. "In all our boyish games I had the name of being hard to handle, and I took much pride in the fact.

"I was about ten years old when we encountered a band of Cheyenne. They were on friendly terms with us, but we boys always indulged in sham fights on such occasions, and this time I got in an honest fight with a Cheyenne boy older than I. I got the best of the boy, but he hit me hard in the face several times, and my face was all spattered with blood and streaked where the paint had been washed away. The Sioux boys whooped and yelled:

"‘His enemy is down, and his face is spattered as if with rain! Rain-in-the-Face! His name shall be Rain-in-the-Face!'

"Afterwards, when I was a young man, we went on a warpath against the Gros Ventres. We stole some of their horses but were overtaken and had to abandon the horses and fight for our lives. I had wished my face to represent the sun when partly covered with darkness, so I painted it half black, half red. We fought all day in the rain, and my face was partly washed and streaked with red and black: so again, I was christened Rain-in-the-Face. We considered it an honorable name.

"I had been on many warpaths, but was not especially successful until about the time the Sioux began to fight with the white man…

"Some , Crow King, and others.

"This was the plan decided upon after many councils. The main war party lay in ambush, and a few of the bravest young men were appointed to attack the woodchoppers who were cutting logs to complete the building of the fort. We were told not to kill these men, but to chase them into the fort and retreat slowly, defying the white men; and if the soldiers should follow, we were to lead them into the ambush. They took our bait exactly as we had hoped! It was a matter of a very few minutes, for every soldier lay dead in a shorter time than it takes to annihilate a small herd of buffalo.

"This attack was hastened because most of the Sioux on the Missouri River and eastward had begun to talk of suing for peace. But even this did not stop the peace movement. The very next year a treaty was signed at Fort Rice, Dakota Territory, by nearly all the Sioux chiefs, in which it was agreed on the part of the Great Father in Washington that all the country north of the Republican River in Nebraska, including the Black Hills and the Big Horn Mountains, was to be always Sioux country, and no white man should intrude upon it without our permission. Even with this agreement Sitting Bull and Crazy Horse were not satisfied, and they would not sign…

"It was when the white men found the yellow metal in our country, and came in great numbers, driving away our game, that we took up arms against them for the last time. I must say here that the chiefs who were loudest for war were among the first to submit and accept reservation life. Spotted Tail was a great warrior, yet he was one of the first to yield, because he was promised by the Chief Soldiers that they would make him chief of all the Sioux. Ugh! He would have stayed with Sitting Bull to the last had it not been for his ambition.

"About this time, we young warriors began to watch the trails of the white men into the Black Hills, and when we saw a wagon coming, we would hide at the crossing and kill them all without much trouble. We did this to discourage the whites from coming into our country without our permission…

"There were a few Indians who were liars, and never on the warpath, playing ‘good Indian' with the Indian agents and the war chiefs at the forts. Some of this faithless set betrayed me and told more than I ever did. I was seized and taken to the fort near Bismarck, North Dakota of the Long-Haired War Chief and imprisoned there. These same lying Indians, who were selling their services as scouts to the white man, told me that I was to be shot to death, or else hanged upon a tree. I answered that I was not afraid to die.

"However, there was an old soldier who used to bring my food and stand guard over me—he was a white man, it is true, but he had an Indian heart! He came to me one day and unfastened the iron chain and ball with which they had locked my leg, saying by signs and what little Sioux he could muster:

"‘Go, friend! Take the chain and ball with you. I shall shoot, but the voice of the gun will lie.'

"When he had made me understand, you may guess that I ran my best! I was almost over the bank when he fired his piece at me several times, but I had already gained cover and was safe. I have never told this before, and would not, lest it should do him an injury, but he was an old man then, and I am sure he must be dead long since. That old soldier taught me that some of the white people have hearts," he added, quite seriously.

"I went back to Standing Rock in the night, and I had to hide for several days in the woods, where food was brought to me by my relatives…

"In the spring the hostile Sioux got together again upon the Tongue River. It was one of the greatest camps of the Sioux that I ever saw…We had decided to fight the white soldiers until no warrior should be left."

At this point Rain-in-the-Face took up his tobacco pouch and began again to fill his pipe…

"There was excitement among the people, and a great council was held. Many spoke. I was asked the condition of those Indians who had gone upon the reservation, and I told them truly that they were nothing more than prisoners. It was decided to go out and meet Three Stars at a safe distance from our camp.

"We met him on the Little Rosebud. I believe that if we had waited and allowed him to make the attack, he would have fared no better than Custer. He was too strongly fortified where he was, and I think, too, that he was saved partly by his Indian allies, for the scouts discovered us first and fought us first, thus giving him time to make his preparations. I think he was more wise than brave! After we had left that neighborhood, he might have pushed on and connected with the Long-Haired Chief. That would have saved Custer and perhaps won the day.

"When we crossed from Tongue River to the Little Big Horn, on account of the scarcity of game, we did not anticipate any more trouble. Our runners had discovered that Crook had retraced his trail to Goose Creek, and we did not suppose that the white men would care to follow us farther into the rough country.

"Suddenly the Long-Haired Chief appeared with his men! It was a surprise."

"What part of the camp were you in when the soldiers attacked the lower end?" I asked.

"I had been invited to a feast at one of the young men's lodges . There was a certain warrior who was making preparations to go against the Crows, and I had decided to go also," he said.

"While I was eating my meat, we heard the war cry! We all rushed out and saw a warrior riding at top speed from the lower camp, giving the warning as he came. Then we heard the reports of the soldiers' guns, which sounded differently from the guns fired by our people in battle.

"I ran to my teepee and seized my gun, a bow, and a quiver full of arrows. I already had my stone war club, for you know we usually carry those by way of ornament. Just as I was about to set out to meet Reno, a body of soldiers appeared nearly opposite us, at the edge of a long line of cliffs across the river.

"All of us who were mounted and ready immediately started down the stream toward the ford. There were Ogallala, Miniconjou, Cheyenne, and some Hunkpapa, and those around me seemed to be nearly all very young men.

"‘Behold, there is among us a young woman!' I shouted. ‘Let no young man hide behind her garment!' I knew that would make those young men brave.

"The woman was Tashenamani, or Moving Robe, whose brother had just been killed in the fight with Three Stars. Holding her brother's war staff over her head, and leaning forward upon her charger, she looked as pretty as a bird. Always when there is a woman in the charge, it causes the warriors to vie with one another in displaying their valor," he added.

"The foremost warriors had almost surrounded the white men, and more were continually crossing the stream. The soldiers had dismounted and were firing into the camp from the top of the cliff."

"My friend, was Sitting Bull in this fight?" I inquired.

"I did not see him there, but I learned afterward that he was among those who met Reno, and that was three or four of the white man's miles from Custer's position. Later he joined the attack upon Custer but was not among the foremost.

"When the troops were surrounded on two sides, with the river on the third, the order came to charge! There were many very young men, some of whom had only a war staff or a stone war club in hand, who plunged into the column, knocking the men over and stampeding their horses.

"The soldiers had mounted and started back, but when the onset came, they dismounted again and separated into several divisions, facing different ways. They fired as fast as they could load their guns, while we used chiefly arrows and war clubs. There seemed to be two distinct movements among the Indians. One body moved continually in a circle, while the other rode directly into and through the troops.

"Presently some of the soldiers remounted and fled along the ridge toward Reno's position; but they were followed by our warriors, like hundreds of blackbirds after a hawk. A larger body remained together at the upper end of a little ravine and fought bravely until they were cut to pieces. I had always thought that white men were cowards, but I had a great respect for them after this day.

"It is generally said that a young man with nothing but a war staff in his hand broke through the column and knocked down the leader very early in the fight. We supposed him to be the leader, because he stood up in full view, swinging his big knife .

"After the first rush was over, coups were counted as usual on the bodies of the slain. You know, four coups is entitled to the ‘first feather.'

"There was an Indian here called Appearing Elk, who died a short time ago. He was slightly wounded in the charge. He had some of the weapons of the Long-Haired Chief, and the Indians used to say jokingly after we came upon the reservation that Appearing Elk must have killed the Chief, because he had his sword! However, the scramble for plunder did not begin until all were dead. I do not think he killed Custer, and if he had, the time to claim the honor was immediately after the fight.

"Many lies have been told of me. Some say that I killed the Chief, and others that I cut out the heart of his brother , because he had caused me to be imprisoned. Why, in that fight the excitement was so great that we scarcely recognized our nearest friends! Everything was done like lightning. After the battle, we young men were chasing horses all over the prairie, while the old men and women plundered the bodies; and if any mutilating was done, it was by the old men.

"I have lived peaceably ever since we came upon the reservation. No one can say that Rain-in-the-Face has broken the rules of the Great Father. I fought for my people and my country. When we were conquered, I remained silent, as a warrior should. Rain-in-the-Face was killed when he put down his weapons before the Great Father. His spirit was gone then; only his poor body lived on, but now it is almost ready to lie down for the last time. Ho, hechetu! "

#History #Sioux #RedCloud'sWar #Rain-in-the-Face

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horseshoegirl · 11 months

Text

Damn Those Dog Tags: Part 12 - Blue Healer

📜... so... about Sadie... 🫣👀

I just want to thank you again for all the support on this story. It's so strange to believe we are halfway to the end! Thank you to each and everyone one of you who take the time to read, comment and reblog!

Also, It's my b-day tomorrow! 🥳So this one is a little longer!

❗+18, strong language, godmother reader/original female character, original child, shitty family dynamics, hospital settings, hurt child, Angst, conversations about grief, this is a sad one!

#7k Words

Part 11 | Masterlist | Part 13

Jake had been standing in his kitchen, counting down the minutes before he could pick you up for your second date, when he had the sudden urge to call Janet.

She answered on the fourth ring.

"What's wrong? You never call me."

"Well, hello to you too, Janet.

He could hardly blame his sister for the greeting. Whenever he called, it was usually only to tell her he was still alive or if he was being stationed. The last time they spoke, Janet had called to chew him out for not letting her know he had returned home.

"Who did you murder, or where are they sending you off next?"

Jake smirked into the phone. "Can't I ask my pregnant sister how she is doing?"

"Fine," she replied shortly. "Pregnant. Putting up with our shitty family."

She sighed loudly, continuing, "What's happening in your world, Little Brother? Still kicking ass up there?"

"Damn straight," he remarked. "How's the Bean?"

"Due any day now, Thank god. My bladder has shrunk to the size of a pea.

Jake shook his head fondly. "You still don't want to know?"

"Nope, absolutely not," her voice was firm. "Ma keeps coming up with baby names, and the hell-bringer thinks we are naming it after him because he brought me into this world," she made a gagging sound. "This way, they can't convince the hospital of whatever name they want."

"I wouldn't put it past them," Jake said aloud, leaning against the wall beside his fridge.

It was an unspoken rule between himself and Janet that they wouldn't refer to their father as anything other than 'the Hell-Bringer." Janet had started calling him that one day out of the blue, and it had stuck ever since.

"When is Bean going to have an aunt to go with their new uncle?" she whined. "Janet," he sighed.

"What?" she cried out. "You're my last hope. George can't even hold a relationship, and Melaine will have no interest once this thing is born."

Jake grimaced. "He and Stacy didn't make it past the three-month mark?"

There was a pause on the other end of the line. "Stacey? He was with Sarah."

"Oh," Jake replied, sensing he knew precisely what happened in that regard, Janet catching on with a disappointing sigh. "Dammit, George."

There was silence on the other end, and Jake decided it was time to admit the reason behind his call. "Actually, I might be seeing someone."

Janet drew in a sharp breath. "Seeing someone? As properly dating seeing someone? Not the bed them and ditch them the type of dating?"

"Janet."

"Oh my god, you know I joke about it, but I cannot believe someone actually decided to date and put up your annoying ass," she remarked.

"I could say the same about you and Ian. He practically had to force the ring on your finger."

"We aren't talking about my love life here, Jacob," she challenged. "Now, tell me. Who is she? Is it Elizabeth?"

Jake remained silent, his hand coming up to stroke the back of his neck. "Shit," she gasped. "You finally made your move. God help her."

"Janet."

"I can't believe you did it."

"What makes you say it's Liz?"

She scoffed. Jake could picture her standing in the farmhouse kitchen, leaning against the door frame with her arms crossed. "I'm not an idiot. I know my brother. You've never spoken about anyone the way you do about Elizabeth. And her niece."

He would be lying to himself if he didn't admit it each time Janet called. He almost always spoke about you and Sadie. And Janet would press and ask her questions. Looking back on it now, she probably knew something long before he did.

"It's early days, Janet."

"I'm happy for you, Jake," he could hear her smile through the phone. "I really am."

"Can you not.." he started to say before Janet interrupted him, calling out, " Do I want to see you killed? Absolutely not. Who do you think I am?"

Before Jake could reply, another voice on Janet's end startled him."What's this I hear about little Jakey getting himself a girlfriend?"

Jake thumped his head against the wall. "Fuck, is that George?"

"When I leave the front porch to take a phone call, it clearly means I want to be alone, George."

George's voice was muffled through his phone speaker as Jake caught his reply, "How long do you think it will be before she dumps him? I give it a week."

"Not your circus, not your monkey, asshole!" Janet called out.

"Come on, Janet. The black sheep of the family doesn't date. I might have to fly out to California and see this mystery woman with my own eyes. Or has Jakey's imaginary little friend from middle school come back?"

There was a scuffle on the other end of the line, and Jake thought he heard George yell out pain before he suddenly shouted, "Fuck Janet, let me go!"

Jake knew what she was doing to him. He had been on the receiving end of it countless times enough to know George would be bent over, Janet with a tight grip on his ear and tugging down hard. He couldn't help the grin on his face.

"You say anything about this to Ma or the hell bringer or even think about flying down to California, I will personally make sure you'll get a pitchfork up your ass," he heard her seethe at him. "You ruin this for him, pregnant or not, I will do it."

There was no way in hell Jake would ever entertain the idea of George visiting him here, let alone meet you or Sadie. It wasn't that he didn't trust you, you clearly could handle yourself, and Sadie was no different.

But George had a way of tainting everything good in his life. He had been compared to his brother for things he should have done better for most of his life.

Despite his words, Jake couldn't help but tease his brother, knowing he could hear him. "I'd listen to her, Georgie. Janet and pregnancy hormones ... not a good mix."

"I'm just teasing him, Janet."

"I dare you to say that one more time."

"You know as well as I, Ma and Dad won't be thrilled about him dating some girl they've never met."

"So shut your trap, never speak about this, and get your ass to the barn. Ian needs help with the haybales," she fumed.

There was a scuffle, and then Jake thought he heard the ranch back door close shut before Janet sighed into the phone. "Some days, I wonder if he really is our brother."

"Jan, if he tells them..."

"Forget about what's happening back home. I'll take care of it," she said, trying to calm Jake down. "When are you seeing her again?"

"Tonight. I've got something planned, but I don't know how Liz will take it." If he timed everything perfectly, as he had discussed with Maverick, the two of you should make it just before sunset.

"Don't tell me my fearsome navy pilot brother is nervous?" she teased him. When Jake didn't reply, Janet took pity on him. "It's cause you like her, you idiot. It's a good thing."

Jake let out a soft chuckle.

"Let me know how it goes, okay?"

After saying their goodbyes, Jake picked up the keys Maverick loaned him and decided he might as well arrive early and wait with you.

Little did he know it then, it was a good thing he did.

---

This small hospital waiting room had clearly never seen the likes of an entire squad from Top Gun gracing its mismatched seats. They were used to this, sitting in uncomfortable chairs, the long-standing hours of hearing no news, the apprehension of slight dread hanging over their heads.

This was different from those situations, though. Not the 'No New, is Good News' kind of thing. Some of the Squad's faces were etched in worry, others stoic as they tapped nervously on the armrests of their chairs.

Jake didn't pay them much mind, wanting to punch something or pace the room. You hadn't said a word to him when he placed Sadie into your arms, kneeling next to you, still mindful of putting pressure on her head. Or when the paramedics arrived, and you forced yourself to hand her over, when he pulled you back into his arms as they worked. Or when you climbed into the back of the ambulance.

"Please tell me you at least got one punch in," Rooster asked, head in his hands as he sat across from Jake.

Jake didn't bother looking up, hunched over in his chair, knowing Bradley was referring to the state of his face. The bruises had set in, the cut on his lip still undressed, and even the nurses at the front desk were urging him to be admitted.

"One," he admitted after a second before sighing. "But not with Sadie watching."

Bradley nodded absentmindedly. While he was pleased with the answer, deep down he wished he hadn't let Tyler go. Jake sat back in his chair, his mind pondering what you told him.

"Tyler ran her sister off the road during that storm."

Sitting next to Jake, Nat sharply turned her head at the mention of Ridley. "What?! He killed her?!"

Jake nodded. "Liz wasn't specific, but putting the pieces together, Tyler's father is running for some electoral bid."

Bob pipped up from his seat beside Nat, filling in the gaps. "So the attempt to kidnap Sadie was some PR save?"

Nobody replied to him. It was obvious his question was rhetorical. And nobody wanted to say out loud what had transpired. Knowing Sadie was somewhere in this hospital fighting for her life was enough.

Mav came and sat next to Bradley, sitting in the empty chair next to him. "I called Cyclone. He's calling in a few favours."

"Favours?" Bradley asked. Pete nodded, pocketing his phone. Penny placed a hand on his shoulder from her spot next to him. "He knows an admiral where Tyler's father is running for office."

"God. Cyclone is getting involved," Fanboy remarked from behind Pete. Coyote leaned forward, inquiring, "Why?

Maverick shook his head, not bothering to offer an explanation other than, "When I asked, he said it's Sadie."

Everyone agreed. It was Sadie. And if anyone could have won Cyclone over, Sadie would have been the one to do it. But Jake didn't join in on the conversation, too caught up in the realization even as he fought hard on that beach, he had failed the second Sadie fell.

Unknown to Jake, he was currently the focal point for Rooster's stare, watching every move he made, every facial expression as each thought and emotion crossed his face. Bradley opened his mouth, ready to ask the question that had been burning in the back of his mind since they had arrived until a voice interrupted him.

"I'm assuming you're all here for Ms. Beck?"

Everyone in the room turned to face an older nurse holding a clipboard. Penny was the first to launch herself out of her chair and step forward to ask, "Is she okay?"

The nurse looked at everyone in the room before glancing back at Penny, "Are all of you family?"

There was no hesitation in the way everyone in the room nodded. The nurse paused before announcing, "Sadie's still asleep but stable."

Everyone collectively sighed at the nurse's words. Then she added, "Elizabeth asked for Sadie's uncle to join her."

Nobody protested when Rooster started to stand. But then the nurse asked, "If I could have Mr. Seresin follow me, she's just back here."

Jake's headshot to the nurse, eyes wide. There was no way you'd want him there, not after she got hurt.

He had been too late.

"Are you sure you got the right person, mam?" he said, looking pointedly at Bradley, who had sat back down in shock and anger. She peered down at Jake from over the top rim of her glasses, a slight smirk on her face. "She said the blonde one."

Jake didn't bother looking back at the group when he stood. He could hear Rooster sputtering when he walked through the back doors and under flickering fluorescent lights. She led him through countless archways and winding halls till she stopped at the door, a police officer stationed just outside in a chair. He gave a tense nod to Jake before returning to his paperwork.

"Stay as long as you'd like," the nurse told him softly. "Your niece is one lucky girl."

He didn't hear her, too focused on your back through the crack in the door. He pushed it open, forcing himself to face you finally.

There was a sombre stillness in the room, Jake hesitating as he stood behind you. Sadie's small figure was engulfed in stark white sheets, multiple different wires snaking around her body. She was pale, and her head had been wrapped in a thick white bandage.

And you, not even turning your head as he came into the room, too focused on counting her breaths and watching the steady beep of her heart rate monitor. Jake couldn't see your face but could tell you were trying to hold in your tears.

He slowly gripped the back of a nearby chair to pull it closer to you, sitting down and placing his hand on top of yours that was squeezing Sadie's hand lightly.

"She has a concussion," you said, still not looking up. "And she lost a lot of blood."

He didn't say anything, deciding to stroke the back of your hand with his thumb.

"They say it could have been worse," you sniffed, wiping at your nose. "Had you not gotten there in time, it probably would have."

You tilted your head back, eyes closed, finally allowing yourself to take your eyes off Sadie for a moment before turning your chair towards Jake without looking up. The thread hanging from a rip in his jeans seemed more interesting than facing him.

But Jake carefully reached up to gently press lightly at the bruise on your cheek. You tilted your head into his touch, the action releasing the pent-up anxiety and emotions you had kept at bay for Sadie since you saw her in Jake's arms. He reached for your waist, pulling you close to the edge of your seat as the first sob crawled up your throat.

"He hasn't been around since Ridley found out she was pregnant. We made sure he couldn't get to Sadie," you sobbed, burying your face in the fabric of his shirt. Jake held you tightly as you cried, "Did I fail her? Did I fail them both?!"

"Don't go there, Liz. You couldn't have stopped him. This is all his doing, not yours."

You opened your eyes to a stain of dried blood near his shoulder, Jake standing on the beach in your peripheral vision coming to mind.

Sitting up sharply, you took in his face, small gasps escaping your lips as you trailed your fingers lightly over his lip, then the darkening bruises. He caught your hand, bringing your fingers to his mouth, "I've had worse."

Lowering your hand, he kissed your swollen wrist delicately. You sniffed, stroking the buzz-cut strains of hair behind his ear. "That doesn't mean you should."

With one glance back at Sadie, you urged him to stay as you stood, quickly going to the bathroom. Her nurse had tried to convince you to let them look at your face. You had vehemently refused, not for one second leaving Sadie alone if you could help it.

Despite your stand-offish attitude, she was kind enough to leave a makeshift first-aid kit, not really knowing the extent of your injuries, in some blind hope, you would take care of yourself. Damping a cloth, you picked up the plastic bag and returning to Jake.

He protested when you reached up with the cloth to dab at his lip. You shot him a look that instantly shut him up. Pressing it lightly against his skin, you urged, "If I don't do something, I will lose it, Jake. Let me take care of you."

Whether it had been bar fights or something else, Jake wasn't used to somebody else taking care of him, flitching as you tried to wipe at his lip, shushing him each time gently. He let you clean up the cut in silence, knowing his eyes were fixed on you as you worked.

And it bothered you, thinking his stare was pity or judgement. But the thing about Jake was you never felt like you had to hide around him. That you never had to put the mask up. But with everything that had happened, with Sadie lying hurt on the bed next to the two of you, with learning Ridley was murdered and Tyler was still out there, you were on the verge of caving hard.

"Thank you will never be enough, Jake."

His shoulders sagged. "Don't. Not yet," he spoke, turning his head towards Sadie. Your fingers trembled as you worked to peel back the wrapper of a Steri-Strip.

"I thought you would hate me. Me leaving you like that and Sadie..."

Biting your lip, you carefully placed the strip over his lip before flexing your fingers to take his face into your hands. "How could I hate you, Jake?" you whispered concerningly. "You put her first."

"She still got hurt, trying to stop him."

It didn't surprise you; Sadie was more courageous than anyone you had ever met.

"It's not your fault, Jake. It's mine," you stated, nodding your head. "I should have done more. I should have realized sooner it was Tyler. I should have gone to the police and fought harder. Realized that white fucking car was more than paranoia."

Jake shushed you, placing his forehead onto yours. "You couldn't have prepared for any of this, Liz. Tyler, Ridley... Sadie here and now. You couldn't have known."

You let out a sob as Jake said, "It's nobody's fault but that asshole's."

Then you heard it.

"Uncle Jake?"

The both of you shot up from your seats, coming to sit on either side of her bed as she tried to force her eyes open. You shushed her, cupping her cheek as you said, "Sadie? Sweetheart?"

And just like that, she opened her eyes.

You wanted to sob.

"Where am I?" She said to the ceiling before looking at you and closing them again. You tried to hide the tears from your voice as you told her, "You're in the hospital, Bug. You hit your head."

She wiggled on the bed, a groan escaping her lips as she weakly reached up to touch the bandage on her head. "I did?"

Sadie pinched her brow as everything came back to her. The glass breaking, her running, and then the panic she felt at seeing her uncle pinned to the sand.

She cried out in a panic, her eyes opening and shooting towards you, "Uncle Jake! Where is Uncle Jake?!"

"I'm right here, Bug."

She turned to glance at him, her mouth dropping open in shock as she saw the patches of blue and purple covering his face. Then she looked back at you, taking in the darkness of the skin around your eye, making her bottom lip quiver.

"I'm sorry," she whimpered, her body starting to shake as she began to cry. "I'm so sorry!"

"Sadie, what are you sorry for? It's not your fault."

But she shook her head, her face riddled in pain as she exclaimed, "He hurt you. The both of you. Because of me."

"No bug, please don't think that," you whined. "It's mine. I should have protected you better. It's never, never your fault. "

You felt Jake place a hand on your back. "Don't play the blame game, Liz. It's not your fault either."

Sadie's face softened as she absorbed Jake's words. She gasped, trying to control her breathing. "Then it's his fault then. The one who hurt all of us."

She said it so simply, so child-like, you were scared you couldn't own up to the answer- to an unspoken promise. Yet, you swallowed, nodding with a tense smile.

"Are we going to be okay?"

"Yes," Jake answered Sadie's question for you. "I'm going to make sure of it."

"I'll go get the nurse," you said softly, stroking her cheek one last time before getting up to walk out the door. Jake watched you leave before sliding himself forward to hold Sadie's hand. She smiled at him, squeezing his hand before weakly murmuring, "I heard you."

"What?"

"When you picked me up, I heard you."

"Sadie..."

" I don't care what you're going to say," she croaked. "I'd do it again."

"I can take care of myself, Bug. I'm the adult who needs to look out for you. You don't need to look out for me."

"This is why you have trouble making friends," she pointed out. Jake smiled softly at her before saying, "You're my friend."

"I'm your wingman. We made a promise."

"I don't think we were facing Ursula this time, Bug."

Sadie yawned, turning her head into her pillow as she faintly murmured, "This time, it was the loch ness monster."

"Really?" Jake chuckled lowly, still holding her hand. "Another Sea Monster?"

"You're the one that flies over the ocean. I'm just sticking with the theme."

---

Once Sadie had been given the all-clear, Jake asked if he could bring her anything from home. You handed him your key, too worn out to protest, asking if he could grab the Navy Teddy bear from the fair off Sadie's bed and her overnight bag from Penny.

Each Dagger made the trek to her room, one by one, seeing for themselves that she was alright. Sadie tried to stay awake for each one, fighting off the threat of sleep, till Bradley decided to stay with you in Jake's absence.

Like you, he couldn't stop staring at her as she breathed, only occasionally glancing at the door. Even with the police officer stationed outside, Bradley was acting like a guard dog, always standing between you and the door at all times.

She passed out the minute she was able to, and you couldn't help but worry about what tomorrow would look like when you'd get to bring her home.

"Why was Jake there?" Bradley asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

You regarded him momentarily, wanting to tell him the real reason. But you weren't prepared nor ready for the emotional blowout. And it wasn't the right time or right the place. So you shrugged. "It's the Hard Deck, Bradley. Why do people go to a bar on a Friday afternoon?"

He didn't say anything, his face hard like he was lost in concentration, watching the rise and fall of Sadie's chest. And why you had the urge to suddenly ask him the following question, especially now, of all moments, you had no idea.

Maybe you knew Bradley would be honest with you here and now and wouldn't try to pass you off or find a way to escape it. Or perhaps it was your way of forgetting the weight of all the information you learned today. So in a moment of bravery, you asked, "Why do you hate him so much, Bradley?"

He went to say something, lurching forward with effort, but you interrupted him, "And don't tell me it has to do with some Navy rivalry about who is the better pilot. I know that's not true."

"I am the better pilot," he mumbled under his breath, falling back into his seat.

"You are both equally as good as each other. You just have different means of doing it. But that's beside the point."

He stared at the floor, his eyes wide, as he thought about his answer. Not that you were feeling any better, but Sadie waking up had eased the burden and allowed you to ask somewhat playfully, "Please tell me you don't have a crush on me?"

Bradley's eyes shot up to yours before he made a gagging sound. "Oh, good lord, no. You're like my little sister." His shoulders shook as if a chill had shot down his spine. "Please don't ever put that image in my head again."

You stuck your tongue out at him before looking down at Sadie, a small smile gracing your lips. He shared your smile, not that you noticed, before admitting quietly, "It's Sadie."

You raised your eyebrows at him. "Sadie?"

"Remember the mission we keep talking about? The one that brought us all together?"

You nodded.

"He said something about my dad."

"He told me he did," you admitted, taking in Bradley's pensive stare. "He regrets it, not that it means much after the fact."

His father had always been a sore subject. Sure, he talked about him from what he could remember. Their shared love of music, playing the piano, and the same taste in vacation dad t-shirts. But he always clammed up regarding the accident, his reason for joining the Navy and wanting to fly.

"Jake does not regret anything he's done," Bradley snorted. "You don't know him like we do, Liz. Sooner or later, he's going to do what he does best and leave the two of you out to dry, and I don't want to see you or Bug hurt."

"Roo," you said softly. He's just proven he won't do that to Sadie." Or me, you wanted to add.

"You have so much faith in him."

You paused, sliding your hand over the blanket on Sadie's bed before replying, "I have faith in all of you. But Hangman, it's different with him."

"How?"

You didn't want to bring it up, especially now. But something in your gut was telling you it was the only thing that would get Bradley to ease up.

"Did I ever tell you why Ridley wanted to become a nurse?"

Rooster shook his head, resting his elbows on the edge of Sadie's bed.

"She believed everyone deserved a chance. That people cared," you said quietly. "Who would I be? What type of guardian would I be for Sadie if I didn't continue that? If I didn't give Jake the same curiosity?"

"I'm just worried you're going to put your faith in someone who will let you down."

"I don't know Jake as you know him. I don't have that history. But Bradley, he just went to bat for Sadie. His face is a walking mosaic. Don't tell me he will leave her, or me, out to dry after that?"

You reached out across her bed, fingers stretching out. Bradley lifted his hand from his lap to hold yours.

"Can you live with the idea that if that happens, it's my mistake to make?" you squeezed his hand once, trying to hide the quiver from your voice as you added, "The world is not perfect, Bradley."

He gave you a sad smile. "Do you want to talk about it? About Ridley?"

You swallowed hard, recoiling your hand back from his touch. "I can't. Not now."

"Liz, you need..." But he was interrupted by a knock at the door. Jake appeared, Sadie's bag in hand and her Teddy bear in the other.

"How is she?" he asked, coming around to your side of the bed and dropping the bag next to your chair.

"Sleeping," you replied softly, watching as he placed the teddy bear in her arms, Sadie curling around the stuffed animal.

A furrow formed between Bradley's brow as he watched the look on Jake's face as he glanced at you. Everyone loved Sadie, there was nothing wrong with the way he had approached her. But you, there was something in Jake's eyes that told him there was something else.

Jake's eyes met Roosters, a flicker of apprehension flashing across his face, fearing his suspicions had been laid bare. But Jake didn't notice, instead nodding at him, a drawl of "Bradshaw" escaping his lips.

Bradley stood, ignoring Jake, his eyes lingering on you as he asked, "Can I have your key? I'll run a few errands to make sure your set when you bring her home."

Jake dropped your key into the palm of your hand as you replied, "Bradley, you don't have to do that."

"Liz, just let us help you."

You placed your house key into Bradley's hand, a reserved look on your face. He looked at you briefly before nodding, walking to the door, pausing, and turning to Jake.

"Hangman."

Jake's eyes followed Bradley out the door before looking back at you.

"Jake, you don't have to.." You started to say before you caught the stern look on his face, instantly shutting you up. Honestly, the last thing you wanted was to be alone in his hospital room.

"I'm not going anywhere. Not when he can still get to you both."

Every hour a nurse would come by to wake Sadie up. For the first two, you didn't want to do anything but stare at her, unmoving from your chair. Jake was beginning to worry, watching you fight off sleep, swaying forward occasionally only to catch yourself.

The nurse had kindly brought a 'father' bed from the nearby maternity ward and placed it in the corner of the room with a pillow. You hadn't looked in its direction once or even thought about sleeping.

"Liz," he said softly, trying to arouse your attention. When you said nothing, Jake stood, touching your shoulder. You jolted awake, slightly shocked, until you realized it was him. "You need to get some rest."

"She's perfectly safe, and nothing will happen to her." You shook your head, barely managing to gather the energy to speak. But Jake persisted, trailing his hand down your arm to grasp at your hand. You let him pull you up.

"I can't..."

"You can. She's not going anywhere. Don't worry. I have my eye on her." Jake led you to the corner of the room, making you stand in front of the pullout. He let your hand go to sit down.

"Come here," He laid back against the backrest, holding out his arm as an invitation for you to join him. You might have fought him more, but you needed comfort with everything that had happened.

But once you settled into his arms, Jake asked you softly, "You want to talk about it?"

You shook your head against his chest, hiding your face. Jake had read you like a book. "Elizabeth, you can't keep burying your grief."

Your reply was muffled against his chest, "It's not that easy."

"I never said it was easy, but dwelling in your sorrows won't change anything."

Something in the way he said that hit you in your chest, sitting down with no intent to move. The smell of antiseptic making your stomach turn. The longer he sat there with you, the shock of everything reached its boiling point.

It was too much.

"What's wrong with me?!" you wailed. "She's been gone almost a year, and I can't even..."

You drew in a shuttering breath at the end of your unfinished sentence. You didn't need to continue, Jake had seen it repeatedly - in the way you would shelter yourself from any conversation to do with her to gripping your arm. Or to how Sadie remarked you hadn't been happy since her mom had passed away.

"I made a promise," you sniffed through your tears. "That the both of us would be strong for each other while we dealt with everything. That we wouldn't cave. But she struggled when I brought her home, and I had to be strong for her. She needed me to be strong for her. She wanted to be strong, and I needed to do the same."

"Sadie isn't going to love you any less because you can't be strong around her. None of us will."

You whimpered at his word. Suddenly, the dam burst open. "I tried. I tried to read the book, I tried talking about her with everyone, with you. Believing I'm fine when I'm not. Saturday nights with everyone, only to run into the kitchen the first chance I get because she's not there."

You sobbed into his chest. "It's so hard, Jake. Knowing she's not here. That he took her away from us."

"I know," he spoke into your hair, gripping the back of it. "Healing isn't linear, Darlin'. It's messy, and it takes time."

Something was validating in hearing his words. Something that no longer made you feel like a self-pity dealer. That it was okay for you to feel like this. That there was no mask needed in any given situation.

Jake, whether he knew it or not, was giving you the permission you so desperately needed to know it was okay to be sad.

And he let you. He let you cry it out, rocking you back and forth in this hold until you sniff, wiping at your eyes. "When did you get so wise, Jake Seresin?"

“Wise?” He scoffed. “No, darlin', I'm experienced. There's a difference."

Even with your tears, you rolled your eyes. "Why did that sound more sexualized than it should have been?"

"You're the one that went there. I'm just stating facts," Jake grinned. You huffed, pulling yourself closer to his side as a yawn coincided with your quiet laughter.

"Enough with the heavy. You need to sleep." He adjusted his hold on you, fingers threading themselves through the hair at the back of your neck, pulling you deeper into his chest. "I'm watching her."

You snuggled into his side, your hand making a fist gripping his shirt and the ball chain of his dog tags through the fabric. But you were still tense despite your exhaustion, causing Jake to shake you a little in encouragement.

"Relax, I'm not going to bite," He said before softly pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "Not unless you ask me to."

You groaned sleepily into his chest, "Jake."

You fell asleep listening to him chuckle.

---

Jake had driven you both home once the doctor had given Sadie the all-clear later in the evening the next day. Sadie made a beeline to the couch, a long-standing ritual with her whenever she felt poorly, the second she walked through the door.

This left you and Jake standing in your kitchen, the moment making you think back to that first Saturday night when Jake had followed you inside with the dishes. The night before the Daggers were deployed.

You could never have thought this would be your future, holding yourself tight, leaning up against your counter, Jake filling your kettle with water, rummaging around in your tea cupboard. You pressed your forehead to his shoulder as he placed it back on its stand, turning to hold you and pressing a kiss to your forehead, not saying anything. He let you take what you needed from him.

The both of you eventually joined Sadie on the couch, watching as she held the remote to the TV, staring at the black screen. For a second, you were scared she would ask to watch Pride and Prejudice. Instead, she asked, "Can we put on The Princess Bride? I know I can't watch, but I'd like to listen."

To any onlooker, the group of you would have been a sight - Sadie with her stitches across the back of her head. Jake with his bruised face, split lip and marked-up knuckles. And you, with your black eye.

Yet, you couldn't have felt safer than huddled on your couch here with them.

Halfway through the movie, you found yourself with your head lying against Jake's leg. Sadie had migrated from the other end of the couch to in front of you, head buried in your shoulder as she used your arm as a pillow. Even with the knowledge Tyler was still out there, waiting for the next chance to strike again, you passed out knowing there wasn't anywhere else you wanted to be.

It was around 3 in the morning when Jake woke you up, silently urging you to go to bed. You tried to figure out the best way to move without disturbing Sadie until he stood, kneeling next to the two of you and carefully hooked his arms under her body. In her sleep, Sadie snuggled into Jake's chest once he stood.

"Go get ready," he murmured softly. "I'll get her to bed."

You stayed on the couch for a second, watching as he carried her off to her room before sighing and getting up. You forced yourself not to look out your window as you passed it by.

The bruise around your eye was an unwelcome sight in your mirror as you washed your face and got ready. You found yourself sitting on the edge of your bed, staring at the book on your nightstand, wondering if Jake was going to seek you out.

And then he appeared in your doorway, watching you dangle your legs back and forth.

"Jake," you said quietly, shame in your tone. "I don't want to be alone."

He pushed himself off your doorframe, kneeling in front of you, between your legs and hands resting on either side. He slid his whole hand up the outside of your thigh, stroking back and forth, attempting to comfort you.

"What do you need, darlin'?" he hushed. "What can I do?"

"Don't leave me?" it was a quiet plea.

Jake reached for your hips, sitting up to press his forehead to yours. You took it one step further, sliding off the edge of your bed and down to the ground in front of him, arms wrapping tightly around his neck. He hugged you tight, head pressing into your collarbone before grabbing the back of your thighs to stand. You clung to him, legs tightly clinging around his waist.

He was next to your bed in two steps, one arm still clutching you while the other swept your covers down. You weren't sure how he could sit down with you hanging on to him, how he turned while holding the covers up and siding underneath them. You never let go as he settled you on top of him, hand stroking up and down your back.

Then you found yourself seeking out his lips, lightly grazing yours against his. There was nothing overly sexual in how you lightly pressed into him and grazed your nose along his, how you sought him out, lazily kissing him.

You were mindful of his injured lip each time, content to simply be here and now with Jake in your bedroom, his warmth and smell willing you to calm down. There was no objective, no end goal in your actions - after everything that had happened, you needed the assurance, the comfort, him.

From Tyler. From you feeling like a failure as Sadie's guardian because you couldn't prevent outside forces from coming after her. From the burdening grief of losing Ridley, the one you kept shoving aside only for Jake to crack wide open.

And yet, all you could think about was that it might be time to take that first step - even if it is just turning that one page on Pride and Prejudice on your nightstand.

---

Jake woke in the early morning to a rattle from your bedside table. He had let you sleep, doing Sadie's two-hour checks, used to the lack of sleep.

The both of you had moved, your back pressed tightly against his front. His arm was wrapped securely around your waist, and his nose was buried in your hair. Rolling over, he reached for his phone and spied the unknown caller ID, bringing it up to his ear as he answered.

"Seresin."

"It's about time you answered the phone."

Jake quickly shot you a look over his shoulder before getting up and walking into your hallway, shutting the door gently behind him.

"Wouldn't have answered had I known you were on the other end," he spat, continuing to your kitchen so you wouldn't hear his conversation.

"I guess I shouldn't be surprised. Always taking the easy way out, just like when you joined the Navy. Flying around, pretending to be important while accomplishing nothing of substance."

"I'm assuming you didn't call to put down my choice in career, though that would have been preferable for someone like you." Jake said sarcastically.

"No, it's not," Jake's father replied snarkily. "I've heard you've been playing house with some girl."

Jake's grip tightened on his phone, anger bubbling beneath the surface. "And how would you know, seeing as you've never taken the time of day to call before now."

"Melaine."

Of course, Melaine would be the one to spill, Jake thought. Always telling other people's secrets and stories so she could watch the chaos afterwards.

"Didn't know my love life was the only source of entertainment down there," he remarked, leaning up against your island.

"Spare me the sentimental crap. A man like you shouldn't be saddled with someone else's burden."

Jaked laughed lowly. "Don't expect me to apologize for my life not fitting into your narrow-minded definition of what a man should be."

There was a monetary pause on the line. Jake's father let out a bitter chuckle. "Oh, so you're a saint now, huh?" he replied mockingly. "Trying to play the hero? Just like your grandfather, right?"

Jake didn't say anything, staring down at your floor.

"You think you can be that kid's uncle? You're wasting your time on a woman who can't give you anything real."

Jake saw his opportunity, smirking into the end of his phone, as he answered, "I'd rather be a fool for choosing a noble idea than be somebody who settled for mediocrity. Tell me, Dad, how's the ranch life working for you?"

"Don't test me, boy!" he seethed. "I'm not the one showboating in some plane over the fucking ocean."

"Better than shovelling shit every day."

His father growled, clearly agitated. "You've always been a rebellious one. Thinking you can defy me, defy tradition. No man wants to be raising her sister's kid, son. She's nothing but trouble and damaged goods. I won't have her ruining the Seresin name."

Rather than react to the dig towards you, Jake scoffed. "Yeah, sure, Keep talking like your opinion matters that much anyway."

"End it. Or I'm sending George up to California to end it for you. At least he knows how to take orders like a good son."

And then the line went dead.

Jake gripped his phone, tossing it harshly to your kitchen island. The conversation stung, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. Even in California, miles between him and his home state, his father still tried to influence his life.

Needing to seek you out for comfort he returned to your room, pausing after he opened the door. You had turned in your sleep without him there, a hand stretched out to where he once was. The morning sunlight casting a beam through your drapes to the spot next to your head on your pillow. Sliding back beside you, Jake carefully lifted your arm as he placed it on his chest. You pulled yourself to him, head content to lay on his shoulder as a sigh escaped your lips.

"Jake," you murmured sleepily. "Is everything okay?"

"Go back to sleep," he replied, kissing your forehead hard. "It was just a wrong number."

Sadie's fine!!! 🥰 I'm not THAT heartless...

Tags:

@blue-aconite @tinytotontheoversizedpony @djs8891 @caitsymichelle13 @startrekfangirl2233

@mayhemmanaged @ereardon @dempy @shanimallina87 @teacupsandtopgun @daggerspare-standingby

@phantomxoxo @formulapierre @eli2447 @fulla02 @blckgrl-sunflower @mizzzpink @ohgodnotagainn

@bubblegumbeautyqueen @sarahsmi13s @desert-fern @lynnestra44 @memoriesat30 @penwieldingdreamer @mxlanciia

@bradleybeachbabe @bobby-r2d2-floyd @lavenderbradshaw @roosters-girl @lovinglyeternal @genius2050 @gigisimsonmars @dakotakazansky

@keyrani

Part 13 - Sons and Daughters coming soon

Wickett ;)

190 notes · View notes

formula1fanfiction · 2 months

Text

Lewis Hamiliton / George Russell / Fernando Alonso

Title: World champion sandwich

Pairing: Lewis Hamiliton / George Russell / Fernando Alonso, Lewis Hamiliton / George Russell

Characters: Lewis Hamiliton, George Russell, Fernando Alonso

Prompt: not a request, just a little bonus I wrote in about an hour, f1-junki drew an absolute master piece (see here) 'world champion sandwich' and ever since seeing it I haven't been able to get the idea of a George/Lewis/Fernando threesome out of my head.

"Has he fucked you?" Lewis growls into George's ear, despite the height difference Lewis still manages to throw him onto the bed. "Were you on your knees for him in some dirty night club bathroom?." Lewis sinks his fingers into the waist band of George's boxers and sweat pants and roughly pulls them down, revealing his hart cock, Lewis raises an eyebrow but doesn't comment on it.

"Do you wish it was him fucking you now? Destroying your tiny little hole?" George pulls his team shirt over his head and tosses it on the floor, he wants to tell Lewis it's only him he wants, but they are not exclusive and George can fuck whoever he wants.

George's mouth waters watching Lewis undress, that perfectly toned body, all those tattoo's George just wants to run his tongue along those dark lines. His pants and boxers soon join the messy pile on the floor and George is rewarded with a view of that massive cock.

"Well George, has he fucked you or not?" George shakes his head and let's his legs fall open. Lewis climbs up onto the bed and pins down George's wrist to the mattress. "Do you want him to fuck you George?"

"Yes." George squeaks out, of course he does. George loves getting dominated by older men, calling them daddy as they fuck him hard while he writhers and begs for more underneath them. George's cock spurts a puddle of pre cum onto his abdomen from the thought alone.

Lewis is smirking at him as he wraps his hand around George's cock. "I know you do George, maybe he can fuck you while you suck me off." George whines as Lewis starts to move his hand, jerking George off. "Maybe we can double team you, both our cocks in your tiny little ass."

"Please..."

"Such a slut for it George." Lewis laughs, struggling to keep himself in character as he drops George's cock and reaches over for the bottle of lube on the nightstand. "Do you want that George, being dominated by two world champions." Lewis drizzles a generous amount of lube on his fingers. "In the middle of world champion sandwich."

"Fuck, Lewis." George tenses up as a finger circles his hole, Lewis is still smirking at him. "You're always so tight George, do you think you could take both of us?" Lewis whispers into his ear, then bites down hard on it as he twists and turns his finger, sinking deep enough to find that little bundle of nerves inside of him.

"Yes Lewis." George throws his head back into the pillows, he has no idea if he's saying yes to the double penetration or yes to stimulation on his prostate, either way he's happy. Lewis pushes a second finger to join the first one. "Yeah, you do think you can take both of us."

"Bring him here Lewis, i'll be so good. I promise." George pushes his hips back to try and get more from Lewis. "One world champion not enough for your slutty hole?" Lewis chuckles making his way up to three fingers and roughly pounds them in and out of him.

"Maybe i'll just sit back and watch as he fucks you as hard as he can." Lewis adds a fourth finger, just to toy with him. "No, no I want you as well, please." Lewis chuckles. "One cock not enough baby?" George moans, the dirty has already made an embarrassing mess of pre cum on his abdomen and if Lewis continues this he'll come from his fingers alone.

Lewis finally has mercy and lets his fingers slip out, taking hold of George's long legs and wrapping them around his strong waist. The head of his cock bumping against George's twitching hole. "Soon enough you'll have two cocks filling you to the brim."

George can't keep the moans from his lips, Lewis' strong hands hold him tightly as he pushes inside. The burn is delicious, no matter how much Lewis preps him it's just not enough for the massive cock. "Imagine how tight you'll feel around both of our cocks" Lewis teases him a little more, giving him a few more inches then slams to the hilt one swift move, causing George to cry out in pure pleasure.

"You're so fucking tight George and this is only from one cock." Lewis stalls for a few short moments, squeezing tightly on George's narrow hips. "Imagine how you'll be around two." George can't wait for the feeling of being split open by two cocks.

George is been driven mad with need, Lewis still hasn't moved, he's about to beg but Lewis knows him like the back of his hand and starts to move, although very slow. It's driving George insane, Lewis has never in his life been gentle with George.

"I'll be fucking you so hard, that even Fernando will even struggle to keep up." Lewis starts to move properly, holding George's hips like a vice as he slams into him, hard and deep so that the sound of skin slapping against skin echo's around the bedroom.

Lewis changes the angle and sinks that little bit deeper until he finds George's prostate, he doesn't just slam into it, he batters it, hitting it again and again giving George no time to breath, all can think about is the need come."

"Please Lewis, touch me. I'm so close." Lewis ghosts his hand over George's cock, but doesn't touch it. "No, I think you can manages all by yourself." Lewis speeds up his thrusts and fucks into him with his might, not caring at all about the brutal pounding on George's abused prostate.

"Do you think Fernando will be all gentle on you or do you think he'll fuck the shit out of you?" George is too incoherent, to give any form of response now, he's so fucking close, his fingers clench tightly onto the bed sheets, knuckles turning white just from the force of it.

George can't take it anymore, he's already seeing stars and withering against the sweat soaked bed sheets. "I'm coming, i'm coming." George whines like a dying animal as his orgasm tears through him, his load shooting over his own abs and stomach.

Lewis continues to fuck him through his orgasm, it hurts from the over stimulation and Lewis is still fucking into him with all his might as he chases his own orgasm. He doesn't tell him to stop, instead he clenches down as tightly as he can around Lewis and practically milks the load from him. "George, fuck." He bites down on his shoulder as he comes hard, painting the inside of George a milky white.

"You're gaping so much after only one cock." Lewis slowly pulls his cock out, watching as the river of come flows out him as George's hole struggles to clench around nothing. You're going to have such a pretty gape after taking both of us."

Lewis rolls over and collapses down beside George, still panting as he regains his breath. "Do you really want to invite Fernando?" Lewis sounds so serious sometimes, George can't always tell if it's part of the scene or not.

"George, do you think i'm going to pass up the opportunity to double penetrate you? Absolutely not, i'm going to ask him tomorrow."

Fernando is staring at the hotel room door, he's not sure if it's George or Lewis' room. He wants to knock, but he's not sure if it's a prank or not. Lewis coming over to him and ever so smugly asking him he wanted to double penetrate one George Russell was not one has bingo card today.

He finally picks up the courage and knocks, if it's a prank he'll have to come up with a more creative way to get him back. He's more excited than nervous at the thought of a very naked George Russell behind the door, Lewis is just an afterthought.

Lewis aggressively opens the door, still wearing his full Mercedes team kit, he gets a tiny glace at George from behind Lewis' head, who is very naked. "Come inside."

"Some ground rules before we begin, first of all i'm his dom, you can tell him what to do but anything new you ask me first." George takes a step towards Lewis. "Second, this is the first and last time you will get to see me naked." Fernando bites his lip to stifle his laughter and lastly his safe word is Red Bull."

George reaches out and touches Lewis' face with his palm, his forehead touches Lewis' as the older one wraps an arm around his waist. Fernando, feeling a little left out steps towards them, placing his hand on George's ribs. "George? how do you feel about this?"

"Fuck me, please." That's all the consent Fernando needs.

"You're wearing too many clothes Nando, undress him George." George happily obliges, seemingly not caring that he's the only naked one in the room, for now at least. Fernando raises his hands, letting his half unbuttoned white shirt be pulled over his head. Next George unpops the button on his trousers and lets them fall to the ground along with his underwear, where Fernando just steps out of them.

"Can I kiss him?" Fernando stares at George's pink lips, Lewis gives a little shrug. "Sure, why not?" Fernando tilts up George's chin and presses their mouths together, it's a rough one full of tongues and teeth, George is struggling to keep up. It's only when Fernando breaks the kiss, he sees Lewis now fully naked and palming his half hard cock.

"Lay down on the bed, Nando." He kind of wants to tell Lewis to fuck off, he's here to fuck George not to be given orders by Lewis but he does as he's told anyway but not because Lewis told him.

"Suck him off George, get him ready to put his cock in your ass." George climbs onto the bed and crawls towards him, long eyelashes fluttering. He wraps his hand around Fernando's cock for such a tall guy, he has small hands it makes his cock look huge.

George is a horrible tease and swirls the tip of his tongue around Fernando's slit, taking the head inside for the smallest amount of time, then takes him back out again. Fernando's fighting the urge to grab a fistful of his hair and slam his cock into that warm wet mouth but he's not sure if he's allowed or not. So he just lays back through the suffering, until Lewis appears behind them.

"I said suck him off, George." Lewis does take a hand full of George's hair and uses it force him to take Fernando's cock, he chokes a little bit but soon recovers as Fernando struggles to hold back the embarrassingly loud moan of pleasure.

Fuck, George looks beautiful like this, he can't do anything but swallow around Fernando's cock, his long eyelashes are glistening with tears. Lewis, doesn't let go of George's hair just uses it to guide George's mouth up and down Fernando's cock, until George gets the hint and starts doing the sucking himself.

Fernando can see Lewis over George's head, rummaging through a bag on the nightstand and taking out a bottle of lube, he comes back with the bottle in his hand and sits between George's legs, raising his hips a little bit to reveal his hole.

"Alonso, hope you're not going to come anytime soon, you don't want to miss getting a piece of this ass." Lewis spanks him harshly, George moans around the cock in his mouth, forcing a moan from Fernando in the process.

Fernando is doing everything in his power to stop himself from coming, all he wants to do is choke George on his cock and spunk as far into his throat as possible. That little fucker is nothing but a tease, every time he almost gets Fernando off, he comes back up to the head and leaves little kitten licks. He looks over at Lewis, who is roughly finger banging George, who seems to be enjoying himself very much judging by the moans around Fernando's cock and how tightly his eyes are clenched together. Fernando brushes a finger against George's smooth cheek. "Fuck, I can't wait to fuck you."

"Get yourself into place, he's ready." Lewis manoeuvres George's body, until he's on his knees, ass high in the air. "Here's what's going to happen, You will fuck George while he sucks me off and then we'll double team him, that alright George?" George nods eagerly, blue eyes widening in pleasure.

"Suck." Lewis threads his fingers into George's hair and slides his cock into his throat, while Fernando adds extra lube to his own throbbing cock. Fernando decides to punish George for that horribly torturous blow job and sinks inside agonisingly slow. He pushes in an inch at a time, so it feels like a life time has passed when he finally bottoms out.

"Come on, fuck me hard." George moans, cock falling out of his mouth but Lewis slaps him harshly across the face. "Did I say you could speak?" Lewis growls but George only smirks and wriggles his ass back.

Fernando squeezes George's hips to keep him in place and starts to fuck him, he starts off quick and shallow but thrusts harder and deeper with every thrust, constantly changing the angle to keep George on his toes, while he searches for his prostate. He knows he's found, when George lets out a muffled scream and arches his back cat like. "Again." Lewis cock falls from his mouth completely.

"He's ready to take both of us." He pulls George up, so his back is pressed against Fernando's sweaty chest. The change of position forces Fernando's cock deeper inside George, driving him crazy with want and need.

Lewis moves to kneel in front of them, bottle of lube back in his hand. George lets out a weird noise of pain and pleasure as Lewis sinks the first finger inside, it feels weird pressed against Fernando's cock. "Shhh." Fernando presses a soft kiss to George's temple to help through the pleasured pain.

"Are you good George? Remember you can safe word at any time, no one will be upset with you." George nods, a tear rolls down his cheek as a second finger is worked inside of him. Fernando pushes his fingers into George's hair and pulls him in for a lazy kiss, distracting him from the pain of the third finger pushing inside.

"Are you ready for my cock George?" Lewis cups George's face while the three fingers are still slamming in and out of. George nods. "Words please, George."

"Please, i'm ready."

Fernando sits back against the headboard, George is sat on his cock, leaning back so Fernando's head rests over his shoulder. George is biting down on his lip as Lewis presses the head of his cock against George's hole and slowly starts to sink inside. It's a super tight fit, and it must be really painful but George takes them both like a champ.

An inaudible noise escapes George's throat as Lewis bottoms out inside of him, Lewis freezes instantly. "Please, don't stop."

It hurts having Lewis' cock pressed up against his own like this, it feels like there is no place to move. Lewis squirts more lube onto George's hole. "Are you ready?" George nods, Fernando holds him tightly keeping him pinned down onto his chest, preventing him doing anything but lay back and take two cocks.

"So big Lewis, so full." Lewis starts to move, he's the one with all the control here, he sets a brutal pace, he can't move fast exactly but he's not gentle as he forces himself deeper and deeper inside of George, only gaining speed the more the younger one opens up.

Fernando himself starts to move now, although he's petrified of tearing George in two and moves much slower, just savouring the feeling of the tightness wrapped around him and Lewis cock rubbing against his own.

George is the first to come, Lewis has found his prostate and smashes into it over and over again. He screams as he comes, a mixture of both names and inaudible gibberish as he spurts his load over his own abs. His eyes wet with tears. Fuck he's beautiful, born to take two cocks and look so pretty while doing it.

Fernando himself is next, he can't take the tightness anymore during his orgasm, George somehow became tighter around him and practically squeezes the orgasm from him, he spills inside of George and over Lewis' cock. Fernando gently pulls out of him and lays George down on his back.

Lewis fucks George with all his might as he chases his own orgasm, George is crying from the overstimulation as Lewis brutally slams into him, treating George like a rag doll. "Such a good boy George, you did so well today, fuck." Lewis sinks his teeth into George's shoulder as he comes, his come mixing with Fernando's inside of George.

"Such a pretty gape, George." Lewis says, using his fingers to spread George's hole. It's swollen and pink and the red inside is threatening to spill over, but not quite.

"Are you good George?" The younger one looks spaced out but the fucked out smile on his face, makes Fernando feel a little better. Lewis rubs a damp cloth over his skin and cleans up all the dried cum. "George?"

"I feel more than good, I feel fucking amazing."

#lewis hamilton #george russell #fernando alonso #gewis #formula 1 fanfiction #fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #mxm #fanfiction #formula 1 #formula one #mxm smut

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pluckysidekick · 4 months

Text

Nancy Drew Episode 218: The Echos of Lost Tears

I wrote a little essay about how amazing this episode is for the HAND Discord server, where we’ve been doing brackets for the show’s episodes (the brilliant idea of @binancydrew). But it got kinda long-I had a lot to say 😂. So I’ve posted it here along with a few gorgeous GIFs from some amazing Nancy Drew fan creators (with credits). I hope you enjoy it!

————-

218 is the zenith of the best season of TV ever, Season 2 of Nancy Drew. The Wraith storyline, hidden in plain sight throughout this incomparable season, comes into focus and allows Nancy to work through her deep trauma and learn to accept all of the parts of herself, even the ones she doesn’t like e.g. Nancy Hudson. And her friends, her soulmates, are there, in real life AND in her dreamscape, to support her, to defend her, and to love her just as she is.

218 is also the culmination of Nancy’s journey to find out what kind of person she wants and needs as a partner in life. We see hints of her being amused by Ace, being attracted to Ace, and increasingly relying on Ace, throughout Seasons 1 and 2. But only in 218 does she finally admit to herself that Ace is her *person*. There’s a reason that in 403 she tells Ace that she knew she had feelings for him when they fought the Wraith.

GIF by @andsjuliet

“You’d been there for me so many times before, but that was…” She was overwhelmed by how supportive Ace was throughout their fight to defeat the wraith, while he asked nothing in return. He tells her “All this time, the wraith made you think there was no separating you from it- you just proved that wrong”*Swoon*. He kept her safe as he drove her to New York in Florence, and held her up when she was weak. He held her hand, and rubbed her back, when she was fighting the wraith. He helped her to stand when they’d defeated it but she was still weak. When Nancy expressed surprise that she was strong enough to hold the trauma, Ace is the one that said, “I think you always were, Nancy,” as he helped her stand up, and with that look between them.

GIF by @nacesource

But 218 also has growth for every character. Bess saying goodbye to Odette, and George’s generous offering of love and friendship to allow them a passionate kiss before Odette goes inside forever, with Lo Moon playing, was so beautiful I want to cry just writing this.

GIF by @booasaur

George takes a huge step forward by proposing to Nick after she hadn’t even wanted to pretend to be his fiancée, and Nick has found someone that loves him for him, and we see him preparing to open the Youth Center. Carson helps Nick to lay Celia to rest, signs away his right to be Nancy’s dad, and invites Ryan to move into the Drew house. An incredible turnaround in their relationship, and the foundation of Dad #1 and Dad #2!

The ending, as heartbreaking as it was that Nancy just missed Ace (for now), Nancy ending the episode claiming herself as a Hudson and deciding to break up the company and provide reparations to Everett’s victims is a powerful statement. And while the wraith is a fantastic supernatural monster, it’s also an amazing metaphor for depression, and feeling a lack of self-worth. Nancy’s breaking up with Gil is so powerful and meaningful for many people who’ve been in difficult relationships.

GIF by @hucklebucket

And so many classic moments! “You drew a fish!” “I hate zebras!” The look between Nancy and Ace at Odette’s antics outside Myrtle’s house- silent communication at its finest. The Myrtle/Temperance reveal! The Dads and knuckleball! And of course, “You weren’t born broken- the only way to heal is to let that pain become love.” “It’s time to kick the monster out of your house.” “Will you hold me?” “I thought you’d never ask.” “Knock ‘em dead”.

GIF by @hucklebucket

Speaking of which, the dreamscape was an amazing sequence technically, writing-wise, and emotionally. The progression through Nancy’s different selves, the support of her friends (George and her crowbar), the realization that she loves Ace and that amazing dream scene at the bluffs (the first almost kiss!). And the way it ties together so many moments from past episodes - tween Nancy and her first big case, her birth at the bluffs, her adoptive mother’s death, the evolution of her relationship with Nick into deep friendship, her low point of the kidnapping of Everett. AND the little touches of everyone wearing outfits from earlier episodes - Ace wearing his 212 outfit e.g. the Grant episode where Nancy saves him at great cost (“I couldn’t lose you”), was a personal favorite touch of mine. All in all, brilliant storytelling, perfectly executed.

GIF by @nancydrewcentral

I haven’t said enough about Ace’s growth. He starts the episode wanting to get away, but not being able to leave Nancy when she’s in trouble. And then he’s the most supportive friend he (or anybody) could be. But he’s loyal, and he doesn’t suspect that Nancy has developed feelings for him yet (remember he thinks it didn’t happen until DetectiveCon). So he is able to put his hurt feelings about Gil aside, and apologize to Amanda, and go on the road trip. But when he tells her “I feel like I left something behind”, while Nancy is simultaneously going to his house to confess her feelings, while “For Me, It’s You” plays- AAAHHHHH. *Weeping*.

GIF by @wandasviz

313 is an amazing episode with iconic scenes, the Nace scenes specifically. I advocated for it as one of the strongest episodes of the latter half of the series. But some fans found the pacing is challenging, and the fakeout deaths of Ryan and Ace (beautifully) painful, and can be hard to rewatch. 313 is a jam packed, excellent episode of television. But 218 is a beautifully constructed, emotional journey for Nancy, the Drew Crew, and her Dads, and a cap to what many, including Kennedy (on Twitter), think is the best season of the show. It’s a superior episode overall from a superior show and fantastic season. Vote 218!

GIF by @drewcrewdaily

#nancy drew #nancy drew cw #nace #ndcw #ace hardy #2x18 #author: pluckysidekick #cwnd #cw nancy drew

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unofficial-writing · 7 days

Text

She calls me Freddie (Pt. 2)

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem!Gryffindor!Reader

Warnings: None really, fluff and a little banter, implications that your normal hair color isn’t red (sorry to my beautiful redheads)

Summary: The Tri-wizard tournament is announced and entering doesn’t go to plan

Word count: 4.9k

(Part 2 - Find all other parts here!)

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The next week turned out to be pretty uneventful for you. After you all recovered from what happened at the game you started to use quidditch as your pastime. You, Harry, Ron, the twins, Ginny, and even Hermione practiced behind the burrow. Ginny had begun to take an interest in being a chaser so you showed her just about everything you know, having been one for the Gryffindor team for most of your years at Hogwarts. You played most days leading up to school and on the following Thursday you all traveled to the station in London.

“Did he find a compartment?” You asked George, who you were following through the train. Your luggage was already loaded, leaving you to carry your wand and one of your smaller bags.

“Fred said he found an empty one up here,” He started, peering into each compartment as he passed, looking for his brother. The boy stopped abruptly once he spotted him, which made you trip over his feet. “Aha.” He let out casually, as if he didn’t just have to save you from face-planting.

“Finally. I didn’t know how much longer I could fight of these kids.” Fred complained as you stepped into the little room. He sat by the window with Ginny across from him, who rolled her eyes at her brother.

“It was one first year. And the kid looked terrified.” Ginny told you and George while you hoisted your bag onto the rack above the seats. You gave Fred a look.

“Fred, you did not chase away a first year!”

“Oh no, he didn’t.” Ginny defended him. “He actually offered for him to sit with us but the poor kid ran off.”

George broke into laughter and Fred sighed, crossing his arms. You sat down beside him, fitting yourself into the space between him and the window. It was small enough that he had to scoot over so you wouldn’t be in his lap, which he did so without question.

You patted his knee to comfort him. “We can’t all be good with kids, babe.” You told him casually. The other two Weasleys glanced at you when you said this, but neither you nor Fred treated it any differently so they moved on.

“It was probably just the kid’s first day and he didn’t want to sit with a sixth year he didn’t know.” George stated, sitting down once he put his couple of bags up. Fred just shook his head and moved on.

The rest of the train ride went by quickly, spent with carefree talk and conversations about nothing important. Soon the clear skies of the morning began to turn grey and by the time you arrived at Hogwarts, the clouds were much darker and threatened to drop rain on the school.

Still dry for now, you entered the courtyard in awe of the castle as always. It was now your sixth year here and you were still taken by the school. Raindrops finally began to fall, so you stepped under the covered walkway.

Fred tugged your sleeve to get your attention and when you looked up at him, his eyes were looking out onto the lake. “What is it?” You asked him, stepping toward the stone opening to see better. Out on the water, a huge ship sprouted up f on the lake, water draining from it as it lifted above the surface.

“I’ve never seen that before.” You admitted. Ginny hurried beside you to get a look as well, but gasps from the other students drew you to the opposite side of the walkway. There you caught sight of a huge carriage coming in from above, drawn by several winged horses.

“Who do you suppose they are?” Ginny asked as they landed, guided in by Hagrid. They ducked just out of view as they touched the ground.

“I imagine we won’t have to wait long find out.” You said, turning from the spot where they disappeared to see the students flowing into the castle. Everyone filed into the great hall to find a seat. You sat down beside Angelina Johnson, who gave you a huge smile upon seeing you.

“Angie!” You exclaimed, giving her a tight hug. Fred sat down beside you and George across. He gave Angelina an almost timid smile.

“Hey, Angelina.” George greeted. You’d rarely seen George look so nervous. Angelina, of course, gave her smile out to him and asked about his summer, which got them talking less awkwardly. You and Fred exchanged a look, sharing the exact same thought.

The room filled with laughing and cheering as friends were reunited for the year, Gryffindor being the loudest as usual. By the time Dumbledore stepped up to his podium, your stomach ached from laughter. It took his loud voice to silence the hall and once the noise had subsided, he started his beginning of the year speech.

“Now that we’re all settled and sorted, I’d like to make an announcement.” He addressed the students. Fred twirled a piece of your hair to distract you and earned an elbow to the arm, which didn’t stop him. “This castle will not only be your home this year but home to some very special guests as well. You see, Hogwarts has been chosen to host a legendary event. The Tri-wizard tournament.”

You had heard of it before but you hadn’t been to Hogwarts long enough to see one take place. And certainly not to see one take place here.

“Now for those of you who do not know, The Tri-wizard tournament brings together three schools for a series of magical contests. For each school a single student is selected to compete.” Dumbledore continued to explain. This had everyone paying attention, as most of your group especially was interested. You leaned an arm onto the table.

“But let me be clear.” The professor paused briefly to scan the room. “If chosen, you stand alone. And trust me when I say these contests are not for the faint-hearted.” He said ominously and then suddenly flipped a switch and took on a light-hearted expression.

“But more of that later,” he continued. “For now please welcome the lovely ladies of the Beauxbatons school of magic!” On cue the doors opened on the opposite side of the hall, having everyone’s head suddenly turn in that direction.

In came a group of girls mostly a little older than you, all in matching blue uniforms with their hair tied neatly behind their backs. They strode through the room elegantly catching nearly every eye, especially from the boys. “Bloody hell.” Ron said. Hermione rolled her eyes.

Behind the girls came an extremely tall woman, probably even taller than Hagrid. “Blimey, that’s one big woman.” Seamus Finnigan said, a few seats down from you. Dumbledore had to reach up to take her arm, guiding her to her seat. The entire hall whistled and applauded except for Hermione, who was mad at Ron, and Ginny, who didn’t care. Dumbledore cut them off.

“Now our friends from the North.” He continued. “Please greet the proud sons of Durmstrang and their headmaster Igor Karkaroff.” In came a group of men also around a year older. They were all tall and handsome. Their entrance turned the table and now Ron was huffing at Hermione.

After the students, the headmaster entered with a tall boy at his side. It was Viktor Krum, the quidditch player from the World Cup.

“Blimey it’s him,” Ron said, startled. “It’s Viktor Krum.” He walked through the hall staring at the other hand, not bothering to greet anyone. You weren’t impressed by him. Dumbledore greeted their headmaster warmly, bringing him into a welcoming embrace.

Once everyone was seated and settled, the feast began. Each table was filled with every food imaginable and everyone was happy with what they ate. After the majority of the room was finished, four men entered the hall, rolling with them a large pillar decorated with gold and jewels. It was parked at the end of the room, right in front of the professor’s table.

Dumbledore stood again, making his way over to the pillar. “I’d like to say a few words.” He announced, quieting the room again. “Eternal glory. That is what awaits the student who wins the Tri-wizard tournament. But to do this, that student must survive three tasks. Three extremely dangerous tasks.”

“Wicked.” You heard the twins say in unison. Fred nudged you with his elbow, bringing a little smirk to your face.

“For this reason, the ministry has seen fit to impose a new rule.” The professor continued. “To explain all this, we have the head of the department of international magical cooperations, Mr. Bartemius Crouch.”

The man stood, making his way over to the podium. But he and everyone else were interrupted by the sudden sound of thunder clapping in the hall, rain and lightning following swiftly. Students shrieked, ducking for cover from the sudden chaos. From one of the side doors, a tall man stepped into the room and pointed his wand toward the ceiling, fixing the mess.

After the rain had gone everyone sat up again, looking around in confusion. The man that had entered was tall and widely built. He had a limp in his stride as he walked. “Hey that’s Mad-eye Moody,” Ron announced.

“Alastor Moody? The Auror?” Hermione inquired. Ron leaned down and whispered something to Harry, which was low enough that you couldn’t hear.

“My dear old friend, thanks for coming.” Dumbledore welcomed him, shaking his hand.

“Stupid ceiling.” Moody replied gruffly. Dumbledore nodded and gestured to a seat at the professor’s table, sending him in that direction. After the room had settled again, Barty Crouch finally made it to the front, standing in front of the gold pillar.

He paused, hesitating briefly before speaking as if it was something difficult for him to say. It was definitely something difficult for you to hear. “After due consideration, the ministry has concluded that for their own safety, no student under the age of seventeen should be allowed to put forth their name for the Tri-wizard tournament. This decision is final.” Your face dropped in disappointment and the students erupted into shouts of protest, the twins being the loudest.

“That’s rubbish!” They shouted. The hall fell into chaos once more until Dumbledore saved it again.

“Silence!” He yelled, immediately quieting the school. The professor stepped forward toward the pillar. His hand glided over it, causing it to melt away in front of you. The outer shell of gold gave way to a large stone goblet, a blue flame igniting in the cup.

“The goblet of fire.” He explained. “Anyone wishing to submit themselves to the tournament need only write their name upon a piece of parchment and throw it in the flame before this hour on Thursday night. Do not do so lightly. If chosen, there’s no turning back. As of this moment, the Tri-wizard tournament has begun.”

You glanced at Fred and George, who held an excited expression as if they weren’t just told they couldn’t enter. If you knew them, which you did, they would likely come up with an absurd plan to try and enter anyway. You would just have to wait until they brought it to you.

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A few days later, you were absolutely correct in your suspicions. You were in the library, picking up a few books when the twins approached you. “Y/n,” Fred said in a singsongy voice, sliding next to you. George came on your other side.

“What is it, boys?” You asked, setting your books down on the table and turning to lean back onto it. They both looked at each other as if trying to decide who should answer. “Well, spit it out.”

“We have a plan to enter the tournament.” George started, you gave a loud sigh. “And before you say anything, we’ve thought it through completely. It’s going to work.”

“You did, did you?” You responded sarcastically, glancing down at the books you were carrying.

“We did,” Fred returned, ignoring your remark. “But, it requires you.” He held up a finger and pointed to you. You chuckled, crossing your arms.

“Uh-huh. And what does this plan require me to do?” You asked with a tiny smirk.

“We need you to brew an aging potion,” Fred explained, setting a hand down on the table to lean closer to you. “You’re much better at potions than us and we have to make sure it’s going to work correctly.”

You sighed. “It’s not.”

“What, why not?” George asked. “We could probably manage it so you definitely can.”

“Oh no, not the potion. That will work exactly how I make it to. But your plan won’t work.”

“And why is that, Y/n.” Fred asked, the look on his face put a longing feeling in your body.

“You really think that the ministry— Dumbledore for that matter would be thick enough to not think of an aging potion?”

“That’s what we’re counting on.” George stated, making you sigh even louder.

“Ok, let’s say hypothetically this does work.” You said, sitting on the table. “Have you considered at all that competing in the tournament might not be the best idea?”

“Nope” they said together.

“But we’re not worried about it.” Fred added. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Oh I don’t know, you could die?” You told them, setting a hand on the side of their heads. “And unfortunately I would miss you both dearly if you died.” You finished in an exaggerated pouty voice.

“When did you get all responsible?” George asked, “You were just as excited as we were to enter.”

“That was before I read about the tasks from the last tournaments.” You stated. “And I don’t want to risk losing my favorite redheads.”

“Well. That’s very sweet and all but we still need you to make that potion.” Fred told you.

You sighed once more to get your point across. “Fine.” They immediately grinned and gave each other a high five. “But when this blows up in your face, it’s not my fault.”

“You’re the best, love.” Fred spoke, giving you a sudden kiss on the cheek before taking off with his brother through the bookshelves, leaving you sitting there frozen. You watched them round the corner, your fingertips brushing your cheek. God, Fred Weasley was going to be the death of you.

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You met them with their potion outside the great hall the next day. “Here,” You handed them two little viles. “This is your last chance to stop and save yourselves the embarrassment.”

“Yeah not a chance, babe.” Fred said, taking them from you and handing one to George.

“Alright, fine.” You said, throwing your hands up in defeat. “Just remember, this is your own doing.”

“We’ll try,” George told you. The twins ran into the hall cheering, you following a little ways behind. There was a little crowd gathered around the goblet of fire and they all applauded as Fred and George made their entrance.

“Well lads, we’ve done it!” Fred announced, jumping up onto the wood bleachers and holding up his potion.

“Y/n cooked it up just this morning.” George explained further, following his brother. Hermione, who sat a feet away, turned her head from her book and laughed.

“It’s not going to work.” She sang in a mocking voice. The twins sat down on either side of her.

“Oh yeah?” Fred started.

“And why is that, Granger?” George finished. Hermione pointed out a hazy white line around the cup.

“See this?” She told them. “This is an age line. Dumbledore drew it himself.”

“So?”

“So,” Hermione slammed her book shut as if it was outrageous that they didn’t seem concerned. “A genius like Dumbledore couldn’t possibly be fooled by something as pathetically dim-witted as an aging potion.”

“Ah but that’s why it’s so brilliant.” Fred stated.

“Because it’s so pathetically dim-witted.” His brother finished for him. The twins stood again while Hermione rolled her eyes. You took their spot, sitting down next to her.

“Ready Fred?”

“Ready George,” They both popped their viles open.

“Bottoms up.” They said together and drank the contents. Once the potion was consumed, they jumped into the circle beyond the age line.

“Why did you make them that?” Hermione asked, awaiting being able to say she was right. You sighed.

“I tried to tell them it wouldn’t work.” You replied, chuckling. “But you know them. They have to learn the hard way.” And they did. Fred and George tossed their names into the fire, pausing to see what would happen. Nothing did at first so they cheered. Fred shot you a smug look which made you shake your head.

Their success was quickly shot down by the fire spitting their names back out, shooting little flames around the room. The crowd ducked out of the way and the twins were send backward and onto the stone floor. You stood to get a better look over the students but all you could see were grey hair and beards sprouting from their heads.

You broke into laughter as they started fighting, cursing at each other. You were absolutely going to give them an earful after they recovered.

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It took them a couple of hours before they were back to normal and they still had some grey left in amongst the red. Now they sat in the common room, grumbling as you finished combing out the hairs that didn’t belong. “Stop complaining, I’m almost done.” You scolded George, who huffed. Fred was already finished and sat beside you on, propping his feet up on the table and leaning his head back on the back of the couch.

“Maybe next time you’ll listen to me.” You suggested as you finished, tossing the comb to the side and shoving George away from you. “I could’ve given you a much better plan.”

“Oh please, yours are about as good as ours.” He responded, sinking onto the other end of the couch.

“At least my plans actually work.” You stated. “And my pranks, and that does make them more successful than yours.”

“Pranks are supposed to be funny, Y/n, not practical.” George teased. “I don’t think you’ve ever made a prank better than ours.”

“Oh really?” You said, standing and crossing your arms. “I could prank better than you two any day.” This made Fred pick his head up.

“Is that a challenge, Y/l/n?” He asked, standing up to meet you. The boy immediately towered over you. You should’ve picked your next words wisely and not ended up in a prank war with the Weasley twins, but of course you didn’t.

“Sounds like it, Weasley.” You told him confidently, stepping closer to him. He laughed.

“Ok fine, we’ll see who’s better.” He said, giving you a smirk that almost shook your composure. You tilted your head slightly.

“I guess we will.” You told him, turning and stalking toward the stairs to the dorms. “Good night, boys.” His eyes and his smirk followed you until you were out of sight. And once you were, you realized how badly you screwed up. You were definitely the smartest of the three but you couldn’t come up with something nearly as fast. And now you were on the clock. It wouldn’t surprise you if they had a plan in the next hour so thinking something up soon wasn’t optional.

You walked into the great hall for dinner that night without them, but they had beaten you there. Fred made eye contact with you, wearing a smirk. His brother sat beside him. They definitely already had a plan and you were definitely done for. Regardless, you sat down next to Fred.

“Fred, George.” You greeted coolly. Fred managed to surpress a chuckle. Instead, he copied your demeanor.

“Y/n,” he responded, returning to his meal. You ate quietly beside him, holding yourself together while listening to the twins try not to laugh the entire dinner.

“What’s up with them?” Ron asked Harry, who shrugged in response. The entire section of the table picked up on the change in interaction between you. Especially since you and Fred normally behaved like a married couple. After eating, you silently stood and left the great hall with Ginny. Fred gave you a stupid look in an attempt to break your seriousness. It only managed to bring a toothless smile to your lips, which you hid away quickly.

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The next morning arrived and you still didn’t have a plan. It was probably already too late for you but you were too stubborn to just give up. You slid out of your bed yawning, but before you could stand all the way you were met with Angelina’s shocked expression.

“What?” You asked her nervously.

“I… would just go look in the mirror.” She told you. Hermione came walking out of the bathroom, dropping her things once she saw you.

“God, please tell me it’s not that bad.” You said, panicking. You stood and ran past Hermione into the bathroom, gasping as you saw your reflection. Your hair was as bright a shade of red as the twins’ were. You clasped a hand over your mouth in surprise.

“What happened?” Angelina asked, sliding into the bathroom behind you.

“The twins is what happened!” You exclaimed. The noise had finally woken Ginny.

“It’s really not that bad, Y/n. It’s just a bit of a shock at first.” Hermione assured. It wasn’t the worst thing you’d ever seen but that didn’t make you any less irritated.

“Hermione, look what they did to my hair!” You said, groaning.

“Hey,” Ginny said sleepily, rubbing her eyes. She started a yawn but it stopped dead in her throat when she saw you.

“I’m going to kill your brothers, Gin.” You said, trying your best to make your hair look decent.

“Please do, I have plenty more where they came from.” She responded, turning and leaving the bathroom. Once you looked okay to your standards you followed.

You stormed out of the dorm and down into the common room. Fred and George were at the chairs and turned their heads as they heard you enter. “You two!” You pointed at them. They stood immediately, stifling their laughter.

“You shouldn’t have challenged us.” George told you and shrugged, which made you scowl at him. You crossed your arms, absolutely fuming.

“Aww you’re so cute when you’re mad.” Fred stated, pulling your glare to him.

“You think I’m cute? We’ll get ready because I’m about to be gorgeous!” You snapped, beyond pissed off.

“Don’t worry, Y/n.” Fred spoke in an attempt to calm you. “It should wear off in the next hour.”

“It better.” You pointed a finger at him.

An hour turned into the morning and the morning turned into the whole day. By the next morning, your hair was still the same shade of red. When you found the twins in the common room again, they looked surprised and much more panicked.

“An hour, huh?” You asked them, crossing your arms and raising an eyebrow. Fred approached you, rubbing the back of his neck nervously with his hand.

“It really was supposed to be just an hour, love.” He told you. There was a guilt in his voice that made you soften.

“Who knows? It could take weeks to wear off at this point.” George stated, not getting up from his seat on the couch.

“Weeks?” You repeated back to him, dropping your head into your hands with a groan. “This is going to be the color of my hair for weeks?”

“Sorry Y/n, I have no idea what went wrong.” He apologized. “But I’ll figure out something to fix it.”

You sighed. “Promise?”

“I promise.”

Fred never mentioned it to you, but he did do his research. He even ventured into muggle hair dye, which seemed like his best option. The hard part was matching your hair color, so he took a small picture he had of you and picked out the closest shade to yours.

That evening you had finished dinner early and beat everyone back to the common room. Now you were sitting in your dorm, having just changed out of your robes. You were just about ready to return to the common room when you heard a knock on your door.

“Come in,” You said simply. Fred came in, carrying a couple of small boxes. “Oh hey,”

“I have a solution,” he announced, handing you the boxes. Inside contained y/h/c hair dye. “It’s only temporary. I figure we could use this until your hair goes back to normal.”

Your eyes softened at the gesture and you looked up at him. “Thank you, Freddie. That’s really thoughtful.”

“It’s the least I could do for turning you into a Weasley.” He said with a little chuckle, taking you into the bathroom.

Fred leaned on the small counter and read the instructions. “Ok, get your hair wet.” He said without looking up from the papers in his hand. God he looked attractive standing there, his long body supported by the counter and his brows creased just barely while he read.

You did as he said, wetting your fiery hair and returning to him, trying to keep it from dripping. He took a little towel and draped it over your shoulders, then positioned you so that you stood in front of him.

He poured the paste into your hair and you sighed as he massaged it in, making sure to get your entire head. “Enjoying this, darling?” He teased, getting an elbow to the torso from you. He laughed and continued to work the dye into your hair.

“You know, it’s only fair if I get to dye your hair too.” You informed him, causing him to pause for a moment.

“Y/n, I wouldn’t look good in any other hair color.” He replied, tying your hair up messily behind your head to let the dye soak in.

“Neither do I, but I didn’t get the choice.” You returned, turning around to face him. He looked at you for a second, considering his options.

“Fine,” He sighed. You smiled, trading spots with him and hoisting yourself onto the counter to reach his head better. “But for the record, you can pull off any color so that’s not a fair comparison.” He argued.

“Ok, Fred. I get it, you have a crush.” You teased him, working the dye into his long, soft hair. You almost detected him falter before returning to his normal composure.

“Oh, you mock me, Y/n.” He said, putting a hand to his chest in exaggerated offense. You both sat in the little bathroom with your now h/c hair tied up and soaking. Once the dye sat for long enough, you rinsed and dried both of your heads and then stood in front of the mirror to study your work. You looked completely back to normal but Fred looked entirely different.

“I actually think I make this work.” He said, turning his head to observe the new color.

“I agree.” You gave him a bright smile, relieved to have your regular hair back.

“It is going to come out though, right?”

“Yes because I, unlike you double-checked.” You stated. “It’ll come out in a couple of weeks.”

“That’s comforting.” He sighed.

“It should be. Because if I said it then it’s true.” You smirked, tilting your head up to him. “And now you have to admit that my pranks are better.”

“Y/n, you didn’t even do anything.” He laughed, looking down at you. His face looked different now that it was framed with h/c hair.

“I didn’t have to,” You explained. “Just letting you fail was proof enough.”

“Fine. Our plans work much better when you’re apart of them.” He got out slowly as if it was difficult to say.

“That’s not what I asked, Freddie.”

“Well that’s all you’re going to get, so you’re just going to have to be content with it.” Fred crossed his arms, not even phased when you gave him a smack on the arm. All jokes aside, he genuinely did prefer when you were there to participate in their schemes and keep them in check. He could admit you were really the only brain in the operation.

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