brb

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DEAR READER
Sade Olutola

PR's Tumblrdome
Keni
Three Goblin Art
hello vonnie
Stranger Things

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
occasionally subtle
Misplaced Lens Cap
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
almost home
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
d e v o n

#extradirty
we're not kids anymore.
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
dirt enthusiast

Love Begins
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seen from T1

seen from Australia
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seen from Türkiye

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@candiedkent
brb
i hope honey will write:
something new
a part 2 for a previous fic
part two losing is going to kill me 🙁(idm new stuff i just love continued stories)
₊❏❜ ⋮ CROSSING PATHS 𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬
꒰ 🎧 ꒱ !⠀𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐂𝐇 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐑!𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑 && 𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐂𝐇 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐑!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 ୨୧
⊹ twitch chat is bold ! 💬
Y/N sat slouched in her gaming chair like a queen reigning over the wreckage of her own terrible life choices. Her desk was a warzone: a half-devoured bag of sour gummy worms bleeding sugar crystals onto her mousepad, an empty Monster can hanging perilously off the edge like it was contemplating a dive. It was 2:47 AM—her Minecraft world basked in the gentle glow of its pixelated sunrise while the sky outside her window remained an unforgiving void of flickering fluorescent light. Her avatar stood motionless on a mountaintop, entirely forgotten, as she launched—midstream, mid-manic episode—into a barely coherent retelling of how that morning, a homeless man sold her what she thought were regular gummies.
Spoiler: they were not regular.
“No, like—actually, chat. Chat. LISTEN to me,” she slurred, voice hoarse after an uninterrupted hour of caffeine-fueled storytelling. Her words tumbled out in a frenetic mess, like she’d snorted punctuation. “I was high. Not ‘heehee I’m giggling at the ceiling fan’ high. No. I was gone. On the floor. Ugly crying. Full-body sobbing. Because I swear to God—I swear—I could hear colors. Like, synesthesia on crack. I could feel the emotional backstory of magenta.”
user: you’re such a stressful human being user: how is she still alive is my question
user: every day you wake up and choose confusion. user: i feel sorry for the people who raised you
She blinked at the screen, unbothered, chewing absentmindedly on a gummy worm. “You feel sorry for the people who raised me?” she asked, gesturing to herself like a Victorian ghost bride. “I’m the one who had to live this. I’m the protagonist here.”
Then suddenly—mid-chew—her eyes widened like she’d been smacked by divine revelation. “Wait—WAIT, chat. Holy shit.” She flailed an arm out, narrowly missing her mic stand. “While I was high off my goddamn mind, right? I got on Tumblr. Like, actual Tumblr. 2013-core. Cigarette gifs. Blue filter. Girl with eyeliner crying in a bathtub energy. And I saw—Jesus, I saw this man.”
She leaned in, eyes wide with unblinking intensity.
“The most rideable face I have ever seen in my life. Like—Greek god meets backwards caps. I wanted to mount him and thank him for existing in the same timeline as me.” She said, completely straight face.
user: HELP?? user: here we go again user: are you okay
user: girl said ‘rideable’ with her whole chest. user: everyday it's something new
Still deadly serious, she fumbled under a pile of tangled cords and snack wrappers for her phone, nearly knocking over her water bottle in the process. “No, chat, hear me out. I didn’t even get a name. It was one of those feral Lana Del Rey moodboard accounts. Like—run by a 12-year-old who thinks lipstick on a cigarette butt is profound. No tags. No credits. Just him.”
She brandished her phone like it was a sacred relic, reverent and unhinged all at once. “Look. I took a screenshot. I haven’t reverse-image searched it because I don’t trust Pinterest, and I refuse to let Google into my delusions. Since the whole Ai thing. So chat, I am summoning you. Help me find him. My mystery man. My cosmic Tumblr soulmate.”
user: YO NO FREAKING WAY user: WAIT WAIT I KNOW HIM
user: IS THAT PETE???? user: SHE’S IN LOVE WITH PETER OMG user: this is so much worse than the 2hollis era user: my two universes just collided
She squinted at the screen, genuine confusion scrunching her face. “Pete? What the fuck do you mean Pete? Who the hell is Peter? Why do you guys say that like I’m supposed to know him? Did I fall in love with a man who’s... famous?”
user: girl pls he’s not famous he’s like niche internet user: streamer user: he streams games I think? or like tech stuff?? user: he looks like a frat
She froze, slack-jawed. “Oh my God. Did I fall in love with a micro-influencer kind of thing?”
user: YES user: remember when she tried to date a barista bc he liked Bladee user: or when she made a whole slideshow about 2hollis user: don't bring 2hollis up, we were doing so good😔
She slowly turned her head toward the oversized 2hollis poster on the wall behind her, its edges curling like it was trying to peel away from the chaos. “First of all,” she said solemnly, voice full of mock outrage, “don’t ever slander my husband like that again. That man is my white tiger. That wasn’t a phase. That was a religious reawakening.”
user: white tiger😭 user: girl u have no business being this unserious user: I love this stream I’m never leaving
Y/N let out a sigh, rubbing her temples like she was dealing with divine punishment. “Okay. Okay. Listen. Chat, you now have one job: find Peter. Find Tumblr Pete. I don’t care if you have to comb through cursed reblog chains or the dark archives of weheartit. I need answers. I need closure. I need to know if I fell in love with a tech nerd or influencer or frat bro or whatever the fuck he is.”
user: ma’am you are once again being delusional in 4K user: someone get this woman off Tumblr
₊❏❜ ⋮ ❝𝑾𝑬𝑩𝑩𝑬𝑹𝑻𝑬𝑪𝑯𝑺 𝑰𝑺 𝑳𝑰𝑽𝑬.❞
Peter had been mid-match in Apex, fingers flying across his keyboard with the kind of effortless focus that only came from hundreds of hours of practiced chaos. His mic crackled softly as he rattled off overlapping commentary, switching topics with the speed of a fever dream. One moment he was talking about the unspoken lore of Pathfinder's backstory, the next he was spiraling into a tangent about how time travel would actually work in a closed-loop paradox. Mid-sentence, he pivoted yet again to discuss whether LEGO bricks or magnetic spheres made better fidget tools during queue times.
He glanced toward the chat for the first time in ten minutes and immediately froze.
The messages were coming in at lightspeed, faster than his mod bot could filter. Entire paragraphs were being obliterated by the sheer volume of collective hysteria. Pings, caps lock, emojis—his screen was a digital riot.
“What the hell is going on in here?” he muttered, brow furrowing. “Guys—seriously—who the hell is Y/N and why are all of you suddenly talking about marriage? Did I miss a memo? Did someone start a cult while I was looting death boxes?”
He leaned closer to his webcam, squinting like it might reveal secrets. “Is this another one of those weird internet matchmaking campaigns? Like the time you tried to ship me with that lolibate VTuber who only streams Animal Crossing while whispering and calls people daddy?” His voice grew more incredulous by the second. “Do I look like I belong in that pipeline? Do I give off ‘man who simps for anime waifus’ energy to you?”
user: NOOO Y/N IS AN IRL STREAMER TOO user: SHE’S SO FUNNY AND PRETTY LIKE ACTUALLY
user: she said u have a rideable face and honestly? she’s not wrong
Peter blinked. A beat passed.
“I—okay, Jesus Christ,” he said, choking on a laugh that sounded half-panicked. “Can we keep it family friendly in here? I have nephews who could be watching this. Kinda.”
He rolled up his sleeves as he spoke, an unconscious movement—too casual, too practiced. He didn't notice the chat reaction spike until it was too late.
user: THE FOREARMS ARE OUT user: HE’S ROLLING UP THE SLEEVES
user: he's blessing us, guys pls behave 🙏🙏this only happens once a month
Peter sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “You guys have issues. Deep ones. Like shared hand-fetish brainrot levels of issues. Whatever happened to just playing video games and vibing?”
Still, curiosity gnawed at him. He adjusted in his chair, muttering to himself. “Fine. But I’m not clicking any links. You guys lost that privilege after trying to get me to sign up for OnlyFans for my elbows by tricking me into thinking it was a Twitch extension.” He opened a browser tab with deliberate precision. “I’ll do this myself. Like an adult. With agency.”
His fingers moved fast over the keyboard.
“‘Y/N… Twitch streamer… rideable face.’” He paused mid-type, grimacing. “God, those words should never be in the same search bar. This is going to haunt my algorithm forever.”
He hit enter. The thumbnails loaded instantly. He froze.
There she was—paused in a preview frame, caught in the kind of chaotic moment that screamed 2:14 AM energy and irreversible life choices. Her camera was tilted just slightly off-center. Behind her, LED lights glowed like a cyberpunk rave. The remnants of a Monster can and what looked like the corpse of a gummy worm bag were strewn across her desk. Her expression was wild. Unfiltered. Eyes wide with the kind of manic streamer energy that could only come from a complete lack of sleep and absolute comfort in front of an audience.
She looked unhinged. And beautiful. In a way that was all presence—flickering and immediate and and magnetic.
Peter clicked.
The video stuttered for a split second before snapping into live motion. Her voice filled his headset instantly, fast and expressive and borderline unhinged.
“Chat, I need this man. I need him like—spiritually. Cosmically. Emotionally. Biblically.” She waved her phone toward the camera, and on the screen was—him. An image from his last TwitchCon, looking off-camera mid-conversation, hand resting thoughtfully against his jaw. He looked caught off guard, which was probably why the photo had gone viral in the first place.
“He looks like if a sad film bro and a STEM major had a child who exclusively wore NASA shirts and has emotional damage he channels into hat collections. Like if unwashed academia was a person. I just want to grab him by the collar and ask if he’s emotionally repressed or just like that. And then kiss him.”
Peter went very still.
A beat of silence passed. Then another. He leaned back slowly in his chair, lips parted in something between horror and disbelief. The chat exploded.
user: never knew I needed this user: STREAM COLLAB SOON???
user: you said “women scare me” but THIS ONE you should marry user: he was supposed to be mine😔 user: @/user sybau 🥀
Peter dragged his gaze to his camera, the corner of his mouth twitching like he didn’t know whether to laugh or hide under his desk.
He stared into the lens like he was Jim Halpert in a mockumentary about a man being aggressively seduced by the internet.
“Okay,” he said finally, voice cracking slightly. “So I’m… not sure if I’m flattered or if I should file for emotional whiplash.”
"But, uh... she’s kinda insane. And funny. And—uh. Yeah. Pretty. So. I might DM her.”
He paused again, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck.
“…Should I? I feel like I’d either fall in love or get bullied into the ground. Or both.”
And then, because he was Peter Parker—nerd, comfort streamer, and certified disaster—he gave the camera a helpless grin, eyes wide and earnest.
“Okay, chat. Be honest. Am I cool enough for her?”
— all rights reserved © PALEVCR all fanfics belong to me, do not copy, translate nor repost as yours.
i’m in love holy
the situationship!mattheo & sweetheart!reader finale coming in like half an hour
prepare for angst + love love love!
taglist: @fallingwallsh @espressqe @theodoresvalentine @fanfictiononly4 @genuinelyfloatingsouls @fayezasstuff @glittervame @wxnterwidow333 @thalibaby @cminoko @blainea98 @randomfanpage @megzz-x @peterparkerspersonalplaything @kiessecretcove @kiesrepostarchive @glubarina
FINALE 😭
KISS WITH A FIST | a theo nott series.
"a kick to the teeth is good for some; a kiss with a fist is better than none."
word count: 54,496.
summary: a ravenclaw with a surly attitude and sharp tongue. a slytherin with a cocky smirk and sarcastic flair. combine them together and you get a catastrophic mixture of academic rivalry, witty banter, and late night gelato.
author's note: this series is a love letter to theodore nott. kiss with a fist was my first every scary deep dive into the world or multichapter fics and for that it will forever hold a special place in my heart.
♫ kiss with a fist - florence and the machine. nav. more theo.
please see a new and improved landing page for kiss with a fist. can't believe my baby is coming up on it's two year anniversary it feels just like yesterday ⋆。‧˚ʚ🧸ɞ˚‧。⋆
54k words? omg i’m totally reading this from two am to four am
girllll I absolutely LOVE ur theme it may be one of my faves I’ve ever seen. so cute and unique!! looks like we’re already moots but hiiii :D i’m happy to be moots! I haven’t been very active lately but plz interact and tag me in anything you want :b <3 - spella
HIII YOU ARE LITERALLY SOOO SWEET. THANK YOU SOOO MUCH FOR THE THEME COMPLIMENT AND ILL DEF TAG YOU ONCE I FINALLY START WRITING (i’m going insane thinking of how to start one)
pinterest tag game… .ᐟ
| bf/gf edition
anyone is welcome to join but I’ll tag my moots :3
how to play; search the category’s below in the app pinterest and post them in the order I did if u want ! <3
love… romance… special…. vibe…. character… lyrics
I got jane lol (krysten ritter is so hot-)
npt; @draco-malfoys-lovergirl @dracosprettygirl @harkovsangel @i-await @juliet-017 @nottsbabe @moscatosin @dearmisshoney @dearnott @nottslove @pizzaapeteer @prythiansprincess @lushleona @nottsangel @yuunarii-arii @i-await @juliet-017 @rriddlesgirl @redeemingvillains @winnie1emon @riddlesrizzler @riddlemelater @2dloveshp @riddlesbunny @hayleygrrr @voidofsunlight @viperify @theosang3ls @ur-local-wizard @nottscherry @blocked-zombieartist @obsessedwithceleste @illbegottenfaith or anyone else I forgot to tag!!
i’ve genuinely never done one of this before (i’m very new to actually posting on this app) but i tried so yay!
no idea how to feel about it.
porcelain
synopsis. your love for the paranormal and the cursed led you to a more than deadly night with a tormented spirit. desire has a price, and tom never plays fair.
pairing. cursed doll! tom riddle x reader
content/mdni. NON-CON. SOMNOPHILIA. fem!reader, cursed doll!tom, evil spirit!tom, cruel!tom, dom!tom, possessive!tom, selfish!tom, blood play (cuts), MONSTER-FUCKING FR, mentions of gore, choking, missionary, clit stimulation, multiple orgasms (f receiving), tummy bulging, hair pulling (m receiving), mentions of cunnilingus and fingering (f receiving), dry/wet-humping, teasing, degradation, pet name (darling, good girl, filthy little thing), tom wants to kill you, raw sex, creampie, bad ending.
word count. 4.6k
a/n. saw a reel with the masked guy from the boy and it reminded me of tommy. i haven’t watched the movie/series tho, so don’t come for me! please tell me your thoughts! feedback and reblogs are deeply appreciated!
you were definitely the weirdest human he had ever encounter.
even now, from his carefully chosen place on your wardrobe, leaning against the wall, he still couldn’t understand what is wrong with you.
for starters, you bought him — a presumably cursed doll — at the antique shop two streets away from your apartment without any dare or blackmail being involved. tom still refused to believe your smile that day, the day you spot him in the shop, was a genuine smile of happiness.
it was soon confirmed to be true, as you video-called one of your girl friends that very night to boast about your new gorgeous and possibly cursed doll. to a mortified and disgusted pansy. her reaction was more natural to tom than your own.
his new owner was a weirdo for sure.
if that wasn’t strange enough, you also placed him in your bedroom.
really needed this
hiii love your work!! how about a bodyguard!mattheo + nsfw 1?
no pressure 😋🫶🏼
1. tits or ass?
“really? you could’ve asked anything, and you chose this?”
mattheo looks at you with the usual unreadable expression on his handsome face. though, his eyes do give your body a scan, as if he’s searching for the right answer at this exact moment.
“thighs,” he says after a few moments of thinking, like the answer is obvious, and you should’ve guessed it already. his gaze lingers on your thighs for a second, as if confirming that he did, in fact, tell the truth. mattheo’s thoughts briefly drift away, though he conceals it well, just like the fact that the front of his black cargo pants is starting to tent.
get to know my aus.
Hi honey! i loved i know her, are you planning a part 2???
yes :) i’ve been busy recently with work but when i write part two it’ll be at least 3k words!
theodore notts bloxburg house is terrible.
“no teddy!” you popped his hand off the mouse, undoing his horrid choice of a wall color.
theodore nott had never played roblox, despite the expensive setup in his apartment. you, however, played it all the time.
and now, you were sat up in his lap watching him click around trying to build a house in Bloxburg. and boy, was he terrible at it.
“pillars don’t go there, when have you ever seen a pillar right in front of a wall?” you questioned, reaching your hand back over to the mouse.
he scoffed, annoyed by your constant hate towards his lime green barely functioning home, “all the time!” a reasonable amount of annoyance lingered in his voice as he glanced down at your hands clicking all sorts of random keys.
you looked away from the screen to look him in the eyes, your feet over his right leg and head just leveled with his neck due to the way you were sitting.
“listen if this is what our future home is going to look like in the future, my dreams are completely crushed!”
he sighed, “my dreams are crushed too, this house is beautiful, you just don’t see the vision!”
you giggled slightly, “the couch is hot fucking pink theo, of course I ‘don’t see the vision.’”
he rolled his eyes, “who knew my girlfriend was such a hater.”
birthday cake
Where Mattheo tries and fails to bake you a cake for your birthday without using magic. (ft. Post-wizarding war Mattheo Riddle AU.)
Content: fluff, slight angst - happy ending, suggestive but no smut.
A/N: This fic is dedicated to my lovely wifeyy. Belated birthday fic based on one of her fave songs, Beautiful Day by U2. @pizzaapeteer The world is better because you’re in it. Mwah.
✿ Masterlist | ✿ Mattheo Riddle Masterlist | 1k words
him.
summary: when getting your mind off your tasks at a slytherin party, another death eater sees you. you find out, you have more in common than you thought. death eater!theo x death eater! reader (cursing, mentions of making out/straddling seamus finnigan 😨, sort of emotional…)
a string of saliva separated the kiss, the warmth of his lips still lingering on yours as you took deep breaths to cool down from the heated kiss.
seamus finnigan sat just under you, his breath heavy and something too familiar stirring in his pants just beneath you.
his cheeks were a bright red, you colored lip gloss leaving a tint on his lips.
the party was packed with a combination of gryffindors, slytherins, and ravenclaws to celebrate the win against hufflepuff in the latest quidditch match.
you, who had a shitty week juggling tasks for the lark lord, poured a good amount of shots down your throat and ended up straddling the half blood in the slytherin common room.
it was the only sense on relief you had, you both couldn’t think straight for completely different reasons.
“I-I have to pee,” seamus spoke, his chest rising and falling at an intense rate.
you simply nodded, rolling off of him and slumping yourself onto the cushion next to the seat he had previously been in.
you watched him walk off, not expecting a return due to the large crowds and packed bathrooms filled with people doing things that weren’t exactly intended to be done anywhere but a bed.
you dusted your dress off, standing up and pulling it down so it just passed your upper thigh.
you stumbled through the crowd, smiling at any recognizable girl you saw as you made your way out of the packed slytherin common room and into an empty outdoor corridor.
your heels clicked against the stone, your dress riding up at you strutted to one of the many openings in the wall. a small sigh escaped your lips, taking in life and how truly miserable you’d forever be.
“what the fuck is wrong with you?” a stern, cold voice broke your silence. it was recognizable — though you couldn’t quite put your finger on exactly who it was. you turned nonchalantly, used to the random insults thrown at you.
theodore nott.
fellow death eater, big fucking jerk.
you couldn’t admit he was your least favorite person to walk the earth around anyone — you were only taught to hate muggleborns.
“nott.” you responded coldly, reverted your gaze to the starry night sky as he angrily stormed over to where you were. you didn’t see it, but you could hear his shoes touch the ground every step he took.
“practically fucking a halfblood in the slytherin common room? what the fuck,” his voice was angry, though his face didn’t show a sign of emotion. almost like he was taught to not crack. to not show how he was feeling.
you turned, looking at him. he was now barely five feet away from you, his face still straight and his voice still raised.
“you know what he would do if-“
“i don’t fucking care what he thinks! if he wanted to kill me he would’ve three years ago,” you shouted back, trying to calm yourself down.
his eyes filled with something more than anger.
concern.
but he continued.
“you’re stupid as fuck, okay? you’re setting yourself up to fail! haven’t even completed your tasks. pfft, pathetic.” he chuckled lightly, shaking his head.
you stared at him, tears threatening to touch your warm face. you tried to speak, but you couldn’t muster up the words.
he smiled, nodding, “a fucking death eater crying, insane considering who you support.”
his voice was cold, as if he was projecting onto you. this time you found the words, you spoke up.
“i don’t fucking support him!” you shouted, louder than before. your voice was shaky as it echoed through the corridor, escaping through the wall openings.
the look on his face finally cracked, a look of confusion plastered. then, he cracked a small smile as if he’d figured something out.
“did you forget who you are?” he laughed, genuinely laughed at his own joke.
you stammered, searching for an answer without spilling something you’ve kept deep down. buried from every other death eater, buried from everyone.
“you don’t know me,” you shook your head, tears started to spill out the corner of either eye.
he shrugged, “oh but i do.”
you couldn’t contain yourself, you knew you needed to tell someone. tired of being doubted, tired of your hurt being downplayed.
“my parents died for him!” you sobbed out, covering your face to prevent him from seeing the many tears messing up your previously perfect make up.
you knew you wouldn’t be doing this if you weren’t drunk, but you continued.
“all this time,” you stopped, wiping the poor attempt of covering the dark mark on your arm off, and pointing at the exact spot.
“i-i was born with it. my parents died, the died for him. h-him! and instead,” you laughed through the tears, a sarcastic, saddening laugh, “he thought this would be their reward. marking their child, making her apart of his army without even thinking about what she would want! you all are fucking pathetic for supporting someone as stupid and uncaring as him!” you choked out, your tears streaming down your face as snot bubbled in each nostril.
you stumbled back, finally looking him in the eyes.
his face was no longer stern, cold and emotionless.
it was soft.
caring.
“and every time my tasks get done, i fucking lie! i don’t-i don’t do them on my own!” you turned to shouting now, tears still rolling down your face and staining your chin.
“and you have no right to complain about who i support like you don’t too!” your voice was filled with anger when you shouted.
he stared.
for what felt like an hour.
“you aren’t sober,” was the first thing he said to break the silence.
as if it mattered more than the previous argument.
you shook your head, wiping your tears, “thank you for pointing that out nott,” you smiled sarcastically.
he remained silent a little longer, glancing outside before finally speaking again.
“my parents died for him too.”
it felt like the world stopped for a moment.
all this time. the times where he was hard on you to get what you needed to get done, to stop slacking. he was going through the same thing as you, neither of you knew it yet.
“but i wasn’t born with the mark, I kind of wanted it in their honor,” he scratched the back of his neck, “and when draco first joined, felt like i truly had someone there, y’know?”
“yeah, I know.” you looked over at him, tears no longer streaming.
maybe nott wasn’t so bad.
oh who were you kidding.
resolution: obscene ☑
synopsis. theo wishes to surprise you with a pixelated version of yourself in his favourite video game. catching him by surprise, all blushing and fumbling over his half-finished creation, you decide he needs a little hands-on guidance. a lap-bound lesson in accuracy was in order.
pairing. nerd! theodore nott x reader
content/mdni. fem!reader, established relationship!au, nerd!theo, shy!theo, even loser!theo, respectful!theo, geek!theo, soft!theo, yearner!theo, sub!theo, selfless!theo, tit worshipping, dry-humping, slight size kink, teasing, edging (m receiving), slight praise, dirty talk, name-calling (amore, good boy, baby), no piv, theo cums in his pants, we love whiny men, theo loves you a lot
word count. 2.8k
a/n. cute nerdy boyfriend theo is a MUST. he babbles about a video game i don’t know much about, so that bit might be inaccurate. he also wears glasses because why not! ANYWAYS. let me know your thoughts! feedback and reblogs are appreciated.
“theo, what are you doing?”
your voice, so sweet and sultry, latched with mischievous intent, hit his half-covered ear and made him jump in his gaming chair as if lightning struck him. his headset shook atop of his head, trembling slightly against his glasses and pushing them down the bridge of his nose.
the lenses, now only half-way sheltering his blown-out eyes, allowed the blue light of the computer to shine against his greenish orbs.
but only for a moment, as his hand sprang up to his monitor and closed it instantly.
“n–nothing.”
“nothing? then were you staring at the black screen this whole time?”
YES YES YES YES
one like and i am posting tomorrow's fic rn
GIMME IT
I just bought a letterman jacket that kinda looks like Gryffindor and it got me thinking about how the Weasley boys would react to seeing you wearing something of theirs?
HOW THE WEASLEY BOYS WOULD REACT TO YOU STEALING THEIR CLOTHES.
characters included: Fred Weasley, George Weasley, Ron Weasley, Charlie Weasley, Bill Weasley, Percy Weasley
wc: 877
thank you for your request❤️
Fred nearly trips over his own feet the moment he sees you walk into the room wearing one of his jumpers. It’s slouchy and oversized on you, the sleeves covering your hands, and it looks so natural he could swear it was made for you. He smirks, arms crossing over his chest as he leans back and takes you in. “Well, don’t you look absolutely criminal,” he says with a cocked brow. “Wearing my jumper like that and not even asking? You trying to drive me mad, love?” There’s a glint in his eye, teasing but clearly captivated. He walks over slowly, tugs the collar just a bit with his fingers. “I want it back, but I’d rather see you steal it again tomorrow.”
George doesn’t say a word at first. He just blinks at you from across the Gryffindor common room, his mouth hanging slightly open as you laugh at something and curl up on the couch in his hoodie. It’s not just any hoodie—it’s the one he always wears during late-night invention sprees, and seeing it on you almost knocks the wind out of him. He strolls over and sits beside you, bumping your shoulder lightly. “That’s mine, y’know,” he says, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “But it looks loads better on you.” He lets his fingers play with the cuff of the sleeve as you sip your tea. “Honestly, I’d let you keep every jumper I own if it means I get to see you like this more often.”
Ron walks into the Burrow’s kitchen and just stops. You’re at the counter, back turned, in his worn Chudley Cannons jumper—the one with a tiny tear near the hem and the faded lettering. His ears go red immediately. “Blimey,” he mutters, completely forgetting what he came in for. When you turn around and smile at him, his heart does an actual somersault. “You’re wearing my jumper,” he says, dumbly, then rubs the back of his neck like he’s trying to physically force the blush down. “I mean—not that I mind. Just… looks nice. You look really nice.” He shuffles closer, clearing his throat. “You can, um, keep it if you want. Or wear it. Like. Often.”
Charlie catches you in his sweatshirt one cool morning when he returns from the yard, still smelling of smoke and leather. It’s a sanctuary-issued piece, faded from sun and ash, and you’re sitting on the porch swing reading like you’ve always belonged there. He walks up quietly, rests a hand on the back of your chair and leans in with a lazy smile. “Borrowed something, did you?” he says, voice low and rough from the early air. You glance up with a grin, and he chuckles. “Keep it, sweetheart. Looks better on you anyway. Plus, I like knowing something of mine’s wrapped around you when I’m not.” He plants a kiss to the top of your head before heading inside, his heart a little lighter than it was before.
Bill notices right away when you come out in one of his favorite band t-shirts—soft, worn, and obviously not meant for you but fitting in that perfect, relaxed kind of way. He gives you one slow, appreciative look, eyes lighting up like he’s just spotted treasure. “Well, hello there,” he says, striding over. “Is that my shirt? Because if it is, I might just need to propose on the spot.” He slides his arms around your waist and smiles against your cheek. “Something about you in my clothes does dangerous things to me, you know. You’re lucky I’ve got some self-control. Barely.”
Percy is absolutely stunned when he sees you in one of his Oxford shirts, clearly plucked from his neatly folded collection. It’s buttoned messily, half tucked in, and you’re curled up with a book on his couch like you belong there. He adjusts his glasses, clears his throat three times, then finally says, “That’s mine. That shirt—it’s one of my best.” But his voice isn’t annoyed, just surprised. “Though… I suppose it’s alright. You look very—uh, scholarly. Smart. Elegant.” He sits beside you awkwardly, his hand brushing yours as he adds quietly, “It’s nice. I like it. You should borrow my things more often.”