#for no reason and talk so fondly about George when he’s not around

[cherrycola27]

The Comeback Kid

Summary: Jake never expected the one he got away to come back to him. He also never expected the reason why.

Pairing: Hangman x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of mental abuse, intimation. Abortion. Illness. Allusions to smut. Minors DNI 18+

...........................................

At twenty-one years old, Jake Seresin seemed to have it all. He was the starting quarterback for the UT Longhorns, president of his fraternity, on the Dean's list, and had guaranteed acceptance to the US Navy flight school program after graduation. To top it off, he had the most beautiful and amazing girlfriend. He had you.

Yes, life was good for Jake. Up until about six weeks after the Longhorns won the national championship. You disappeared from his life.

You stopped answering his calls. You had dropped out of school. You had moved out of your apartment. To make matters worse, your parents wouldn't tell him anything.

You had vanished without a trace.

Jake was forced to move on. To let you become a phantom, a skeleton in his closet. The one that got away.

It would be a full decade later before you crossed paths with him again in a sea-side, San Diego bar.

When he first laid eyes on you, he thought you were a ghost, and maybe you were.

You and the sins of his past had come back to haunt him.

At first, he thought he was seeing things. What were the odds that the girl he'd never gotten over had just happened to waltz into his favorite hangout?

He took a few steps closer, weaving through the crowd. The closer he got, there was no denying that green-eyed, dark auburn haired beauty in front of him was you.

Your eyes were scanning the room—looking for someone. Jake hoped that if might be him, but he didn't let himself get to attached to the idea. It had been ten years since he'd seen you.

Your eyes met his, and you moved through the crowd quickly and with purpose.

"Jake." You stated once you met him.

"Hi, Sweetheart." He greeted you. "Long time no see." His voice was still as smooth as honey. Even after a decade, he could make your knees weak.

"Jake, I'm not here to flirt. I have something important to talk to you about. Is there somewhere more—private we could go?" You asked him. You looked around the room and noticed some people watching the two of you.

Jake could tell you were serious. He'd always been so good at reading you. "Follow me." He said. He gently placed his hand on the small of your back and guided you out the rear doors of the bar and down to the sand.

His heart was racing. You'd come here looking for him. Maybe, just maybe, you'd missed him just as much as he had missed you. As soon as the two of you were alone, he was going to tell you everything he'd been holding back.

The two of you stopped at the edge of the water. He turned to you and smiled before opening his mouth.

"Sweetheart, you look amazing. I've —I've missed you. Why—why did you leave me? Why did you cut me off? I tried to find you but your parents wouldn't tell me how to get in touch with you." Jake babbled out the moment the two of you are alone. You could hear the hurt in his voice

You're taken aback by his words. You didn't know he felt this way. But how could you?

"I—I didn't leave by choice, Jake." You tell him.

"Wha—what do you mean?" He looks at you confused.

"You father—he told me I had to leave you alone." You say, dropping your eyes.

"What do you mean?" From the way he was reacting, you knew he had no idea about the threats that George Seresin had made against you all those years ago.

"Do you remember the night you won the national championship?" You ask him.

"Of course I do, Sweetheart." Jake replies.

"Do you remember what we did that night?" You continue.

Jake remembered that night fondly. He'd taken you back to his hotel room, and the two of you celebrated his victory tangled up in his sheets.

"Yes." He paused. You can see the gears turning in his brain, but all the dots aren't connecting.

"Well, the next day, I realized I hadn't taken my birth control. I didn't think anything of it until six weeks later." You say.

"Oh my god." He breathes out just as the gears clicked into place.

"You were pregnant." He states.

"Yeah." You admit. "I was afraid to tell you, and when I talked to my parents, they met with yours. Your father said that a baby would ruin your future. He gave my family ten thousand dollars for me drop out, have an abortion, and never speak to you again." You confess. Your voice is heavy with tears.

"So that's why you left? I thought I did something to make you hate me. I thought you didn't love me." Jake's voice cracks.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that alone. That shouldn't have been my father's choice. I would have been there for you. For the baby. We could have been a family!" Jake shouts. He isn't mad at you, you know that. He's mad at what was taken away from him.

He runs his hands through his hair as he paces back and forth across the sand. You've just dropped the first bomb of the evening on him, and his having a hard time processing. You can see the tears glossing over his eyes

"I didn't get the abortion." You tell him. His head snaps up to look at you.

"You didn't?" He asks, voice barely above a whisper.

My parents and I moved to the east coast, and I had the baby. A boy. His name is DJ." You tell him.

"A boy? A son? I have a son?" Jake can't stop the tears now as he chokes on the words.

"He's nine, and he looks just like you, Jake." You tell him. He's silent for a moment, trying to process everything.

"Can I see a picture?" He asks. He's afraid you'll say no, but you don't. You pull out the phone and show him picture after picture of DJ.

"He's—He's amazing. Can I—why are you just telling me this now?" Jake asks. It's been years since DJ was born, and he wants to know why all of a sudden you've come back.

"DJ, he—he's sick." You are trying not to cry again. Jake's face drops.

There it is. The other life altering news you have for him. Not only does he have a child, but he also has a child who's dying.

"What—what do you mean?" You hear the worry in his tone.

"He has leukemia. He needs a bone marrow transplant. I'm not a match, and neither are my parents." You tell him.

"I came here to find you to ask you to get tested to see if you were a match. I wouldn't ask you if I had any other options. Please, Jake. I can't lose my little boy." You couldn't fight the tears any longer. They stream down your face as you beg him for forgiveness. To not let his resentment of you leaving him be the reason he won't help you.

He doesn't say anything. Wordlessly, he pulls you close, tucking you under his chin like he always did.

You buried your face in his chest and sobbed.

"I'll do anything you need." He whispers as he presses a kiss to your hairline.

He stood there slightly, taking it all in.

His father had paid you to disappear.

You'd had his child. He was a father. He had a son.

His son was sick. You needed his help. How could he deny you?

Jake took a deep breath. The idea of fatherhood had never crossed his mind, but now that it was right here in front of him, he knew there was nothing he wouldn't do to help his son.

I hope you guys enjoy this first chapter! As always, likes are great, but comments and reblogs are golden!

Tag List: @pisupsala @shanimallina87 @luckyladycreator2 @mak-32 @katieshook02 @samhapner6 @rosiahills22 @roosterscock @roosterforme @hecate-steps-on-me @withahappyrefrain @arson-tm @sebsxphia @potato-girl99981 @caitsymichelle13 @lillyrosenight @callsign-hummingbird @inky-sun @writeroutoftime @afterglowsb-tch13 @heyoimjordy @phoenixssugarbaby @hypatia93 @bradshawseresinbabe @je-suis-prest-rachel @teacupsandtopgun @boringusername3 @starlightstories @daggerspare-standingby @utterlyhopeful-fics @talkfastromance4 @fighterpilothoe @t-nd-rfoot @phoenix1388 @abaker74 @gigisimsonmars @emorychase @wannabeschyulersister @greatszu @shawnsblue @tributetomrsniffles @tv-fanatic18 @angelbabyange @sadpetalsstuff @softmullet @cowboybarbie @shewritesfiction13 @sweetlittlegingy

Special shout out to @thedroneranger for helping me with this!

#top gun maverick #cherrycola27 #top gun #jake seresin smut #jake seresin #lt. jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #hangman smut #hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin #hangman top gun #tgm fanfiction #tgm fic #tgm #top gun hangman #top gun 2

[fa-headhoncho]

Unlike The Rest: Gits

(Eventual) George Weasley x Malfoy!Reader

Prompt: The announcement of the Tri-Wizard tournament creates drama.

Word Count: 1894

Reader: Female

Warning: None

Author’s Note: Where are all the George Weasley fanfics? I'm back in my HP phase and I've already read all of them. AO3 too. This was written before I fell off the face of the Earth too so no promises my skills are up to par.

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

=====

You let out a chuckle as you watch the boys become mesmerized. The ladies of Beauxbatons let out sighs and dreamy looks as they parade down the center of the Great Hall. They were indeed angel-like creatures but the reaction was a bit overdramatic. The boys are drooling, hooting, and standing. It was quite entertaining, honestly. You take a glance over at the Gryffindor table, the look on Ron’s face sends you into fits of giggles.

Next, the boys of Durmstrang come through the doors. Well, men of Durmstrang. Whatever is in their water in the north, you need it here. The men are doing flips, twisting their staffs and it’s very entrancing. This time, the girls are the ones drooling. They were, indeed, very attractive. What catches you off guard, though, is the last two people who enter.

Viktor Krum and Igor Karkaroff.

Your mouth opens slightly, staring at the two. Viktor Krum was a legend himself, just recently coming out of the Quidditch World Cup. You honestly didn’t realize how young he was. There are whispers and gasps echoing throughout the room. But, you’re not focused on him. 

Igor Kararoff was known for all the wrong reasons. You’ve heard his name whisper throughout your household for a few months now. Doing some research during the first few months back at school, you’ve learned his history. He was a Death Eater, being one of the ones who were sent to Azkaban. He was only pardoned because he gave up the names of his fellow Death Eaters. Maybe he was a changed man, but with the attack that just happened, you were still a bit nervous that he was here.

“Oi, looks like (Y/N) has her eye on someone.” Alfred points out causing the guys around you to sound off while the girls go straight to whispering. Cedric just laughs and shakes his head at his friends, the idea humoring him. “Malfoy and Krum, an interesting pair that would be.” He continues, you roll your eyes at their assumptions.

Switching your focus from the performance, you look past them to the Gryffindor table once again. Ron had a starstruck expression on her face while Hermione had a glare, you were glad to see she recognized the former Deatheater as well. Scanning further, a particular redhead duo catches your eye.

The twins were in deep conversation, Fred gesturing adamantly as George hung his head in defeat. You furrow your eyebrows, wondering what they were talking about to make George so uncharacteristically shy. He then raises his chin slightly, making eye contact with you and panicking. He quickly hits his brother on the shoulder before gesturing towards you. Fred turns and smirks, saying something to him before sending you a goofy wave and forcing George to send one too. It causing you to let out a giggle before smiling back at them.

Cedric watches the whole thing, noticing the small blush that comes onto your face when you made eye contact with the taller ginger. He shakes his head fondly at you, “I’m sure you already have eyes on someone particular.” He slyly comments and nods his head toward the said person. 

A small smile appears on your face as you shake your head at him. Cedric knew of your crush on George and loved to tease you about it. He was the first to figure it out and the first to point out anything remotely flirtatious that went on between the two of you. He was a cheerleader for the complicated relationship you had with the ginger, supporting your continuous breakdowns about him over the years.

And, oh, were there many.

Without realizing it, you were absently staring right at George as you thought about the time you realized you had a crush on him. It was back in fourth year, Fred and Lee had disappeared in the crowd on the way to Hogsmeade so it left the two of you alone. You spent the whole day together, laughing and having fun. You didn’t even remember your two friends who abandoned you in the first place.

When you came back tothe dorms, you found Cedric sitting in the common room with a muggle book in his lap. He chuckled as you nervously blurted out your newly discovered feelings about the ginger, relieved that you finally figured it out.

A small smile tugs at the corner of your lips, looking back on the fond memory. George turns his head and makes eye contact with you once again. You share a dumb smile before he sends a wink your way. Cedric lets out a booming laugh when you start getting flustered. Your face flames up and you turn away, mumbling stuff under your breath about how unfair it was to be that attractive.

Cedric sets a gentle hand on your shoulder, patting it comfortingly. You let out an exasperated sigh and fall into his chest, “He’s going to be the death of me, Cedi.”

“I’m sure you’ll die happy then.”

=====

The castle already felt overcrowded with the extra bodies and they haven’t even been there for twelve hours; the rush back to the dorms after the announcement last night was ridiculous. You almost got trampled over three different Durmstrang hoards. You weren’t as lucky as Collin Creevey, poor boy got crushed by a sea of Beauxbeatons girls.

The great hall was surprisingly empty for having the additional schools being there. Most people were either showing their new friends around, sleeping in, or waiting around the cup to see who has the bravery to put their name in. It was nice to have a break from the chaos that occurred in such a short amount of time.

The twins immediately spot you once you walk through the doors of the Great Hall as if they’ve been waiting for you all morning. They wave you over, the mischievous smiles on their faces make you want to turn around and pretend you never came down here.

The boys separate and make room for you on the bench, allowing you to sit in your unspoken designated spot between the two. “Good morning, boys.” You mumble a greeting before reaching for a pancake.

“Mornin’.”

“Well, don’t you look rather ravishing today?” Fred compliments once you're settled with a plate full of food. “Doesn’t she, George?”

“I’ve never been graced with anyone more beautiful in my presence.” He dreamily says, gently pushing a piece of hair out of your face. You freeze in confusion, the dry pancake hanging out of your mouth as their words process in your tired brain. Ravishing? You were still in your pajama pants and sweatshirt that you were certain was your brother’s. Beautiful? Your hair was in disarray, more strands were out of your ponytail than in it by this point.

This wasn’t out of character for George, but Fred? You couldn’t recall the last time he complimented a sweater you wore. Realization washes over you when you put the two together...

“What do you two gits want?” You spit out and going back to your food. Fred lets out his infamous offended scoff, pressing a hand to his chest which makes you roll your eyes. You stab at the breakfast at your plate as you wait for them to answer. They silently communicate over your head, sending each other looks and mouthing words. “Just let it out, will ya.”

“So, we’ve been thinking--”

“--That’s never good--” You immediately quip while looking over the rim of your cup, hiding the smile that appears when Fred rolls his eyes.

“We, the brave and daring Gryffindors we are, would like to enter the Triwizard tournament.” The older ginger announces and you to choke on the pumpkin juice. “So, we are trying to make an age potion. We have the base of the potion but we are having trouble with the rest.” He pulls out a muggle notebook and a pencil, a list of the ingredients and directions ripped out of a book taped to it. “So, we need your expertise.”

“Are you guys mental?” You immediately scold, an onslaught of worrying thoughts flooding your brain. “There is no reason for the two of you to put your name in that cup. You would be risking your lives for what? Get your name out there? People already know the people behind the outrageous pranks.”

Fred opens his mouth to defend himself but is cut off by you continuing your ranting. You were absolutely fuming at them. How could they put themselves in danger like this? People knew who they were and they shouldn’t risk their lives for a dumb prize. “You guys aren’t even old enough to put your name in the cup, why do you think you could win it if you even got in the damn thing?”

“And Cedric can?” Fred dares to challenge you. The grip on your cup tightens at the mention of Cedric planning to put his name in the cup. You honestly didn’t want him to but you knew if he got picked he would kick ass. He’s excelled at all his classes and he has shown how talented he can be. Cedric wanted to volunteer for the challenge, not the rewards.

“Cedric has been at the top of our class since first year. He’s proven himself worthy on many occasions and has the mental capacity to handle the challenges they put him through. You two are not Cedric.” You simply state, voice scarily steady. It’s not that you didn’t think they had the skill to survive, it’s just that you were scared to lose them. Yea, you were scared to lose Cedric as well, but you knew his passion would perceive above all. “What do you guys even want to be in it for?”

“The money.” Fred instantly answers, you let out a scoff. You knew their dreams of opening a joke shop but risking their lives when there was an easier way to do that was not the way to go.

“You guys are so stupid.” You shake your head and get up out of your seat. You couldn’t stand to be in the same room in fear that you would snap and say something you would regret later. “I can’t believe you two would risk your lives for a little bit of cash.”

“We don’t have money as you do, Malfoy, so I don’t even want to hear it.” Fred has the audacity to continue the argument as George stares down at his food. “Some of us have to work harder to afford what we want.”

You physically flinch at his direct insult to your family. It takes you back to the time your first year when the feud between the three of you was at its peak. It made your blood boil, “Well, Weasley, don’t come crying back to me when you’re on your deathbed because you use the last two of your combined brain cells to enter yourself in the most dangerous competition in Wizarding history.” And with that, you turn on your heel and storm down the aisle. A few people’s heads turn your way but you don’t pay mind to them. It was a matter of life or death when it came to the Tri-Wizard tournament and those two numb skulls didn’t see the severity of it.

#cedric diggory platonic #cedric diggory #george weasley x you #george weasley imagines #george weasley imagine #george weasley #george weasley x reader #hp #hp imagine #hp imagines #draco malfoy x sister!reader #george wealsey x malfoy!reader #harry potter fanfic

[deliwrites]

ℂ𝕠𝕞𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕥 𝕊𝕝𝕦𝕥 // 𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖗𝖊𝖊 // Dream Team

// DATE // 26th of November 2022 // PAIRING // DreamTeam x fem!Reader, george x fem!reader, sapnap x fem!reader, dream x fem!reader // WARNING // flirty!reader, use of real names, tease!reader, playgirl(ish)!reader, reader being playfully teased   // WORDS // 2,5k+ // SUMMARY //  Your first day in America with the boys. (it's a bit of a filler cause I've been very busy with college, sorry!) // CREDIT // I have use a small paragraph of the first book of the "to be claimed" series from "Willow Winters". I highly recommend it if you are into a/o/b stuff.

// SERIES // Intro // Part One // Part Two // Part Three // Part Four // I’m open for serie title suggestions for this one! Feel free to comment your suggestion here or sent it into my inbox!

// MASTERLIST // ANONLIST //

After our group hug, I looked up to actually look at Clay. Nick and George going to grab my suitcases.

“I knew you would be gorgeous,” I told him. I don’t think he was expecting exactly that. A loud chuckle coming from him in surprise. A bright smile covering my face. Standing on my tippy toes, I peck his cheek. “Now, where is Patches?” I ask with excitement. Don’t tell them I said this, but Patches is definitely the biggest reason I decided to move.

“Alright, let’s let those two deal with the suitcases,” we laugh at the two somehow struggling to get them out of the car. Wrapping an arm around my shoulders, Clay starts leading the way to the front door.

“Patches!” I sing song the moment the front door closes behind us.

“Last I saw her she was in my ro-”  a meow interrupts him—patches. She walks over to us from the living room.

“Hmm,” I giggle evilly. “I guess you forgot to tell Patches about your plan,” smirking, I stand on my tippy toes again, this time pecking his lips now that we were in private. Clay smiles, only a little defeated. He did at least get a peck. I peck his lips two more times before walking over to Patches slowly. Lowering to the floor. “Hi cutie,” holding out my hand for her to sniff. Cautiously strutting over, she starts sniffing my fingers. Quickly after nudging my hand. Allowing me to pet her. “Awh, you like me already!” Gently I pick her up, cradling her in my arms like a baby.

“Of course, she likes you,” Clay says, watching fondly at the interaction. Watching me baby-talk to the cat. She somehow meowed back in response. “You’re part of the family,” getting up from the floor I sent him a smile. Still holding onto Patches who decided to hug me.

“So, where is my - unfinished -  room?” Before Clay can answer, the front door bursts open. George and Nick arguing as they stumble inside with my four suitcases. The commotion causing Patches to jump from my arms, using my shoulder. Leaving a slight stinging sensation from her claws. Running who knows where to hide from the two. “You guys okay?”

“I thought you packed light!” George exclaims, making the question sound more like a statement.

“I did?” I answered with confusion. I had been carrying all four suitcases and hadn’t really noticed one being heavier than the others. Maybe one because of books, but not so much heavier that it would cause such a struggle. Walking over I took the heavy suitcase, noting that it seemed heavier. Placing it on the floor. Unzipping it, I take a peek inside. “She did not,” I mutter, smacking the suitcase shut. I had no idea what else was in this suitcase. But I did not want them to see what mom had put in it.

“What? What’s in it?” Nick asks, his voice filled with curiosity.

“Let’s not worry about it,” I quickly go to zip up the suitcase, not noticing the look the three share. “Hey!” I squeak when I am suddenly pulled away from the suitcase. Clay having a tight hold on me. Leaving us both to sit on the floor. Trapped I am unable to move out of his hold as I trash around. I’m forced to watch Nick and George open the suitcase. The first thing in sight is a - one of my many - baby albums. One I didn’t plan on bringing, along with a box filled with other pictures from my childhood. Under those, I could see - spicy - books and a black Hunkamüller box. That box was not filled with lingerie tho. No, no, but I think you can guess when I tell you that I would rather have them look at my baby pictures.

“Y/n’s baby pictures,” George smirks. Immediately flipping through the pages quickly. Laughing when he finds a picture of me naked. Showing it to all of us, I was laid on a cushion, on my belly. Ass plumb nice and round in true baby fashion. ‘Awh’s filled the entree way as they continued flipping through them. All the while I groan in both embarrassment and frustration, hiding my face in my hands.

“They are just baby pictures!” I try to minimize the hype of the photo album. “I don’t know why mom packed those.”

“She packed it so we can tease you with it,” Clay says from behind me, still keeping me trapped in his hold. Though I stopped trashing, just letting it happen. Scoffing, I rolled my eyes, not that he could see.

“And what are these,” Nick grabs one of the few books in the suitcase. These were my favourites, there were more going to be shipped by my mom. But they didn’t need to know what they were about.

“Just books… Nothing to worry about,” maybe I should shut up though. I didn’t like lying and I especially couldn’t lie to these three idiots. Besides, nothing I say is going to make them stop looking through my stuff. I wouldn’t mind but like this, it felt very exposing. 

“To be claimed, Willow Winters,” Lucky for me I got the discreet version, so as long as they didn’t open the book I would be in the clear. “What’s this about?”

“I’m not saying anything,” I should really listen to my own advice. With a mock scoff, George takes the book from Nick. Opening it to a random page.

“Before the torn clothing even hits the floor, his tongue-”

“George stop,” I try to stop him from continuing as he reads from the book. He just glances at me, smirk devilishly on his lips.

“His tongue is on me. His rough stubble scratches against my inner thighs and it’s even better-”

“George ple-” before I can finish my plea Clay’s hand covers my mouth.

“Shh, we’re finding out how kinky you really are,” he says in a hushed tone.

“ ‘Please!’ I can’t stand the torture any longer. I need my release. He moves from between my legs and hovers over my body while wiping my glistening arousal from his mouth with the back of his hand. His lips are swollen and his silver gaze doesn’t hide his desperation to be inside me in the least. At least both of us are affected. ‘You need me to fuck you, Grace?’.”

“Wow, we know you’re horny, but not this horny,” Nick teases me when George stops reading. Thanks fuck. Pulling Clay's hand down I mock a laugh.

“At least the men in these books are able to pull more girls than you guys,” laughs fill the space. Clay finally let go of me. Thankfully they decided they had done enough snooping for today. Instead, actually deciding to show me around our home. Ending at my empty bedroom, lucky me, it has an ensuite.

“So, as I explained before, for now, we are rotating beds,” Clay says after putting one suitcase down in the room, George, Nick and I doing the same with the other suitcases. “Tonight, my room is all yours. Tomorrow George’s, then Nick’s. And it will repeat until your room is ready.” 

“Hmm, are you sure you trust me in your rooms?” I smirk evilly.

Around noon whilst we were all relaxing on the living room couch, my phone started ringing.

“Shit,” I mumble, quickly answering the phone. “H-hey mom..,”

“Y/full/n, you’ve made me worried sick! You said you would call when you landed!” my mom's voice rings loudly.

“I’m so sorry! I promise that I’m okay. I have arrived safely-”

“I don’t believe you! Hand the phone to George.”

“What? George is more believable than me?” I ask offended, the guys laughing at my reaction.

“Just hand over the phone, unless you’re not actually with them.”

“Okay, okay,” doing as told, I give my phone to Geoge who puts it on speaker.

“Hello Mrs Y/l/n,” he says calmly.

“Oh thank god, my angel hasn’t been kidnapped.”

“What!?” I exclaim. Clay wheezed beside George.

“Honey, the only way I would know for certain would be George’s British accent,” mom says like it’s nothing. “If you would have just turned your video on-”

“Mom-”

“It’s okay, Y/n, you can turn the cam on,” Clay reassures me like he was reading my mind.

“You sure?” He nods with a sweet smile. Taking my phone back from George. I turn on the front camera.

“There you are,” mom smiles tearily.

“See, I’m alright. I’m in one piece. I’ve just been fed by Clay,” I turn the camera trying to show her I was actually in one piece. Also showing the empty plate on my lap. “I’m being well taken care of.”

“As promised!” Nick says, popping his head into frame next to me. “Also thank you for making her bring a baby photo album,” he smirks, making me roll my eyes.

“I actually can’t believe you put it in my suitcase!”

“Awh, but hun, I had to give the boys something to tease you with,” she grins like a Cheshire cat making the guys laugh.

“I thought you were on my side,” I pout.

“Oh, but I am. I am always on your side.” She says in that motherly voice. “But since I won’t see them myself. It meant I couldn't tease you with the pictures myself.”

“Fine, I’ll let you get away with it. But I’m definitely going to hide it.”

“Oh, we’ll find it,” Clay promises, making me reach over George, hitting his arm. 

The call goes on for a little while longer. Ending when Mom goes to bed.

At 9 pm I gave up on trying to keep myself awake. Saying goodnight to the guys, pecking their cheeks. Retreating into Clay’s room after sending him a wink. Using that as a way of saying he was allowed to join me when he went to bed.

I quite literally plummet onto the bed the moment I’ve undressed. Wrapping myself in the comfortable sheets. Which smells delightfully like Clay. It was such a new scent but it was so comforting. Almost like I hadn’t left home. I tried to fight the sleep but almost instantly fell asleep.

It was close to 2 am when Clay was finally able to sneak into his own room. George had gone to bed around 11:30 but Nick stayed up another hour. Not waiting to risk waking those two he had to wait longer. 

Grinning when he saw her figure in his sheets, her face nuzzled in his pillow. Quietly taking off his clothes. He crawls into his bed, on the other side of her. With gentle hands, he pulls her figure closer to him. She grumbled a bit, Clay softly chuckles. But that’s enough to make her stir. Blinking slowly Y/n looks at Clay, a smile forming on her lips.

“Hey,” she says sleepily, a lazy smile on her lips.

“Hi cutie,” he grins at the lazily blinking girl. She snuggles closer to the tall male. “You tired, baby?” she nods against his chest. “That’s alright, go back to sleep,” he pecks the top of her head. He obviously hoped something would happen between him and the teasing minx he was currently cuddling. But he understands how tired she is. It was a long day for her. So much to digest. A whole new life to get used to. There would be many more days for just the two of them. The thought of it brought a smile to his face. Not that she saw.

“Love you,” the confession shouldn’t have shocked him as much as it had. Y/n often told him, Nick and George, that she loves them. But hearing it in real life felt so much different.

“Love you too,” he replied softly, giving her another peck on her head. Clay laid awake for a while longer. Not used to sleeping with someone. Especially, someone, he cared for as much as Y/n. 

He had spoken about it before. And he truly means it. He spoke about Nick and George being his soulmates. Maybe not in the traditional sense. But he thinks the same of Y/n, it might just be a little different. What he knows for sure is that he loves the three of them so much.

The next day I was happy yet surprised to find Clay Next to me. A quick flash of a memory reminding me that he had joined me late last night. He was still asleep cuddled into me. With a grin, I worm my right hand free. Reaching up to softly caress his face. My thumb traces his cheek, his slight stubble catching on my skin. I took my time appreciating his face. Loving the light freckles scattering across his nose and cheeks. He had told me he had them of course, I just hadn’t seen them. And now I get to stare at them as long as I want. Beautiful lashes decorating his closed eyes. Wild curly dirty blond hair framing his face. Plumb slightly pouty bottom lip. Tracing my thumb softly across the pink skin. I watch as it subconsciously gets pulled into his mouth. Licking his lip softly, making me bite my lip. I quite desperately wanted to kiss him, but he’s asleep.

“I can feel you staring.”

“Huh? What? No, I’m not!” I replied startled. Turning away like I wasn’t just appreciating his face. He chuckles, pulling me closer to him. Arms wrapped tight but lovingly around my waist. Giggling as he peppers the top of my head with kisses. Turning back to face him I smile up at him.

“Did you sleep well?” he asks gently, his left hand coming up to cup my cheek. A blush flushing my cheek as I nod to answer him.

“It feels like home,” I tell him. I wasn’t necessarily talking about sharing the bed with him. But it all just felt like it was normal. Like I didn’t just move countries. This is my home. With my three boys. It’s meant to be this way.

“I’m glad,” his voice is soft. Slowly leaning in, giving me the option to pull away. Instead, I met him halfway. Our lips slotted together in a tender kiss. No tongue, just lips pouring out feelings of finally making the dream come true. 

“Hmm, I’m hungry,” I tell him romantically the moment we pull away. Biting my bottom lip with a grin.

“Idiot,” Clay chuckles. “Go get dressed, I’ll be in the kitchen.”

“Okies,” I peck his lips once more before getting out of bed. Clay doing the same, smacking my ass to get moving. I squeak watching him smirk as he goes to his closet. Leaving the room, I go to mine. 

When everyone was awake we made plans. Our schedules weren’t free for shopping for the next two weeks. So we freed a random Wednesday, Thursday and Friday for shopping and building. Clay would have done his face reveal by then. So he agreed to do a building stream with me, along with George and Nick.

#dreamteam x reader #dreamteam x you #dreamteam x y/n #dreamteam smut #poly dreamteam #poly dreamteam smut #george x reader #george x you #george x y/n #georgenotfound x reader #georgenotfound x you #georgenotfound x y/n #george smut #georgenotfound smut #sapnap x reader #sapnap x you #sapnap x y/n #nick x reader #nick x you #nick x y/n #sapnap smut #nick smut #dream x reader #dream x you #dream x y/n #clay x reader #clay x you #clay x y/n #dream smut #clay smut

[pistachiotalenti]

It's a slip that will live on in infamy.

It begins on Minecraft, like everything else. George is streaming, and his face camera is on, and he's happy to be in call with so many of his friends, but a certain shade of green is notably absent from his screen, and he intends to change that.

"Dream. I mean, Clay. I mean Geor– DREAM."

A chorus of snickers and astonished laughter rings out in the Discord call. Dream is fond and half-breathless when he replies,"What, George?"

"Where– where are you?" George is immediately hiccuping with giggles, clearly pink but also smiling wider in an interesting sort of giddiness.

"What–"

Sam is cut off by Dream's response, laughing, "I'm at the base." He's quick to move on, choosing not to dwell on the slip for whatever mysterious reason, but their friends aren't as forgiving.

"What was that? Did George just have a stroke?" Bad says, earning more laughter and chatter from the group.

"For real, that was–"

"Did he call him George?" Hannah asks.

Dream lets out a flustered guffaw. George slaps a hand over his face, then quickly slides it off with a shake of his head. "No," he denies.

"He did, he did," the other girls butt in. They're not letting him get away with a half-baked lie.

"It was just a slip of the tongue," Dream finally defends, chuckling. "An honest mistake."

"You would know a lot about George's tongue, wouldn't you, Dream," Velvet mutters. The volume of the call spikes once more in sputtered laughter.

The comment flies over George's head—or maybe he just decides not to fuel it. "Yeah, an honest mistake. Haven't you guys ever misspoke before?" he bellows, sassy and playful. "I didn't realize everyone in this call was perfect."

"Aw, he called us perfect. Thank you, George," Bad jokes. Everyone chimes in to echo the thanks.

George reaches the base in-game, and in real life, he smiles at his friends' teasing yet seemingly forgets to respond. Instead, his eyes are focused on Dream's character before him, squatting and swatting the air. He waves back.

There are more voices, and then there's Dream, so George doesn't really hear the voices. But then Sapnap calls for him, saying, "Hey, George."

Sapnap's character shuffles into view and walks right up to him. "What?" George says.

"Oh, I wasn't talking to you." Sapnap's character then swivels around and faces Dream. "Hey, George."

It takes a second for George to process. Then he rolls his eyes and beams wider, though this time a fire is lit behind his eyes. "Oh my god. I'm gonna kill you. I'm killing you."

"Hey, hey! No!" Sapnap yells with laughter as George follows through on his word, attacking his friend. Sapnap puts up a good fight, but it's over almost as soon as it's started, with Sapnap's body falling over and exploding in an array of items. George laughs. Sapnap bellows, "Dream! You just let him kill me?!"

"I mean–" Dream's mic cuts out as he pauses to laugh. "I mean, it was sort of deserved, so."

"What?!"

"YEAHHHH! Dream, let's go," George declares, skipping a bit in-game. He turns around briefly to watch Dream following him.

The rest of the group titters. "Toxic. They're toxic," they joke fondly.

George pays it no mind, smiling widely, eyes crinkling in the corners.

#dnf #dreamnotfound #fic #mine #my writing #thoughts #the moral of the story is: you sound like an idiot when you're in love 👍

[alphacrone]

Angst Week Day 2 - @lco-angst-week

miscommunication | betrayal | arguments

X-posted on AO3

TW: minor internalized misogyny, low self esteem

Book Spoilers up to Book 4

Lucy had done her best to avoid Lockwood & Co. for months, but today the universe was not on her side. 

First she’d woken up to no electricity. The entire neighborhood was blacked out, their landlord citing some mess Bunchurch agents had made tackling a haunting. Power lines were damaged, at least one agent was in the hospital for severe electrical burns, and Lucy was stuck showering in the dark. 

Since her only real appliance was an electric hotplate, Lucy took this as a great excuse to buy her breakfast at the Thai restaurant down the block. Of course, she realized belatedly, they also had lost power and were closed. So she found herself hiking out of the area until she found unaffected businesses and bought herself a couple sausage rolls and a coffee…

…which was then spilled all over her front by a harried man in a suit who was careening down the pavement without a care for anyone in his way. He offered no help, no apologies, leaving Lucy wet, stained, and very, very unhappy. 

By the time she’d replaced her coffee and eaten her rolls, Lucy had managed to wander into the area between Streatham and Lambeth Cemeteries. Both had been cleared out ages ago and posed no real danger anymore, but most of the locals had never quite returned to those few streets, leaving them mostly empty and run-down. One of the buildings there had been converted to an outlet for Satchell’s overstock, cheap but poorer quality than the full-price items. It was the only reason to come to this part of town really, unless you were one of the unlucky souls who dared to live here. Lucy had considered leasing a flat along Smallwood Road when she’d moved out, but the landlord’s wandering eyes had given her pause. 

That was when she heard familiar laughter—a bright, tinkling, feminine sound. Lucy’s heart skipped a beat and she ducked behind a cluster of trees. The last person she wanted to see while coffee-stained and in her ugliest joggers was Holly Munro . 

A boy’s voice joined Holly’s and Lucy’s blood ran cold. Scratch that—Holly was the second-to-last person she wanted to see right now. 

Anthony Lockwood was the first. 

Lucy peeked around a tree trunk to catch a glimpse of the duo. They had clearly just come from the surplus store, arms laden with bags. Holly looked as pretty and perfect as ever, dressed in a floral romper and baby pink cardigan. Her dark hair bounced in a tidy ponytail, pulled back with a yellow ribbon. She was laughing at whatever Lockwood was saying, hand covering her mouth in such a delicate, polite way it made Lucy feel sick. 

And Lockwood—he looked thinner and paler than he had those months ago, but was just as handsome as ever. He was smiling, bright and genuine, and talking animatedly. Lucy thought he might be telling Holly the story of how he uncovered Harold Crisp, the mass-murderer. It was one of his favorites, despite it sounding to be 90% exaggeration. 

Though, Lucy thought bitterly, Holly wasn’t the type to laugh at such a gruesome story. Lucy herself was, and she had found the story amusing when it wasn’t horrific. But she supposed that was something boys liked about Holly. Girls weren’t supposed to laugh at gross things. 

Girls also weren’t supposed to walk around in stained shirts or hide behind trees to avoid awkward encounters. Lucy had never been good at being a girl. 

“-so then George thought he’d found the bones the goose’s spirit had been attached to, but they turned out to belong to a badger!” Lockwood was saying as he and Holly drew closer. Lucy bit back a smile; she fondly remembered the case with the goose spirit that chased them into the pond, especially the way George screamed when a living goose appeared. “I would’ve been ghost-touched by a dead bird if it hadn’t been for- well. It would’ve been an embarrassing way to go.” 

A lump formed in the back of Lucy’s throat. She’d been the one to cut off the goose’s warpath towards Lockwood, barely getting her rapier through its head before it could touch him. He’d given her such a bright, excited smile then, she could still remember the way his eyes had glinted in the light of the ghost-lamps that littered the park. 

Holly’s laughter faded and Lucy heard her say, “You can talk about her, you know.” 

Lucy’s heart thudded in her chest. Lockwood sighed. “I’d rather not.” 

“She was your friend, Lockwood,” Holly said. “You’re allowed to miss her.” 

“Friends don’t just leave in the middle of the night. Clearly she was never my friend.” 

Lucy swallowed roughly. She knew he was angry but this…

“You know that’s not true.” Holly’s voice had gone soft, almost too quiet for Lucy to hear. 

“Whatever,” Lockwood said brusquely. “She made her choice. With you and George at my side, we don’t need her.” 

Tears welled in Lucy’s eyes. Leaving had been for the best, had been the only way to protect Lockwood, but realizing how irreparably she’d damaged her only remaining friendships was more painful than she could have ever imagined. Lockwood hated her. 

Lucy understood. She hated herself, too. 

With one last glance at Holly and Lockwood, Lucy slipped from behind the tree and silently turned down a side street. As soon as she was out of sight, she broke into a sprint, and didn’t stop until she got home. It was only then that she allowed herself to cry.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t until Lucy was gone that Holly spoke again. 

“I know you’re angry about what Kipps told you,” she said more sternly. “About Lucy taking solo jobs. She shouldn’t be working alone, I agree, but you either have to accept it and move on or go talk to her .” 

Lockwood glanced to the side, where someone had just turned the corner onto the next street over. He could have sworn he’d seen Lucy, but there were plenty of girls in London with short hair and blue jackets. He saw her everywhere he went these days, on every busy street, in every crowded station. Holly gave him tired, worried looks every time he lingered too long at the furnaces, just hoping to run into Lucy, or at least catch a glimpse of her from a distance. The only news he ever heard of her came from Kipps, who seemed to be at the center of Fittes’ web of gossip. Even he hadn’t seen or spoken to Lucy in months and the lack of first-hand information drove Lockwood mad. 

“Do you really think she’s going to take advice from me? ” He asked with a frown. “What am I supposed to say, ‘Hey, Luce, haven’t heard a word from you since you snuck out in the middle of the night, but I’ve been keeping tabs on you like some horrible stalker and I think you shouldn’t be taking solo jobs because you’re far too reckless—why yes, I am a hypocrite, thanks for asking.’” 

Holly sighed. “Well something has to change. You were downright mean to George yesterday when he made that joke about Listeners losing their minds.” 

“It wasn’t funny,” Lockwood snapped. Holly raised an eyebrow. 

“Let’s get these bags home,” she said, understanding this was a losing battle. “My feet are killing me.” 

Lockwood let her lead the way, lost in thought. George’s joke hadn’t really been a joke ; it had been a cruel truth disguised by a poor attempt at humor. George was angrier at Lucy than Lockwood was for leaving, and angry at Lockwood for letting her go. But more than anything, George was worried about Lucy and her growing, uncontrollable powers. They all were. 

Holly was right. Lockwood either had to give up on Lucy entirely and move on with his life or talk to her. Both were heinous, painful options, but the answer was clear. 

There was no universe in which Anthony Lockwood gave up on Lucy Carlyle. 

#anna writes things #lockwood & co. #lockwood and co angst week #ok to rb

[thedragonchilde]

G Gundam meta notes part three, eps 21-24:

"The Final Battle Approaches! Only 3 Days Away" / "Breakthrough! Warriors Strong Ties" / "Destined Battle! Domon vs. Devil Gundam" / "Bright New Star! The Birth of the God Gundam"

-the Shuffle Alliance links!! More of this please!

-the reveal of all of them skulking around waiting for Domon is hysterical

-okay George, you're here to protect Rain from beasts, that's,,, almost convincing coming from you

-Chibodee, on the other hand, who the hell are you trying to convince? You were just openly talking about why you were there, and now you're shooting off some crap about how you should just leave, okay. And followed with the defeated mumble "nothing but time on my hands", good job

-magical girl Schwarz Bruder Mark II, appearing out of the water

-"what is this feeling?" No offense, Domon, but you're historically not good at knowing your feelings anyway, why is this one a surprise

-why was Rain sleeping in the cockpit??

-Argo and Nastasha know exactly where to hit each other, damn

-Domon being so concerned with keeping the others out of "his" problem is sweet

-"there's one more important person waiting" wait a minute. He can't be talking about Rain, because she's right there. Did he mean… did Domon tell them about his dad?

-”not doing this for you or anything” OH MY GOD CHIBODEE YOU FUCKING TSUNDERE WHO ARE YOU TRYING TO CONVINCE

-"I'll help too"/"I know you will" something about this tweaks my heart a little, but y'know, big surprise that I take to an A/N moment

-I fucking love Nastasha calling the shots in the group

-Schwarz too

-Domon is actually quite empathetic when he's paying attention. Pity he doesn't do that much

-if D/R had more scenes like this, I,,, would still probably prefer to explore the friendship, but I'd understand the romance more

-you fucking tell that guy, Nastasha! Make getting out of there sound cowardly instead of the cutthroat crap Neo Russia would normally love!

-"who's the guy in the stupid mask anyway" Sai saying the quiet part out loud

-both Argo having tactical expertise from his pirating and George admiring it is super interesting

-oh, announcing yourself with a throwing weapon to save the hero, you're Tuxedo Schwarz this time

-oh my God seriously let me just get feral about Nastasha backing up her nobility with clear-headed logic, both in general as part of her character arc and in contrast to a cast full of Honor Before Reason

-ayyyy foreshadowing

-"I DON'T DESERVE TO HAVE YOU LAUGHING AT ME" I mean,,, you're right, Domon, and that's partly why I've got such a soft spot for you, you don't deserve half the crap you go through

-Schwarz is kinda hot when he's bloody

-SUPER SAIYAN DOMON

-i love that it gives the audience just enough that even if we do figure out the identity we have the new mystery of why and how

-Nastasha keeps up on Gundam engineers/is familiar with Mikamura's work? That's pretty cool

-oooh, all right, Domon has given lip service to the whole "you're no longer my master" thing before, but seeing him actually talk back is cathartic

-Argo being the optimist, damn!

-okay, experimental brain wave transmitter, very cool, needs more use in fic maybe, but also like,,, scifi contrast to Shuffle magic

-"I've never thought so dearly of you as I do now" you mean not until you found out he thought fondly of you? Hmmm. Food for thought.

-now George is optimistic, and interestingly Chibodee is consistently struggling to stay positive. (Though I guess that tendency goes all the way back to his first appearance, the whole "might as well finish me now" thing - looks like being a "star of hope" actually takes some effort for him! Hope is a choice, and not always an easy one! This is so interesting!)

-hee, the gals helping Rain through her post-reunion overwhelm <3

-the Shuffle Alliance being so shrouded in mystery is interesting given that EVERYONE IN UNIVERSE SEEMS TO KNOW THEM or at least that the crests mark top fighters

#g gundam #mobile fighter g gundam #meta #thinky thoughts

[420technoblazeit]

y’all remember that post of changes that would be made to dream smp if it got bought by a big studio? you just know they’d make a longass spinoff movie of c!dream’s backstory to try and justify the fact that his favorite hobby seems to be manipulating teenagers 

obviously, he’s a white freckled skinny blond kid with pretty blue eyes. he turns out to have been orphaned bc the president of some country ordered his parents killed and that’s why he’s so against l’manburg. child soldiers were the ones who executed them. bonus points for a scene of 8-year-old dream drawing a smiley face on a homemade mask and then slowly putting it on with crescendoing music in the background. younger george shows up as like. a merchant’s son in a kingdom festival or smth. they make fleeting eye contact, ofc george has heterochromia so dream stares a moment longer, and he’s the one to give him the clout goggles. you can see phil in the bg for 0.5 seconds toting around baby tommy while kid techno and wilbur follow in the background, so the directors can include the shot in the trailer as sbi bait. eventually george leaves his home in the kingdom to be on the run with dream bc idk. he ‘looks like he’s going to change the world’ or some cheesy shit like that

flash forward a couple of years and dream’s been hardened from years of living alone and having to survive by himself. he shows kindness to a kid, sapnap, who gets targeted for being the son of a demon and that’s how they become friends. we never see bbh despite sapnap mentioning him several times because the directors don't want to cgi him, and it's implied that he's 'platonically' raising sapnap with skeppy. bbh’s girlfriend does show up though, she looks like him but shorter and with pink on her hoodie instead of red. 

there’s a montage of the dream team bonding and getting closer together. they’re teenagers and doing stupid shit like adventuring in a cave with barely any resources, one day dream gets surrounded by mobs and it’s a little too close for comfort and they dramatically slash him with a sword so that he gets this photogenic tiny little scar across his nose. sapnap and george say later that he almost died and that he was lucky to survive. at some point sapnap sets fire to a forest for no reason while they’re out at night so we can get a theatric shot of the flames reflected in their eyes and george’s goggles as emotional pop music plays in the background. callahan shows up as a side character. he doesn't talk but makes facial expressions and he's there for a single scene so the directors can say in an interview that he’s deaf and get brownie points for diversity. alyssa shows up briefly to flirt with sapnap, we can see her blushing and getting flustered as she leaves. we know nothing about her other than she’s pretty and she lives nearby. 

near the end of the movie dream makes a moving speech about ‘making something of himself’ and how he never felt like he’d made a difference before. he’s decided on moving away from all the big countries and kingdoms to make a server for himself, but george and sapnap don’t have to come with him, obviously. and then they both stand up from where they’re sitting in the grass in a field somewhere and go ‘obviously we’re coming with you, idiot. who else is going to keep you out of trouble?’ while he fondly smirks at them. the sun sets in the background and fireflies start to light up as they look up to the stars, symbolizing the beginning of a new journey. 

the aftercredits scene is several years after the end of the movie, when tommy and wilbur are leaving home. techno’s in the background but his face is covered by a book and he doesn’t talk because they haven’t cast a voice actor yet and they didn’t want to do the cgi. phil waves them off, and when they’re far enough away tommy asks where they’re going. wilbur ruffles his hair and tells him he’s heard of a promising new place without any citizens yet, and he’s excited to see what they can do there. tommy grins and asks if he can invite some friends.

#dream smp #mcyt #dsmp #dreamwastaken #georgenotfound #the dream team #sapnap #420 squeals #long post #dear god i blacked out and this spawned out of nowhere someone help me i haven't even finished writing the latest chapter of my fic #most of this is actually ok and i wouldn't mind watching it like. it's full of cliches and classic coming of age protag bits but #it's the bad directing that really sells it i think just the lack of effort yk? go on fictional directors give us nothing

[80s4life]

The Wolf In Sheep’s Clothing

Word Count: 4,438

Status: Not Requested

Fandom: Back To The Future 1985

Relationship: Biff Tannen x Female Reader

Summary: As time is altered for a total of 2 weeks (I extended it slightly), you and Marty struggle to get his parents under control, having problem after the next. But, when an unexpected solution occurs, you find yourself willingly okay with it, soon finding the exact reason as to why.

Warnings: language, fluff, Biff being a dick, slight angst, cute Biff

Masterlist Back To The Future Masterlist

Prompts: (from this list @youneedsomeprompts​)

Y/C/S= Your Choice of Sport/ Your Chosen Sport (you don’t have to honestly play one, just choose one you like or one that comes to mind)

{gif and prompts are not mine, gif credits go to @backtothefuturemovies and credits were given above for prompts!}

No one ever said time travel was fun. No one ever said the job was easy. And no one sure as hell told you the consequences that come with it. Well, at least not before you, and your best friend, Marty McFly, had gone dead-on through a barn, sacred a neighboring family of ‘alien invasion,’ run into younger McFly parents, and altered time just enough to fuck you over for a few days.

I mean, who would’ve guessed right? Your mom just so happens to be romantically interested in you, their child. Well, that was at least in Marty’s case. For you, you had just managed to run into the biggest dickhead of the century, Biff Tannen. Or so you thought?

Making your way out of bed, you automatically go to where Marty was sleeping in the garage, waking him along with Doc up. The go-to plan for the day was to go undercover as usual students in the 50′s, secretly following Marty’s parents around, finding out where they lie in this part of time, and try to find ways into manipulating them together once more in time for Marty and you to get back home. Easy enough, right?

Groaning, Marty goes to slap your hands away weakly, mumbling something along the lines of ‘Just a few more minutes.’ You giggle slapping his hands back in an attempt to wake him up cheerily. Mornings weren’t really your forte either, so any upbeat wake-up is better than a pissy, tired, horrible morning. 

Doc, on the other hand, was happy to return the affection, getting out of bed to give a quick hug and kiss to the forehead. Then he makes his way over to the bed, going to tickle Marty’s feet as you go to tickle his sides. Finally, in a fit of laughter, Marty gets up and goes straight for the bathroom. You were going to argue him, having to use the bathroom first, but decide to just leave it be, heading for the makeshift kitchen instead.

You smile fondly as Doc and Marty play around a while later, wrestling about, cracking jokes. It was only just a few hours ago that you and Marty had witnessed the untimely death of the currently very lively man in the house. Witnessing the blood loss, the machine gun in action, and the bullets that whizzed pass with only one malicious intent: to kill. But he’s here now; he’s safe and sound, having many years until that date will arrive.

With the freshly cooked smell of eggs, toast, and pancakes, the boys straighten up, Doc clearing his throat in an attempt to organize himself, and Marty leaving his shirt ruffled as he follows the smell of deliciousness. You giggle as both men of different ages act exactly the same, piling their plates high and digging in, giving thanks through mouthfuls.

///LATER///

After breakfast had finished, you and Marty made your way to the school, not wanting to be late, and, quite frankly, not wanting to miss a second in the disaster we’re in, wanting to fix it as soon as possible. Upon entering, the building erupts in laughter, tears, screaming, perfume, cologne, aftershave, and lots and lots of both testosterone and estrogen. Fucking high school, you smile.

Going to “your locker” right besides “Marty’s,” you both place the books and supplies that are unneeded inside it and take only the things you need for the first two classes, somehow having those together. As Marty catches glimpse of his father, George McFly, he winks at you, moving to catch up to him. Rolling your eyes playfully, you turn back towards your locker, just barely missing a group of young men some ways down the hallway, locking eyes with a particularly taller man, towering almost everyone in the halls.

You pay no mind, however, being blindsided by three girls your age. Instantly, you recognize the one right in front as Lorraine, Marty’s mother. Smiling nervously, your cheeks tint only a little, being unprepared to see her so quickly, not yet having a plan made up on how you could help tackle the situation with Marty.

“Hiya! I’ve never seen you before, are you new here? I’m Lorraine Baines, and you are?” she asks cheerfully, her books clasped tightly to her chest.

Taking an obnoxiously long time staring dumbfounded, you finally realize you haven’t spoken, quickly recovering with newfound purpose and confidence, “Ah, yes! I am new here! Sorry, I’m just trying to get used to this place a tiny bit. I’m Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Well that’s quite alright, you can come with us!” she says once more in a cheery tone, taking you by the arm and lacing her arm around yours, locked elbows. You smiled, knowing exactly where Marty’s cheerful and people-person nature had come from. Walking down the halls, she had asked for my schedule, checking classes to see what we had together, “English, History, and Agriculture- Hey! You should try out for cheer leading!” 

Shaking your head lightly, “Nah, I’m more of a Y/C/S myself to be frank.”

“But...We don’t have that sport here? There are no girls sports at all actually...” Lorraine says confused. You go to cover it up, choosing to say it was a sport you play for fun at home, in the backyard. However, a beefy arm separates you momentarily from her, as the owner of the harm moves to pin her to the lockers.

You were going to walk away, figuring it was some sort of make-out session in the works, but upon looking at her before going, you notice that the man was absurdly unwanted. 

“Get your meathooks off me Biff!” she screams at the man, his huge form towering her much smaller one. Not taking the message, the pair continue to squabble, neither of them being successful in winning. The warning bell sounds over the halls and classrooms, alarming kids to get their asses moving, but it seems whoever this dick is, he feels he is greater than the school, and god forbid, knowledge.

“Hey, you do realize your not making a damn bit a difference, right? She’s not interested! And, quite frankly, it seems as if no one does! Now, if you don’t mind, could you please be kind enough to unhand her as some of us treasure a piece of mind and how to take a hint?” you finish, quite ticked off as the last bell warns, cursing under your breath as you already know your in for detention on the first day.

It finally seems that he’d caught a grip, thankfully, letting go of Lorraine’s arm and she quickly scurries out of his proximity, taking your hand to lead you to the class you both needed to be in. As you go to walk in, you are stopped by the teacher, scolding both you and Lorraine. Looking at her regrettably, she smiles defeated. So you decide to do what’s right, take the fall.

“I’m sorry sir, I didn’t know where to go as I was trying to find where all of my classes were before I ended up lost every time classes switch. I caught up to Lorraine here at some point, and as she was hurrying to this class, she was kind enough to show me where I needed to be,” you finish, sighing guiltily.

“Well, as you’ve taken acknowledgment to your mistake, then you’d be just as happy with detention. After school, on Friday, as the first week is extremely busy. As for you, Miss Baines, thank you for your help. You are off the hook for now,” the older gentleman finishes, nodding to each of you personally before turning around and beginning just one of the classes you’d have today. This is going to be fun!

///LATER///

Finally, after grueling hours of just a few of your classes, lunchtime had came round, giving you a slight break. Catching sight of Lorraine, you smile and wave, going in the direction of Marty, or Calvin Klein, as you’d heard Lorraine go on and on about. You’d known it was him the second she’d said it, the brand not yet known to man yet; or at least in this timeline, it wasn’t.

As time had went on, it was only natural for the peace to be broken, as a newly familiar face was starting to appear more and more, Biff Tannen, as you’d known his name by now. But, instead of heading towards Lorraine, he makes his way over to the table you were residing with George and Marty, sitting himself right beside you. 

At first, you were trying to ignore him, knowing his presence was there, but keeping your eyes trained on either Marty or George, eyes dancing between the two. Biff, being the everlasting child he was, tried to catch you attention, trying stupid ass things after the other: kicking your shins, pulling your ears of hair, flicking your head, and even trying to tug on the 50′s style dress you’d been forced to wear to play your part. 

Only when he goes to tug your hair once more is when you finally snap, turning a furious glare to the hulking figure beside you, shoving his shoulder in a feeble attempt to create distance. He giggles at this, his body not moving an inch at all. “You can’t be serious right now! You don’t know when to quit it, do you?!” you scream, fed up with his shit.

“Well, if you’d give me the human decency of turning your head when I’m trying to talk to you, then I wouldn’t have to pester you, now would I?” he asks in a teasing tone, no doubt taunting you, but all you do is stare him down, getting lost in a staring contest, daring him to say something again. “Alls I wanted to say was that we have detention together. Just thought I’d let you know since you got me in all that trouble this morning.”  

“Why you-!” And with that, he gets up with a shit-eating grin plastered to his face, prancing out of view and back to the table he and his gang usually sit. Watching the whole interaction, George smirks at Marty, the pair giving an unspoken mutual agreement to whatever they had both caught on to, bursting into fits of laughter moments later. 

“You have a longer tolerance than I do, I-I-I’ll tell you that much,” George says, his usual slight stutter back in place, Marty laughing once more. As George joins in again, you couldn’t fight it either, giving into the childish antics.

///LATER///

To say your week had gotten any better than the first day was a lie. It hadn’t gotten any better, and your meetings with Biff at lunch had only gotten all the more common and all the more infuriating. He’d made it his duty to agitate you in any ways possible, even resulting in whispering something nagging in your ear when you weren’t paying attention, usually doing something in your locker.

Either way, he was on the countdown to Friday, it being constantly on his mind, mentally counting down the days, hours, minutes, and even seconds until the two of you were locked in a room alone.

Unfortunately, that day had seemed to come way faster than you’d like, Friday rolling around quite quickly. School had finished, and you were making your way to the front office, awaiting a tiring 2 hours with only yourself and Biff as company for the time being. You hadn’t known where the room was, and instead of spending time looking for it, you gave up and looked for the office instead, the nice front desk lady leading you where you needed to go.

Upon entering the room, there was Biff in his prime, casually spread across his chair, legs crossed atop his desk nearest the windows. Sighing, you ignore him, deciding to sit on the opposite side of him, the front desk lady giving you a sympathetic smile before she closes the door behind her. You look at the wall, head turned away from him like the plague.

You knew it’d only last so long until he’d speak, the time coming way faster than you pleased. Given it was Friday, you couldn’t even do homework or even study in order to block him out as he started to blabber, running his mouth over stupid shit once more. Inhaling through your nose, and exhaling through your mouth slowly, you straighten in your seat, hands clutching the desk so tight, your fists turned white. 

“Biff, Sweetheart, Baby, Doll Face, Hun. Please. PLEASE. Shut up for five god damn seconds. I know you truly have nothing to say, so why do you insist on speaking so much?” you finally say, hands prying off the desk to turn in his direction exasperated. 

“Well, if you’d just talk to me, Shortcake, I wouldn’t have much to say at random,” he answers, copying your actions and posture. With this change in childish demeanor, you give in, laughing at him in an unexpected rush, running your hands through your hair tiredly. 

Although you hadn’t seen it, he’d smiled in satisfaction upon seeing you laugh, the glitter in your eyes much more captivating than it ever was when he looked at Lorraine. He hadn’t barely pestered her since you’d barreled into his life. It was weird, but he welcomed it with open arms. And for the first time, he learned what it was like to have an actual, clammy-handed, closed throat, warm, cheek-tinted, teenage crush. A crush that left his heartbeat loud and fast, breathing ragged and uneven, and his behavior out of character and out of his control. Lorraine was way under whatever level he’d placed you on, holding you up on a pedestal like you were the sun or sky.

Of course, you hadn’t taken notice to his antics, just thinking he was annoying. Just Biff being his notorious self. But, as you finally calm your breathing down, the giggles fading, you decide to give him a chance, knowing that sitting in silence is just going bore you. Smiling warmly, you say, “So what do you want to talk about then?” 

///LATER///

Grabbing your bag, you get out of your seat, giggling at a story Biff had told you. He follows your lead as well, getting his own as he lets out a bark of laughter at a certain part. You guys looked like idiots as you shoved each other down the halls, making your way out of the school as your detention had came to a close. Sighing as the warm sun radiated on your skin with the light, spring breeze, you stretch out any kinks the classroom chairs and desks had left. Biff watched you intently, your small body easily swallowed by his shadow beside you.

The sun was setting and it was getting late, although you weren’t concerned. The boys knew you wouldn’t be home ‘til late due to the detention you had initially despised. Now, you and Biff were side by side, walking peacefully to his car in the school’s parking lot. For once, he was quiet, great company to have. It was something else for sure, but you enjoyed it. As you came up towards Doc’s place, you’d realized that Biff had drove you home like a gentleman, too lost in the conversation to notice earlier on. 

Sheepishly, you itch the back of your neck, realizing your mistake and feeling guilty for making him walk all this way to now have to walk all the way home. “Ah- Sorry...I didn’t realize I’d dragged you all the way out here. Now you have to drive all the way back.”

“It’s no problem, really. I liked it. It’s nice to talk to someone other than the guys every now and then. And to have A female speak to me instead of screaming,” he answers, now being the one who is a bit shy.

“You do know that you bring that on yourself right?” you say teasingly, now leaning your head on your hands, propped up on the passenger side door. “Not every girl would want to kick you in the groin if you showed a little more respect, “ you finish off with a smile.

“Yeah...Yeah I know. I’ll try harder, I swear.”

“That’s all I ask,” you say with a wink, drumming your hands on the door as you take a step back, waving as you start walking down Doc’s driveway.

“Hey!” Biff calls from the car, stopping you in your tracks to turn around, facing him with a smile. “Uhm- Well- The Enchantment Under the Sea Dance is coming up next week...Would you mind being my date?” he asks, stuttering as he feels his cheeks heat up, nervous as hell.

“I’d love to!” you answer, turning back around to walk into the house. Biff does a little fist bump as he puts the car back in gear, excited for what is to come.

///

Marty was a little less than amused with this newfound knowledge once entering the door and going over the events of the day. It was only when Doc had suggested that the date with Biff would keep him away from Lorraine, giving George the freeway to attract her long enough for their True Love’s Kiss. Then, and only then, did Marty give the okay, shaking his head, but liking the fact that it’ll give George some time, being the nerd that you know and love.

///Enchantment Under the Sea Dance///

Checking yourself over in the mirror for the final time, you let out a nervous yet satisfied sigh, feeling like an absolute princess. You never minded dresses too much, although you couldn’t deny the fact that normal pair of shorts, jeans, or even leggings were your first choice. All that mattered was that you liked the dress you were wearing, it fit you; it was your favorite color, length, and strap(less) type to hold everything in.

Walking out, you grab the pair of heels to match, knowing that you couldn’t get away with sneakers in this generation, painfully grimacing at the reminder. Finally standing, you recount when you had gotten the dress just a few days ago, having gone with Lorraine and the her two friends, Babs and Betty. They were very endearing and supportive the whole time, you not having to worry about being “to picky” as they were just the same. You ended up loving the dress given that you’d taken the time without pressure.

As you walked into the main room of the garage, you heard a low whistle of Marty, Doc slapping him on the back of the head for it. Giggling, you curtsy and spin in the dress. Doc, the gentleman he always was, compliments you, “You look amazing, my dear. Let’s hope this boy deserves it, hmm?” 

As an answer, you hug him tightly, knowing that, by the end of the night, he will be nothing but a dead man at home, in a lonely, dark parking lot. Your eyes tear up just at the mere thought of it, clutching him tighter. Marty seems to be on the same wavelength, going to interrupt the moment with great urgency, trying to pass him a piece of paper.

“Marty, if this has anything that involves my future, do not. And I repeat, DO NOT try to hand it to me. Whatever happens, happens young man. That’s how the world works,” he says in a warning tone. You wanted to disagree, but you knew the truth that was laced beneath it, as if it was a punishment. You whimper instead, pulling him in tighter; Marty looking down in defeat, soon switching to anger. In the midst of it, he storms out of the garage, getting in the car to go pick up who you’d hope was Lorraine for the dance.

“Just let him go...” you start, sadness evident, “He’s just not very happy with the outcome of what the future has in store for you. Quite frankly, neither am I.”

“I’m sure whatever the outcome is, that I wanted to go with it, dear. I assure you, I’m fine,” Doc answers in a consoling tone, wiping the tears that had slipped from your eyes. You knew it was just a mask, no one wants death, but you knew he needed to go no matter how much you hated it. So you nod, not having to say much more as a honk sounds from outside.

“That’s Biff...” 

“Have a great time! Make sure the McFlys kiss!” Doc screams, following out of the garage, scolding Biff from behind you.

“Yes sir!” you scream back, saluting him as you take a seat in the passenger.

///

“You look beautiful Y/N,” Biff says after a while, finally working up the courage to speak.

“Thank you Biff. And you look handsome yourself,” you giggle, the car pulling into the lot. 

He shuts the engine, grabbing his keys from the ignition and closing the door, making his way around to you as you let yourself out to straighten yourself out. He takes your hand as he leads you to the entrance of the dance, you sighing in relief as you catch a glimpse of Marty pulling up in a car with Lorraine. Finally, you relax, grasping on Biff a little lighter and with more meaning now as you have the night to yourselves. He smiles down at you as you wrap your arm within his, something Lorraine does with you quite often.

With the party in full blast, you let loose with the music, dancing and joking around with Biff. At some point, however, he says he needs a drink and will be right back. Although, he doesn’t seem to actually come back. You’d thought you’d seen him spiking the punch just as few moments ago.

Just as you were going to in the direction of the hallways to the rest of the school, you notice Match, one of Biff’s friends, storming out of the gym through an exit. Taking your bets, you follow behind him, soon being greeted by a huge commotion of screams, all of them from familiar people. Biff was in a car with Lorraine, her dress pulled and taken off in parts. He was no doubt about to do something stupid, the fact pissing you off, saddening you in some ways as well.

The others that were screaming were also George and Marty, the pair trying to get Biff to stop before he regrets it. He doesn’t listen, unfortunately, until your voice booms over the rest, “Biff!” 

His head snaps instantly in your direction, the situation dawning on him the instant he looks at your face. You hadn’t meant to portray your emotions so clearly, but your face had shown such distraught and hurt. He lied. He had gotten over Lorraine, yet the moment she was alone, he runs right back to her.

With his momentary change of focus, George finally steps in, “You get your filthy hands off of her!” finishing with a blow to the jaw that knocks Biff off balance. 

Marty looks to you sadly, but tries to smile in cheers as George and Lorraine leave together, motioning that he was going to follow them just in case. You nod, looking down now as your play with your fingers. You didn’t know what to do now as the only reason you were really here was for Biff. You weren’t needed for Lorraine and George, you knew Marty had it.

You decide to make your way home then, as there was nothing else you could do. Dances were just drags anyway, nothing worth while. “Your just going to leave? Just like that?” asks a deep voice, his body having gotten back off the pavement and stood by the car he was pinned against.

Without turning, you answer his question with another, “Why not? There’s nothing left here for me is there?”

“And why wouldn’t there be?” Biff asks once more, no doubt ticking you off at his usual teasing tone.

“Well, let’s see. You. You asked me to the dance as your plus one. I came here as your date. We have a good time, we dance, we talk, and then you come up with an ‘Oh I need a drink’ charade, not returning. Then, I come to find my date in the parking lot, about to get his licks in on a woman he was apparently over with! So tell me, what is left here for men here, Biff?” you finish, tears pooling your eyes over the time, although you don’t let the fall, keeping them there.

He looks guilty, you can see it, but you don’t care. Your not in the wrong this time. But, as your blood starts to cool down, you do notice the look in his eyes, the change in his demeanor, and the utter remorse that has overcome him. He has his head down, fists clenched at his sides, body stock still. He doesn’t know what to do, all he knows is that he’d fucked up.

“Or was this your fabulous way of telling me that you love me?” you finally ask, eyes moving to look up at him in a teasing manner.

He hadn’t expected you to speak, head snapping up to meet your gaze in confusion. Being as you’d looked at him with a glint in your eyes, he finally lets everything click together; you’d forgiven him. His face heats up in bashfulness however, as your words resonated within him as well, hand going to itch the back of his neck again.

You giggle, walking up to him now, hands going to his collar. Pulling him down, he gazes at you in amazement, his own hands falling to rest on your waist. Then, you crash your lips to his, pulling him ever closer. It takes him a moment to get the hang of it, soon pulling you closer to himself as well. Lifting you slightly, he sets you on the hood of his car, the height difference a definite stretch for him. But he wouldn’t have it any other way, you were perfect. Just the same as he was perfect for you.

#biff tannen x reader #bttf #back to the future #biff tannen imagine #bttf imagine #back to the future imagine #thomas f. wilson #crispin glover #george mcfly #christopher lloyd #dr. emmett brown #doc brown #doc #michael j. fox #marty mcfly #lea thompson #lorraine baines

[soft--dragon]

Blush

Based off of this prompt here

Word Count: 1,513

Warnings: None

This is a SFW tickle fic, if you don’t like that then don’t read :)

Hope you all enjoy ^^

Dream wore hoodies for good reason.

They were warm, soft and so unbelievably comforting. His iconic green one was the most loved, but he had a few other ones which were either gifts or stolen from his friends. The stolen ones held the faint scent of it's previous owner which was more comforting to Dream then he'd like to admit.

He still hadn't given back the ones he stole from Sapnap and George. Whenever he was lonely or feeling a bit blue, the hoodies were on and reminding him of the people who loved him.

Sapnap and George were well aware of Dream's hoodie snatching, and were tempted to take them back. But the soft look on the boy's face when they saw him fast asleep wearing Sapnap's hoodie and holding George's in his arms? Yeah, no, they couldn't bring themselves to take the clothing away.

However, some lines aren't meant to be crossed. Sapnap had a favorite hoodie, his iconic flame on plush black fabric. And it had gone missing.

One guess who the culprit was.

"George!" Sapnap called the boy from where he was crafting. "I need your help!"

"I'm not helping you with arson again Sapnap" George answered back shortly.

"Wha- hey! You wanted to help me with that!"

"I regret it immensely" George rolled his eyes.

"You were laughing like a lunatic when we were burning stuff Gogy."

"It was fun before Dream caught us."

Sapnap snickered. "True, and speaking of which, that's what I need your help with."

George spun around, eyes wide. "We are not roping Dream into arson Sapnap-"

"No no" Sapnap waved him off with a laugh, "we both know he'd go rouge with power when he discovers how fun it is. But what I was talking about is his Hoodie Monster thing."

George's face softened a little, a fond smile on his face as he leant back against the crafting table. "What about it? I thought it was fine he took our ones?"

"Yes, the ones he already had I didn't mind, but he stole my favorite one."

George barked a laugh, pressing the back of his hand to his mouth. "Oh boy" he chuckled. "You want my help getting it back?"

"Please?" Sapnap whined. "I don't mind him taking my other ones but this one is special."

George nodded. "I know, don't worry, I'll give you a hand."

Sapnap breathed out in relief, smiling gratefully. "Thanks."

The pair carefully opened Dream's bedroom door, and instantly spotted the boy. He was curled up on his bed, fast asleep and indeed wearing Sapnap's oversized black hoodie. Sapnap and George went over to Dream's bed and looked down at him.

No one should ever be legally allowed to look this cute when sleeping.

Dream's hands had disappeared into the sleeves, both hands brought up to his chin and a small, content smile on the speedrunner's lips.

George looked up at Sapnap. "Still wanna wake him?" He asked grinning at Sapnap's torn face.

After a moment of wrestling with his thoughts, Sapnap sighed. "Maybe we can take it off him without waking him up?"

George snickered. "You overestimate how much of a heavy sleeper this guy is."

Sapnap glared at George. "Shut up and help me."

George held his hands up in surrender with a grin. They carefully took the hem of the hoodie, gently pulling the hoodie up over Dream's abdomen. His shirt followed with the drag of the hoodie, exposing his skin and Sapnap froze in his movements.

"Sapnap? You good?" George asked quietly to avoid waking Dream.

"George" Sapnap murmured, "did you know he had these?"

George followed Sapnap's line of sight and felt his chest seize. Huge scars lined Dream's stomach, going up to his ribs. They looked like blade marks, like a fight went horribly wrong.

"Oh god" George whispered. "Those...why didn't he tell us?"

Sapnap shook his head, unsure of how to answer the question. Those marks looked like they would've been painful as all hell, carved into Dream's skin. Sapnap hesitantly reached out and touched his fingertips to the scars. Dream's stomach muscles jumped under the touch, his eyebrows pinching slightly but he relaxed a second later.

Sapnap brushed his thumb along one of the thicker scars, mind running a million miles a minute. How long had Dream had these? How old was he when he got them? Why did he never tell them? Was he ashamed of them? Was he scared?

A soft whine pulled him out of his thoughts. He looked down on Dream who had a small, wobbly smile on his face, half buiring his face in his sweater paws.

George giggled a little. "He's ticklish" he murmured with a fond smile.

Sapnap brushed over the scars, close to Dream's hips, gentle enough to be felt, but not hurt. Dream squirmed a little in response, soft chuckles emitting from his mouth.

"Nohoho..." He mumbled sleepily, a proper smile starting to pull at his lips.

Sapnap audibly cooed, pressing his thumb a little firmer and rubbing slow circles into the bones. Dream squeezed the fabric over his hands, his small chuckles evolving into soft giggles.

"Stohohop..mhmhm tihihickles" Dream slurred, hands coming down to try and push the offending fingers away.

Sapnap and George shared an adoring smile and George gently took Dream's hands, settling them back by the boy's chin. He carded a hand through Dream's soft hair, "Little bit ticklish Dreamy?" He murmured playfully.

Dream pursed his lips together, trying not to smile but failing as his giggling became stronger. "Nohoho" he whined, pushing his face into George's hand while simultaneously hiding his face in his paws.

Sapnap went back to tracing the scars, moving the hoodie and shirt up a little further to expose the thinning lines going to Dream's ribs. He kept his movements slow and featherlight, his nails occasionally brushing his navel as he passed over Dream's lower belly.

Dream squirmed to the left and right, movements sluggish and slowed by his tiredness. A smile was fully on his face and his giggles were soft and honey sweet.

Sapnap's eyes widened a little as he watched Dream's trembling stomach for a moment longer. "George, I think he's blushing!" He whisper yelled. "Look at his belly!"

George leaned over a bit and his eyes lit up. "Oh my god" he cooed, trying to quieten his excitement. "Oh my god Sapnap! That is so cute!"

Sapnap scuttled his fingers around the rim of Dream's bellybutton, watching the pink glow of Dream's stomach brighten a little in response to the gentle tickles. George lowered his head to Dream's ear, fluttering his fingers along Dream's jaw and neck.

"Your tum tum is looking pretty pink Dream~" he playfully cooed. "It's very cute~"

"Nohohot- nohohot cuhuhute" Dream whined, trying to roll over to hide his stomach.

"Uh uh uh" Sapnap tutted, gently grasping the boy's hips and turning him onto his back again. "No hiding this cute little belly from us Dreamy, I wanna see this adorable red blush~"

Dream's giggling picked up and his eyes fluttered a bit, on the cusp of waking. Sapnap slowed his tickles to tracing again, dropping his head to place a kiss on Dream's largest scar making the boy's breathing hitch slightly.

"You're very adorable Dream" he said with a smile. "You can keep the hoodie for now, but I will want it back."

George snickered. "All of that and you're letting him keep it?"

Sapnap shot him an exasperated look. "George, his giggles are some of the purest in the world, and he's blushing on his tummy for crying out loud, you really expect me to take the hoodie back now?"

George laughed again but it was fonder this time. "You've got a point." He brushed Dream's hair back again. "Sapnap isn't wrong Dream, you're very cute."

Dream turned his head away, giggling sleepily. "...Nohohot…" he murmured, his stomach brightening.

Sapnap grinned. "We're never gonna stop saying it Dream, and after learning this little bit of information about you," he gently patted the boy's stomach making the muscles tense. "We're only gonna say it more."

"Nohohohooooo" Dream groaned quietly through his giggles, snuggling deeper into the hoodie.

The two lers cooed, and took a moment to admire their lee. Dream's belly, covered in scars, was bright red and beautiful. His giggles were tapering off into small titters, a warm smile on his face and hair slightly messed up.

Sapnap and George shared a smile then stood from their positions. Dream suddenly whimpered a little, fingers stretching out from the hoodie in small grabbing motions.

"Come...come back…" he mumbled, "don't wanna be 'lone..."

The pair instantly sat back down on the bed. Sapnap scooped Dream into his arms and George wrapped his arms around the two from the opposite side. Dream settled instantly in their hold, nuzzling their heads affectionately then settled back in their embraces.

"Cute" Sapnap mumbled fondly.

"Adorable" George agreed, dropping his head onto Dream's shoulder.

They fell asleep on the bed in a matter of minutes.

#mcyt tickle #dsmp tickle #dreamwastaken #sapnap #georgenotfound #lee!dream #ler!sapnap #ler!george #my fanfic #fanfic

[midgardianweasley]

GEORGE WEASLEY X PLUS SIZE READER MY SOUL NEEDS IT IT NEEDS IT NOWW

ofc ofc bestie, i hope it’s okay <33

All of your bodies are absolutely beautiful guys <33 

All of you

George Weasley x Plus Size fem!Reader

Summary: It’s summertime and Y/N is spending her weeks at the Burrow with the Weasley family, invited by Molly and her boyfriend of 5 months, George. The family all decide to go to the local lake to cool off from the sun, Y/N isn’t confident with her body/stretch marks and says she just wants to stay home to avoid anyone else seeing them. George notices and convinces her that her body is beautiful the way it is.

Warnings: Body insecurities, stretch marks, anxious thoughts

Word Count: 1769

Message/ask if you’d like to be added to the taglist lovelies <3

Over the past week at the Burrow, the sun had been blazing, heat becoming a common frustration in the home. They had all tried everything they could to try and cool down, extra ice in their drinks, standing in front of fans, they’d even played quidditch so that they could feel a slight breeze, the air proving to be unhelpful by being at a complete standstill, the humidity was unbearable. Everyone was gathered in the living room, scattered around the room to avoid any possible extra body heat. Even Y/N and George who were always sitting together at any given opportunity had sat themselves a good couple of feet away from the other, the thought of being cuddled up with George had made Y/N grow incredibly warm. Upon hearing Fred groan about how boiling he was for what felt like the millionth time in the last half an hour, Ginny had had enough.

“Fred, for the love of Merlin, will you shut up?”

“I can’t help it! It’s like a bloody fire in here” He argued, tilting his head back against the sofa, quickly regretting it when feeling the fabric against his neck.

“We’re all feeling it Fred! we’re all hot, we’re all bored, we’re all agitated, you repeating the same thing over and over, isn’t helping.” You could hear the frustration in her voice, quickly replaced by the sound of Arthur Weasley standing up and walking around frantically

“Right, we’re not sitting around here for any longer, everyone, pack some swimming gear, we’re going to the Lake!” He announced, everyone cheering, everyone except Y/N. The thought of showing more skin than normal, sent a bolt of anxiety through her. She hadn’t felt comfortable in her own skin for a long time, imagining herself in a swimsuit had made her internally cringe. She was so used to wearing jeans and at a push, a short sleeved t-shirt, knowing what lay beneath. Y/N had never been a fan of her stretch marks. Her parents had always told her that they were signs of her growing, that it wasn’t anything to be ashamed of. She had always viewed them differently. Over the years, she had seen plenty of girls show their stomachs, their legs, and she hadn’t seen them. Or if she had, they weren’t like hers, their ones were white or clear or smaller. She thought something was wrong with her body. Why were hers not white? Why were hers a mixture of red and purple? She was soon brought out of her thoughts by George standing in front of her, placing his hands on her hips gently before speaking.

“You alright Love? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost” He chuckled

Y/N and George had only been dating for about five months, being close friends for a previous two years. He wasn’t aware of Y/N’s insecurities about her body, she always appeared so confident, she hadn’t let it show so to not bring any attention to it. Y/N stepped away slightly when feeling his hands lie on her hips, feeling him touching where she knew the marks where. Trying her best to ignore the frown on his face at the sudden loss of contact, she spoke up quietly.

“Y’know George, I think i’m gonna sit this one out, I’m not feeling so good.” She lied, briefly meeting his eyes but not maintaining the contact for long. His eyebrows furrowed slightly at her comment.

“Oh. That's okay, I’ll just go and tell mum we’re stay-” He went to leave, but Y/N caught his wrist, gently tugging him back.

“No no, you go have fun Georgie, I’ll just see you when you get back”

“Are you sure you want to stay? Will you be alright on your own?” He questioned, not entirely convinced by her suggestion, she seemed okay when they were all sat down? She never gave up an opportunity to spend time with his family?

“Of course my love, you go and cool down. Tell everyone i’m sorry though, I was excited to go” She lied through the grit of her teeth, pulling a tight lipped smile. ‘There it was’ George thought. Over the years, Y/N had a tell for when she was lying. Her smile was always different when she was telling the truth. This one didn’t quite meet her eyes, why was she lying? He didn’t mention it, he didn’t want to cause a scene or embarrass her, so with a simple nod of his head, he kissed her cheek and waved her up the stairs, going over to Fred when he’d heard the door click shut.

“Hey mate, where’s Y/N gone?” Fred asked, looking around to see if he’d just missed her in the flurry of people gathering their things together.

“She’s just gone upstairs, you lot crack on, we’ll follow after you guys.”

“You sure? I can get mum to go up if she needs some, y’know, woman to woman discussion.” Fred spoke awkwardly, unsure of how to help.

“Nah mate, we’re good, i’ll head up. Honestly, you guys go ahead” George waved him off, watching him meet with the rest of his family, Harry and Hermione included as they were staying with Ron for a bit during the holidays. When he saw them all walking off on their way to the lake, he ran up the stairs, taking two stairs up at a time, coming face to face with his door, he raised his fist and knocked gently.

“Come in?” Y/N spoke with a hint of confusion, she was so sure she’d heard the downstairs door shut. George opened the door, popping his head round first before stepping in, briefly seeing Y/N pull down her top, hoping that he hadn’t seen her stomach before approaching her. Deciding to keep his hands to himself this time, he began to speak. “What’s the real reason you don’t want to go?” He spoke, with only concern and love in his voice.

“I told you, i’m not feeling well.”

“I know what you told me love, but I also know when you’re lying, I want to know what’s troubling you so I can help.”

“It’s nothing you can help with.” Y/N spoke, but quickly jumping backwards when she’d caught eye of George beginning to reach out again. He picked up on her reaction again.

“Have I done something princess?”

“No, you haven’t done anything Georgie.” She sighed, feeling defeated knowing that he could read her like a book but had come to the conclusion that it was something against him.

“You can talk to me you know, if it is something I’ve done, I-”

“It’s not aimed at you, I just, I don’t like it.” She spoke, causing George to tilt his head slightly, not entirely sure what she meant. Seeing this, she spoke again.

“I..I don’t like people touching my stomach, or my hips, or my legs.”

“Is there a reason why? If you don’t mind me asking, you don’t need to answer, but i’m here to help if you do”

Y/N thought about it for a few minutes, George standing silently, giving her time to think it over. Instead of speaking, she lifted her top slightly, not a lot, but enough for George to see what in his eyes looked to be like red and purple lightning bolts. He looked fascinated by them. Shying under his stare, but not pulling her top down yet, Y/N mumbled

“They’re called stretch marks, if that’s what you’re wondering.” George looked up at her

“And you don’t like them?”

“No.”

“How come?” He spoke, being patient with her responses. She sighed again, taking a minute before answering

“They look weird, almost angry. They’re not faded and white like other girls. They just make me feel like my body is..wrong. I don’t know how else to explain it” She spoke, feeling vulnerable under his eyes, knowing he was looking at them, something she had always avoided. George’s gaze fluttered between her stretch marks and her eyes, feeling fully captivated by her. “May i?” He spoke, indicating that he’d wanted to touch them, she hesitated, but eventually nodded her head, trusting him to not judge her. He softly stroked them with his thumb, feeling slightly proud that she was letting him be this close to her, not just physically, but emotionally. He knew she felt vulnerable, she was trusting him with her insecurity. Because of this, he chose his next words carefully.

“I think they’re beautiful”

“George-” She went to reply, but he quickly cut her off

“No no, just listen to me for a minute, okay?” She stopped speaking, taking this as a sign to speak, he continued. “I think they’re beautiful. They’re a sign that you’ve grown. That your body is changing, a sign of something good. They don’t have to look like everyone else’s, your body, and every mark on it, is unique to you, just like your personality. All of it makes you the Y/N we all know and love. I know not everyone has seen them, but I can guarantee nothing would change if they were to see it. These are nothing to be ashamed of.” He spoke, still stroking the marks. Meeting her eyes again, he saw tears falling and heard quiet sniffles.

“Hey hey, what’s with the tears, Princess? did I say something wrong?” She smiled and chuckled softly

“Not a thing Georgie, I’ve just never heard of anyone speak of me so fondly before. Do you mean all of that?”

“Of course I do my love. Every word. I understand if you don’t want to go to the Lake, but, I think it would be a nice idea. You don’t need to wear anything you’re uncomfortable with, just having your company would be enough for us.” Wiping her tears while speaking. She shook her head.

“I think i’ll go, but I’ll just go with what i’m wearing, if that’s okay. I don’t want to wear a swimsuit.”

“That’s absolutely fine, princess. Whatever you like.” George smiled, about to turn to lead both of them out, before he was tugged back again. She leaned up to kiss him, just a peck, but it spoke a thousand words.

“Thank you for staying and helping me Georgie, it means the world to me.”

“Anything for you.” He spoke, kissing her again before the both of them walked out hand in hand, ready to go to the lake and meet the rest of the family, hopefully without Fred’s grumbles.

Taglist: @horrorxweasley @dracofknmalfoy @gaycatlord-stuff

#george weasley #george weasley fluff #george weasley fic #george weasley fanfic #george weasley x fanfiction #george weasley x fanfic #george weasley comfort #george weasley x plus size reader #george weasley x fem reader #george weasley stretch marks #fred weasley #molly weasley #arthur weasley #harry potter #hermione granger #ron weasley #the burrow

[wlntrsldler]

Hey! For the Taylor Swift / Harry Potter prompt thing could you please do Fred and I Think He Knows? Much thanks!!❤️❤️

PROMPT: based on i think he knows by taylor swift (an installment of my taylor swift x harry potter series. to read more about it, click here) Y/N drunkenly confesses her feelings. 

WC: 2.1K+

HARRY POTTER MASTERLIST

-

i think he knows (f.w one shot)

“Ron,” you hissed from across the table. The boy remained oblivious, munching down on the pile of breakfast he dumped on his plate. He seemed to inhale the food, nevermind with chewing and actually tasting it. He just swallowed it in large pieces to make room in his mouth for some more eggs and hashbrowns. You flicked a piece of balled up napkins towards him, “Ron!”

“Blimey, Y/N,” he finally looked away from his food and shot you an annoyed look. “What the hell is going on with you?” 

“I think he knows,” you whispered, chewing on your bottom lip, nervously. 

“Who? Fred?”

You rolled your eyes, looking over to where the older twin sat a few people away from the both of you, “Who else, you idiot? Yes Fred!” 

“I doubt it,” Ron shrugged, returning to his plate of food, like you were just a distraction to him, not much of a best friend. “He’s an oblivious git. He probably doesn’t know.”

“Probably?!” you half shrieked, half whispered. It was loud enough for the twins to hear, looking at you concernedly. You sent a shy wave their way and hid behind the comfort of your hands. “I want to jump off the Astronomy tower.” 

“Well, he’s gonna find out if you keep acting like this, Y/N,” he stated, obviously. Again, you flicked a balled up napkin his way, not really appreciating his tone with you. He flicked it back, “I’m just saying, stop acting suspicious and just act normal.”

Act normal, you thought, that’s easy enough, right? 

But what the hell does normal even mean?

-

You knew you probably shouldn’t have drank so much. Your tolerance has deteriorated tremendously after not drinking for a year but when Angelina kept offering you shots, you couldn’t refuse. Now, the common room seemed to spin around after each step you took, leading you back to where you started. Right beside the table of half eaten snacks and spiked drinks. 

The Gryffindor team won the Quidditch match today and after a long, hard, school week, the team decided it would be best to blow off some steam with a little party. Fred and George were across the room, surrounded by a group of adoring, young Gryffindors. They gushed around them, complimenting them on their amazing plays in today’s match. You knew they loved the attention with the way Fred couldn’t keep the twinkle in his eye subdued for too long and the way George nudged his brother’s side every time someone reenacted one of their moves. It wasn’t hard to believe that they were some of the most popular boys to ever strut on campus. 

You took baby sips from your cup, watching the older twin intently. He wore a cozy-looking jumper, like his twin, making you think about how nice it would be to sleep in it with his scent filling your senses. His hair was a bit longer than usual, the side of it tucked behind his ear. His laughter was the only thing you could hear despite the loud music that Hermione’s Muggle radio played beside your ear. You were so focused on Fred that you didn’t notice Ron staring at you, trying to hold in his laughter. 

“You’re so whipped.” 

Startled, you clutched your chest and turned to your best friend. You smacked his upper arm, irritated that he always seems to catch you when you’re staring at his brother so hopelessly in love. “Can you shut up?” 

Ron laughed, passing you his drink, “You need to get drunk.” 

“Am I not already?” 

“You’re in your ‘I’ll oggle at Fred’ phase drunk,” he explained, shoving his cup with mysterious liquor into your hand. “I need you at your ‘I have no filter so I say things that I’ll regret or will get me in trouble’ phase drunk. I need a good laugh.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, but took the cup, nonetheless. “Aren’t you already having a field day with how pathetic I am pining after your brother?” 

“Sure,” he shrugged, filling the cup up for you again. “But I want you to insult Pansy like last time. That was good fun.” 

You took the drink in his hand, downing the entire liquid. You grimaced as it burned your throat, in a good way. You chuckled at the memory, sending your best friend a wink, “I’d fight Pansy sober.” 

Four more drinks later, you were at that phase. Ron retired a bit early, mumbling something about wanting to get to the dormitories before Harry could stumble in with Ginny and scar him for life. You ignored him, not really wanting to picture that scene in your head. Now, you were bouncing off the walls, spewing out your deepest secrets to anyone that dared to listen. 

You were having good fun until you tried to refill your cup and a hand grabbed yours, preventing you from doing so. You were about to protest when you looked up and saw a redhead. Usually you would be able to tell the twins apart because you know Fred and you know George, but whatever it was that Ron gave you, made your vision so blurry you couldn’t possibly tell them apart. Maybe you just drank too much tonight. 

“I think that’s enough,” he chuckled, pulling the cup away from you. “Want me to take you back to your dormitory?”

You pursed your lips, trying to figure out which twin it was that’s speaking to you. The harder you tried, the harder it seemed to be. They were both handsome, no doubt about it, but with Fred you usually felt your chest tighten and your mouth going dry. The problem is, you’ve drank so much that you emotionally felt numb and your mouth is already dry from the alcohol in your system. Finally, you decided to guess. It’s a 50/50 shot after all. 

“Sure, Georgie, I’d appreciate that,” you mumbled, walking alongside him towards the way to the girls’ dormitories. “Your arsehole of a brother left me by myself. Can you believe that?” 

Fred was almost offended that you couldn’t tell him and George apart, almost. But he took a look at your inebriated state and decided that he’ll let you slide this time. Plus, he heard a lot about your ‘truth serum’ phase drunk but he was yet to experience it, until today. He found it quite charming, but then again, he always found you charming. 

He’s had a crush on you for so long. One day you walked into the Burrow, and suddenly you were no longer his little brother’s best friend. You were Y/N. And he fell head over heels for you. Fred found you funny and gorgeous and sweet and so adorably cute, that sometimes George would have to hit him in the back of the head to get him to stop daydreaming over you. But alas, he thought you only saw him as your best friend’s brother. 

“I’ve got a lot of brothers, Y/N,” he chuckled beside you, arms at the ready in case you were about to fall over. “You’ve got to be more specific than that, love. You talking about Percy? Ron, maybe? Fred?” 

“Well, Percy is an arse but for a whole different reason,” you started, as if pondering the moments that you personally disliked his brother. This pulled out a snort from Fred because he agreed with you. Percy was an arse. You continued, “But no, I’m talking about Ronald, of course! He just leaves me there at a party that he dragged me into!” 

“Yeah, that’s a dick move, innit?” 

“I’d say so,” you hummed. Before you could stop yourself from talking, the alcohol took over your senses. “I’d never call Fred an arse, you see. I think he’s far too fit to be an arse.” 

As you entered your dormitory, Fred’s eyebrows shot up. Did you just call him fit? He led you to your bed, watching fondly as you plopped down on the cushion, “Is that so?” 

“Definitely,” you chuckled, burying your head into your pillow. “Don’t tell him this, Georgie, but I fancy him. I fancy him a lot.” 

“Do you now?” Fred’s cheeks reddened as he watched you nod and smile up at him, eyes droopy. 

“Yeah, I do,” you sat up, raising your pinky up in the air. “Pinky promise me that you won’t tell Freddie? Or-or use that twin telepathy thing that I think you guys have! Please, Georgie, you can’t tell him. I’ll be far too embarrassed if you do.” 

Unable to fight the smile on his face, he linked your pinkies together, “I promise, Y/N. But I don’t think you’d get embarrassed if he found out. Anyone would be lucky to have you have a crush on them.” 

“You’re sweet, Georgie,” you smiled, already half-asleep. “If only Fred thought the same as you.” 

Fred laughed as you dozed off, leaning against your bedpost. He draped a blanket over your small figure and placed a kiss on your temple before whispering, “He does. Goodnight, love.” 

-

“I’m never drinking again,” you groaned, rubbing your head with your hands. Hermione laughed beside you, ushering you to continue walking to get some breakfast to nurse your hangover. “I can’t believe I told George about my crush on Fred.” 

“Well, he’s bound to find out anyway,” she shrugged as you two sat in front of Ron and Harry. 

“Find out what?” Harry asked, not bothering to greet the two girls with a good morning. And to be honest, with the way you looked like you’d just been pulled out of another dimension, he assumed it has not been a good morning so far. 

Hermione giggled as she filled her plate, “Y/N told George about her crush on Fred last night.”

“Correction,” you interrupted, “Drunk Y/N did. Sober Y/N is regretting that decision.” 

“Wait you told George? When?” Ron asked, eyebrows furrowed. “Did you tell him before he came into my room to show me a prototype for their shop?” 

You stared at Ron like he was stupid, “What are you on? He walked me to my room last night.” 

“No, he was in my room last night.” 

“Well, he can’t be at two places at once, can he, Ronald?” you sighed a hint of attitude in your tone, shaking your head at your friend. The table froze, jaws hanging wide, before you caught on. Oh shit. You gasped, clasping your palm over your mouth, “Please tell me I didn’t.”

Ron erupted in unsympathetic giggles, laughing at your pale complexion, “Y/N, you told Fred you fancied him!” 

Eyes wide, you shook your head furiously, “No I didn’t!” 

“Well now we know why you’re not a Ravenclaw,” Harry added, joining Ron in his laughter fit. 

“Shut it, Potter!” you hissed, dropping your head in your hands. This cannot be happening. “Godric, please can the universe just eat me alive now?”

“Well now, he definitely knows.”

“Ronald, stop it.” Hermione poked your side, a terrified look on her face. “Uh, Y/N?”

“What?” Just as you thought things couldn’t get worse, Fred was walking to where you’re sat. Your heart was jumping in your chest. Your palms grew sweaty and you couldn’t stop your foot from nervously tapping on the floor. Should I run, you thought, or should I just act like nothing happened? 

Before you could make a decision, Fred took a seat beside you. 

“Hello, darling,” he grinned, biting his bottom lip. 

You squirmed in your seat, trying to ignore Ron and Harry’s muffled giggles in the back. You gulped, “Hiya, Fred. How you doin’ today?” 

“Lovely, thanks for asking,” he replied, a smile still etched on his face. He cocked his head to the side, “And yours, love?” 

You swallowed down the butterflies that flew in your stomach. You played with your thumbs, unable to look at him in the eye. “Fine.” 

“Good, good.” 

“Yup.” 

“Well, good talking to you,” Fred got up and dusted his pants, leaving you dumbfounded in your seat. Was that it? Well, you thought, that wasn’t so bad. You turned around, offering him a tight-lipped smile out of courtesy, before turning back around and returning to your food. 

“That was anticlimactic, wasn’t it?” Ron frowned. 

“Oh, Y/N,” Fred stopped and walked over to you again. He leaned down so close that you could smell the mint toothpaste he used that morning. His breath tickled your ear, making you shiver. Fred’s lips touched the skin that connected your neck and your ear, pressing a soft kiss there. Then he whispered, “I fancy you, too.” 

He shot you a wink before walking away. You blushed furiously, fingers raising up to trace the place where his lips once were. Grinning at your friends, you breathed out, “I think he knows.”

TAGS:

@rexorangecouny

#harry potter #harry potter fanfic #harry potter imagine #frances x taylor swift x harry potter #fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x yn #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley drabble #fred weasley one shot #frances writes #frances song fics

[blufox234isadumbname]

dream (XD, maybe?) visits fundy in his dreams. it's the only thing making them bearable, and keeping him sane

:)

Nobody [inspired by a mitski song]

Many make mistakes, Fundy was one of them. He just wanted to make sure Yoghurt was safe that night, what with more mobs emerging from the south. He just wanted to tuck his kid and make sure he slept better than him. With kiddish purrs becoming white noise, he should've stopped himself when he felt his lids flutter, when his bed dipped and he saw the house go black.

The fox-hybrid opened his eyes, already letting the horror sink in before opening the damn door. It was all over again, he thought he was getting better. No. He was a fool, still a foolish fox. Yoghurt was no longer by his side, and he already started to feel sweltering heat entering the home. Fundy's heart already ached, already sore. His breaths were heavy, weighted over him as he laid in the dreaded empty bed. Tears were beginning to form but he blinked and rubbed them harshly away. Just close your eyes, he thought. But he knew better, wishes could never be reality. He just wanted it to be over, so he had to do it himself. Fundy always had to do everything himself anyways, this was no different.

He got up and readjusted his black breton cap. Steady and stalwart, steps crept towards and stopped in front of the door. Twisting the knob, a final breath was heaved before the same scenery greeted the displeasured fox. He became familiar with the barren land, covered by only hot dry sand and tall cacti. The winds seemed to be strong that dream, dust clouds were choking the poor dreamer. He closed the door behind him, noticing his red tail hung low. First thing was first, he left the area of his house to find anything out of place. It was instinct to try and spot something that stuck out like a sore thumb, besides his little spruce wood cottage.

Fundy sank his naked feet into the sand, burning his padded paws. He trudged along in a random direction, which was wherever the barest clouds were drifting opposite from. That's all he did for a couple of minutes, maybe more than half an hour to him. Prime, he hated how the sun was bright, how the sunshine was a glaring spot above him. He hated to stare at the dull sky for any second longer. He hated winds dusting the sand into his eyes. All of it was n eyesore, metaphorically and litterally.

He just continued onward, awaiting any subtle and not-so-subtle ghostly remnants of his history coming back to haunt. To be reminded of why his life sucked, that was surely fun, right? He wanted a break, a detour from the disaster that was him. For not the first time, he wanted to be elsewhere. Not just in the dream but in reality. Yes, Las Nevadas was the haven he wanted it to be. But that came with the cost of having his dreadfully undead father closer to him. As if he wanted a chance to be mocked and haunted. Even more so, Tubbo and Ranboo causing a commotion with Quackity already had set him at unease. Threats towards a nation he called a home, a lovely return to the cycle. Like dirty water from the sea to acid rain in the clouds, it's become the same horrid cycle.

Speaking of clouds, the fox-hybrid looked up. The smallest gathering of clouds became a crowd of them all across a brighter baby blue canvas. The yucky yellow sand turned a grassier green. If he squinted, he could maybe see the blooms of other than cactus flowers. Finally, a reason for the feet under him to pick up their pace. Fundy kept running towards the green, faster and faster as he could taste them with his fingers. As soon as he was near enough, he dived right into the fresh field. A little mistake, per usual, as he began rolling down a knoll all of a sudden. Through the short wild grass into a taller field of lavender and peonies, the fox finally took a deep breath. A clean and relaxed breath-

"Hello, Fundy."

- before it hitched.

Fundy lifted his head up above the flowers to spot a cleared spot. In the patch of cornflowers and poppies, a naked area of just grass lay, with a figure. He knew it well, with the dirty blonde hair - though he never remembered it being at scruffy and shoulder length - and deadly smile-painted mask adorned. In a lime, white and black letterman jacket over a starkingly orange jumpsuit. He knew that man well, even by the soft humming. The blank eyes of the mask and the man behind to stared at the fox-hybrid. If it weren't a nightmare yet, Fundy figured it just started.

"How are you here?" The hoodied man asked

"Don't...don't even talk to me..." The overcoated fox snarled with teeth bared and tail puffed.

Dream huffed, toying with something in his hands.

"I just asked. The dreamscape is not normally so free reign. For you, you're the least I expected to be able to cross barriers of mind."

"What the fuck are you talking about. Why are you here? What, to haunt me? To mock me? To tell me I'm useless?"

"...To make flower crowns"

He held up said piece of rope strung with flower blooms. His was a cornflower and daisy crown.

"That...that's it?"

"Can you control your dreams?"

"That...it's none of your business, Dream."

"I'm assuming no. But you are willingly seeing me. So in that case, I suppose I can tell you. You know I was imprisoned, in that big ol' prison? Anyway, a being gave me a wish, or rather a gift. I could control my own dreams, I could lucid dream whenever I wanted to. So I could stay in prison while still feeling the grassy field. So I'm here."

"You don't...get nightmares? NOS Cary reminders of your past? Nothing scary?" *And while I do?*, Fundy doesn't add on. Dream pauses for a break. before he answers

"How could I? I control every aspect of my dream. Though you are certainly not part of it. I appreciate the company, kinda? But I'd rather not keep it. It's be nice if I just asked that dream being to remove you-"

"NO!"

"Excuse me?"

"P-Please...I-I don't wanna go back..."

He hated how his voice became frail at the drop of a hat, how his ears flattens and how shaky his hands became. Already begging to a tyrant, the same one who's destroyed everything in his life. What Fundy had begged was true, however, he didn't not want to go back to nightmares. This was the only time the dreams felt good. Albeit muddled by a lime menace, it was better than the frightening things ahead did him. The fox heard the man sigh.

"Sure, sure you can stay."

"Thank you..."

Fundy sat down in front of Dream, criss-cross legged. And the two were silent. The dreamer kept weaving in the flowers in the rope while the intruder simply watched. His clawed hands picked at the grass blades. Admittedly he enjoyed the scenery, if it weren't for the horror of a man in front of him. He noticed the excess rope tossed aside and something in Fundy urged him to use it too. He could tell eyes were on him again even from behind the unmoving mask.

"Yes, you can make flower crowns too. You know how to make one?"

"Y-yeah. Niki taught me how to make one with rope. I made hers with alliums. She gave me one made out to tulips" Fundy chuckled at the memory fondly.

Dream paid no mind just gave Fundy the extra rope and returned to his own project. After that, the quietness continued for much longer. But Fundy was never a fan of long silences.

"...Why a field? Out of flowers? I didn't know you were into this kind of stuff."

Dream paused for a minute, seemingly deliberating. He room a breath and spoke;

"It's just me wanting to relive old memories. Before settling in the SMP, me and George went to a flower field. We just spent half the say there doing jack all."

"It's always George is it?"

"... he's my friend. I'd do anything for him."

"Even terrorising a nation? Even threatening a kid? Even dethroning him?"

"..."

The silence spoke volumes. Fundy knew he overstepped, but it was hard for him to be sympathetic over it. He swore the surroundings looked dimmer for a second.

"I miss him. I'm no longer allowed visitors and even then, he never came by to visit."

"Who did?"

"Sapnap. Bad. Tommy, surely you know. Then Technoblade."

"Wait Techno visited you?"

"Less visit and more just made a new space in my jail cell. It's like a vacation to him. I'm not mad but...I like here better anyway."

"What's it like? In the jail cell."

"Tight. Closed. Hot. And I mean scorching. It's surrounded by lava. Barely much room to move around, not much there. I do have books to write in but so far I have started writing none."

"Someone hasn't been productive, I see?"

"I liked to write stuff. Just random things. But in a cramped space...I can't. I see why people are claustrophobic. It's feel like hell in there...for more than just the lava."

Fundy started to feel a twinge of a heat wave on his back as he stuck a flower into the rope. It died down shortly after.

"Since you're asking me questions. It should be fair I ask you."

"That's...yeah, that's fair."

"What were you doing, before you slept?"

"In bed. Just...alone in my cottage. Far away with no one else." Fundy lied, no matter the somewhat friendly tone, he wasn't ever going to risk Yoghurt.

"I thought you had Eret? Or Niki? I thought maybe you guys stay in at Least a neighbourhood."

"I...I haven't spoken to either in so long. I think they forgot about me. That's...fair"

"Hmm..."

Before I slept I was just building m stuff in Las Nevadas. It's...it's a thing Quackity built. I can't say more than that-"

A roar of something, not too loud but enough to be noticeable, came through. It spooked Fundy well enough.

"Dream what-"

"Let's...not talk about that."

"Well, what else is there to talk about me? I have nothing else. That...that palace is all I got going for me honestly."

"I thought you had more."

"No. After L'manburg, all of it gone, I don't have much else. By who, I wonder?I didn't care, that was fine by me until I did something different. I'm making sure I have a place, at least."

"Like a house?"

Fundy twisted the stalk gently, silently.

"Like a place of belonging. Where I can be remembered and people know where I am."

"I get that..."

"Of course you do, you tyrant. Your name is sure to be famous."

"Not the being remembered part. The belonging part."

The clouds seemed heavier at that moment.

"Find it hard to believe coming from the same guy that he cares for no one but a kid's discs."

"I know what I said, Fundy. But I don't care about the discs. I care about having control. Having everything in my hands. To take strings of the marionette and play them by my fingers. That's what I aim for, not just useless material discs."

"What does this have to do with belonging?"

The roar came back, a roar of thunder.

"The puppet master is not a puppet. He cannot be a puppet. When the puppets go free, he is left for dead..."

Dream's scarred hands clutch the half done green tulip crown. Down a drop goes from the petal. Then another, then another. Fundy looks up, to see the trickles. Down the drops of precipitation go to his face. Fundy's chest felt heavy, clebtched by something in a grip. He saw Dream looking up as well. From the angle he could partially see the bottom features under the mask. A pursed mouth with scars on his lips. Dottings of freckles across his cheeks. Streaks of not raindrops reaching down his chin. He heard the hiccups, the struggle to compose oneself. He knew that too well. Fundy found the part to care about as he stroked Dream's forearm carefully.

"I-I'm sorry, It's...I-I'm never like this. I'll just change-" the masked man's voice was breakable, cusp of falling apart.

"No. I like the rain."

Dream looked back to Fundy. It was true, the fox-hybrid liked rain. He used to play in the puddles as it drizzled even into adulthood, before more important things occupied his time. Like getting weapons for war or spying on a president. Fundy had on a solemn smile, a weak one in the likeable weather. His hair and fur became bristled whislt his tail wrapped unconsciously around him.

"I feel alone too. Everyone has left me

The people that I care about always hate me or leave. They leave me frightened in a place where everything so to survive. I'm barely staying alive as is. I don't have anyone."

"I don't have anyone either. I'm heartless, I pushed them away. Techno is with me, yeah. But what happens then? I'm too scared to find out. All I want is to just be free..."

Fundy laughed a bit. He tossed aside the half-effort flower crown and stood up. He opened his arms wide, further than his shoulders. He kept laughing, giggling, wheezing over. He raked a hand through ginger and snow white locks of his, knocking back his black breton cap.

"What's so funny?"

"Well, one, it's already crazy you're telling me all of this. This all feels like stuff you'd suppressed hard. Even in your dreams. And secondly...god, I wish we talked more sooner."

"What?"

"You and me, both alone in this world. We're unlovable. Reckless bastards we are. I'm not the worst like you but by Prime, I'm just as lonely as you. I can't excuse reving Wilbur and the 16th...but maybe we could've been friends."

He knew dream was smiling, not from the mask but from the small line of daylight peeking through the clouds.

"Fundy, I could never be friends with you. I'd push you away too."

"Then don't push me away now. I'm desperate, man."

"...I wouldn't."

Fundy smiled a glint of the sun right back at Dream. For once in a dream, he was at ease. The pouring rain slowed s little down to a drizzle, enough fro him to avoid smelling of dog water. The clouds journeyed away from the meadow, and let the sun's smile through. He loved the rays of sunshine gracing his face above him. He loved he could stare at the cloud-scattered sky for almost hours. He loved the winnow through the grass that made them dance. He loved it there.

"Sorry about the rain. In my dreams, I rarely can talk to anyone. And techno is not exactly the most relatable with what I have. Outside, I keep it in. But where I am, where we are, is inside me already."

"Fun to know this is the inner machinations of the terror Dream."

"Hehehah"

"...I probably won't remember this happend. When I wake I won't have a clear thought of events. Just so you'd know."

"It's fine. I knew you wouldn't anyway. That's why I let most of it out. That and because, I feel like I can trust you. I can't leave my cell but maybe someday I'll find you again. And maybe-"

A click from behind Dream's head could be heard. He moved his hand latched onto the mask and pulled it down. There he was, gentle scarred smile with even gentler eyes, covered by dirty blonde turning silver white to the tips. Irises coloured almost like emerald and aqua ender eyes looked back to the fox. Finally, his black tipped ears lifted and twitched, and his tail was wagging slightly.

"-we could be alone together again?"

Fundy's heart ached, sore already.

"I'd like to. For now, let's just depend on dreams."

"I can work with that."

Dream tossed his mask aside, uncaring and apathetic to the piece of porcelain disguise. He gently pushed Fundy by the tip of his finger, to which the former feign to be toppled. He fell in the middle of the tall peonies and lavenders and tulips. Dream joined a second after, right next to Fundy. Bliss, this is what he Fundy would call it. He felt less tensed, less mangled on fear. He had spent sleeping hours just shaken, because his fears conquered him alone. Taunting him because he was alone. Preyed on every part of him alone. But now he had a chance, to dwell int eh shrot grass, be crowned royalty in a field of flowers and feel less on his own. Fundy closed his eyes, as the smell of morning dew hit him.

And he woke up, lied curled up next to Yoghurt. And with a flower in his palm. A rose. He already wants to sleep, no matter the chance of being in the desert again. He wants to see the sunshine in the field of flowers more than anything.

#fundy #itsfundy #dreamwastaken #fundywastaken #dream SMP #dsmp #dsmp fic #i guess #request #my god i had this idea float aroudn in my head for so .logn and now it has rraurfaced in my mind #thank you???? #iys a bit dialouge heavy #ita late and this was on my phoen jsnteas of on desktop #sjdnejdn so sorry ifnitis shit

[silhouetteofacedar]

Fox Mulder, Closet Romantic Ch. 5: Dana's Work Friend

Previous Chapter - AO3 - MSR, rated E

Friday, April 3rd, 1998. Scully comes into the office in a flurry of coat and red hair. She doesn’t greet him, just drops her briefcase on the desk and sinks into her seat across from him.

“Mulder, I have a favor to ask of you, and you’re probably going to hate it, so just bear in mind that I have exhausted all my other options,” she says, somewhat breathless.

“You’re really selling it,” he deadpans. “What is it?” he asks, settling into his chair and leaning his elbows on the desk.

“You remember Mark,” she prompts, and he nods. Ugh. If only he could forget.

“Well, it turns out that Mark is extremely - almost agonizingly - social, despite having a demanding job and a young child to raise.”

“Sounds awful,” Mulder comments.

“Hence my current predicament. He’s invited me and my friends out for drinks tonight, so his friends can meet me and I can meet his and he can meet mine… “ she rambles before refocusing herself. “He’s not aware that I’ve lost contact with most of my friends. You’re kind of the only one left.”

Mulder had suspected as much, but confirmation of her increasing social isolation is like a punch in the throat. “Are you sure there’s no one else?” he asks softly, not wanting to rub salt into any wounds.

She shakes her head, lips pressed together. “Unless the Lone Gunmen count as my friends,” she replies. “Which in this case is somehow worse than having none at all,” she muses, some humor in her voice.

“Good point,” he chuckles. “Sure, count me in.”

“Thank you,” she says sincerely, and he melts all over again. He’d do anything for her. Even if it means meeting Mark. Ugh.

“It’s worth mentioning,” Mulder says after a moment, “If you don’t want to go, you can always just not go.”

“Shockingly, I have thought of that,” she says dryly, opening her briefcase and pulling out a folder. “But I think it would be good for me to meet people and hold conversations that aren’t related to criminal or paranormal activity. Might be good for you, too,” she adds, glancing up at him.

He pulls a stack of files out of his inbox on the desk. “I’ll stick to ‘ghosties and ghoulies and long-leggedy beasties and things that go bump in the night’,” he says.

“‘Good Lord, deliver us',” Scully replies, finishing the old prayer.

Mulder looks up at her and finds her smiling at him, and his whole body flushes with heat and adoration.

“Let’s elope,” he says, and she rolls her eyes fondly before burying her nose in her work.

I’m not kidding, he yells inside the prison of his own thick skull.

After work he and Scully drive straight to the bar together, a yuppie place in Foggy Bottom near George Washington University Hospital.

“Have you ever been through their ER?” Scully asks, scanning the street for parking. “I imagine you’ve been through enough hospitals to warrant a map on the wall with little pins stuck in it.”

“I can’t possibly remember them all at this point,” he says absently, tugging at his seatbelt uncomfortably. Why is he nervous? He’s just here to show Scully’s man friend that she’s not entirely a basement-dwelling hermit.

And Mulder’s the best she could do? God, maybe she really does need to get out more.

She parks, and he feeds the meter while she touches up her lipstick in the rearview mirror. She looks sweet and and rosy, flushed with nerves and traffic, and he could so easily scoop her up and kiss her-

“Alright,” she says, climbing out of the car and closing the driver’s side door a little harder than necessary. She smooths her hair down. “I’m ready for battle.”

“I’m prepared to fall on my sword,” he assures her, guiding her onto the sidewalk with a hand on her lower back before realizing he probably shouldn’t touch her so familiarly when her… friend might see.

“It’ll be fine,” she says over her shoulder as she grasps the bar door’s handle. “Just behave,” she hisses, and they enter.

The onslaught is immediate.

“Dana!” a voice calls out through the bustling bar, and Mulder sees a man waving them over. He’s got neatly styled dishwater blond hair, broad shoulders, and dimples at the corners of his mouth as he smiles at them. Not bad, Mulder thinks, unsure of how to feel about this new information.

He barely has time to process it before they’re enveloped in a tight swarm of strangers. The blond man, presumably Mark, loops an arm around Scully’s shoulders and gives her a side-hug.

“So glad you could make it, Dana,” he says, and proceeds to go around the circle of people and rattle off names Mulder has no reason to remember. Instead, he watches Scully, the way she greets each person as they’re introduced. She’s cool and calm, smiling politely, shaking hands and saying ‘nice to meet you’ to each of the five - no, six - people in the group.

“I’ll grab you two some drinks,” Mark says, glancing at Mulder. “What’s your poison?”

“Shiner,” Mulder says.

“Same for me,” Scully says. “I’m going to freshen up-”

“Sure,” Mark says, giving her shoulders a squeeze. “Two Shiner Bocks coming up.”

That’s how Mulder and this exuberant, Golden Retriever of a man end up sitting at the bar together, nursing sweaty beers and waiting for Scully to return from the bathroom.

“So you’re a work friend of Dana’s?” Mark asks over the noise of the bar.

Mulder was about to set his drink down, but he reconsiders and takes another swig. “In a manner of speaking,” he replies.

Dr. Mark Whatever-the-fuck seems confused. “I don’t follow,” he says.

“I’m her partner,” Mulder says flatly. Since 1993. I’ve seen her naked, cradled her injured body my arms, saved her goddamn life. Have you?

“Oh!” Mark says, clearly making mental connections. “Oh. Sorry, I just- it’s nice to meet you… Fox?”

“Just Mulder’s fine,” he corrects him.

Mark laughs. “Sorry for the confusion on my end; I think Dana only said your name once and I went and assumed Fox Mulder was a woman. And you know what they say about assuming,” he adds with a nudge.

Once. Only once? Maybe that shouldn’t surprise him, but it does. Whenever he meets someone new in Scully’s life they always throw out the usual ‘I’ve heard a lot about you’ line, so he knows she talks about him to others. But not to this guy. Why not to this guy?

Mercifully, Scully returns from the restroom. Mark hands her her beer. “Thanks,” she says softly, giving him a small smile with her lips closed tightly, which strikes Mulder as odd. He knows she’s somewhat self-conscious about smiling with her teeth, but something he sees in her face doesn’t feel quite right.

Of course it doesn’t feel right to you, he thinks. She’s smiling at some other guy.

They’re swept along in a current of conversation, scrambled introductions, and drink orders. He’s introduced to a handful of people he’ll selectively erase from his eidetic memory, standing across from Scully in their little circle instead of by her side. He doesn’t like it. Another man has his hand on her back, although respectfully keeping it between her shoulder blades. Any lower and Mulder would have to excuse himself to have a panic attack in the alley behind the bar. Or throw up.

He’s glad Mark’s friends aren’t particularly interested in making conversation with him; he’s tired and ready to go home. Luckily, the Doctor himself calls the night early, at half-past eight.

“I promised the little one I’d be home to tuck her in,” he explains, and Mulder’s stomach turns from the purity and sweetness of it. “She gets to stay up a little later on Fridays.” He gives Scully another half of a hug and says his goodbyes.

The group disperses pretty quickly after Mark leaves, and Mulder and Scully are left alone outside the bar.

“So, you met Mark,” Scully says simply.

“I did, yeah.” He can sense that she wants him to say something more. “He seems... nice,” Mulder adds.

Scully nods. “Yeah, he’s nice.”

Mulder’s beginning to think ‘nice’ is the only word anyone’s capable of using to describe this guy.

“I’ll bet Bill’s gonna love him,” he comments, hoping he doesn’t sound as bitter as he feels.

Scully shakes her head, smiling. “I knew there had to be a flaw in him somewhere,” she jokes.

Mulder surprises himself with a huffed laugh. This moment with her is strangely precious, despite the circumstances. He doesn’t know how many moments like this he has left, if he’s being honest.

“I’m happy for you,” he says tenderly, and maybe if he says it enough it’ll be true. She deserves this, he reminds himself. It’s become almost a mantra, a lead weight that keeps him from drifting away.

“Are you?” she asks, catching him off guard. “I caught you staring holes into him more than once.”

“I wasn’t,” Mulder says defensively. “This is just my face.”

She gives him a look that clearly says ‘I call bullshit’, and he folds. “He didn’t know who I was,” he says, and it sounds monumentally stupid out loud. “He though Fox Mulder was a woman.”

“I-I don’t know why he would have thought that,” Scully says, pensive. “I never implied-”

“Fox is an unusual name,” Mulder interrupts. “It’s an honest mistake if you just hear it without any context.”

Scully looks down at her feet. “I’m sorry about that,” she says softly. “About all of this. I owe you one.”

Mulder reaches out and squeezes her shoulder, and it seems to have a grounding effect on both of them. “I’ll put it on your tab,” he says.

“Do you want me to drive you back to work?” she asks. They’d left his car in the garage at the Hoover building.

Mulder shakes his head. “You’re almost home,” he says. “I’ll get a cab.”

He ends up walking instead.

The night air cleanses his senses as he makes the half-hour trek back to the Bureau. Their time in the bar had felt sluggish and hazy, despite the fact that he only had a beer and a half. He spend the entire evening focused on Scully, the only sharp image amidst the blur of patrons.

Mark hadn’t kissed Scully goodbye, and Mulder’s relief at not having to witness it was overshadowed by a morbid curiosity. She and Mark had been dating for three weeks; he’s not sure how often they’ve actually gone out, due to the doctor’s shift schedule, but he assumes they’ve seen each other a few times at mass in addition to whatever outings they’ve gone on in the evenings. That was ample time to get to know each other physically on some level, wasn’t it? A peck on the cheek at least.

Mulder’s biased; he’s touch-starved and in love with her. He spends most of his nights on his couch in the dark, touching himself and thinking about Scully. Kissing her, taking her clothes off, tasting her; his mental catalogue of scenarios is robust and well-used. If given half the chance to love her…

Maybe that’s it, he thinks somberly, stepping over sidewalk cracks. Maybe chances are taken, not given.

That’s not how he wants to love her. He wants her to choose him all on her own, and yet he never let her know he was a choice. And now there’s Mark.

But Mark doesn’t kiss her.

#my fic #msr #txf fic #xfiles #fox mulder closet romantic #FMCR #in which mark and Mulder meet #oof #the pain

[generallynerdy]

Your Dumbass, Your Boys (George Weasley/Reader)

Summary: The Great Hall is quiet. Too quiet. You go looking for your boys—Fred and George—to see what sort of trouble you’re getting yourself into today. As always, trouble finds you first, as does your dumbass boyfriend and his twin.

Requested by @pearlll09: So uh I'm a bit of a simp for the weasley twins... your prompt list gave me an idea! If you want, pick a twin you'd be comfortable writing (i usually go for george cause he doesn't die ToT) and do a reader insert with happy 7 - I'm sure that whoever ends up with the line, it will be great :) Prompt: “Hey! I may be a dumbass, but I’m your dumbass.”

Key: (H/h) - Hogwarts house, (Y/N) - your name Warnings: mild cursing, threats, gender neutral reader!! Word Count: 1,169 (nice)

Author’s Note: u always give me the best characters pearl ty!!! I’m a simp for George Weasley too so this was a lot of fun to write ajsldfkj. I couldn’t find a good excuse to use a poem for the title, so this one has a normal title smh my head.

Read on AO3

*

The Great Hall is mostly quiet, which is highly unusual. Although, the absence of the Weasley twins might explain that absurdity.

You don’t see the matching heads of ginger hair when you enter for breakfast that morning. There are three other gingers at the Gryffindor table, but no two of them are closely paired, so they must be the other Weasleys. You make a beeline for the short-haired one that isn’t speaking loudly and obnoxiously—that’d be Percy—who isn’t sitting far from the long-haired one—Ginny.

“Good morning, you three!” you declare, sitting down right next to Harry, who sits across from Hermione and Ron.

(You shouldn’t really be sitting with them, a fifth year (H/h) that you are, but you’re a common enough staple of the Weasley family that it’s not entirely unexpected either.)

“Good morning, (Y/N),” the trio echoes in sync, which makes you grin.

“Gotten up to any trouble yet?” you ask, which is a frighteningly common question, especially concerning the Weasleys.

Hermione sighs. “The day is still young.”

“Oh, poor Hermione,” you say dramatically, reaching over to pat her shoulder in false comfort. “Just admit you like it as much as they do and your life will be much easier, promise.”

“(Y/N)’s speaking from experience,” Ron adds through a mouthful of food.

You nod proudly. “Speaking of my experience—have you seen my boys this morning?”

“No sign of them yet, thank Merlin,” their younger brother says immediately. “Why? Something planned?”

Your shrug is mischievous. “Maybe.”

“They always have something planned,” Hermione counters.

Harry smiles. “I saw them in the common room this morning; heard something about Filch, too, but that’s it. They’ll be in time for Quidditch practise, won’t they?”

“On time? Maybe. But they’ll definitely be there,” you agree with a snicker. “I should go find them.”

Before you can leave, Ron huffs. “At least eat something, (Y/N).”

Harry raises his eyebrows at the very clear Mom tone to his voice, the same tone that has you rolling your eyes. You reach across the table anyway, snatching up a jam-covered piece of toast and standing.

“Better, Mum?” you ask once you’ve swallowed.

He scoffs, flushing. “Shut up.”

“You’d miss the voice of reason,” you retort. “Cheers, kids. See you in a bit!”

“Kids?” you hear Hermione snort after you leave. “We’re only two years below!”

“(Y/N) calls everyone younger a kid, ‘Mione,” Ron reminds her fondly. “Don’t take it personally.”

You dart out of the Great Hall, taking a loose path to Filch’s office. If Fred and George aren’t there, at least Filch might have an idea of where they have been this morning. He and Mrs Norris always have their eyes on you three, but they’ve never caught you long enough to make a dent in your rebellious streak. Merlin, if Molly Weasley can’t stop you, nobody can. And despite her best efforts, she is slowly losing that fight.

Whistling a merry tune, you turn a corner, only to stop and grin at the sound of a familiar gleeful laugh. It’s more of a devilish cackle, actually.

Down the hall, two distinct redheads are sprinting in your direction.

(Fred is the one that cackles. George prefers a good snicker.)

“What in Merlin’s name have you two—?”

“No time to talk, Filch on our tail, run!” George summarizes as they come upon you, grabbing your arm and dragging you along.

Back down the hall, a very pissed off caretaker screams: “YOU FILTHY BRATS! GET BACK HERE! I’LL HANG YOU BY YOUR TOES!”

You laugh, a loud and clear sound that bounces off the walls. It has George grinning wider than before as the two of you split off from Fred, the other twin disappearing as quickly as they’d appeared. Your boyfriend’s hand slips from your sleeve, but you immediately grasp his hand instead.

Dragged around another corner, you realise immediately that your boys must have planned this daring escape, because George quickly ducks into a tiny alcove with an empty wardrobe.

He closes the door behind you, the both of you crammed into the small space.

You press your fingers against his lips to quiet his heavy breathing, which earns you a huff of indignation. Not about to laugh aloud at the pout on his face, you simply smile.

Footsteps storm outside, right past the alcove. They pass, but neither of you move, too cautious to let Filch lure you into a false sense of security. He’s quiet for a long moment, but then he starts walking away, the taps of his boots growing ever further.

The moment he’s out of earshot, George lets out a breath of relief.

You start laughing quietly into his shoulder, letting him wrap an arm around your shoulder.

“It’s not even 9, George,” you wheeze, wiping at unshed tears.

“Perfect timing, right? Now he’ll be mad all day,” he says with a pleased smile. “I thought it was brilliant.”

You lean forward, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. “You’re a dumbass!”

“Hey! I may be a dumbass, but I’m your dumbass.” He buries a hand in your hair, pouting again.

“My dumbass,” you clarify, rolling your eyes. “Harry was worried you’d miss Quidditch.”

“Never,” he declares. “Ridiculous, that. Oliver would have our heads.”

You snicker. “If you’re late again, he’s going to hunt you down. You know that, right? Worse than when you dyed his hair.”

“Let’s remember who saved me last time he got mad,” he teases, booping your nose.

“Because I love you and I always get you out of trouble.”

A sappy smile crosses his features. “Yeah. You’re good at that.”

He leans forward—a task that’s not difficult in the small space—kissing you gently, which has you smiling into it.

The wardrobe doors fly open and you split apart, faces flushed and smiling ridiculously.

“Oi!” says Fred, faking disgust. “No time for making out, lovebirds! We have Quidditch practise to get to!”

“Shut up, Fred,” you and George say in sync, bursting into laughter.

He scoffs, grabbing his brother’s shirt and dragging him out of the wardrobe. Instead of that same rough movement with you, he offers you a hand, which you take. Gracefully stepping out of the wardrobe, you snicker when the twins shove each other.

“Knock it off, you two,” you chide, taking George’s arm in yours. You pull Fred over to you and do the same on your other side, grinning.

“Good morning, (Y/N),” Fred finally greets properly.

You snort. “It was until someone decided to drag me away from breakfast.”

“I can make it up to you,” George says instantly, maneuvering your arms so that you’re holding hands instead. “Trip to the kitchens before Quidditch?”

“Sounds lovely,” you decide. “And then we should talk about our product line-up, because I have some ideas.”

He grins. “Of course you do. You’re brilliant.”

Fred fakes a gag. George lets go of your hand just long enough to smack the back of his head, making you snicker.

“Boys.”

*

River’s Tags: @hahaboop & @mystoragehatesme

Masterlist

#george weasley x reader #george weasley/reader #hp #harry potter #hp x reader #harry potter x reader #george weasley #george weasley imagine #george weasley oneshot #hp imagine #hp oneshot #harry potter imagine #harry potter oneshot #george weasley fanfic #hp fanfic #harry potter fanfic #your dumbass your boys #river #rivika #generallynerdy #request #pearl #pearlll09

[oasislake76]

I’m thinking about a mix of my Adam’s family + the Protege!Tommy au I’ve been bing reading lately.

Like Dream isn’t possessed by Nightmare and is a fairly young God. Only 21, which is young and especially Royalty which means he’s the youngest child and grandchild, he doesn’t know better and Dream likes knowing. He strives to have a complete family and goes a bit possessive when Wilbur and Techno show up on his server. Later followed by Phil.

Now the reason why Dream knows those three were because they were originally a part of his family while growing up. Phil and Sky, his Pa, were ‘married’ in a sense since Mumza is still a part of this Au. Wilbur was Phil and Kristens son but seen as a son by Sky as well. Techno was adopted by Sky and Phil. but before that Sky had Dream with Puffy, the normal backstory I have for Dream yada yada.

Something makes Phil part with Sky and take Techno and Wilbur with him. Kristen doesn’t know what happened, just out of loop with the God, and stays down from her Realm to help take care of Dream. who’s just old enough to start remember fully and just in time for his magic, freakishly strong for a supposed Demi, to start lashing out with his feelings. With the lose of Wilbur and Techno, leaving Dream without anyone around his age since Malachi and Levin are way to old to play with him, Dream becomes a mother hen to his friends.

All through out eight grade through the Admin Academy he mother hens everyone. Newly fresh students down to newly graduated Admins. Even older Admins that run their own server get momed by him every now and then when they cross path’s. This feeds into his need for a full family, he just wants siblings dammit, but stamps it down.

It isn’t until everything starts to go haywire in his server and everyone subconsciously starts to hang up on Tommy does Dream really ‘snap’. Taking Tommy out and kinda force adopting him into the family. Tommy’s absolutely surprised by the switch up from angry and manipulative Dream to “I swear to god if you don’t finish your coke I’ll shove it down your throat” Mama Bear. Better yet when Sky inevitably allows Dream, he really has no say since Dream adopted like over thousands of kids through this schooling, and doesn’t think Tommy’s any different.

Not until he spots Dream and Tommy out in the castle’s pastures. Watching as Dream help hoists Tommy onto one of the bigger war horses and teach the younger boy how to steer and command. Encoring and smiling - and when did he take off his mask around people he ‘adopted’? - and wheezing. Leaving the blonde for just a moment to hop on another one, a bigger one then Tommy’s, and gently lead the boy and two animals out to a trail. Sticking close by and smiling down when Tommy let out a squeal when his horse picked up speed.

Dream wasn’t one not to wear his mask students and teachers. Even his best friends, Sapnap and George, had only ever seen the smiling mask. Nothing ever above the bottom lip at most. A tick Dream had pulled from somewhere and one Sky wasn’t going to push his son out of. So seeing him trot alongside the other blonde boy, maskless with his hair in a low pony and freckles for the world to see, it wiggles something inside Sky’s chest.

Soon he’s talking to Tommy more. Slowly getting to know him because he’s staying with them and Dream always butts in when someone ask’s Tommy about his home. A clear indication that this boy is staying and that Dream will fight anyone about it. Sky’s own heart hasn’t healed that much from the loss of Wilbur and Technoblade so Tommy, loud sarcastic cursing Tommy, was almost like a balm.

Watching him and Dream wrestle in the gym or race around the tracks out in the back by the tennis courts made the King smile. The more Tommy stayed the more he brightened up the castle as a whole. Flowers bloomed a week where he sat and animals just seemed a bit happier when he’s around. Blue eyes bright and just as thirsty for knowledge like Dream was his age. Books upon books read and if the pair aren’t outside their in the library. If not in the library then their in the kitchen. Dream desperately trying to teach Tommy how to cook even simple meals and can only sigh and shake his head fondly when Tommy burnt yet another dish.

He even has his own emote mask now like Dream. It’s resting face is a frown while Dream’s is a smile and he only really wears it outside of the castle ground. Getting shy around all of Dream’s rowdy friends. It’s just not Sky who’s platonically falling for the blonde.

Aphmau ended up making a red and white cape for the boy. Slightly furry around the collar and definitely enough to drown him in soft fabric. The edges looked clawed at but were made that way, more like a giant shawl than anything. Seto made a pendant kind of like Sky’s. It holds many uses like a compass to find the nearest Admin when he’s lost or even acts up like a back up communicator/chat page if he lost his device. Sparklez made an enchanted metal crown of flowers that gave him almost the same amount of armor protection as iron.

Just... I think I might call this Little Bother!au



#adam family!au #protege tommy au #little bother!au #dreamwastaken #tommyinnit #skydoesminecraft #philza minecraft #mumza #wilbur soot #technoblade #I already have so many ideas for this au

[theweasleysredhair]

When Sparks Fly [F.W.]

Character: Fred Weasley

Word Count: 1891

Requested?: Yes/No

Summary: “You’re scared of fireworks?” “Scared is an understatement.” In which Fred plans a birthday surprise for his girlfriend without the crucial knowledge that she is terrified of fireworks.

Disclaimer: Gif isn't mine, credit to whoever made it

A/n: I bloody loved this request

also to the requester: I hope I got this right bc I actually adore fireworks so I had to get myself into the mind-frame of being scared of them to write this so fingers crossed I did an okay job. enjoy my love!

~*~

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST MY WORK! REBLOGS ARE ABSOLUTELY FINE! <3

+ + + + +

“What are you talking about now?” Ron asked the twins as they were chatting about something loudly.

“It’s my Y/n‘s birthday next week,” Fred announced. “And we’ve got something spectacular planned,” George grinned, folding his arms over his chest.

You smiled at them and shook your head with a laugh, “I’m kinda worried what the two of you are working on to be honest. You’ve both been awfully mysterious about it all.”

“Oh don’t you worry about a thing, love! Things are gonna take off,” Fred replied with a smirk, “Gonna have a cracking-”

“-Absolutely sparkling-“ George added.

“Time,” they finished the sentence simultaneously.

You smiled at them, hearing a few chuckles from the others as they wandered away, heads bowed together as they conspired about something or other.

“Shit,” you said as soon as they were out of ear shot.

“What’s wrong?” Ron asked as he grabbed a bar of Honeydukes chocolate he’d left on a nearby table.

You sighed, “Their plan involves fireworks.” “Don’t all their plans involve fireworks?” Hermione asked with a small smile.

“Well yes but... this plan is for me. And from the hints they’ve been dropping, fireworks are a big part of the plan,” you chewed on your lip in thought and nervously clasped and unclasped your hands together.

Harry cleaned his glasses with the bottom of his jumper before returning them to his face, “Is that such a bad thing?”

“Well... usually no. But in this case... I thought I’d be able to go a bit longer without saying anything but... I don’t like fireworks. And by ‘don’t like’ I mean I am curling-into-a-ball-and-freaking-out petrified of them,” you admitted, looking down at your hands and sighing again.

“You’re scared of fireworks?”

“Scared is an understatement. Some people are scared of spiders - Ron - some of snakes, of clowns, of werewolves. My thing is fireworks.”

“But your boyfriend is Fred Weasley,” Ron said incredulously through a mouthful of chocolate.

“Oh yeah, cheers for that, Ron, I had almost forgotten,” you replied sarcastically.

Ron smiled before shaking his head, “No, I know, I just mean... well, how have you gone this long without telling him?”

You shifted in your seat, and avoided looking at any of them, “I just... haven’t. He loves them, doesn’t he? I can’t just tell him to stop using them just for my benefit.”

And that was the truth, really. You would never ask him to stop something he loved, and him and George used fireworks a lot in their pranks and such. It wouldn’t be fair to turn around and ask him to stop.

“Well... how badly are you afraid of them?” Hermione asked, tapping her chin in thought.

“I am more afraid of fireworks than Snape is of shampoo,” you joked, “No but seriously, I’ve had quite a few panic attacks over them - bad ones. I just... I can’t help it. I wish I liked them but I’m just terrified. And now Fred is planning something for my birthday and it’s very obvious that it involves fireworks. I don’t have the heart to tell him but... my heart’s thumping just from thinking about them.”

Hermione reached over to squeeze your hand reassuringly, “I’d speak to him beforehand, I’m sure he’d hate it more to do something that scares you.”

You smiled thankfully at her, “Yeah I’ll um... I’ll try and speak to him.”

***

Your birthday arrived much quicker than you’d hoped, and you’d woken up with an uncomfortable feeling in your stomach. You hadn’t gotten the heart or courage to confront Fred about his plans for your birthday - he seemed much too excited any time you saw him - and by any means you didn’t want him to feel as though he had to change everything he’d been working on. You appreciated the effort and adored the lengths he went to to show you how much he cared and didn’t ever want him to know you weren’t as excited as him for what was to happen.

Your day went by quite normally, your friends and other students passing by to wish you a happy birthday. The only oddity was you hadn’t seen the twins all day, and it was nearing evening. The thought put you on edge, as you assumed they were working on whatever it was they’d been planning. Despite this, you couldn’t help but miss them - particularly your boyfriend - and hoped they’d make an appearance soon.

You’d just finished your evening meal when your eyes flickered to the ginger boy entering the Great Hall, a carbon copy of your doting boyfriend however completely different in your eyes.

“Happy Birthday, Y/n!” George grinned as he sat beside you on the bench and gave you a side hug, “Sorry we haven’t seen you all day, must’ve been rubbish without us, eh?” You smiled back, “Thank you Georgie! Yes I suppose it has - potions was definitely more boring than usual. You um... haven’t seen your dear twin at all, have you?”

“Ah, you wouldn’t happen to be referring to Freddie boy there, would you? I have indeed seen him and the main reason I am here is to escort you to him,” George stood you and held his hand out. You shook your head fondly and took it, allowing him to pull you up and out of the hall.

He led you down the main hallway and towards the doors of the castle, then out onto the Hogwarts grounds.

“Where are we going?” You asked as you followed the younger twin across the grass.

“You’ll see! You’re gonna love this, Y/n! Fred has been planning this for ages - with my help, of course,” George boasted as he shot a grin over his shoulder at you.

You faked a smile, hoping it was believable enough to look like excitement as you tried to hide that your heart was trying to escape your chest and you could hear blood rushing in your ears.

“George..?” You began.

“Yeah?”

Taking a deep breath, you continued on as you glanced down at your feet, “It’s probably much too late to say anything now but I really don’t like-“

“Happy birthday, darlin’!” A familiar voice interrupted you, halting your sentence in the middle. Your eyes flickered up to rest on the welcome sight of your boyfriend and you couldn’t help but smile when you saw his messy ginger hair and cheeky grin.

He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into a warm hug, one you accepted instantly and happily as you hadn’t seen him all day.

George made himself sparse, leaving you alone with your boyfriend who pressed his lips to yours in a sweet kiss, making up for the fact he’d been gone all day.

As you pulled away, he immediately moved back in to kiss you again, mumbling how much he’d missed you (even though it had only been a day), before finally placing a last chaste kiss to your swollen lips. He then grabbed your hand and pulled you towards the Forbidden Forest, where you noticed lights twinkling in a nearby clearing.

He led you over, his fingers locked around yours as he bit his lip and looked at you, “Surprise, love!”

Your eyes locked on the scene, a blanket laid out with your favourite foods on top, bags of Honeydukes items sitting beside it and a pile of presents - wrapped messily in brown paper and tied with wonky bows - scattered across the grass next to the blanket. Small, glittering lights hung from the tree branches around the clearing, casting a light glow and illuminating both the food and the dozens of pillows that you noticed were also piled around.

“Thought we could spend some time together without anyone interrupting us or anything. Also got some new things we’ve been working on that I want to show you before we show anyone else,” Fred explained, nodding over to a stack of what you assumed were Wizard Wheezes products.

“Oh Merlin... this is beautiful... it’s amazing,” you murmured.

And it was. It was so lovely and thoughtful. You adored it.

Yet, as you were staring at the scene, in awe at how beautiful the fairy lights were, you couldn’t help the voice in the back of your mind reminding you about the fireworks, not knowing when they were going to go off but sure it would be soon.

Suddenly, you heard Fred chuckling beside you and you frowned as you looked over at him. “What’s so funny?” You asked nervously.

“There are no fireworks, love,” he said simply, shoving his hands into his pockets, the hint of a smile resting on his lips.

Your jaw dropped almost comically, “What? What do you- How did you- How could you possibly know I was thinking about them?”

“You keep looking around as if you’re waiting for something. Just letting you know there are no fireworks so you can relax, babe. I know you’re terrified of them so they were never part of the plan. You really think I don’t know you well enough to know that?” He mocked with a playful grin.

Your mouth opened and closed as you stuttered out, “I-I never told you-“

“Didn’t have to, I saw your reaction to the small sparklers me and Georgie made to throw around and realised then. I notice everything about you, love,” he said sincerely.

You turned to him with shock on your features, jabbing him lightly in the chest as you scolded him, “Then why in the name of Merlin’s saggy left ballsack would you make me believe your plan relied on fireworks?!”

“Just like to mess with you, love,” he gave you a cheeky grin, and you wanted to be mad but looking at him, you couldn’t bring yourself to be. Still, you tried to be as you gave him a fake glare, “Fred! I’ve been working myself up over this for days! You’re a right prat!”

However, you couldn’t help the relieved giggle that left your lips as you rested your forehead against his chest and sighed contently now you were back at ease.

“I’m your prat though.”

“Hmm, I suppose so,” you mumbled into his jumper as his hands rested on your waist, him leaning his chin on the top of your head. You stayed stood up, in his arms, for a while before you decided to speak again, “Doesn’t it bother you that you’ll probably never be able to use fireworks in my vicinity?”

Fred pulled away for a moment to look down at you, his features softening as he took in the sight of your nervous demeanour, “Honestly? I’d give up fireworks forever if it meant you’d stick around.”

You smiled wide, blushing as you hid your face again in his chest, “Don’t get too sappy on me, Weasley.”

“Me? Sappy? Never.”

“Hmm..” You hummed, unconvinced. “Just want you to know I love you more than anything, and that includes fireworks,” he said earnestly, the corner of his mouth flicking up into a small smile.

“Stop being so cute,” you grumbled.

“No can do, love, I’m the cutest!” He announced, laughing as you pulled him down by his collar. You smiled and shook your head just as your lips grazed his,

“Well I guess I can’t argue with that.”

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