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parchmentedpetrichor · 3 years

Text

➳all the king's men ♡ ☾

in which all the king's men couldn't put the pieces of y/n l/n together. we all have the days where we're insecure and broken, this is one of hers.

fred weasley x fem!reader

word count: ±1.8k

tw: insecurity, bullying

please if you are having overly harmful thoughts about yourself, talk to a friend or a professional. you are perfect the way you are and don't let anyone tell you otherwise!

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my masterlist:D

it's so sad that the best people tend to think the worst of themselves

all the king's men

y/n, for lack of a better description, was feeling like humpty dumpty. she had seen herself in the mirror last night, and felt positively traumatised. she had come back from a quidditch practice session, and the results were quite terrifying.

she didn't understand. quidditch made the guys more toned and even a few of her teammates had abs. what did it do to her? well, it made her shoulders broad, which she thought was highly unattractive to anyone, and not at all slim! sure, it was fun and kept her fit, but terribly horrible, in her opinion, in trying to fit in to the beautiful girls that went to hogwarts.

she admired angie johnson and cho chang and ginny. she really did. y/n knew how hard it was to be beautiful, and she liked when other people were so beautifully beautiful. it just made her feel terrible, because what was the chance of her keeping her boyfriend in fred weasley when fiercely pretty girls were dancing elegantly around her?

there wasn't any time to be mopey and sad, so she gathered all her books and immediately went to breakfast. she didn't even bother going over to fred and greeting him. she saw how happy he was laughing with george and lee. surely she wouldn't bother him. instead she plopped down next to alicia.

"you ok?" alicia spinnet asked her.

she nodded, "fine."

"you sure?"

"no."

"wanna talk about it?"

"do you think it's too early to get plastic surgery?" y/n joked in an attempt to lighten the mood.

"what the fuck, no. what's up?" alicia's eyes were lit with concern.

"i don't feel pretty," her voice was but a whisper.

alicia caught it.

"why? you're literally adorable."

"you're my best friend, you're supposed to tell me that."

"hmm, nah, i truly believe it."

"well i don't," y/n said miserably.

"oi, l/n, your hair down today?" adrian pucey snarled, "it's gonna give me aids."

a few students snorted.

"you can get aids then. shut your mouth," y/n retorted back.

the whole school look startled. was this the same, prefect, goody-two-shoes y/n l/n?

adrian pucey opened his mouth.

"i said shut. your. mouth."

fred weasley watched in a mixture of furiousness and pride. he knew that pucey had a crush on y/n too. he was just terrible in expressing it. fred didn't like the way y/n's eyes sadly flitted to alicia afterwards. and she hadn't come up to him and given him a kiss today. maybe she just wanted a bit of space??

"see?" y/n sighed, "not even my hair is pretty." she tied it up.

alicia laughed, "adrian just wants your attention."

that made y/n laugh. "why? why?" it was a rhetorical question. she got up, and smiled at adrian in the most menacing way that he shrunk.

"miss l/n, your outburst was quite rude-" snape began.

"my apologies professor, of course, i was in the wrong. adrian pucey brought the topic surrounding my hair up, called it ugly. now what would you do if a student called your hair ugly?" y/n said, eyes burning with fury but conscience too good to lose her temper.

"i-i would give them a scolding."

"likewise. good day, professor."

"fucking hell, he is such a sh-" alicia muttered as she got up and followed y/n out to class.

"ali, that's enough," their retreating voices could be heard.

fred kept his eye on y/n through the day, giving her the space he thought she needed.

she looked very like her normal self, until she encountered pucey again.

"l/n, nice squinty eyes," pucey laughed.

y/n's shoulders sagged. her eyes dimmed and she let her ponytail fall in front of her face.

"ponytail won't fix them," he laughed meanly, "can they fix your dumpling body?"

fred frowned deeply, "fuck off, adrian," he angrily said, "that's my girlfriend you're talking to."

"oh, you have someone like weasley to save you? i don't even think you deserve him as a boyfriend."

y/n didn't answer, fearing that tears would spill out of her eyes. she had just been feeling worse and worse about herself. instead, when the bell signalled the end of classes, she hurried quickly off to wherever, trying to pull herself together.

she felt like she was at the bottom of the earth. her eyes finally let go of the tears that needed to be spilt. she leant sobbing against a stout tree in the forbidden forest, head slumped gloomily against the trunk, eyes trying to find anything, anything, that could be remotely comforting and hands fiddling nervously with the flowers that bloomed happily around her. her whole body shook in anxiety. she wished she had her mum or dad here to help her. but they were back at home.

how did fred love her?

she wished she didn't have stupid hair or squinty eyes or a dumpling body. but she couldn't ignore the mean, yet so true, remarks about her body adrian made. they were morally wrong and he deserved to be stabbed, but they were factual. she used to just laugh and joke about him too, but now she realised that maybe she should pay more attention to the way she eats and works and the way she talks and looks and presents herself and put more makeup on and-

fred found her crying there, by the little pond, shrinking away from the mere sight of her own appearance. he didn't get it.

well, he did, but he didn't know why such a beautiful girl like his girlfriend was crying.

"y/n?"

she flinched and stopped crying.

"sorry, i'll leave. i don't think you want a dumpling of a girlfriend sharing this nice space," she attempted to joke, but it fell short. she wasn't joking anymore. her tone was serious and genuine. the unexpected good nature pucey's remarks were received in usually was gone, and for good reason. it had broken her into the tiniest little pieces.

fred felt it. he felt his heart stop.

"is this about what pucey said to you, lovely?" he asked gently, cupping her cheek, and pulling her close to him.

she nodded, feeling immensely better already. the smell of him made her calm down insanely.

"so you don't want space?"

"n-no, i was just..." she trailed off uncertainly.

"mhm?" he looked at her and waited.

"it's silly."

"well, it's got you crying, i don't think so."

"the stuff a-adrian says is true," her voice was quiet and small.

fred frowned.

"i'm not cute or elegant or even hot," she continued, "i-i'm not as pretty as anyone here."

"well, my little love, if my opinion even matters, you are stunning. i think you're the prettiest person in the world, both on skin and in here," he patted his own heart, "do you know how long i pined after you?"

"no?"

"i'm still pining after you, gorgeous."

"d-do you mean it when you say gorgeous?" her eyes were broken and teary.

"of course. it hurts me when you are upset. because you are gorgeous and much more because you are so nice and good to me and to everyone else too. pucey's a complete shithead and when i next see him i will bash his head in. i'm so sorry i didn't notice, love, i thought you were mad at me."

"no it's fine, i just don't understand. you're fred weasley. so many girl's want you and you-you choose...me?," a sad frown was etched on her face, her tone confused.

"y/n, you're my only choice. i don't want the other girls. i can see the appeal of you. i-i know i'm not the best with words like you, but i really care about you. i love you, i adore you, you're the bestest person i've ever met."

and he knows he's brought the happiness back in her. she giggled. he felt relieved, because he knew he wasn't good at all at comforting people and y/n was so special to him- why didn't he say that earlier to her?

"bestest isn't a word, freddie."

"well you get what i mean, right? you're really special to me," there it was.

she nodded slowly, a small smile forming on her lips as she kissed him on the lips, before snuggling closer to him.

"darling, wouldn't you rather go back to the castle to cuddle?"

hesitantly, she shook her head.

"why?"

"'drian's there."

"adrian cannot hurt you, okay? whatever he tells you is wrong. he's wrong," he gently says, pulling her close to him, "besides, if he does, i'm here, and you're strong."

"i just cried about it, i can't be strong."

"crying doesn't mean you're weak, darling, sometimes we all cry and that's okay."

y/n nodded.

"here, i brought this for you, maybe it's a comfort??" he blushed as he handed her his quidditch hoodie.

she grinned and put it on.

he couldn't stop blushing at the sight of her, so he tilted his face away to save himself the embarrassment.

noticing and mistaking his turned away head for disgust, y/n took the hoodie off, downcastedly handing it back to him.

"sorry," she gave a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes as fred looked at her in confusion.

"y-you can have it back, yeah, there's no need to hide your shame, here, s-sorry," she stuttered out.

"shame?" he asked, looking worriedly down at her.

"mhm," she fiddled with the hem of her shirt, "sorry."

he finally understood.

"angel, look at me."

she reluctantly looked up at him.

"i wasn't feeling disgusted at all. i-i was actually embarrassed because i was blushing," his cheeks heated up again, "like i probably am right now. you're too beautiful. i was blushing too much."

"oh."

"yeah. now put it back on," he demanded, as he cheekily tugged the jumper over her head, blushing again as he saw her standing there in his jumper.

"c'mon!" he said, carrying y/n's school bag as they made their way to the castle, his arm wrapped protectively around his waist and the bright gold letters on the back of his sweater shining for anyone and everyone to see.

they didn't see pucey, thank goodness and they ended up talking with george and katie bell and angie and alicia by the fire.

as y/n smiled and giggled with katie over something highly scandalous, fred had his eyes on her, not so much monitoring her, but he couldn't keep them off of her.

when he had noticed her words start to become short and slightly slurred by tiredness, he lead her back to her dormitory.

"feeling better princess?"

she nodded, "you're so good to me, freddie. i love you."

it made his heart swell with happiness.

"i'd go to the moon and back for you, y/n."

she smiled drowsily, "and i, you."

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writernomore · 3 years

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Can you do soulmate au headcannons for feral Bois + Wilbur please?

You are my Other half|| Feral boys + Wilbur

Please do not publish my work/ content to different websites and platforms, I only post my work here on tumblr and wattpad

A/n: I must say these were like the cutest ever QwQ

Gender Neutral! Reader

Dreamwastaken.

Okay for Dream's soulmate headcanons I like to picture that you have a specific sentence/ words written on your wrist that your soulmate would say to you.

Now, I like to think that you've met your soulmate but! You don't know that yet because of the words on your wrist.

Here's how the situation will go, so basically your a streamer (Naturally) and your friends with Dream! (Shocking :0) .

So you've recently been getting undeserved hate because of the way you play a certain game or people just don't seem to like you, sure there are your loyal fans cheering you up and all but there's just sometimes going to be someone who'd take their comments too far and it just gets to you.

So right now your on discord with Dream ( I don't if you guys want it to be the both of you are in face time so I'll leave this part vague so you can imagine which one you prefer.) and you are just venting/talking about your situation with Dream and you come to stop saying that you couldn't handle it anymore and that you didn't know what to do anymore.

Dream has experience to what your encountering, putting yourself out there and becoming a sort of influencer and gaining fame is that there will always be people to bring you down and love to see that they have left and effect on you.

" You don't need to listen to them, clearly, they don't know how amazing you are."

"Thank you Clay, you're really great too, I don't see why people seem to hate you too."

It was silent at first but then you came to a sudden realisation of the familiarity of the words Dream just told you, quickly pulling up your sleeve your eyes widen to the exact words Dream said imprinted on your wrist.

Looking up at your Monitor, you were breathless, there was a sudden change of mood and the both of you were just silent before Dream spoke once again.

"Hello, Soulmate."

Georgenotfound.

Okay, I think this one is cute but I always think Soulmate Au's are cute so here's George's Soulmate Au!

You have a clock timer to when you meet your soulmate and it's just the perfect one for this idea in my head.

So basically, your on your way to meet an online friend of yours, George or going by his online alias Georgenotfound.

You had been streaming for about a while now and you've met such wonderful people, along with George and other nice streamers on the platform.

You were looking out the window of your plane, as you were nearing to the UK, glancing down you notice the timer on your wrist had sped up and that it shows that you might meet your soulmate here in London.

You were ecstatic at the idea of meeting your soulmate at the airport, just like some cheesy RomCom you've watched before.

Going down the stairs of the airplane you go through scanning and you grab your luggage and look for George, taking out your phone you text him asking where he was and he texted back sending where he was standing, pocketing your phone your clock seems to have gone faster and that you might encounter your soulmate soon before you get to meet up with George.

Walking around you glance to see where George is, ocassionally looking at your wrist, but then you spot the man holding up a welcome sign you walk over to him but just as you were about a few feet away you put down your luggage and make a sprint running to him, to attack him in a hug.

10...

9....

8....

7....

6...

5....

4...

3..

2..

1..

You hug George as he carries you and spins you around, the both of you laughing as you look up at him and smile, it was finally that moment you got to meet him.

He sets you down and you look down to your wrist that your timer, you brush your hand over it and George grabs your wrist to look at it, as he examines it you look up at him in surprise, your soulmate was the person you were so desperate to meet.

He looks up at you and smiles even wider as he pulls up his sleeve and showing that the his timer to had gone off, he encases you in a hug and you chuckle wrapping you arms around his shoulder.

Sapnap.

Okay, so this one I like to make this that you and Sap are strangers in this one because, why not? And it would be perfect for the soulmate Au I chose for Sapnap.

Your Soulmate Au with Sapnap is You're deaf until you meet your Soulmate, and the first thing you'll be able to hear is their voice.

So here's how your situation goes, so given that your deaf, you had to learn ASL language to communicate with people(I make it that everyone has different Soulmate Au's, ex: your friend has the red string.) and it's sometimes hard to be able to get your bearings considering your deaf.

And hearing aids don't work as well, there's nothing you can do about it, so you just wait for your soulmate.

So, you're walking down the street after getting groceries, and you try to balance all the bags in your hand but they were to heavy and you were really desperate to not drop the groceries.

So you hug the groceries close to your body but you stiffen at the hand on your shoulder, you turn around to look at the person and they smile at you, raised their hands to sign if you needed help, dumbfounded you try to say something but you couldn't hear what you said but it was clear he did because he had this look of surprise.

And he puts a hand over his ear and looks at you and opens his mouth.

"Can you hear me?" You had the same expression he had but you nodded and then everything seemed to be clear and the both of you can hear sound now.

The two of you just talk to each other about anything you guys come up with relishing the sound of each others voice whilst carrying your groceries.

Karl Jacobs.

Okay, so for Karl's Soulmate thing I picked where your hair would be the same as your soulmates if they dye it and vice versa to your soulmate.

So basically you've had this love for gaming and you practically have been entertaining the idea of streaming, you loved people who play games whilst they streamed, talking to the people in chat and just making people's days.

And you happen to want to do the same, so basically you wanted to be exclusive with your appearance so you usually just turned your face cam off, but when you did people would gush about how nice your hair looked because of the colors you pick out.

Your streaming career had really gone well and you were quiet well known and was doing really well, the people loved you! (excluding the people who bash on you).

You've met really wonderful friends and they're just the nicest and most wonderful people!

And you have this friend named Karl he was really the best, you met him through Quackity and the two of you just really hit it off from the on.

Basically, you and Karl would be streaming later but there was a problem it was when you were with other people or felt the mood you'd turn on your camera but your soulmate decided to dye their hair and now you had the same exact color (awww and you were really growing into the old color too.)

So basically, when you got ready you joined the call with Karl(But you had your camera off) and the two of you were just playing and then you started ranting how your hair changed because your soulmate dyed their hair, Karl just comforted you and then when you were going to look at chat people wanted to see your hair so you went to open your face cam showing your hair, ruffling it a bit.

Unbeknownst to you, Karl happened to have opened your stream on his monitor, You went to talk again with Karl but he was silent for a while, then he smiled and went to talk about how he dyed his hair and he wanted to show the stream, you told him it was nice and was just oblivious to Karl's doing.

People kept on spamming your chat to check Karl's stream and so you did, you pulled up his stream and there he was, with his hair the same color as yours.

You started screaming and just yelled in disbelief letting out little chuckles, you went to cover your face with your hands and chat was ballistic (Both yours and his chat) .

Quackity.

Okay, so for Quackity I chose the one where you write on your skin it would also appear on your soulmate's (and vice versa).

So for this you use this as a form of communication since you don't know each other, it doesn't get personal but just little details about each other.

I have a feeling Quackity would draw penises as a form of prank and you'd have wash it off quickly because you know, it's embarassing but alas, you can't erase it.

It only happens to disappear after time or when your soulmate erases it.

So basically as payback to the little penises he draws you draw these shapes on your face, there are hearts, stars, and little doodles along with the words Kiss me!

It was all fun and games between you guys, and you wanted to share your little 'prank' on instagram, taking a picture of your self smiling and along with a caption saying how you pranked your soulmate.

After you had posted that you just decided to scroll through instagram smiling, but then your smiled had dropped and you saw someone posting a picture, their face having the same markings as you had drawn but you just didn't do anything and liked his picture.

But for a while it had been eating at you so you went to go and message him about being soulmates.

So you just resulted to doing it the old fashioned way and grabbing your marker and contemplating what to write, you decided to write your username and just left it at that hoping he'd check it out.

It was about a few minutes before your phone vibrated, opening you saw someone had DMed you, going on to instagram it was him!

You went to check out the message it said:

"I never knew my soulmate would be so beautiful/handsome."

"Hello to you too, Soulmate."

Wilbursoot.

Mister Soot, your soulmate Au with him would be that you have the same mark as your soulmate, it isn't some random shape but it's a specific mark that you and your soulmate would have.

I don't know how I'm going to be able to write this one so basically this is just how Wilbur found out you were his soulmate, Wilbur would be about a year or 3 older than you and it was your 21st birthday that when your soulmate mark would appear, Wilbur had already gotten his before you.

So the two of you are counting down by midnight in video chat talking and waiting for the clock to strike 12, you had been so excited, you've waited for 21 years for this moment to arrive, when the clock had striked 12 you quickly checked out what the mark was.

It was a white music note, it was cute and it was placed on your wrist, you smiled and look at Wilbur, raising you arm up to angle it so that the camera could see it and show Wilbur what the mark looked like, "Check out my soulmate mark." you found Wilbur silent but then he started giggling, "What's so funny?" You asked him frowning as you looked down to your wrist.

"I guess I finally found you, and you were just right under my nose." Wilbur giggled again.

You held a dumbfounded expression before looking down at your mark and back up again before shaking head, "I guess you found me." You said smiling.

----------------------------------------------------

I'M SO SORRY THAT THIS TOOK SO LONG AND THAT I WAS INACTIVE FOR SO LONG😭😭.

But if you guys want, I have a discord server It was so that I could interact with the readers of my wattpad book but it could be that you guys could see what I'm working on! Discord server.

Anyways, if you guys like my writing, why not and consider giving me a follow? ;)

#mcyt fanart #mcyt x reader #mcyt imagine #mcyt headcanons #dream smp #dream smp x reader #dream smp imagines #dream smp headcanons #Feral boys #feral boys x reader #feral boys imagine #feral boys headcanons #wilbursoot #wilbur x reader #fanfiction #x reader #fluff #soulmate x reader #soulmate au

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dreamerstreamer · 3 years

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Pairing: Dream / Clay x gn!reader

Summary: [Dream SMP!AU] You and Dream have been together for months now, but no one knows it. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that the two of you live leagues apart.

Warnings: some cursing (a.k.a. Tommy exists)

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: requested by an anon who wanted a fun long-distance reveal! this story takes place during an unspecified time, but i imagine it occurs prior to schlatt’s presidency. anyways, i hope you all enjoy <3

You gazed at the bustling town in front of you in awe, your wide eyes darting this way and that as you took in everything you possibly could. You’d never known that Clay’s home was so... colourful. So bright.

You should really come visit more often.

Now, you thought to yourself, just where is he? He has to be somewhere around here.

Your fingers squeezed a little tighter around the handle of your basket as you swung it back and forth, a small smile gracing your lips as you tread onward. The soles of your feet ached a bit, especially after walking for so many hours, but you didn’t mind too much. It had been a while since you last saw each other, and you couldn’t wait to hear his laugh again.

Just then, a voice spoke up to your left.

“Who the fuck is that?”

Your smile faltered, and you slowed your steps a half-measure as another voice whispered back.

“No clue.”

You swallowed, a lump slowly starting to form in your throat. You focused your gaze on the path ahead of you, trudging forward as you rushed past the muffled words that slowly began to form around you.

“Do you know them?”

“Nope.”

“Are they from out of town?”

“Must be. I don’t recognize them at all.”

Something hot and wet wrapped around your lungs, an uneasy feeling settling into the pit of your stomach. They’re... they’re talking about me, aren’t they? You sucked in a shuddering breath, ignoring the stinging at the back of your eyes. It’s okay, [Y/N]. You just have to find Clay, and then everything’s be just fi—

“[Y/N]?”

You froze, your steps coming to a screeching halt. Is that...?

You turned on your heel, your eyes landing on a familiar face standing just a few feet behind you. Dirty blonde hair and enchanting green eyes stared back at you, and a wide grin stretched across your lips. In a flash, you were charging at him, an overjoyed giggle escaping you.

“Clay!”

You barely caught a glimpse of his outstretched arms before you were tumbling into them, your fingers curling around his back as his hands met your waist. Peals of laughter flew from your lips as he spun the two of you around once, twice, thrice. Your heart was practically singing in your ears as he set you back down again, your feet landing flat on the ground as you gazed up at his fond smile.

“Hey,” he said gently, his emerald eyes scanning your face, “what are you doing here?”

You pulled back the cover of your basket, pulling out a swath of viridian green fabric with a flourish, grinning. “Ta-da!” you cried, holding it out toward him. “I finished fixing your winter cloak!”

His eyes grew wide as he stared at the cloth in your hands, his gaze glimmering with astonishment. “You did? Oh my god!” With a gentle grasp, he pulled the cloak from your grasp, admiring your handiwork with wonder in his eyes as he looked over the stitching. He looked up, a smile tugging at his lips.

“It looks as good as new,” he said. “You can hardly even tell I ripped it.” Tucking the cloak into the crook of his arm, he dipped his head to press his lips to your forehead. “You’re amazing, [Y/N].”

You offered him a bashful grin, biting the inside of your warming cheek. “It’s nothing, really.”

Reaching over, he slipped his hand into yours. His thumb instinctively moved to brush over your knuckles just how you liked it, and you nearly melted on the spot. He really had you wrapped around his finger, didn’t he? Not that you were complaining or anything.

“Seriously though,” he added, pursing his lips, “you didn’t need to come all this way just to deliver my cloak to me.” His gaze grew soft. “It must have taken you so long.”

You chewed on your bottom lip as you dug your heel into the dirt. “I-I, um,” you began shakily, picking at a stray wicker thread in your basket, “I wanted to surprise you.” You took a deep breath, raising your chin to look at him dead on. “You always come visit me, but I thought this time, I should be the one coming to you!”

He stared at you, his lips parted in awe as he took in your words. When he didn’t say anything after a few seconds, your eyes darted to the ground, as you mumbled a quiet, “Or, um, something like that.”

There was a beat of silence. Then came a soft murmur.

“God, you’re so damn cute.”

You whipped your head up, your cheeks blazing with heat as you took in his cocky smile. “S-Stop that,” you sputtered, resisting the urge to bury yourself into the ground. “You’re always so cheesy.”

He dipped his head to press his forehead against yours, his eyes never leaving yours. “Yeah,” he rasped, his breath tickling your face, “but only for you.”

Your heart did a flip in your chest at the intensity of his gaze. As flustered as he made you, you missed this. You missed him. Was it even possible to miss someone so much?

Suddenly, someone cleared their throat. “Uh, Dream?”

You stiffened once more, taking a step back to peer over Clay’s shoulder, only to feel your breath hitch in your throat. Clay immediately shifted at the first sign of distress on your face, his gaze growing serious. He plastered a polite smile to his face as he turned, opening his mouth.

“Hi ther—woah.” He blinked at the small crowd standing behind him. “Okay, uh. There’s a lot of you here.” Carefully, he stepped to the side, facing the crowd head-on while allowing you the chance to take a step behind him. He offered them a crooked grin, his grip on your hand tightening ever so slightly. “What’s up?”

In front of him, a tall man tilted his head toward you, his chestnut hair flopping over one eye as he raised an eyebrow at you. “Um, aren’t you going to introduce us to your guest?”

Clay’s eyes darted to yours, and you sent him a subtle nod. They were his friends, and as nervous as you were, they deserved to know about you. Turning back to face the crowd, he held a hand out toward you. “Everyone, meet [Y/N], my significant other.” He gestured to the crowd. “[Y/N], meet, uh, everyone else.”

A man clad in blue raised his eyebrows, an unimpressed look crossing his features. “Wow,” he whistled, pushing up the white glasses perched on his nose, “way to basically just call us unimportant.”

Clay rolled his eyes, but you still managed to catch a glimpse of a smile flicker across his face as he relented. “Okay, okay, I’ll be more specific.” He pointed his hand toward the man dressed in blue and the white-clad man leaning against him. “Meet George and Sapnap—my best friends.”

Sapnap glowered at him, his dark brows curving inward. “Yeah, your best friends who didn’t know about your secret relationship!”

Clay winced, something hurt flitting through his expression. “I’m sorry, oka—”

George raised a hand. “We’re kidding, we’re kidding.” He reached over, clapping his hand over Clay’s shoulder. “We’re glad you have someone you like, seriously.”

Sapnap leaned forward, his frown having been replaced by a teasing grin and his dark eyes swimming with mischief. “You totally owe us for keeping us in the dark, though.”

George nodded, pulling his hand away. “Oh yeah, totally.”

Clay grimaced, then sighed. “Great. Anyways,” he said, ��this is Ranboo.” He gestured to the tall boy standing next to you, his face split down the middle with skin that looked as pale as the moon on one half and the other being as dark as night. Atop his head sat a small, golden crown that glimmered in the sunlight, and his crimson and green eyes blinked at you as he gave you a small wave, his lips curling into a smile.

“He’s half-enderman,” Clay explained at your curious expression, “but he doesn’t really have any of the cool enderman powers.”

Ranboo’s mouth drooped into a frown as he lowered his hand with a disappointed sigh. “Yeah, I only got the lame ones. Like, I can’t teleport, and I’m not crazy strong, either.”

Another voice suddenly popped up. “He’s fucking useless in the rain, that’s what he is.” You turned you head, your eyes landing on a blond boy sporting a triumphant grin. “If you get even a single drop of water on him, he hisses like a cat.”

“I do not!”

The blond boy cackled, and you couldn’t stop his contagious laugh from letting a smile form on your face. “Don’t deny it, Ranboo! You totally do, and it’s fucking hilarious!”

Beside you, Clay sighed, gesturing to the grinning boy with a look of affectionate disdain. “This one here is Tommy.” His lips twitched. “He’s a demon child.”

Tommy’s smile widened. “Thanks, Big D—wait.” He paused, then scowled. “What the fuck did you just sa—”

Clay didn’t let him finish. He simply shot you a satisfied look before declaring, “Case in point!”

Before Tommy could begin shouting once more, he turned to the shorter brunet standing next to him. “This is Tubbo.” Something in his tone softened as he spoke. “He’s Tommy’s best friend, and he liked bees. He’s not nearly as...” He paused, looking for the right word. “...aggressive as Tommy, and he actually has some genuinely good intentions.”

The tall brunet from earlier suddenly spoke up. “Except for when he’s Big Law. Or Big Crime.”

Clay blinked, then nodded with a slight grin. “Oh. Yeah. Those are two exceptions.”

You raised your eyebrows at him, opening your mouth. “Should I ask...?”

He sent you a lopsided smile. “Probably not.” You stifled a smile as he turned back to the tall brunet, who offered you a cheerful grin. “This here is Wilbur. We fought a war once because he started a drug cartel—don’t mind that—and he’s pretty good at playing guitar.” He pretended not to see your look of alarm as he pointed to the man standing next to him, a pair of fox ears sitting atop his head. “Oh, and this is his son, Fundy.”

You eyed the ears on Fundy’s head, the orange fur ruffling in the soft breeze. Are those... real? They look real. You opened your mouth, but Fundy spoke first.

“Yes,” he said, his eye catching yours, “they are real. And yes, we look nothing alike. My mother was a salmon.” A boulder of shock and confusion steamrolled through your system, but he merely waved his hand. “Moving on.”

You gaped at him, your mind still reeling at the words ‘mother’ and ‘salmon’. “What—?”

“Moving on!” Clay repeated, raising his voice a little. He turned you around slightly, and found yourself standing face to face with a girl with dark hair, the front two strands bleached blonde. “This is Niki. She’s normal. And also very nice.”

You blinked up at Clay, your eyebrows furrowing. “‘Normal’?” you parroted, already feeling yourself fill with disbelief. Fundy’s mother was a salmon, and now he was trying to convince you that any of his friends were normal? You didn’t buy it.

He nodded, his lips curling into a small grin at your skeptical look. “No, like, actually normal. I swear.”

Niki waved at you, her eyes curving into tiny crescent moons. “It’s nice to meet you, [Y/N]! Is this your first time here?”

You nearly jumped by how sweet her voice was, but nodded eagerly, hope sparking in your chest. “Y-Yeah!”

Her eyes glimmered with something gentle and kind. “You should come stop by my bakery sometime!” She sent you a wink, but it came across as more cheerful than sly. “I’ll treat you to some cake.”

You could practically feel your mouth water at the mere thought. Niki was more than just normal—she was wonderful. You had a feeling you were going to be very, very good friends with Niki. “I would love to!”

While Niki clapped her hands in successful delight, Clay took a step forward. “Well, that’s basically everyone. Some people are out of town today,” he explained, “but you can meet them some other time.” His look was fond as he smiled at you. “In the meantime, I can show you around the actual town.”

You clutched your basket a little tighter as you bobbed your head. You’d been dying to see the rest of Clay’s home, and you couldn’t wait to explore. “Okay!”

Suddenly, an confused voice cut in.

“Hold on a second.” Fundy whirled, his ears flicking atop his head as he looked back at his friends. “Are we just going to gloss over the fact that Dream is actually dating someone?!”

Clay furrowed his eyebrows, looking appalled. “Why do you sound so surprised?”

Tommy raised a finger. “Well, I mean,” he began, “aside from the obvious, which is that you having anyone who genuinely fucking likes you is completely unexpected—”

Clay deadpanned. “Ouch.”

“—but we also had no idea, okay?” Tommy crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes narrowing. “We kind of have a right to be surprised.”

You raised your eyebrows, bobbing your head slightly. “He does have a point.”

Clay sent you an exasperated look, his eyes pleading. “Do not back him up.”

You held up your hands in front of you, trying to bite back your smile. “I’m just saying!”

It was then that George spoke up. “Wait, how long have you guys even been together for?”

Without missing a beat, you and Clay both spoke at the same time. “Eleven months.” The moment the words left your mouth, you looked at each other, your eyes wide before melting into something softer. Your one month anniversary was coming up soon, and you guys weren’t the type to forget.

In front of you, Wilbur gaped. “Eleven months?” he repeated, sounding like a broken record player. “Eleven months?! How have you two been together for that long without us noticing?”

Clay blinked, then shrugged. “I wasn’t being super secretive about it or anything. No one ever asked, so I never said anything.”

George practically collapsed onto the ground, sinking to his knees as he tugged at his hair, his glasses sliding off his face and onto the ground. “Just how? How? I don’t get it.”

Softly, you spoke up. “I just happen to live a couple thousand blocks away, so it’s kind of far from here,” you explained. “That’s why you guys have never met me, but Clay and I still always make time to see each other.”

Sapnap tilted his head at you, his dark eyes scanning your face as the wheels in his head whirred. “Like, when do you even hang out?” He pursed his lips. “I feel like Dream’s always just kind of... here.”

Clay’s brows furrowed together. “Let me think of a good example, um...” His paused for a moment, then his eyes lit up. “Okay, so, you know those days I just say that I’m going out and don’t really elaborate?”

Sapnap cocked his head. “Um, yeah?”

Clay smiled. “That’s when I go visit [Y/N].”

There was a beat of silence, then Fundy spoke up. “Hold on a second—you travel more than hundreds of blocks just to... see [Y/N]?”

He blinked, then nodded nonchalantly. “Well, yeah. I love them.”

Warmth skittered across your cheeks as you turned to face him, lightly smacking his chest as your heart skipped a beat. “C-Clay!”

He laughed. “What?” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “It’s true.”

Across from you, Tommy visibly gagged, holding a hand over his mouth. “God, this is so fucking gross. Super sweet, but also super gross.”

Tubbo nodded beside him, a hand tucked under his chin. “It’s like... like...” His eyebrows knit together. “What’s a good analogy?”

Ranboo quipped, “It’s almost like I can feel myself getting a cavity.”

A wide smile split across Tommy’s face, and he straightened, turning to grin at his friends. “Ooh, that’s good. Nice.”

Tubbo suddenly gasped, waving his arm frantically. “Oh, um!” He paused for a split second, then shouted at full volume, “It’s like I can feel myself becoming diabetic!”

Tommy made a face. “Okay, uh—less good.”

Tubbo frowned, then opened his mouth again when Sapnap suddenly took a step forward, slamming his hand over Tubbo’s mouth. “Alright,” he said, offering you an apologetic grin, “I think that’s enough fun for one day.”

Clay nearly melted to the ground in relief. “Thanks, Sapnap. Now if you could all scram, that would be great, because [Y/N] and I would love to spend some quality time together.”

George’s lips twitched. “Heh. Disgusting.”

“Wha—” Clay blanched, and you felt your face grow warm. “Oh my god, I didn’t mean like that.”

Fundy rolled his eyes, his mouth curling into a smirk. “Sure, you didn’t.” Before you could even think to retort, Fundy clapped his hands, pushing the crowd away from the two of you. “Well, you heard the man! Everybody get a move on! Let the lovebirds be!”

Niki turned to wave once more at you, calling after you as the distance between you grew, “Bye, [Y/N]! It was nice meeting you!”

Your face lit up at the sound of her voice as you eagerly waved back. “You too, Niki!”

As soon as they disappeared from your line of sight, you felt Clay relax beside you, his shoulders drooping as he ran a hand through his hair with an exasperated look. “Sorry about them. They’re kind of—” He gestured vaguely. “—you know.”

You hummed, your lips quirked into a genuine smile. “I liked them. They’re chaotic, but in a fun way.” You swallowed the lump in your throat as you cast him a wary look. “Do you think they liked me?”

His eyes flashed with pride as he leaned over to press a kiss to your cheek. “Oh, they definitely did.” He sent you a crooked smile. “Tommy might think we’re gross, but he means well.”

You giggled at the image of Tommy gagging at the two of you as Clay slipped his hand into yours one more. “Enough about Tommy though,” he hummed, squeezing your palm, “let me show you around, yeah?”

You nodded with a bright grin, swinging your arms as the two of continued down the oak wood path further into the city. Around you, chatter continued to fill the air, but it didn’t make you anxious anymore. Clay’s friends may be strange, but who wasn’t, really?

As you took in the sight of the town around you and Clay’s soothing voice washed over you, you squeezed his hand a little tighter.

You were right—you really should come visit more often.

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wandsandwheezes · 3 years

Text

Desperado | G. W

WARNINGS // Smut 18+, Degradation, Rough Sex, Daddy Kink, Oral (both receiving), masturbation, semi-public, AFTERCARE

This is 3.1k of pure smut because I high key watched a tiktok and went I’m finna make this fanfic so enjoy.

‘This isn’t a good idea’ you thought, walking across the room to join him, an extra bit of flare added to your step, the intent obvious in your strut. It was no secret that George was absolutely enamoured with you, the way your hair flowed behind you with every step, walking effortlessly in your heels and burgundy gown; a simple cinched bodice, with flowing train and a slit up to the thigh. He felt in a trance, taken away from the conversation he was having, completely focused on you for the few moments it took for you to reach him.

It wasn’t often you and George would get all scrubbed up, but attending a dinner at Malfoy Manor was one of those evenings. It was no surprise to anyone, that their Annual Ball Dinner was a very expensive, prestigious bash. You were truly lucky to be invited back year after year, glad you’d befriended Astoria and Draco as a young Slytherin. You were watching your Husband from across the room, he was talking to a couple of wealthy businessmen, a smart move from a business stance but from your eyes, you were frustrated he had been neglecting you for most of the night. He was dressed up in a gorgeous tailored navy suit, hair slicked back perfectly to compliment his winning smile.

The way you just delicately placed your hand on his chest the moment you were at his side had him swooning but after all the years you had been together, he had come to recognise the glint in your eye all too well - the glassy look of pure adoration, the way your lips turned up into a soft smirk. Being around you was like a drug to him, he would do anything at your beck and call and right now all you wanted was to be tangled beneath the sheets with a man you loved dearly. He knew that, recognised it even, in the soft hum that left your lips as his arm snuck around your waist, pulling you into him.

He pressed his lips to your temple, breathing in the scent of your shampoo, whispering a soft ‘later’ to you. Those were not the words you’d wanted to hear at all, you wanted him to oblige and take you home to the comfort of your shared bed. Quite frankly you were sure you’d let him lift up your skirt and have you in the back of the car, but you’d told yourself you wanted things to be special and you would get your way, no matter how bratty you had to be to get there.

It started with you biting the inside of your lip whenever he would look down at you, then you added the bedroom eyes into the mix - you could’ve sworn that would’ve been enough to sway him, but nevertheless he brushed off your attempts, this evening was important for business and he knew that you knew that too. You decided to leave George to his businessman talks and find his older twin, who was to no surprise, sat at the bar.

“Hi, Freddie,” you sighed, lifting up your skirt so that you could sit on the bar stool next to him, he smiles, pushing his glass over to you, sensing the stress radiate off of you. You take the glass, downing the shot of whiskey, biting back the taste with a squeeze of your eyes shutting, you weren’t sure how people could drink the vile liquid until now, when you had let it pass your lips with ease.

“Your brother is an arse,” you roll your eyes before looking over your shoulder, seeing George laughing, strong hand gripping the dainty champagne glass, his veins peeking out from under the cuff of his shirt before disappearing up under the sleeve, leaving you to your own imagination once again. Your favourite thing was always George’s arms and yet he hid them from everyone’s view, including yours, making you even more frustrated.

“What one?” he jokes, gesturing to the bartender to bring another drink, you look over to the man sitting next to you, with a look that could’ve hexed him if you’d really tried. “What’s he doing to you?” he prompts from you, causing you to let out a long staggered breath.

“It’s more like what he’s not doing to me,” you tuck your hair behind your ears, resting your elbow on the bar so that you could prop your head up, “I take my time to look good for him and be the perfect wife, but he won't even acknowledge me for more than a minute, Fred, what am I doing wrong?” he chuckles, shaking his head, looking over to his brother who seems to be rounding off the conversation with who Fred can only hope would be the shop's potential new investor.

“Oh, Y/N, you see who George has been with? That’s Mr. Greengrass, He and I are both sure if we can get him to invest, we can look at more new products, more advertising, better quality. We need it.” You sigh, Fred was right, you knew how important this evening was to the business, and although you have a deep need to be selfish and take

your husband home, Fred had convinced you to see the evening through.

At some point you had found yourself drawn back to your husband’s side, breathing in his cologne and admiring the passion in his voice, you could still feel the ache inside of you, as if he had the power to tease you without touch, which you had to admit he was unsurprisingly good at although, you wouldn’t let him know or it would definitely go to his head.

George had noticed early on in the night your intentions, he was aware of what he was doing, how frustrating it was for you and he was more than ready to play the game you had started. He had been waiting patiently until the sit down meal, where he knew he could really start to play the hand he had been dealt.

He counted his luck that your dress had a split, taking the opportunity to rest his hand on your thigh after finally taking your seats, it wasn't an unusual gesture for your relationship, he was always a sucker for physical touch, especially when it came to you. That however, wasn't enough for you, and you knew you were pushing your luck as you pressed your hand on top of his, gently moving it higher up your thigh, resulting in him giving your leg a firm squeeze.

The first course had slowly rolled its way out and you sighed, being no closer to your end goal, you were unaware of George's plan tickling around in the back of his head, you really thought you would get something out of him by now and you were getting brattier as the evening continued, an idea popping into your head.

You had pulled out a few things from your bag, a couple of them 'accidentally' falling to the floor. You slipped onto your knees, grabbing George's wrist, taking his long, slender, pointer and middle fingers into your mouth, swirling your tongue around them in a way to mimic what he could be getting if he just obliged. You found your dropped items, pulling his fingers from your lips before his hand found your throat with ease under the table, squeezing it gently. You came back up from under the table, an innocent look plastered on your face.

George however, was not having any of it. The eyes he gave you were fuelled with fire, staring down at you with a pure anger that only you could recognise in his eyes. You knew you’d won the game you’d been playing and he knew that there was absolutely nothing he could do about it, in front of everyone. At least not without giving you what you want or without leaving dinner now to have his way with you.

When sitting back in your chair, adjusting your hair from the friction of it being caught against the tablecloth, George’s hand found its way back to your thigh, pinky finger brushing teasingly close to where you wanted him, you huffed a little, grabbing your glass of champagne from the table to take a sip, when he began to trace small circles on your inner thigh with his pointer finger. The action caused your breath to hitch in your throat, almost spitting out the bubbly liquid back into the champagne flute.

You placed the drink back down onto the table before resting your hand on his shoulder, smiling sweetly at him. He returned the façade gesture, smiling at you all while catching eyes with his brother who started up a conversation “Any good news with Mr Greengrass?” to which your husband nodded, quickly.

“I think all we need is for you to sweep in and seal the deal, Freddie, he seems really interested.” as he was talking to his twin, George’s fingers had found their way to tease your clit, feeling you already soaked through your underwear - having to hold back his usual string of degradation in favour of continuing his conversation, “You know how investors can be, they’re always eager at the beginning, you have to catch them while they’re hot and really get involved, get what I mean?” It became evident to you very quickly that It was you he was talking about, causing you to bite your cheek. “I hope you don’t mind me leaving it down to you, I have something that really needs doing at home.”

Fred, fortunately, had quickly caught George’s drift, taking a moment to observe you shifting in your seat, as well as the shit-eating grin plastered across his twin’s face. “Of course, dear brother, I know how, uh, urgent that is for her- sorry, you.”

Getting you towards the car was a struggle, putting on your bratty attitude as soon as you were out of earshot from others, pulling your wrist quickly from his grip and crossing your arms, standing still in the middle of the once bustling reception hall, “Fucking hell, Princess, don’t make this any worse for yourself.” you rolled your eyes at his tone, you’d already got him to this point, why not push it further. He wasted no time in grabbing your jaw to force you to look at him, causing you to giggle. “I wouldn’t be laughing if I were you, my desperate little whore, move or I’ll leave you here.” he was practically growling at low his voice was, his eyes darkened past a point you’d ever seen before and you could tell he was all too close to throwing you over his shoulder.

George had managed to get you into the car without a blazing argument, however the way he was gripping the steering wheel was turning his knuckles a pure white, and he was still yet to say another word to you, forcing you to study every inch of his body. You could see the new veins in his neck and all you wanted to do was press little kisses to his jaw.

“Get your foot up on the dash and touch yourself, now.” he seethed, his hand moving to shift gears, before using it to squeeze your thigh, “Suck on those pretty fingers like you did for me earlier, keep yourself nice and wet for me.” It was a sight to behold, his beautiful wife in his passenger seat, spread open and touching herself for him. His eyes were flitting between the road and the way your head was thrown back as you circled your own clit. “Don’t go quiet on me, angel, let me hear those moans.”

He had parked up outside your home, unbuckling his seatbelt and leaning over the centre console to get his own taste, his tongue licking a bold stripe before sucking your clit between his teeth, his low hums sending electricity through you. He didn’t seem to care much that he was uncomfortable, just that you were a mess of moans for him, your fingers tousling his once neatly styled hair. “You’re lucky I’m doing this, considering what a fucking brat you’ve been tonight.”

You were an absolute babbling mess for him, he had brought you right to the edge of release, before storming out of the car, managing to pull you out of the quickly before he tossed you over his shoulder, making sure to give a firm slap to your ass, desperate to get you into bed. The warmth of your home was a comforting contrast to the bitter cold of the winter night.

He had thrown you onto your mattress, earning a laugh from you, it was exhilarating being beneath him, especially when he still had that darkness to his eyes. “Knees, now.” His curt tone gravelly against the echoes of your laughter, not that you weren’t happy to oblige, you slipped off your soft sheets onto your knees, hands making light work of his belt as you watch him shrug off his suit jacket, loosen his tie and slowly unbutton his shirt.

When you had him in your hands, you were always pleasantly surprised at how well you were able to take him, not hesitating to take as much of him as you could, right until the tip was to the back of your throat, his loud moan was enough to make you wet, as if you weren't enough already, knowing better than to touch yourself at this moment.

“That’s my fucking desperate girl, trying to take all of me, you can take more though, can’t you princess?” his hands were already in your hair, coaxing his length further down your throat as he began to set a small rhythm, fucking your mouth was one of his favourite things to do, seeing the tears pooling in your eyes before running down your cheeks.

He pulled his cock from your mouth, guiding you up to a standing position by your chin before pressing his lips to yours in a passionate kiss, his hands beginning to bunch up the material of your dress, before roughly gripping your hips and getting you onto the bed once again, his fingers hooked into your underwear, toying them down your legs, “Georgie, what about my dress.” you questioned, reaching up so that your hand was playing with the hairs at the back of his neck. He simply laughed, pulling you so that your hips were at the edge of the bed, “Desperate whores get fucked with their skirts hitched up, no matter how pretty they look.”

His cock was already filling you to the hilt before you could protest, his hand coming up to wrap around your throat, pleased with the way your eyes rolled back as you finally got what you’d been playing all night for. He was fucking you at a relentless pace, your moans breathy and airy as he toyed with the pressure of his hand pressing against your windpipe, pleasure was coursing through the both of your veins, taking all he could from you until he felt you tightening around him. “Oh, I don’t think so.”

He pulled out of you completely, flipping you over so you were forced onto your hands and knees, leaving you not only breathless, but desperate for a release, “George, please… I need you so badly.” his hand threaded through your hair, pulling you up roughly so that your back was against his chest, “Oh yeah? well I much prefer you gagged by a cock, I think you need a lesson in being a good submissive thing.”

“I want to see those tear stained cheeks, Princess, Daddy isn’t stopping until he ruins your makeup.” He was inside you again, this time pushing your face into the mattress as he had you screaming, his other had reached around to rub against your clit, he wanted to push you right to your edge again, before stopping. “you like this don’t you? needy whore.” you were a moaning mess, begging him with any sentence you could string together to let you cum.

“Daddy, please keep going, I need to-” he cut you off, flipping you onto your back once more, “oh, you want me to keep going? such a slut for me, aren’t you?” you were nodding up at him, his hand finding yours to lace your fingers together. Even though your makeup was ruined and you were a mess at his will, he still thought you were a sight to behold, like the brightest star in the night’s sky or a perfect pearl in an oyster, and his weakness? Watching your face as you came undone beneath him.

He was inside of you once again, this time he didn’t stop, the moans he let out was music to your ears as you felt your stomach in knots finally coming undone as you released over him, he continued to fuck you relentlessly as he found his own release, twitching inside of you as he came. He pressed a soft and gentle kiss to your lips, hands still holding each other’s as he peppered soft kisses down your neck.

“Well done, angel, you’re such a good girl for me.” he swung your legs over the bed so that you could rest your head on the pillow. He made his way into the bathroom, turning on the shower to let it run warm, grabbing a makeup wipe to help clean you up. He returned to you, sitting you up so he could wipe away your makeup, smiling at you lovingly as he did so, your hand resting on top of his as he cupped your cheek. You were truly lucky to have a husband that cared for you the way he did and as foggy as your mind still was, the way his love and adoration shone through as clear as day, he slipped off your heels that were still on your feet, drooping them to the floor, “Let’s get you to the shower, my love.”

He helped you up, skirt falling to its natural position, you walked on shaky legs to the bathroom, leaning on the counter as he unlaced the gorgeous dress he had pulled you into earlier pressing a delicate kisses to your shoulder as he let the material fall to the floor, he grabbed the hairbrush, running it through your hair gently to help remove any knots that he was definitely the culprit of.

He pulled what was remaining of his clothes off of him before taking your waist, feeling comforted as his skin pressed against yours, as he helped you under the hot water. With your heels off, you forget how much he towered over you, your arms wrapping around his neck to pull him into a kiss. “I love you so much, Georgie.” he smiles, pushing his water soaked hair back, “I love you too, Angel.”

Maybe it was such a good idea after all.

TAGLIST

@wand3ringr0s3 @gcdric @starlightweasley @slytherinsunrise

#george weasley fic #george weasley x reader #george weasley #fred and george #weasley twins #harry potter fic #harry potter

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blueeyedgeorgie · 3 years

Text

Cancelled-Dream Was Taken

A/N: Surprise bitch. Weren’t we expecting for me to release mcyt fanfics soon? If I didn’t tag my usual @‘s it’s because idk if you’d like to be tagged for mcyt content.

Pronouns: she/her

Word Count: 2.3k+

_________________

"You're so harsh on him!" Her hands sat on the keyboard, staring at the green human that stood on Y/n's computer screen.

She needed to be careful. While this was a heated moment, she couldn't let herself get too loud for multiple reasons. If she got too loud, Dream's stream viewers would be able to tell she was in the next room or they would just receive noise complaints from their neighbors.

"No Y/n! You're too soft on him! He needs to learn that he can't get away with everything. You're setting him up for failure." As the h/c girl listened to her roommate speak, she had to remind herself over and over again; 'This wasn't real.' Dream was mad, not Clay.

This had all been arranged as roleplay. Y/n would be leaving in a few days to go visit some of her family for a reunion, so Wilbur had been the one to think up the brilliant idea of what was playing out now; an argument between Y/n and Dream. The plan was to have Y/n get so upset she didn't log onto the SMP for the next few days, only to come back with a master plan to backstab Dream.

At first, Clay wasn't really on board with the thought of him getting angry at Y/n. They had been together for a little over a year, there wasn't a single moment they had gotten upset with one another. But surprisingly, Y/n had been the one to convince Clay it was a good idea.

The fans knew Dream and Y/n had a close friendship, Dream had always been so protective of her. But when this was going down, they didn't know how to act.

Every time Y/n would glance at her chat, she'd see thousands of comments rising up as new ones appeared. Comment after comment, it looked like the fans were shocked by the way this stream was turning out.

"I'm not setting him up for anything! He's a kid, Dream!" Y/n glanced from the chat, back at the screen showing her PC game. Standing on her screen was Dream and Tommyinnit, she had accompanied Dream to visit Tommy.

"You're just babying him! 'He's a kid!' Well, he needs to learn to grow up eventually," his voice had been filled with such spite. It felt weird to hear Clay speaking to her like this in such a tone.

For a moment, she stared at the green man before a short scoff escaped her lips. "I can't believe you." With that, Y/n had pressed a few keys, turning her character towards the nether portal a couple of yards away. Before Dream had gotten the chance to speak again, Y/n began to move away.

"Y/n! Come back here!"

She flicked a few buttons, taking a moment to look behind her character to see Dream following. Good, everything was going according to plan. Within the next few minutes, she'd be able to log off and she'd be on vacation for the next few days.

The h/c girl ignored the green man as she stepped through the portal, taking her to Minecraft's version of hell. Almost done, she just needed to find a good spot to stop as she listened to Dream continue to speak.

"You can't keep ignoring me! You know I'm right in this. You know you can't keep defending Tommy. You know Tommy is driving a wedge between us-"

Perfect. Y/n had stopped just on the edge of a bridge, molten lava sat feet below them. If she fell, she'd surely die. "No."

"No?" Dream was a bit surprised to hear Y/n cut him off, but he stayed silent as he was prepared to listen to what she had to say.

"No. No more. I don't wanna hear you blame Tommy for us breaking apart. I want you to listen to me. You've been acting like much more of a dick than usual and I hate it. I despise it. You've changed for the worst because you think you can step on everyone. At this point, everyone fears to tell you the truth-except me. I'll be a hundred percent honest with you, you've been so egotistical, it's really pissed me off. This is your fault, Dream. Not Tommy's. You exiled a child for pulling a prank on a vacation house! Not even George's real house!"

"But-"

"Shut the fuck up. I'm done, but I don't wanna hear you bullshit me. So shut the fuck up."

A moment of silence passed between them as Y/n stared at her screen. Just a few more steps.

And within seconds, Dream had pulled out his netherite sword. With one hit, she was falling back into lava. Y/n glanced at her chat, a look of shock on her face as she read over what a few comments said. A moment of silent tension had passed before Y/n had finally spoken up, removing her from the voice chat she was in.

"Alright guys, I guess that's enough for the day. I'll see you all... later." With that, she had clicked a few buttons, raiding Dream's live-stream as she ended hers.

For the next 20 to 30 minutes, Y/n knew Clay would be busy streaming. So she had decided to take a bit of time to wind down and think to herself.

Get a glass of water.

'Are the fans harassing him in his twitch chat?'

Sit down on the living room couch.

'The SMP fans were always so protective of me.'

Pet Patches.

'Was I too much when I snapped at him?'

It didn't seem like 30 minutes had passed when Clay had walked out of his streaming room, only to find Y/n on the couch with Patches in her lap. "Hey, N/n." "Oh, your stream is already over?" Y/n smiled, pulling herself out of her thoughts as she scoot over, giving Clay room to take a seat right by her.

"Yeah, did you lose track of time or something?"

"I must've. How did the chat react after I 'died'?" She smiled up at her boyfriend as he wrapped an arm over her shoulders, pulling her closer into his embrace.

"Everyone was filled with joy that you died."-Y/n playfully swatted at him. "Okay, okay! I got a few chat messages of people bashing me for it, but it's fine."

"Well, it's a good thing the chat wasn't completely littered with hate. How was it after my raid?"

"Honestly, not that bad as you expect. Like I said, just a few comments. Nothing bad, I just ignored it." Clay placed a hand on Patches's head, gently scratching her, followed by the animal beginning to purr.

"Good to hear, anyways... I'm not ready to pack. Do you think we can procrastinate?" The h/c girl let out a huff leaning against her boyfriend. "How?"

"I was thinking a bit of movie binging, cuddling, and ordering dinner?" A cheeky smile spread on her face as she spoke.

"It's like you read my mind."

The couple had made it through three movies, by now it was later at night. The sun had set and they had already door dashed some food. By now they were in the middle of watching 'The Empire Strikes Back.'

'I love you.' 'I know.'

The iconic moment between Hans and Leia had been interrupted by the sound of Clay's phone buzzing. "Why is George calling?"

"What?" Y/n was a bit curious herself. Considering the timezones, George should be asleep right now. Pausing the TV, she turned her attention to her boyfriend's phone.

"Hey Clay."

"What's up, George? Isn't it like early in the morning for you?" Clay raised a brow, moving his phone so Y/n would be able to see George as well.

"Yeah, I had to stay up to fix a YouTube video I need to get out today. I was about to go to bed and I checked Twitter-"

"Oh no." Clay made a short joke, only to be cut off by his friend.

"I don't know if it's trending for you in America, but you might as well look."

"What's going on?" He swiped up, taking him to his home screen so he could click on the little blue bird app. Y/n had grabbed her phone from the coffee table, opening up the app as well. "#Cancel Dream... #Y/n... #Dream SMP"

"Is... is Clay getting canceled for killing me in Minecraft?" Y/n scrolled through the tweets involving the hashtag 'Y/n.' She could see plenty of people defending her, but making it much bigger of a problem than it actually was.

"Oh, hey Y/n. But yeah, he is." George chuckled awkwardly, scrolling through his Twitter app as well.

"This is so fucking stupid."

"It really is. So we might as well get this cleared up with the fans as soon as possible. Do you want me to tweet something, or do you want to?" Y/n looked up at her boyfriend, it looked like he was thinking.

"Yeah, I'll tweet it. Don't worry about this, Y/n."

"Alright, whatever you say," she replied, pulling a blanket over her as she waited for Clay to finish typing his response.

"Here's what I'm gonna say: 'I can't believe you guys actually think me and @(y/n) are in an actual fight in real life. We have been good friends since forever, the fight was only roleplay. I love that you guys are so protective of Y/n, but no one's actually upset.' How's that sound?"

"I think that's good," George hummed softly.

"Yeah, I doubt you'll stay 'canceled' once you've explained to them it was all part of the SMP lore." The h/c girl smiled up at her boyfriend with a small nod.

"Alright, I'm gonna post it. George, I think you should go to bed because you're half asleep already."

Y/n turned, looking at her boyfriend's iPhone. "Go to sleep, Gogy!"

"Alright, alright... I'll talk to you guys later." The call had ended with Clay and Y/n saying goodbye to their friend while George simply yawned to them as a response.

As soon as the call was over, Clay looked at the response to his tweet. It didn't seem to be going too well. There had been a few fans who understood what was going on and responded with a paragraph as an apology for the misunderstanding. But most replies had been telling Clay he was bullshitting the fans or that he wasn't being honest.

"I'm sorry, Clay," his girlfriend had huffed as she read through the responses to his tweet.

"Honestly I'm just a bit pissed off. Literally, any time someone tries to 'cancel' me, it's over something stupid. I'm not a bad guy, it just feels like some people just don't want to see me succeed." Clay had excused himself to grab a glass of water from the kitchen.

It hurt Y/n to hear how upset her boyfriend was. He never got too upset over things, but seemed to take a small toll on him. "Hold on. Let me say something." The h/c girl couldn't be asked to post multiple tweets of her response to hate sent towards Clay over the internet. So what was better than a short video that could be posted to the blue bird app?

"Um, hey guys. I'd just like to make this quick. Stop sending hate towards Dream. The fight was roleplay and nothing more. I'm gonna be busy for the next couple of days so Wilbur thought of a good idea to help build SMP lore with me and Dream and we both agreed to the argument. Now stop sending the green man hate, or I'll commit war crimes or something-"

Y/n had been interrupted by the sound of Clay letting out a small giggle. "What? What did I say?"

"Nothing, just keep going with your video."

"Whatever, I'm cool. No matter what Dream says. Anyways, I'll speak to you all later." Y/n had hit the red button again, ending her video. Within seconds, the video had been uploaded to her Twitter account.

Placing her phone back down on the table, Y/n approached her boyfriend, wrapping her arms around his torso. "I'm really sorry about the hate, Clay. I love you."

"Don't apologize for something you can't control. I love you more." The brunette held his partner close, accepting her hug. Y/n always loved his hugs, she always felt so safe in his embrace.

The rest of the night had been spent with more cuddling and more Star Wars movies. Hours had passed before Y/n had even thought about the Twitter situation again. But for some reason, she had decided to look at the app again tonight.

It was 2 in the morning by now, Clay was half asleep. His head laid in the h/c girl's lap as she brushed a hand through his hair, her free hand opening up her Twitter app once again.

It had been a bit of a surprise to see a couple of trending hashtags had changed so quickly. What was trending now was #Dream, #Y/n,#(ship name), and #Dream's Laugh. This had to be about Y/n's short clip she posted. And by the looks of it, people had stopped acting so harsh towards Clay. But instead, they had decided to focus on the fact Dream and Y/n were hanging out together. Not to mention the fact Dream and let out a stupid little giggle because of Y/n. People had been apologizing to him through Twitter for being so hard on him.

"Babe."

"Hm?" Clay mumbled, not bothering to open his eyes.

"Pretty much everyone is apologizing to you over Twitter for being hardasses."

"Hm, that's good to hear."

"You're really tired, huh?" Y/n paused her scrolling to look down at her boyfriend.

"Yeah," He continued to mumble, followed by a short yawn.

"Alright, time for bed, babe." Y/n smiled to herself, beginning to carefully move away from Clay. "I can pack tomorrow and we can laugh over the stupid bird app tomorrow after you've gotten a good amount of sleep."

"I still can't believe Twitter tried canceling me over roleplay."

"I can't believe you got uncancelled by shippers."

Taglist: @notphilosopherstudentblog

#dreamwastaken #dream was taken #dream was taken x reader #dreamwastaken x reader #dream smp #mcyt imagine #mcyt x reader #dream was taken imagine #dream was taken one shot #dreamwastaken imagine #dreamwastaken oneshot #dream smp x reader #dream smp imagine #dream smp oneshot

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testingcheats0n · 3 years

Text

Massive Dream SMP Fic Rec!!

Hey- Hi, I just feel like there are a ton of fanfiction that's really underrated in this fandom- so I'm going to dump it on your dash!!! Most of it is going to be Tommy-centric or SBI-centric, but they are very good!

Source: Me

Finished Fanfics:

Multi-chaptered Fanfics:

that's, like, a hundred miles by No_one_you_know

Dream would kill him. Dream was going to kill him- he was going to- no, he wouldn’t. Dream was his friend- friends don’t hit each other- Dream was supposed to take care of him- Dream /was/ taking care of him.

It hurt to breathe. It hurt to think. He couldn’t clear his thoughts as he stumbled to the family computer, pulling up a tab on google and frantically typing the name into the search bar.

The words Technoblade Watson stared back at him, the little black bar at the end of the letters blinking slowly, mocking him.

Why, of all people, did it have to be Technoblade?

in short: the one where dream sucks as a parental figure, tommy runs away, and visits his least favorite family member technoblade

Hard-hitting, but has a happy ending, though I recommend reading the prequel (in the same series) first, otherwise, it's lowkey depressing.

MORE RECOMMENDATIONS BELOW THE CUT!!

you’ll rise above (crowned by an overture bold and beyond) by azvremoon

Tommy is not sixteen. He has faced too many open wounds, dripping ichor onto blood-stained warzones, to be just a child. He is Blood and War and needless Death, an all-in-one special of everything that can ruin reality.

(Tommy is the blood god. No one should know, but this server can't stop pushing him over the edge.)

+2 more Works that were Inspired by this one

Tommy is a BAMF and Dream, Technblade, and Phil get fucked it is what it is.

Responsible Forever by SilverWing15

“You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed.” /////

“So,” Techoblade says, slow and deliberate, his face shows clearly just how unbelievable he finds all of this, “you saw a boy last night, in the middle of the night, living with raccoons and eating our garbage?”

“I know how insane it sounds,” Phil says, “but I know what I saw. We need to help him, who knows how long he’s been out here?”

“Okay,” Wilbur interrupts, “let’s say that raccoon-boy is real. What is it you want us to do? We can’t go searching the woods for specific bunch of raccoons, I don’t know if you’ve noticed Phil but there are a lot of them out there.”

“Going out and hunting him isn’t going to get us anywhere,” Techno says, “we have to let the raccoon-boy come to us. He’s already come once, you know how tenacious raccoons are. If they came to the garbage pit once, they’ll come again. We just have to set a trap.”

“Those raccoons aren’t gonna know what fucking hit them,” Wilbur mutters.

Or: RaccoonInnit taken well beyond its logical conclusion

Tommyinnit is a Raccoon boi that lives with other Raccoons

Protecting the Traumatised Youth by spookyserpent

Sam blinks. “What?”

Even behind the mask, Sam has the distinct impression that Dream is grinning at him. “A week and he was begging for my attention, even after I stole and burnt his armour, even after the beatings. He couldn’t stand me leaving him because I was the only one to show up, to pay him attention. It was hilarious.”

Sam is going to be sick.

Or, Sam decides to ask Dream about his intentions and ends up becoming a big brother to Tommy and Tubbo. All the while, Dream and George fight, Niki and Jack plan child murder and Ranboo is slowly getting adopted into the SBI.

Awesamdad written back when it was possible... ahhh

Chaos In a Bottle by Lovetribable

After a realization, Tommy leaves the pillar, but instead of going to Techno. He just disappears, leaving everyone to think he's gone.

It takes a war to bring him back.

+2 Sequels and an Alternative Ending

Dadinnit!! + A Sympathetic Dream

Absolutely Anything For Them by Numanum

“There’s a lot you don’t understand, Tubbo,” Dream sighs, meeting his eyes cooly. Tubbo, back against a tree, shudders at his tone, at the look on his face.

The sword at his neck skims across his skin as Dream shifts his grip on it, and he flinches back into the rough bark behind him. Dream smiles at his reaction, seeming pleased- like the cat that’s been toying with a mouse that always tries to run no matter how many times it’s caught. And, despite this being his first encounter alone with the man, he thinks that the comparison is fairly accurate; Tubbo has never felt smaller than he does now. There’s supposed to be a buddy system to prevent things like this- he shouldn’t be alone here, stuck in this situation.

Or: Tubbo becomes a traitor to save everyone and has to struggle with his choices

Traitor Tubbo, but it has the happiest ending possible since it follows the rest of the story.

Where Did You Come From, Kit? by KadeAK (zacixn)

Hybrids are an ancient species of humans crossed with animals, blessed with the favour of nature. They used to live in peace on the SMP’s land, but ever since the dawn of humanity’s modern culture, they have become ostracised and hunted by their once-brethren. Now, the once-thriving subspecies of hybrids have been reduced to ashes, the majority of their peoples struggling to survive in a city capital that can't stand their presence.

To the members of L’Manburg, General Wilbur Soot is just another mildly prejudiced human being, stuck with a hybrid fox kit for an adopted child. However, that assumption could not be farther from the truth. As it turns out, there's a reason why he is the man he is today.

This fic is entirely pre-L’Manburg.

Part of a series, very good.

Take It Easy by sweet_magnolias

Five times Techno scared Michael, one time Michael scared him, and the resolution of those fears.

AKA - Techno learns how to be an uncle.

Technoblade's POV, so expect some Tubbo bashing on the margins of all that Michael fluff.

I suppose it’s never my time to die, is it? by Birb_Whale

The first time it happens, he barely remembers. The second time is when he realized. The third... Twice is a coincidence, three times is a pattern

“It’s not your time to die yet, Tommy”

Messed up, but not unrealistic. Purely for the Hurt/Comfort lovers.

This Wasn't Planned, But It'll Work Out by Anonymous

Dream isn't sure what to think when he finds a kid on his doorstep, but he can't just leave him there, now can he?

(He doesn't know what he's getting into, or what he's gotten the kid into, either)

Long, and angsty, with a bittersweet ending Imo.

let's play a game by Aria_Cinabun

Tommy was once a slave. That's gone now - shoved in his past with the memories of blood and gore and death. He wants to forget who he was; what he has to do to survive. Of course, the Elementalists will always come back to haunt him. They aren't the ones who killed his mother, but they're close enough. And now he and his brother have been dragged into the mess, as Elementalists with their own, separate covens, to find the Pit - the place where he'd lived and killed and hurt for the first twelve years of his life. His coven can't know. Can't know who he really is, what he can really do. Can't know anything about his past. He doesn't want a coven full of Elementalists who don't trust him; one of whom he's pretty sure despises him. He doesn't want that life. He wants the life of a pickpocket, on the streets, because nobody questions street kids, and nobody comes asking about his past and pushes him to tell his secrets that he holds closest inside. Tubbo tries to tell him to trust people. But trust is how you die.

Good fantasy AU, has SBI, and is thus fluffy.

Turn of the Tide by SilverWing15

Tommy’s fins twitch at the mention of Dream’s ancestors. Dream talks about them a lot, how they made their fortune hunting down mer pods, how they were cruel and greedy. Nothing like Dream is. They’ve both overcome their roots he says.

Tommy is nothing like the wild mer out in the ocean, who spend their lives scraping by just to survive, who kicked him out of the pod when he was a baby because he was too small. He’s also better than the pit mer, who can’t overcome their wild instincts and know nothing but fighting.

He’s different from them, he’s better than them. He’s Dream’s. //// OR: Change is like the tide, when it comes, you can only sink or swim. You would think that a mer would be better at keeping afloat.

Mermaid AU Pooog. Part of a series.

One-Shots:

Snapped by AmberRunnel

“You don’t know what I went through in that prison cell.”

Jack burst out laughing, blinded with rage and the overwhelming urge to hurt Tommy, to give him everything he deserved. “Oh, is the poor child traumatized? You want pity now?” He twisted his blade, and Tommy’s axe was sent clattering to the ground.

“If the prison was so awful, why don’t I send you back there?”

-|-

Jack doesn't handle Tommy's revival well. There's a simple solution, though. Kill Tommy, and Dream revives him right back into that cell. Problem solved, kid dealt with.

It takes a few confrontations for Jack to realize he's an asshole.

It's fucked up, but god does it hurt in a good way.

the sky is coming down blue by salinesolution

An imagining of New Milo's perspective throughout the Skyblock Randomizer adventure. What did he think of the world he found himself in, and how did Wilbur's feelings and actions change things for him? Here's my way of answering those questions.

He made the fish think, funniest shit I've seen.

You told me to be a hero (so let me die like one) by spiromachia

"You told me to die like a hero," the blond interrupted, spinning on his heel to face the others, holding his arms wide open, "So why not fulfil the ending that was always meant to be."

Across the battle field, through the chaos and destruction, a tree burned.

Even the sound of explosions and cries and bloodshed felt distant enough for the world to become silent for a few moments, each individual slowly coming to the same conclusion, each of their bodies tensing.

Tommy's face broke out into a grin as he lowered his head, glowering at the people around him, and Philza's face flashed with recognition.

"Kill me."

Or... In the middle of Doomsday, Tommy decides to ask Technoblade to be the Lycomedes to his Theseus.

Heavy and dark, but at least Dream gets it.

tomorrow night by meridies

Tommy is desperately searching for his missing brother. Techno is the reluctant psychic who unfortunately got dragged along.

or, two people, more alike than different, learn what it is to have a family at their side.

It's cute what can I say :]

maple syrup by itisjosh

"We could run," Tubbo stares at the sun. "We've got everything we've ever wanted right here. We could run."

"Yeah," Tommy agrees, feeling his head swim. "We could."

(or, tommy and tubbo run away together)

Children get away from toxic adults :)

Why’d it have to be so sunny? (The sun shouldn’t shine without you.) by AToZRainToBe

‘A realisation hits Phil in the face like a truck. “Wi- Ghostbur,” Phil says, turning to his grey-scale, translucent, actually-dead son. “You definitely told Tubbo that Tommy’s alive, right?”’

To get away from Dream, Tommy agrees to fake his death, going with the cover story that he jumped from the pillar in Logstedshire. Unfortunately, someone forgot to tell Tubbo.

Misunderstandings are one of my favorite tropes.

sugar and ice by princedemeter for Aenqa

“He is my son,” Philza says. “Mortal or not, I would see him grow strong.”

Technoblade looks down on earth, at the tiny, angry bundle of cloth and pinking, wrinkled skin. This mortal child, he thinks, lungs filled with breath from the king of gods himself, will not grow strong.

It's mostly centered around Technoblade and Wilbur with Phil being a shitty dad. Pog Gods AU.

a matter of time by meridies

Tommy is twelve years old when his wings first appear, and he is twelve years old when Phil tells him, "All it takes is time and patience, Tommy, and soon you'll be flying even better than me."

or, Tommy grows up feeling like a failure, and it takes him a while to figure out where he's happiest.

Tommy is just finding his place in the world. Powers AU.

That Time a Baby Decided to Raise a Baby by Scitrust

Tubbo wasn't good at making excuses, so when Schlatt asked him why he was leaving in the night, he made something up on the spot. That had been months ago.

At least he sort of had an alibi for that, now.

Or, in which Tubbo finds a baby in the woods on his way to see Tommy, and promptly adopts it.

Part of a collection!! Read it all.

spider lily by blue000jay

Wilbur has a body.

The freckle on the base of his left pinky finger (shared with Techno). The scar on his chin from when he was twelve and over ambitious, diving into too-shallow water. The scar on his throat from the final control room, and the puckered skin on his shoulder from the poisoned arrow that killed him next. Various other nicks and things that litter his skin from years of rebellion and living wild, a kid thrown into a vicious world with too little self-preservation.

(Resurrection AU, for when/if Wilbur comes back.)

The author knows how it's like to live with chronic pain, and it shows :(

Hands tied loose by rabiddog

"Let's run away, Tubbo." Tommy breathed; a wide grin split across his face as his hope grew. "Let's get out of here – far away. We can go anywhere, can't we? Let's just go, you and me right here, right now."

Tommy needs to leave. He has to get out of L'Manburg, he has to leave the Dream SMP for his own sanity, and he wants Tubbo to come with him.

But Tubbo has a family now, a better life - something that he can't give up... not even for his best friend.

Unhappy ending :(

The serpent underneath by rabiddog

Tommy and Techno sit at the memory-filled bench and talk. Technoblade reminisces, he talks, he admits his pent-up feelings, he cries. And Tommy? Tommy listens. (That's all he can do.)

“I’m sorry for everything, you know? For all of it. I’m so sorry about... about the first war, about the withers and the fighting, about...” Technoblade's fingers began to curl around Tommy’s blonde locks. “About Wilbur and everything after. I'm so, so sorry.”

:((((((((

Damning choices by rabiddog

Ranboo would have never expected to find himself in a horrifying situation such as that one - quite literally sandwiched between a rock and a hard place, with three lives dangling over his head and the answer on the tip of his tongue.

Tubbo, Michael, Tommy.

It's his choice. He chooses who lives, and who dies. His new family, or his first friend. But Ranboo... Ranboo already knows.

"Ranboo," He hissed out, voice cracking and somewhat staticky, "It's not your fault. It's not. You had no other choice; I know that, okay? I- I know that- I know- I know..."

:(((((((((((((((((((((((((((

Jealousy is a disease by rabiddog

Tommyinnit isn't new to the idea of jealousy. He understands it completely. He understands the way it runs rampage through his body each time he catches even a glimpse of Tubbo and Ranboo's new relationship, he understands that the emotion makes his heart clench uncomfortably from time to time. He sees it, feels it, and yet he doesn't care.

He doesn't care at all.

"You took Tubbo away from me. You took him away. You took my best friend, and now he's- now he's not my best friend anymore, and I-!"

Word of Honour by rabiddog

Tommy could only stand and stare as Technoblade agreed to hand him over to Dream - as his brother traded him off like he was nothing. Like Tommy wasn't important.

Technoblade was a man of honour. He was a man of pride and sticking to his word. He knew that he owed Dream a favour, and no matter what that favour might be, he'd be compliant with it. Nothing would change his mind. (Not even Tommy.)

Almost canon. F.

Sweet Repentance by rabiddog

Perhaps Tommy should have told Phil about his arguably life-threatening injury the minute his father had opened the door. But of course, Tommy being Tommy, did not.

Dying seemed like a nice enough option as long as he was with his family.

Tommy just wanted acceptance, forgiveness, and peace. He wanted to close his eyes for the last time and finally be able to let go.

Tommy dies painfully.

A White Tulip by astervoid

He picked the white tulip from the bottom of the stem, standing up carefully as he held it pinched between his fingers. It would die now, inevitably, but Tommy relented and held the flower to his chest. What a silly, stupid thing to ground him. He almost hated that it made his breaths come easier and his steps feel lighter. Almost.

Tommy & Ranbooo chill on the bench.

lying to the authorities (again) by touchgrass

"Please tell me that my right-hand-man, my soon-to-be vice president, one of the people I trust the most on this godforsaken server, did not lie straight to my face and tell me he was twenty-fucking-years-old.”

Tommy opened his mouth to protest, but then closes it shut at the furious look on Wilbur's face. Oops.

It is the day of the elections and Wilbur Soot could not have chosen a worser time to realize that half his staff is underage.

The ONLY fic with this premise I've seen on Ao3.

Dear Theseus by rabiddog

Tommy had thought that they'd won - thought that they'd finally beaten Dream, and that everything would be okay. As it turns out, however, apparently Dream had called in that favour from Technoblade after all.

“Please,” Tommy whispered after a beat, quivering hands edged upwards to hesitantly press against the tip of the sword striking through his chest. Why, why, why? Why him? Why now?

Tommy almost wins.

A Shifting World by AplusIsRoman

How was Wilbur supposed to know it would end like this?

The smoke hung in the air and soot clung to his skin. His brother - adopted, but older by two minutes - stood back-to-back with him. The chilling cries of people and the calls of the withers rang through the air above the chasm that was once his home.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

How could he have known this would happen?

Sequel to A Child's World

Age-swap AU. Has a prequel.

heart of the sea by RyDyKG

Here is the secret that he barely thinks about, a secret that he shoves deep and far down in himself:

Wilbur Soot is a siren, and he’s not exactly proud of that fact.

Wilbur-centric. Urban Fantasy AU.

He knows, ok? by Ralli

By some means, Techno has given his raccoon younger brother some cotton candy. It doesn’t end as well as either of them would like.

Very, very cute :)

that's it, it's split (it won't recover) by Jk_Kat

Tommy has always been the fighter.

He has never been the fought for, and he knows it, with every whisper Tubbo directs at Ranboo, with every glance thrown his way- Tommy knows, the way he wishes he didn't, that they think he's dead.

If they're so convinced he's still dead, maybe the one good thing left he can do for them is die.

---

Or, Tommy gets addicted to being dead and thinks that nobody cares about him. The people who very much do try to pull him back from the brink before Dream can't resurrect him anymore.

Messed up, but with a happy ending.

Hugs 'n PTSD by rabiddog

Ranboo knew from the start that the recovery process would be hard - that moving on from quite literally being beat to death would be something hugely difficult to step away from, and that's if Tommy could even manage it at all.

He knew that it would be stressful and arduous, demanding and tough... he just hadn't expected to be holding Tommy through a PTSD-induced panic attack only days after his release from Pandora's Vault.

Ranboo isn't typically an overbearingly protective person. But for Tommy? He just might be.

I love this author if you can't tell.

Big Men don't cry by Shiny22Snivy

The room is small and warm, almost stifling compared to the cool openness of the ravine. It’s cosy and candlelit, and a chest sits open in the corner, full of what looks to be burnt rags of a former smart suit. And sitting in rumpled blankets on a bed, cradling a mug of something steaming, sits Tubbo.

At first, Tommy forgets all about Niki’s vague warning. He’s just so happy to see his best friend again, alive and well and all in one piece. Tubbo’s okay. Tubbo’s okay, and in front of him, and suddenly everything bad in the world is gone, if only for just a moment.

“Tommy?”

And then Tubbo turns to look at him.

Clingyduo fluff.

sins of the father (i broke all my bones that day i found you) by ryter

The thing that hurt Wilbur most was when he saw Fundy tear down the walls of L'Manburg. After all, those walls had gone up to protect his son. But in this world, Fundy trusts his father just a little bit more, and it ruins him.

Or: there's only one way Wilbur never becomes the villain. It's unclear whether this was the better path.

SOME VIOLENCE WARNINGS/BLOOD MENTION. CHARACTER DEATH. SO MUCH ANGST.

Sad, but cathartic.

REVIVED TOMMY HEADCANNONS AHAHAHAHA by racooninnit

i’m dropping ALL the fucking revived tommy headcannons on you guys today get ready for some ANGST

this is different from what i usually post but it was fun

i don’t think there’s a lot i need to put warnings for, obviously there are mentions of the way tommy died and the aftermath of that (i.e. injuries and trauma), but if there’s anything that needs a warning please tell me!

What it says on the tin- not really a fic.

Unfinished Stories:

Ongoing (Less than a month since the last update):

Over the River Styx by CorpseArt

I feel like we should name him.

There’s a scuffle at the back of his mind as he rolls up, curling tight with a shiver despite the heat of the flames licking up his back.

I mean, he’s like – us, but like a worse version clearly because oh man, this is just weirdness. There’s a flare of a tangle of emotions, complicated and fearful, resentful and livid with anger. I can’t believe this is what I’ve been reduced to, stuck in the mind of this- this child.

He’s like your age, Tommy. Are you calling yourself a child?

I mean, I am one so fucking duh. Child murderer.

Or: trauma bonding in the most unconventional of senses.

Just- Read it. Show the writer your support, it's unique, it's amazing and there needs to be more of it.

If history is dead and gone by iregretallmydecisions

“Don’t come any fucking closer,” Tommy shouted, startling Phil into stepping back. Tommy was still looking around wildly, like a trapped animal “Don’t fucking do it.” ---- In which Tommy finds himself faced with his splintered family, while it was still mostly whole. The past is not an easy place to be when the future was not kind. His family is forced to deal with the fall out.

It's better than Rewind, but you didn't hear that from me.

Wilbur Soot's Redemption (OR Ghostbur's Retry) by luckykitty0523

Wilbur had many regrets in his life, being lost in his madness and the urge for revenge drowned leaving a shell of who he once was. It was only in his dying moments that he regained himself but it was already too late for him leaving him drowning in wishes and regrets. However waking up in another different universe where wilbur was never born and family soulmates exist, so when wilbur said he wanted to fix the mistakes he never expected this turn of events.

In one world wilbur dies and he would return as a ghost missing his memory and trying to fix what he did in life but in this one wilbur dies and wakes up in another world where soulmates exist and the wilbur of that world was never born so wilbur/ghostbur takes his place and tries to make up his mistakes to the other version of his friends.

Wilbur adopts SBI + Fundy + Dream.

A Talk Long Overdue by penink

Tommy has his first therapy session with Puffy.

Tommy gets therapy.

Into the Night by Interjection

“Don’t touch me,” Tommy hisses, leaning against the railing. “I will - I will-”

They’re a hundred stories up. Wind lashes against Phil’s face. Next to him, Sam makes choked noise.

“But why?”

Tommy looks up to meet Phil’s eyes, terror struck so deep in those pale blue irises Phil thinks they must hold all the world’s fears within them.

“You’ll die,” he whispers. “And then I’ll die. But I’ll come back.”

“And I don’t want to come back.”

Others have the freedom to live. Tommy doesn’t even have the freedom to die.

But maybe they can teach him that living doesn’t have to be so bad.

---

(Superpowers AU where whenever someone touches Tommy, they both die. But Tommy will always come back to life eventually. He just wants it to end - but instead, he’s on the run, terrified of how his power will be exploited if he’s caught.

A few people reluctantly team up to save him.)

Funky SBI dynamics + a Sam that cares. Also a lot of angst.

#dream smp #dream smp fic rec #fic rec #sbi #wilbur soot #tommyinnit

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stephspurs · 3 years

Text

A Family Affair | Euro 2020 Football Fanfiction

Life is beautiful and life is cruel. A window into the souls of the victorious and the vanquished. In a way, football did come home during the summer of 2021. Follow along Amelia’s journey, navigating the football world as a tactical analyst for the italian football team, with a brother and father part of the three lions. Will Amelia leave Italy and come back to England? Will she leave the Serie A for the Prem? Will she set aside the bianconeri stripes for new colours, leaving behind friendship for love? Maybe she can have both...

Hello my lovelies!! Part 3 sees a whole lot Amelia's beautiful brain & you get your first slice of interaction with the british boys - leading up to an all important Mykonos adventure (part 4 - out friday). As usual, please let me know your thoughts and feelings, and let me know what you want to see happen with Amelia and her story! Updates have increased to 3/week! I hope you're enjoying it as much as I am!

Love always,

Steph xx

UPDATE as of 31/07: I've made some additional editing changes due to some feedback about the confusion between ben white (her brother) and ben chilwell (not her brother LOL). Nothing has been added to the story, just the addition of either surname has been added where i think it could be more straightforward - for future readers!

Part 3. | parte terza

warnings; none - just a whole lot of feels.

word count; 2081

writing tools; third person until dashed line, first person thereafter.

next update; Friday 30/07 5pm AEST. Updates are three times/week (Monday, Wednesday & Friday)!

Tags (as requested by users); @footballffbarbiex @obsesseds-world @abysshaven

link to fic masterlist here

It was the day after the final match and Amelia should be nursing a hangover due to the large amount of red wine she consumed with her Italian counterparts the night before. However, she finds herself at St. George’s Park before 9am, meeting one of her father’s colleagues who directs her to the recreation room that she remembers from a few days prior.

Standing outside the door, she assumed she was just waiting for her dad as agreed on the phone an hour earlier. As she was waiting, she could hear Gareth Southgate give a team talk to the players, praising them for their ability and pleading for them to bounce back from this defeat and use it to push on. The next voice she could hear was that of her father, giving them the tactical run through of the game. She listened to the points her father made, and both agreed and disagreed with some. Unexpectedly, the man sent to collect her opened the door and ushered her inside.

She stood at the back of the room, facing her dad and Gareth, whilst the team and other management staff had their backs to her. Making eye contact with her dad, he smiled slightly.

“Whilst I can offer you my opinion on the match last night, to better prepare you for the next time, there is no better opinion to learn from at this moment than that of your opponent. Amelia, would you please come up here” Dean really threw her into this situation, that again, she was not prepared for nor did she want to participate in. However, the 30+ sets of eyes that had currently turned around to stare at her didn’t exactly inspire a choice to be made here.

_____________________________________________________________

“Lads, this is my daughter. I taught her everything she knows, which was probably too much considering I can now recognise that it was her signature plays that the italian side used to their advantage last night. Treat her with respect, or I will let her at you. Which i’m sure you all saw a few nights ago in this very room” My dad spoke as I walked up to the front area, weaving in and around beanbags with players occupying them.

Standing in front of the Three Lions was more nerve wracking now than it had been when she was confronting her brother, maybe Fede did offer her protection as his bodyguard. Either way, she put her big girl pants on (figuratively speaking, literally she was wearing her official puma tights and Italian polo) and got on with it as if she was speaking to her team.

“Thanks Dad. Hey guys, I think the first thing I would like to say is that you’re allowed to feel exactly how you feel right now. There is no rush to ‘get over it’ or ‘push on and learn’. You need to feel this now, feel it throughout your body, understand the pain and then turn it into motivation.” I speak to the group, trying to accurately express how sincere I am to this group of heartbroken men.

“As for tactics, I can stand here and praise you for how good you really are but that's not how you are going to learn. You came into the game hard and fast.” I paused, understanding the innuendo just as it was flying out of my mouth. I pursed my lips and tried to hold my giggle in, however some of the boys seem to have the same sense of humour as I do. My brother, face of steel and eyes that burn into any man that tries to joke with me.

“Sorry, can’t help myself. So yeah, you took charge of the game from kick off and we were not ready. You had the aggression and desire to push from the start and that's what you did, Shaw, you really surprised me with that goal. Not because I didn't think you could do it but because I wasn’t anticipating you being someone we had to watch so closely.”

“Again, something you guys need to keep in mind is that it is literally my job to know everything about you and how you play the game, what foot you prefer, who you pass to, how long you hold the ball before you pass, do you like to assist or score...all of these things make a massive difference in each play we make.”

“The error you made came around the 25th minute of the game, we had settled into the game and did what we do best - we slowed you down. In Italy, in the Serie A, which is where most of my team play, the game is a lot slower. There is more skill and tactic used to ensure a favourable outcome. Again, i'm not saying you all don’t have skill, but the Prem favours pace over tactics and strategy. The only way we were going to be able to win was by making you play our game, but in your half of the pitch.”

At this point, all of their eyes are trained to me and the more senior players of the team, like Henderson, Walker, Coady, Kane, they understand what i’m trying to say. Gareth, my dad and other members of staff are sitting to one side, arms folded and a slight smile on their face at the simplicity of my approach to such an important game. I direct my next question to them.

“Can I ask - have you already selected your man of the match?”

“Off record, yes we have. Before I announce to the team who it is, can I direct the question back to you and find out who you would award it to?” Gareth poses back to me, interested to hear my opinion.

“While the obvious choices would be Kane, Sterling, Maguire - your players who perform week in week out and are consistent and no doubt deserve an award as such. I would recommend Declan Rice. Personally, he was the most instrumental in the match last night. Every time we turned to attack, he was there to stop it. He was a player I was confident that I knew the extent of his ability, when it was obvious that I didn't.”

The boys around him, Mason Mount & Ben Chilwell, offered him a gentle shove and ruffle of the hair, to show their encouragement to the bashful boy who seemed surprised at the praise he was receiving.

“The other player that I think deserves a bit of a shoutout, and not because of his hair, is Jack Grealish.” I spoke, looking around the room until we locked eyes. I wanted him to understand how serious i was about my next words.

“You are so dangerous on the ball, you are an asset as a team mate, you aren’t guilty with the ball, but you have the power behind you to score when the opportunity presents itself. The moment you were subbed on I pulled Jorginho to the side and told him to treat you like Chiellini and Bonnucci were handling Sterling and Kane. You were one of my players to watch, and for good reason”

At the end of the little session, I said thanks to the boys for listening and that I hope to see them again in a tournament. The only way to be the best is to beat the best. After a quick round of applause that made me feel more special than I am, I walked past my brother, gave him a quick ruffle of his hair and met my dad at the back. Gareth dismissed the boys and they all stood up, breaking away and grabbing some breakfast that was set up to the side of the room, for one last team meal.

“Mills!! I’ll get you an almond croissant and a coffee, come sit with me!” Walker shouted from across the room.

“Oi mate, she’s my sister not yours” Ben counters from the back of the line.

“Yeah she's your sister by blood, mine by choice.” Kyle firmly states and begins his way to one of the tables.

“I suppose i better join Kyle before he drowns everyone in his tears” i joked with the england officials i was standing with before walking over to Kyle and a few of his team mates.

“Sooo am I supposed to pretend I don’t know who you all are so you can introduce yourselves? Or do we just mutually agree that I know too much about each of you and not bring it up?” I question the boys, jokingly. They all laugh and I sit down in the space Kyle left between himself and John Stones. I sat there and got to know some of the boys on a less competitive level, working out who was a leader both on the pitch and off it. After listening to the boys joke around and just be mates, rather than teammates, I leaned over to Kyle.

“Hey, before I go, do you think you can introduce me to Bukayo? I want to speak with him for a moment.”

“Yeah sure, I'll take you over there. Why are you nervous? You've never been shy before” Kyle questioned back at me.

“I’m not nervous, I'm just hyper aware of the sensitivity of the moment. Last night would have been tough”

Saying goodbye to the boys, Kyle directed me over to a table that was sitting my brother Ben White, Kalvin, Ben Chilwell, Grealish, Saka, Sancho & Rashford.

“Hey boys, Ben, I just wanted to come say goodbye before I head off.” I directed towards my brother. He pulled up a chair and asked me to sit for 5 more minutes, claiming he deserved it after months of no contact.

“Ben here didn’t let us know he had a sister as smart as you...what happened to you Ben? Did you miss that gene?” Jack Grealish poked at my brother. With his signature scowl on his face, Ben White let his mates laugh at his expense.

“Oh don’t make fun of my brother Benny, that’s my job!” I joked back, setting the boys off again with my brother’s childhood nickname. It was nice to hear some laughter again from a side that looked so solemn the night before.

“No in all seriousness boys, I especially came over because I wanted to talk to you Bukayo - what you did was so impressive. In a final, as the last penalty taker, to take on the responsibility of the nation at the age of 19! Not many players would dare to do that. You have earned a lot of respect, particularly from the Italian camp.” I spoke with a smile on my face, directed at the young boy.

“The same goes for you two” Now looking at Sancho & Rashford.

Bukayo looked down at his hands & smiled, before getting up and walking to my side of the table. Anticipating what he was going to do next, I stood up and welcomed him with open arms. Grateful that he understood my message and was beginning to accept the praise he so deserved. Stepping back from the hug, I turned to address the group of lads one more time.

“If any of you fancy a change of pace and want to come over to the Serie A, just give me a call - Benny can give you my number!” I start to speak, before I'm cut off but my brother.

“Stop poaching my mates! I’ve already lost you to another country. I don't need to lose anyone else” He jokingly says while standing to walk me out of St. George’s Park. I know it was a joke but I can't help but think there was some truth to that.

It had been more than 3 years since I moved out of our family home to start my life in Turin, and not one moment had i regretted it or thought i made the wrong decision. Don’t get me wrong, there are times when I wished I was closer to my family, but I know I had to make that move to prove to myself I am just as successful as I hoped I would be. Not saying I have learnt everything there is to learn with the Serie A giants, Juventus, but maybe it's time for a new challenge? Maybe I can bring the strategic spin on the game to the fast paced action of the premier league?

Part 4. | quarta parte

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feliix · 4 years

Text

halloween hookup ↠ lee minho

↠ CEO!Minho x Reader

↠ Genre: Smut, fluff(ish), coworkers 2 lovers

↠ Rating: M (18+)

↠ Word Count: 4.9k

↠ Summary: The details of your company Halloween bash are all a blur once you wake the next morning, well, at least until you notice your boss Lee Minho lying beside you in an unfamiliar bed.

↠ Warnings: unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk, fingering, nipple play, semi-public sex, nudes (but not the kind you think of lmao), dum/sub themes, mentions of alcohol and drinking. (though this fic does not include sexual intercourse following the consumption of alcohol, please remember to drink responsibly and that consent is not consent if you are under the influence!)

↠ A/N: here’s to spooky season and minho day (even though i’m a day late oopsie). and as always thank you to @jinterlude for beta reading ily ♡

The bright morning sun creeps through your curtains, scattering light through your bedroom and grazing your bare skin with its rays. A peaceful way to start your Saturday morning, you muse, snuggling deeper into your bed. As you come to your senses, you notice something is quite off. The room smells stale, your sheets feel slightly more scratchy than usual, and something is weighing down over your waist.

Your eyes snap open, realizing that the object weighing down your waist is in fact, someone's arm. The sheets you’re lying over are not yours, and the odd aroma that’s filling the room can not compare to the sweet scent of your own apartment. As if that isn’t bad enough, you’re not able to identify whose arm is slung over your body, pulling your waist backward against their warm bare chest.

Where am I?

Without waking up the unknown man, you carefully shift your weight to release yourself from his grasp. You take your head into your hands, gently massaging your temples trying to relieve the hangover paging through your brain.

The memories from the previous night are stale in your mind. You rack your brain, trying to come up with some reason as to why you’re here and exactly how you yourself got into this position. You sit up in bed, cautiously wrapping the sheets over your body. It seems like a dream or distant illusion, and you can’t quite piece together how it all went down.

You remember being at the company Halloween bash, you remember having useless small talk with a bunch of your coworkers, playing some stupid game that definitely would have been better if it involved some alcohol, and then it got even lamer, so you left with Minho.

Oh my gosh. You left with Minho. As in your boss, Lee Minho.

Your head whips around your body to look at the sleeping body lying next to you as if you’re expecting to see anyone else placed beside you. The memories of what happened last night come flooding back to you, and it went something like this.

The party was held in your office conference room, which was just big enough to squeeze all 20 people in your department into one space, but small enough where you would bump up against the person next to you if you moved too abruptly. Various types of appetizers and finger foods lined the long meeting table which stretched the entire length of the room. There was also a small end table in the corner topped with various types of soda, a bowl of punch, and some booze that George from IT brought. Not that you would ever drink at an office party, that was way too risky.

A few girls from HR had decided to decorate with some cut out pumpkins they printed off some computer paper and orange streamers that were probably leftover from your last boss's going away party.

After your last boss had left, your company hired Lee Minho, a young business professional from a different location that your company owned. Mr. Lee was a pretty laid back guy compared to your last boss. It was pretty weird having a boss as young as Mr. Lee, but he always made sure to bring some fun into the workplace whenever he could, like this Halloween bash for instance. Not to mention, he was the most attractive boss you'd ever had. All the other female employees seemed to agree, swooning over him with every opportunity that they were given.

Mr. Lee also really enjoyed flirting with his employees, male and female. It was hard to tell if he was being nice or just hitting on you the first time he complimented your outfit. The next time he complimented your blouse you noticed his eyes wandering down to your boobs, and you knew it was not just an innocent compliment, but hey, he was attractive so you were definitely not complaining about it.

The feeling of your phone vibrating in your back pocket of your denim skirt startled you, causing you to jump before fumbling your hands back to reach for the device.

Mr. Lee: I like your cat ears ;)

The sides of your lips lifted into a small smirk before picking your head up to look for Minho across the room. He gave you a small smile and finished his gesture off with a wink before you looked back down, sliding open your phone and responding.

Y/N: thanks! where's your costume? corporate won't let you join in on the fun for once :(

Mr. Lee was dressed in his usual attire, some black dress pants, and a black button-down, but accompanied by a very festive orange and black halloween tie. The slender fit of his shirt made his shoulders look especially broad in comparison to his narrow waist.

Before you could even look up from your phone Minho was standing by your side with a cup of punch in each hand, tilting his head towards one of the glasses to offer it up to you. Nodding your head, you smiled a thank you and took the red cup from his grasp.

You coolly leaned your back against the wall behind you, trying to stay out of the way of all the useless chatter going on between the coworkers surrounding you. Mr. Lee was quick to follow suit, sliding his legs down a little further away from the wall so he could match your height.

"This party is kind of lame," he whispered in your ear, earning him a small grin and soft chuckle from you. Most of the employees at your office were much older than you, so it was hard for you to connect with them. They all had their own families and children, where you had just become financially stable enough to move out of your parent’s house.

"You think anyone will notice if we leave?" You said sarcastically, playing along with his charade, just equally bored of the small talk your coworkers were making around you.

"Yeah, but I think I can get us out of it," he replied smoothly, pushing his back off of the wall and walked towards the conference room door, shooting you a quick wink before he made his exit. You had no idea what Minho had in store to get you out of this party but you sure hope it was good.

Not a minute later, the desk phone in the conference room began to ring. Everyone shot each other questioning glares, slightly confused as to who would be calling the office after hours on a Friday. Minho's secretary sauntered over to the phone before holding her index finger over her lips, signaling everyone around her to be quiet.

"Hello this is Amy," she said, cocking her head to the side and furrowing her brows, trying to understand what the caller was saying at the other end of the line. Her expression quickly changed to a small smile as she looked around the room, eyes landing on you before responding to the caller.

"I'll let her know. Thank you, Mr. Lee," Amy replied before hanging up the phone, "Y/N, Mr. Lee needs help with something and would like for you to meet him in his office as soon as possible."

Trying your hardest not to let a smirk creep onto your face, you nodded your head and placed your unfinished drink down on the table. Curious to see what Minho had in-store to get you out of the party, you made your way out of the conference room and to his office.

Peeking through the office window, you saw Minho seated at his desk on his phone. His legs were crossed with his feet placed upon the surface in front of him. The small lamp on his desk dimly illuminated the room, reflecting some light off of his shiny black shoes. He raised his head, eyes wandering away from his phone as you cracked open the door to his office.

"Mr. Lee, you needed help with something?" You inquired sweetly, giving him a grin while making your way into the room.

"Ah, I've been waiting for you." He joked smiling back at you, "Shut the door behind you." You obliged, carefully wrapping your fingers around the handle and closing the door lightly, sure to not make a sound.

"Is everything alright?" You asked, moving closer to Minho as he swung his legs off the desk and placed his feet on the ground.

"Well I figured we could have our own fun, that party was so lame," he said, holding his hand out for you to take. You hesitated, wondering where this was going but you took his hand in yours, curious to find out. He pulled you in closer so your frame stood between his legs, making your heart jump in your chest.

"What did you have in mind?" You smirked, feeling your body beginning to grow warm with anticipation.

"Hmm," he started, patting his thigh for you to take a seat on, "something not so spooky I suppose."

A knot began to form in your throat, causing you to swallow hard before stuttering out the word "Spooky?" and sitting down on his thigh.

Minho softly chuckled, "I've never seen anyone look so sexy in cat ears before, you were driving me insane in there."

Your breathing hitched as he placed a hand on your thigh, gently stroking your skin up to the hem of your skirt. "Is this okay, baby girl?" His eyebrow raised in question, watching your expression shift into a flustered one. You keened at the pet name, feeling heat rush right to your cheeks. Slowly, you nodded your head in response, unable to trust your voice in a time like this.

"Um, I didn't know you thought about me this way Mr. Lee," you stifled out while uncomfortably shifting around on his lap. Minho caught his bottom lip between his teeth, suppressing a low groan before shifting his body as well, feeling his member harden as he leaned further back into his chair.

"Call me Minho," he smirked, brushing his thumb over your cheek and to your hair, sweeping it over your shoulder.

"O-Okay," you stammered, growing flustered from his sweet yet sensual actions.

"Do you think about me this way, baby girl?" He said smugly, almost as if he knew the response you would be giving him in return.

"Yes, Minho," you unknowingly admitted. The words felt foreign coming out of your mouth, it felt odd calling your boss by his first name. But in some weird way, you liked knowing that he felt more turned on by you compared to the other female coworkers that were desperate for his attention.

"What do you think about, hmm?" Minho hummed, a short smirk fixed on his face. Your eyes widened in embarrassment, choking back a whimper as his hand brushed up past the hem of your skirt. Biting your lip in an attempt to control your breath, his hand wandered higher, pushing your skirt further up to expose your panties.

His long fingers grazed the fabric of the underwear over your core. Letting out a short gasp, you quickly brought your hand up to cover your mouth to muffle the sound. Dragging his fingers along the growing wetness on your panties, Minho kept his eyes locked on your expression.

"I, I think about how nice you always look in your dress clothes," you stuttered, "but I really wonder what you look like under them."

Ending the statement confidently, it seemed as if someone else had taken control of your tongue. Minho raised his eyebrows, smirk still plastered on his face from his prior question. As you felt the bulge in his pants begin to protrude under you, he shifted in his chair once again. He cleared his throat, loosening his tie in the process before speaking up.

"We should go somewhere more private." Minho suggested as he moved you off of his lap. "I don't want to be somewhere that anyone could find us," He finished before pacing towards the hall outside of his office. Following behind him you obliged, walking towards the door and into the corridor. Before you could get very far a faint voice sounded off down the hallway.

"Mr. Lee?" Minho's secretary called out from down the hall.

"Shit," he mumbled under his breath, grabbing your hand and swiftly pulling you into the nearest room to avoid Amy.

The copy room was dark. The small touchscreen on the copy machine and the light that peeked in through the small, rectangular window on the door barely lit the room enough for you to see what was right in front of you.

Breathing heavily, Minho pushed your back up against the door trying to remain out of sight as he followed suit beside you. The feeling of hiding from your coworker with your boss was thrilling, something that was easily so wrong, and definitely against HR policy, excited you.

"Mr. Lee? Are you still here?" Amy called from the hallway outside the copy room door. Minho's startled eyes wandered out the small window on the top of the door to see where his secretary could be.

"Fuck," he let out a deep breath before ducking away from the window.

Minho flipped his body so that he was facing you, placing his arms on either side of your head and his forehead resting on yours. He slowly brought his index finger to your lips, motioning you to stay quiet so you wouldn't be found.

Minho's warm, deep breaths met the skin of your cheeks, his long arm hovered over you, restricting you between his body and the wooden door behind you. The mere inches between your bodies left you craving for his touch yet again. You bit your lip to try and ease your breathing, looking up at Minho through your long eyelashes.

He placed his palm over your lips, trying to silence your deep breaths from the woman pacing around the corridor only a few feet away. His gaze was deep and sultry, it felt as though he was looking straight through you and directly to your thoughts. If only he knew the types of things going through your mind right now – such inappropriate things for an employee to think about their boss.

Tension grew as you stood there, body pressed against Minho’s as you waited for Amy to pass. Being in such close proximity to him was affecting you in ways you would've never imagined. Heat flooded to your core with each deep breath you took; Minho’s seductive stare only furthered your desire.

Without saying a word, Minho removed his hand from your mouth and replaced it with his own. The kiss caught you off guard, causing you to let out a small gasp in return. Minho smiled at your reaction, clearly satisfied with how he was taking you by surprise. His tongue swiped along your bottom lip asking for entrance, in which you easily obliged, slowly parting your lips and allowing him to kiss you even more passionately.

Minho’s knee found its place spreading your thighs apart slowly, teasing you as he rubbed it against your throbbing clit in the process. With slight hesitation, he quickly peeked his head up to the window one more time, making sure that the coast was clear before leaning back down to attach his lips to yours. His hands roamed your body down to the small of your back, pulling you in even closer to him.

Pressing your breasts to his chest, you slid your hand between your two bodies. Your hand found its way down to the bulge in his pants, lightly groping it before earning a moan of approval from him. Instinctively he began to grind into your hand, becoming even needier for your touch.

Minho’s breathing became instantly jagged from the moment you first touched his growing member. Perspiration began to gather at the top of Minho's exposed forehead, the small strands of dark hair framing his face hastily became damp. Your callous touch accompanied with sweet kisses to his lips sent Minho into a state of hunger; his demeanor instantly changed, electrifying the mood of the room.

Minho’s fingertips dragged down your body and to the hem of your blouse, tugging on it slightly before seeking approval to remove it from your body. There’s not enough time to respond before you were fiddling with the tie around his neck, loosening it and slipping it over his head to have better access to the buttons that lined his shirt. Your hands moved swiftly trying to undo each one before Minho's hands reached for his belt, causing you to bring your hands back to your own body.

In an unspoken rhythm, you both discarded your bottoms, leaving Minho standing naked as you wore just your silky black bra. A low moan left his lips as his hand cupped your breast, massaging gently before slipping his thumb underneath the thin fabric to play with your nipple. His touch left goosebumps all over your body, taking the sensation of his calloused fingertips against such a sensitive area.

You threw your head back in pleasure giving Minho access to your neck. Hungrily, he attached his lips just above your collarbone, sucking light marks into your skin. His hands moved to your back, unlatching the clasp of your bra and removing it from your body. The stimulation from both his lips and his fingers left your core aching for more, leaving moisture to accumulate between your thighs.

Without a second to spare, Minho’s hand’s were roaming down your body, parting your legs and dragging his finger down your wet slit. You moaned in response, keening into his touch as sweat began to gather on your brow.

With one quick swipe against your clit you were jumping at the contact. “Minho,” you moaned, “need your fingers inside me.”

A stern look crossed his face, making his seductive expression even more dark and lustful than before. “You have to be quiet,” his voice carried a serious tone as he placed a finger to your lips, “we don’t want Amy coming to look for us again, do we?” His question lingered as he leaned in closer to you, whispering the words softly, before leaving with a small nip to your earlobe causing you to shudder.

“Jump,” Minho ordered, grabbing your ass with each hand as you followed his request, jumping as his strong arms secured themselves around you. Each of your legs rested on each side of his body, gripping him tightly so you wouldn't fall. Minho held his body tightly up against you, taking his time by teasing you and dragging his member along your wet slit ever so slowly.

His hard member slid into you carefully, allowing you time to adjust to his size before pushing himself all the way in. You threw your head back against the wall in pleasure, becoming accustomed to the feeling of his hard shaft stretching out your walls. Slowly, Minho began pumping in and out of you at a slow pace. He was careful not to make too much noise, giving you slow and shallow thrusts before working his way to a faster pace.

He soon attached his lips to yours, moaning into the kiss as you basked in the taste of fruity residue left from the punch he was sipping on earlier. The room was becoming hot and stuffy, the window above you becoming cloudy as your bodies perspired. His movements were fluid and intentional, rocking you against the door as he held you tightly in his grip.

"Hold on," Minho whispered, pulling you off of the wall and walking towards the back of the room. His muscular arms held your body tightly against his, making sure no space was left between you.

Minho pulled out slowly, the sensation of your aching pussy berating your thoughts as he and let go of your legs. Your shaky legs were left to steady themselves on the ground, stumbling to hold onto Minho’s firm chest for support.. Grabbing you by your waist, he quickly turned your body to face the copy machine. In one swift motion you watched him lift open up the top of the machine, letting the beam of light underneath the glass panel illuminate your naked figure. His bare chest was placed flush against your back, standing so close that you could feel his racing heartbeat.

"Bend over," Minho ordered as his hand rested on the small of your back, guiding you to push your chest closer to the copy machine. Following his orders, you pressed your body against the machine, shivering from the cold sensation of the glass panel brushing against your sensitive nipples.

Minho grabbed onto your ass, squeezing it gently as he guided himself back into you. You let out a quiet whine, wrapping your fingers onto the sides of the copy machine to try and stabilize yourself. He returned back to a steady pace, rocking into you with ease while his firm hands caressed your back.

"Fuck Y/N," Minho moaned, "you're taking me so well."

His hand grabbed at your hair harshly, making a makeshift ponytail with his fist, as he pulled your head up. Arching your back, you couldn't help but let out a loud moan in reaction to the new depths Minho was reaching in your dripping core.

"I wanna hear you," Minho grunted between thrusts, his strokes becoming faster and harder. Incapable of using your words, you let out another whine squeezing your eyes shut completely, focused on the sensation of his thick member filling you up and the feeling of his hips hitting your ass with each plunge.

"I'm close," your voice was whiny and weak. Minho picked up his pace, snapping his hips harder into you as one hand left its position on your hip. The loss of contact made you whine, but his hand soon found its place between your legs. His fingers lightly brushed against your swollen clit, the sensation making you see stars. Legs beginning to shake, your grip on the copy machine became firmer, needing to hold onto something in order to steady yourself. The added pleasure from his fingers sent you spiraling, choking you up and causing your eyes to water in bliss.

"Come for me Y/N, I wanna feel you cum all over my cock," he grunted, his voice low and sensual. Moving his hand faster, your clit was rolled between his fingertips. Your orgasm was just out of reach. The satisfaction was just out of reach. But Minho’s tender touch sent you over the edge, relying on the copy machine to hold his unstable body up.

"Minho," you mustered out, riding out your high, pussy throbbing around his dick. He hummed in response, too focused on chasing his own high to form any audible words. The low grunts leaving Minho’s lips became more and more frequent as his thrusts slowed, growing sloppier and careless. But his hands gripped your hips firmly, holding you still as he let out a string of profanities before collapsing onto your back.

Minho rested his head between your shoulder blades, chest heaving as he regained his composure before pulling out of you. Slowly, he stood up, taking a deep breath and admiring your exhausted figure before you followed behind him.

"Wow," was the only word that you could manage, wiping your forehead with the back of your hand as you turned to face him. Minho chuckled in response, smiling gingerly as he picked up your clothes, handing them back to you so that you could get dressed.

After pulling your top over your head your eyes did a quick scan around the room, confirming that you weren't leaving anything behind. If someone were to find an undergarment in here, it would be the talk of the office for at least a week. In the corner of your eye, you spotted a sheet of paper resting on the tray of the copy machine. Raising an eyebrow, you paced back over to the machine and lifted up the sheet.

"Oh. My. God."

You were frozen in place, eyes wide with shock as you look at the image before you. Minho soon whipped his body around, finishing off the buckle of his belt before wandering over to the copy machine.

"I'm so keeping that," Minho said, looking over your shoulder at the picture of your bare breasts printed on the paper gripped harshly in your hands. A smug smirk was plastered on his face as he continued to admire the crude photograph.

"Minho, do you know how this happened?" Your voice was filled with concern, turning your head to face him, sure he was up to something. His eyes were glued on the graphic photo you held in your hands, too zoned out to hear you speak.

"Minho," you repeated more firmly this time, finally gaining his attention back to you from the image, "did you do this?"

A small grin formed on his face, one side of his mouth lifted while he raised his eyebrows. He looked smug...too smug.

"Can't have anyone finding this, now can we?" He chuckled, taking this paper in his own hands and taking one last glance before ripping it into small pieces before tossing the pieces into the recycling bin and extending a hand to you. "I say we go celebrate the occasion with a drink, you in?" Taking his hand in yours, you nodded your head in agreement, following Minho out of the copy room.

"How does a some more punch sound? George brought an extra bottle of juice that I can snag and I’ve got a bottle of vodka at my place with our names on it." Minho spoke, earning a smile from you before walking out the office doors.

Suddenly you feel the mattress shift beside you, pulling you out of your daydream. Minho rolls over to face your direction with his eyes still closed, his mouth slowly opening before taking a deep breath.

"Good morning," he speaks, eyes fluttering open and taking in your disheveled appearance.

"Morning," you manage to mutter out, quickly breaking eye contact, unable to face him from the pure embarrassment filling your system.

"Last night was fun, huh?" He asks, the cheerfulness barely peeking through the groggy tone of his voice. "Last night?" You know exactly what he was talking about, but hope he’s referring to anything except what happened in the copy room.

"Yeah, we came back here to have a drink after we–"

"Oh okay yep! I remember. No need to go into any more details!" You cut him off before he can continue any further, covering your eyes to shield you from his gaze. The flesh on your cheeks are scorching hot with embarrassment.

As you go to stand up from the bed, hoping to quickly gather your things and rush out the door before Minho could mention anything else, his hand reaches for yours. He pulls you in closer to him until your face is near enough to touch; grazing the side of your warm cheeks before speaking again. You lower your head in embarrassment, unsure of what Minho is about to say.

"I really enjoyed our time together last night, I wouldn’t mind having you over again." He brushes the stray hairs away from falling into your eyes, lifting your chin up to meet his gaze afterward. Heart fluttering in response, you catch your lip between your teeth in an attempt to hide the large smile that’s threatening to peek through.

"Oh, I almost forgot," Minho stands up, reaching into the pocket of the pants he wore last night and pulling out a small folded up piece of paper.

"I believe this belongs to you," he curls up the ends of his mouth, biting back a smile while handing it to you. Confused, you unfold the paper revealing a picture of your very own breasts. As if the situation could not get any more embarrassing, Minho stares down at the paper in your hands, admiring your bare chest plastered in black and white, letting out a small chuckle.

As mortified as you are, you figure that the natural instinct to never talk to this man again would not work, seeing that Minho is your boss. Taking a deep breath, you try to find any sort of confidence that could still be left inside you. You look back up at him, cocking your head slightly to the side before reaching your arm out and handing him back the photo.

"Keep it, think of it as a Halloween gift." You say shooting him a smirk, internally crossing your fingers hoping for a good reaction. Minho snickers, taking the paper from your hand and looking at it one last time before folding it back up and holding it tightly in his palm.

"I'll keep it somewhere safe," He gives you a wink and shoves the paper deep into the pocket of his pajama pants.

"Happy Halloween, Minho."

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hops-hunny · 3 years

Text

Distance Makes the Heart Grow

CHAPTER 6

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Mafia Boss!Neville Longbottom x Reader

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 2.8k

Summary: (Y/n) lives a normal life. But that’s the issue, it’s normal, it’s plain, and it’s growing boring. Everyday she wishes for something, anything to spice up her life. But, when her old school friend (and crush) shows up at her bakery with a new look (and what looks like a new life), what will it bring for her? Will their puppy love grow? Will his big secret lead to the end of them or will it spark a new beginning?

Warnings: mentions of sex, suggestive conversations, fluff, fingering, soft smut

A/N: A little treat for the horndogs <3

"O-oh god! It's too big Nev, 's not gonna...c-can't-"

"Oh It's going to fit, don't worry pretty girl. Daddy's gonna fuck you so good. You want that, don't you baby?" He asked, cooing as she nodded frantically, tongue lulled out the side of her mouth. Neville had barely gotten past the tip before she began whining, crying about how big he was. He couldn’t help but lose control, shoving himself deep inside her, pistoning his hips at an ungodly pace. His eyes lingered on her chest, entranced by the hypnotic sway that they had due to his thrust. Pinning her hands to the bed, their eyes locked in an intense moment.

“O-oh fuck princess, you’re so tight. You gonna cum? Hm? Gonna make a-”

“Nev?” he snapped up, a heavy gasp leaving his lips as looked to his side. (Y/n) sat there, a confused look on her face. “Are you alright? I think you were having a nightmare. You kept making a bunch of noises in your sleep!” he felt his face flush, clearing his throat as he looked away from her. His heart began to race as she climbed into his lap, turning his face towards hers. He looked at her, hoping his nerves weren't clear on his face. Due to the snickers he heard in the background, he was certain it was obvious to just about everyone but her what the issue was.

“Hey um, petal, you might wanna move.” he whispered to her, trying to keep her hips from his troubled area.

“Why?” she asked, tilting her head once more as she moved back. Her eyes widened at the newfound breeze on her rear due to her skirt being lifted up. Not sure of what the cause was she moved back slightly, gasping at the feeling of something hard and long against her ass. Suddenly it all set in, he was- “O-oh. I’m sorry Nev.” she squeaked, quickly hopping from his lap. She smoothed down her skirt, clearing her throat as she eyed everyone in the room awkwardly. While the pair seemed flustered, the team couldn’t get enough of the interaction.

“Well I guess it’s clear why you’re the boss now.” Fred said, laughing as he motioned to the large tent in the man’s pants. George gave him a low five, joining him in his laughter as Neville glared at them all. Who were they to make him feel embarrassed? Standing up he adjusted the tent in his pants but despite his efforts, his dick was still prominent through his slacks.

“Poor (Y/n). She’s not gonna live to see another day after that thi-”

“Would you lot quit it?! When the fuck are we landing?” Neville growled at the bunch, causing the laughter to cease. Everyone knew what it was like to deal with an enraged Neville and that was the last thing they wanted. If the plane hadn't already landed, he’d shoot it right out the sky.

“We’ve actually just landed, boss. I was going to tell you before this little…situation that just occurred. Your bags have already been brought to the villa to ensure we have maximum time to scope out the museum.” Harrison said, giving the man a nod. He hummed, giving him a nod. “In the meantime, the city is yours to roam girls. We’ll be sending two men with you for your safety.” he snapped his fingers and two tall men appeared, their scary appearance paired with “tourist” clothing. What was supposed to be a disguise was just a funny sight of two muscle heads in brightly colored floral shirts. The (h/c) haired girl walked over to the leader, tugging on his sleeve some. He looked down at her, face softening at the pout on her face.

“Will we be able to spend some time together eventually? I know this is technically a work trip for you but I-I’d really like to spend time with you.” she said, making his heart melt. She never failed to make his heart burst, unreasonably cute without even trying. He had already planned on making time for her but now it wasn’t just something on his list, but his main priority. Stroking her cheek gently he put a soft kiss on her forehead.

“ ‘Course petal. In the meantime,” he leaned down sucking on the skin below her ear as he let out a chuckle, “Why don’t you go buy yourself something pretty for me?” her eyes widened but she nodded regardless, looking at him with a shocked expression as he pulled away. Before she could respond Twyla began to drag her, yanking her down the stairs of the jet.

“Come on babes! We’ve got some shopping to do.”

--------------------------------------

“Was it really necessary to send them with us?” (Y/n) whispered, looking over her shoulder at the two large men that had been following them from a distance. “I mean, everyone’s looking!” she hissed, pointing to a group of people that were pointing and whispering to them. Twyla shrugged, a subtle skip to her walk.

“Just means we look important! You worry too much, babes. We’re on an expense paid trip to Italy and we don’t have to pay for any of these clothes? There could literally be an angry mob after us and that still wouldn’t kill my mood!” she sighed, still noticing the girl’s tense mood. “Plus, Neville would want you to enjoy yourself. Speaking of him…” she grabbed the girl’s hand, walking into the lingerie store on the left. She looked at her confused.

“Why are we here? Nev already bought me underwear.” she asked, following Twyla as she began to grab different sets off the racks. Another layer of confusion was added on when she noticed that she wasn’t grabbing her own size. Twyla let out a snort, throwing the small pile that she had somehow amassed into her arms.

“Don’t be ridiculous! You’re telling me after today’s little ordeal that you haven’t noticed? Your hottie has definitely been thinking of banging your brains out.” she said, giggling at the girl’s bashful expression. “I’m only telling the truth! And judging by your reactions, you’ve been thinking about it too.” she pondered her words for a moment. It wasn’t not not true. She most certainly had thought about Neville in more unsavory ways. Even before their reuniting, (Y/n) always thought about him as she attempted to get herself off, imagining they were his hands touching her bringing her to a well deserved climax. However anytime she’d get close, she’d become overwhelmed with the thought that what she had been doing was shameful. Masturbating to her old crush from school? What could be more dirty?

“I-I guess I have thought about it once or twice..” she admitted. “B-but I don’t have the balls to just walk out in something like this! What if he laughs at me?” Twyla gawked at the girl, blinking repeatedly. She could not believe her ears.

“Are you kidding me?! The only sound that will be leaving that man’s mouth is the sound of him telling you to get on your knees.” she responded, turning back around to look through the racks for more. “Plus, it’s not like you have to pounce on the man. All I’m saying is wait for the right time, maybe after a nice dinner or something then boom, whip out the goods. You’ve got everything to gain and nothing to lose. If that’s all then let’s check out then go get massages! I’m making you pamper yourself this trip. Merlin knows you need a break.”

(Y/n) was thankful for Twyla’s pep talk knowing the blonde was right. Neville would like anything she did; it was just a matter of when she should do it.

---------------------------------------

And pampering they had done. (Y/n) and Twyla had been to just about every ritzy spot Italy had to offer them. After their shopping trip, the taller girl had taken them to get massages. It was funny how the masseuse instantly knew it was her first time from the abundance of knots in her back and when the man was done? She was most certainly an inch taller! They also had gone for manicures (despite having done that a few days ago..). Being bold she decided to get a set out of her comfort zone which she was beyond satisfied with. But the hot Italian sun combined with all the running around had tired her out, resulting in the driver bringing them to the villa.

The villa wasn’t as big as Neville’s second manor but was still insanely big. After the bodyguard had carried her bags to her room for her, she climbed into the brand new silk robe she had gotten, laying on the bed drinking the smoothie the maid had gotten for her. It was nice, just being able to relax. Throughout her years of working, (Y/n) rarely took off days. A lot of the time she’d even cover shifts for employees that couldn’t make it and even when the bakery was closed she would come in, fixing things up and tidying up mindlessly. Numerous times Twyla had caught the girl there when she wasn’t supposed to be and forced her to go home out of concern for her health.

Her eyes fluttered open at the sound of the bedroom door opening, widening with enthusiasm as she saw the tattooed man in the doorway, a bouquet of flowers in his hands. Hopping up she ran over to him, jumping into his arms which he gladly accepted, holding her tightly. “I missed you.”

He smiled, setting the flowers down to hold her better before placing a soft peck to her lips. “I missed you too, love. I left early so I could spend some time with you.” his eyes moved to the bags in the corner of the room, chuckling at the large pile. “I’m guessing your shopping trip was successful?” she felt her face heat up at his lack of knowledge of the lingerie that lay within one of them.

“I guess you could say that. Come, come! I wanna relax with you.” she began dragging him over to the bed, straddling him once he was situated. They sat in a comfortable silence with Neville holding the girl close to his chest, just appreciating the closeness he had with her. Since they’re reunion, every intimate moment, be it sexual or not, had been interrupted by some instance where he was needed somewhere else. He hadn’t been able to spend nearly as much time as he wanted with her but now he had her all to himself. His hands rubbed at her back gently until he got bored, deciding to test the waters. He knew it’d take a while before they’d get anywhere near what happened in his dream but he was willing to wait. He’d do anything to be able to touch her, feel her in a way that was less than innocent. As he gripped at her ass with one hand he brought the other one up to her cheek, cupping it as he pulled her into a deep and sensual kiss.

She gladly accepted, kissing back as she brought herself closer to him, playing with the bits of loose hair at the base of his neck. He began to nibble on her lip before pulling away, trailing open mouthed kisses down her neck. A mewl sounded from her, causing him to pull away slowly. Gripping at her waist above her robe, he gazed into her eyes intently. “You wearin’ anything under here?” he asked, watching as she looked down, shaking her head. “No? God you’re making it so hard for me to not just fuck you right here.” he sighed some, reaching for the ties on her robe. He stopped, looking at her once more for confirmation. She nodded frantically before stopping, feeling slightly embarrassed from how eager she was. With one soft tug, her robe was undone revealing her soft supple breast which he instantly went for. With his lips wrapped around one he began to lick and suck at the other, both of them moaning in unison. After a while of him teasing her sensitive nubs she began to grow impatient, rocking her hips against his gently as she let out a soft whimper.

“P-please..” she moaned breathlessly, not too sure of what she wanted. All she knew was that she wanted something, anything. Everything he did had her near her edge, from his kisses to his tongue and she needed to feel more. Pulling away he looked at her, thinking for a moment before pulling the two of them up.

“I wanna try something,” he said, positioning in front of the mirror. “He pushed back the fabric of her robe, putting her pussy on full display. His pants tightened at the sight of her glistening folds which she avoided in the mirror. Neville gripped her chin gently, positioning it to look at her bits in the mirror, chuckling at her wide eyes, pupils fully blown with arousal. With his other hand, he began to massage up and down her thighs. He watched as her legs grew weak, shaking with anticipation. Trailing his fingers near her sex, tracing small patterns on the inside of her thighs.

He patted the side of her cheek with two fingers, pulling her attention away from herself to make eye contact with him through the glass. “Open up.” he whispered, small praises of approval leaving his mouth as she did. He took his thick digits, slowly pushing past her kiss stung lips. His eyes watched in the mirror as they entered her wet little mouth, groaning at the feeling of her soft tongue gliding along the underside of them. Pushing them a little further, she gagged, eyes tearing up. She looked so pretty with tears in her eyes, already fucked out before he had even put them in. It was hard to tell who wanted it more at this point but as Neville finally slid a finger into her folds, it was obvious. Hot tears fell down her face, already overwhelmed from it all. Pumping his finger in and out, his eyes flickered between her fucked out face and her pussy, juices already coating her thighs. Moving his face to her neck, he began to suck and kiss on her neck.

(Y/n) was becoming more and more desperate by the moment. She had subconsciously begun to play with her tits, rubbing and tugging on her nipples. “M-more, Nev please!” she begged to which he instantly complied, sliding another finger in. He began to work her open more, scissoring and stretching his fingers inside of her. Once her muscle had relaxed once again, he began to speed up his moment, the heel of his palm creating a slapping noise each time it’d meet her pussy.

“Merlin, baby, you’re soaked. Your messy little cunt’s just eating my fingers.” he purred out, chuckling deeply as he felt her clench at his words. Who knew his pretty little princess would get worked up so easily, slowly reaching her peak just from a few fingers and words? He used his other hand to rub at her clit, causing her knees to buckle, falling back onto him for support. He loved how much she relied on him, becoming a needy mess just for him. He curled his fingers up, aiming for her spot until he found it causing her to let out a loud cry, gripping onto his arm tightly. Neville watched as her face scrunched up, tears streaming down her face.

“N-need to….need ta….O-oh god Nev! I’m gonna-” before she could finish her eyes widened before snapping close, head falling back onto his shoulder as she rutted her hips against his fingers, whimpering as she rode out her high. He continued to rub at her clit, fingering her cunt until she began to whine, pushing him away. He smirked some, admiring her fucked out expression in the mirror. Her eyes were shut, pants puffy lips. He licked his lips at the sight of her cunt, sensitive and fucked out, messy and cum covered from her orgasm. As he pulled his fingers out, he had to stop himself from letting out a string of curses at the way her cream began to run hot down her legs along with the bit that had gathered on his fingers. Lifting them to his face he wasted no time, sucking and licking on them. He moaned softly, continuing to clean them thoroughly, not stopping until the only thing that remained was the salty taste of his own flesh.

“You look so pretty when you cum, flower.” he muttered, smiling as the girl just let out a soft ‘mhm’, half asleep and barely able to process his words. He took off her robe, lifting her up as he began to carry her to their private bathroom, letting out a content sigh at the events that had just happened. Although he hadn’t been able to get off himself, he was more than happy being able to just please her.

Afterall, it was what he wanted more than anything, to have his flower live in absolute happiness and pleasure.

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#Neville Longbottom #neville x reader #neville longbottom x reader #neville longbottom x you #neville x you #harry potter imagine #harry potter imagines #Harry Potter #harry potter x reader #mafia!neville #mafia!au #mafia

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orbitariums · 3 years

Text

winter with a weasley | fred w. + black fem. reader

i was tired of searching high and low for hp imagines with black readers so !! here goes my own :) send me recs of hp writers who write for black girls!!!

reader is a black woman and a ravenclaw!

happy holidays <333

word count: 5k

The pitter patter of snow could be heard from inside the dimly lit library, wet snowflakes streaking down the window panes of the large window beside you. The night sky was falling upon you, twinkling stars forming around the top of the castle. The air was clear, no fog to be seen, but your eyes were glazing over as if you were in the midst of a fog storm anyway, your nose buried deep in a copy of “Winograd’s Wondrous Water Plants.” You blinked away the sleepiness clouding up your eyesight, stifling a yawn. The candle in front of you threatened to burn out, and you flicked a lazy finger towards it, the flame rising once again. You were grateful for the cozy, thick sweater Luna had knitted you, protecting you from the slight chill that was penetrating the glass window. You pulled it closer to you, though its warmth threatened to make you fall asleep.

You had hardly realized that your cheek was dragging against your palm, and that your eyes were feeling droopier than ever, until you were jolted to a start when you heard Harry Potter’s voice from beside you. He was standing at the side of the otherwise empty library table that you were sitting at, a book clutched beneath his arm.

“There you are, everyone’s been wondering where you were. Well, mainly Fred,” Harry admitted, his eyes glancing at you, hunched over your book with nothing but candlelight in front of you. “What’re you doing in the library anyway, exams are over.”

You pushed your shoulder blades back, relieving some of the tension in your body from being curled up with books for hours after classes had ended for the winter break. You were slightly relieved to see Harry, as you were starting to get sort of a headache from all the words jumbling up together on the page. You replied with a small smile.

“Just doing some after-exam review, that’s all. I want to see what I missed, if anything.

That way I’ll know what to study harder for next time, that’s all,” you shrugged, and Harry couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face.

“Just like Hermione,” he noted. “I’m only in here because I’m returning a book. Fred will think you’ve gone mental, studying after exams.”

You chuckled to think of the pink-faced, tousle-haired Weasley twin. He was crazy about you, and everyone knew it. You, on the other hand, were far too focused on your studies to pay him any real attention. He was a distraction, and a horrible one at that— you’d never ace your exams if you were with him, he’d probably have you helping set up him and George’s next prank. Your playfully unamused demeanor towards his advances didn’t stop him anyway, he still teased you and flirted with you every chance he got, because no matter how much you told yourself you shouldn’t have a boyfriend, he always caught how bashful you became at his flirtatious remarks.

“Well, he’ll survive, won’t he?” you shook your head playfully, and Harry nodded in the other direction, out of the library.

“Take a break, we’re having a little party in the common room, you should join us,” Harry suggested, and you took one glance from your books to the lanky boy in front of you before sighing and closing your book. Why not?

When you clamored through the entrance to the common room after avoiding the Fat Lady’s attempt at a poor rendition of Deck the Halls, you were met with all the holiday cheer you’d ever need for a lifetime. The Gryffindor common room, already in the Christmas spirit with all its red furniture, was draped in Christmas lights and holiday wreaths. The sound of holiday music blasted through the room, bewitched so that it was unable to be heard by passersby, in the hopes that no one would break up their little party.

The smell of baked goods wafted past your nose as you entered, and you found your stomach growling— you’d spent lunch studying, hardly eating a thing, and you’d skipped out on dinner to huddle up in the practically deserted library. In the corner of the room was a tree that changed colors each time someone passed by it, and you could see aggravated gnomes shuffling about on one of the window sills, griping about how they were forced into itchy, tiny holiday sweaters. The room was warm and full of Christmas cheer, and you could even spot a student with a permanent drizzle of snow over their head, covered in a coat and a beanie with white flakes spotting the top.

You couldn’t help but giggle at the sight, covering your mouth with your hand. You were glad Harry had gotten you out, otherwise you’d probably still be in the library half-asleep. This was much, much better, and you weren’t just saying that. You could see Hermione and Ron approaching you, broad grins on their faces.

“There you are! We were hoping you’d show up,” Hermione gave you a hug, followed by Ron.

“Harry says you were in the library. Honestly, I don’t understand you two,” Ron said, meaning you and Hermione.

Hermione rolled her eyes while you just chuckled, though you were promptly distracted,

“Well, I’m here now. Is that treacle fudge?”

You headed over to the table of food in a hungry daze, your mouth threatening to water the closer you got to it. You were stacking on food onto a holiday themed plate before you knew it, chicken legs smothered with gravy, greens, cornish pasties, pumpkin sandwich cookies, and treacle tart. You were about to grab utensils, your eyes focused on the table below you, until you were barricaded by two all-too-familiar figures on either side of you. You sighed in exasperation, looking up at Fred Weasley, who was in front of you, then turning to George Weasley, who was directly behind you.

“Fancy seeing you here!” George exclaimed, a wide grin on his face.

“Really, would’ve thought you were gonna be a no-show!” Fred cupped your shoulder with his hand, spinning you to face him.

“Though, how could he miss you?” George started, making you turn again to face him this time.

“You positively light up the room when you walk in,” Fred answered George smoothly, spinning you by the shoulder yet again for you to face him.

You were dizzy from the amount of times the twins had you spinning this way and that, but you steadied yourself in enough time to wag your finger disapprovingly at Fred, the main culprit in all this,

“Must you always surround me?”

You reached for a fork and a knife, but Fred conjured both from his robes pocket, teeth sparkling as he grinned widely at you.

You rolled your eyes, but took the fork and knife anyway, muttering a thanks.

“Really though, where were you?” Fred asked, following you even as you walked away, side by side.

“The library,” you answered shortly, and Fred stared at you, shaking his head in clear disdain,

“Honestly, woman, don’t you ever take a break?”

You turned to face him, snickering as you rolled your eyes and took a bite of your treacle fudge,

“Don’t you ever take a break?”

Fred smirked, poking underneath your chin with a coquettish finger,

“Not from you.”

You couldn’t help the heat that flooded your cheeks even if the response was corny. Fred Weasley was always quick on his feet, and never one to back down from a challenge. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t like him in the way he so obviously liked you. It was so amusing to watch, even if it could be annoying— no matter what, Fred was shamelessly, devastatingly in love with you. He wasn’t embarrassed to be turned down, or to show it in the only ways he knew how: through poking fun at you and using the most annoying, yet memorable pick up lines in the book on you.

“I’ve noticed,” you cocked your head with a smug expression, and Fred only shook his head, gearing up to say something just as smug as you until he was interrupted by the soft hum of Luna Lovegood’s voice as she zoomed up behind you, happy to see you wearing her sweater.

“YN!” she exclaimed, her voice wispy and cheerful as usual.

You turned to face her, completely dismissing Fred, who decided he’d get you back later. You engulfed her in a hug, and the two of you got to talking, dancing, and sharing a jug of butterbeer that George had smuggled in.

You had finished the jug and your food, and you were laying back on one of the couches in front of the crackling fireplace, which was roaring high with orange-hued flames. You were tired, but the good kind, not from spending hours hunched over a book this time around, but from partying and eating so much you could hardly move. Ron, on the other hand, was sitting on the floor in front of you, scarfing down another turkey leg.

“Honestly, Ron, do you ever stop eating?” Hermione hissed on the floor beside him, and Ron frowned, whining through a mouthful of food,

“It’s the holidays, Her-my-knee, let me live for once.”

Apparently, it was now time for the gift giving, which the Weasley twins were in charge of emceeing, and they were making a very big deal of it. Each time someone was up to give a gift, they used their wands as microphones, their voices booming around the room as they called the names of the people meant to collect their gifts from the receiver. Harry had gotten Ron a Chudley Cannons quidditch shirt, you already had Luna’s sweater and you had given her a pair of flying sneakers to make flying that much easier. All the gift-giving and receiving was quite lovely to watch, and everyone ended up satisfied. The twins had made sure no one left empty handed, giving people goodies that would probably turn into toads in an hour or two.

“And now, the last present of the night, and we truly do save the best for last,” George announced with a proud, thunderous voice.

Fred eased up beside George like a sneaky weasel, George throwing an arm around his shoulders. Fred had something in a sparkly, glittering gift bag, and everyone was intrigued, leaning forward to see what it was.

“Take it away, Freddy,” George patted Fred’s shoulder, then slinked away so Fred could have the floor all to himself.

“This gift goes out to a special someone,” Fred wiggled his eyebrows, deliberately making his voice deeper, and everyone started to hoot lowly. “A certain little smartypants Ravenclaw girl who has my heart.”

You chuckled, rolling your eyes playfully and looking away from Fred, who had zeroed in on you.

“She’s a bit shy,” Fred joked, making the room erupt in laughter.

“Go on!” Luna prodded you, her eyes twinkling as she smiled at you.

You lugged yourself up off the couch and got up, making your way over to Fred, who was standing in front of everyone next to the color-changing Christmas tree, which burned a passionate red when you stood in front of Fred.

“You idiot,” you remarked playfully, and he only grinned, handing you the bag.

“See what’s inside, won’t you!” George hollered, and you glared at him before opening the bag.

Inside was a flower in a pot full of red soil. Not just any flower, but perhaps the most beautiful flower you’d ever seen. Its leaves, a pale pink color, seemed to shine, light radiating off of the petals and basking your face in a warm glow. The petals were fat and wide, spiraling at the end into little hollow heart shapes, all of which were of varying colors. As it got closer to the center, the colors of the flower grew into deeper myriads of pinks and purples. You had never seen such a plant before, and you were a top herbology student, plants and flowers were your specialty. It was so beautiful, and probably rare as well. You didn’t know what you were expecting, but nothing like this. You were so surprised, you half expected it to be a prank of Fred and George’s, thinking it might transfigure into a mole rat.

The rest of the students in the packed common room were just as shocked as you were, gasping and whispering amongst themselves, immediately enamoured by the unique beauty of the flower that made cooing noises in your hand like a little puppy.

“Fred,” you gasped, looking up at him with widened eyes.

“Thought it’d fit you, know you’re into plants and all that smart people stuff,” Fred grinned, clearly satisfied with your reaction.

“I-it’s amazing, I-”

“That’s not all, he’s got more for you in the bag!” George cut you off, and Fred shoved him playfully, laughing,

“Shut up, you bloke! Let her see for herself.”

You ruffled through the bag, which was indeed full of your favorite sweets— honeydukes chocolate, pepper imps, Bertie Bott’s Every Flavored Beans, chocolate frogs, and more. You could hardly generate a response, your mouth stuck open in an o-shape. You liked Fred, but you didn’t expect this from him.

You chuckled, still shocked, and grinned, bemused,

“Fred, this really is a lot, I honestly didn’t expect it. I-I don’t know how to thank you!”

Before you knew it, you were lunging forward to embrace him, hugging him tight in front of everyone. He was lucky he could cover his face in your shoulder, because he was red as a tomato. You gazed at the flower in your hands when you pulled away, still entranced by it.

“‘M glad you like it,” Fred murmured almost shyly, the first you’d ever heard him sound anything other than cocky.

You frowned, truly feeling terrible— you weren’t expecting anything from Fred, and so you didn’t get him anything. Now you felt horrible, standing there empty handed when he’d just given you the most thoughtful, beautiful gift.

“Oh, Fred, I didn’t get you anything!” you bemoaned, your eyebrows furrowing together. “I feel horrible.”

“‘S alright, you’ll make it up to me,” Fred smirked, leaning back against the wall of the fireplace and folding his arms.

The room filled with a plethora of suggestive “oohs” and “ahhs”, and when you turned to face Ron, you saw he had gone red from watching his brother flirt with you, meanwhile Harry was stifling a laugh, and Ginny was burying her face in her knees while Hermione rolled her eyes. You looked back over at Fred and couldn’t help but smile, shaking your head slowly.

“I just might have to,” was all you said, George leaping onto Fred in celebration.

After the gift giving was over, well, it had ended with you, (and it really was best for last), the party started to wind down as people began to say their goodbyes and make their way back to their dorms. Most people would be going home for Christmas, but you’d be staying here at Hogwarts, scraping by with the few friends who would still be there. But, you weren’t getting away with it that easy. While talking with Fred, George, Hermione, Ron and Harry, you mentioned how you’d be staying in the castle for break. They all made an uproar in disagreement, shaking their heads and complaining.

“That’s rubbish, you’ve got to at least come to our place over break,” George threw his hands up, and Fred nodded vigorously— you couldn’t help but think this had been on his mind the longest.

“Yes, do come to The Burrow, I’ll be there as well,” Hermione insisted, clutching your arm.

You smiled, looking around at all the needy faces. You hadn’t expected them to be so welcoming, it was already a full house. You didn’t want to intrude, “Won’t your mom be so busy? I mean, all of us? I don’t want to make her holiday stressful.”

George scoffed,

“The woman will make it stressful no matter what.”

“Really. Besides, mum loves you,” Fred persisted. “She can’t get over me being with a smart Ravenclaw girl who’ll keep me out of trouble.”

You snorted,

“But I’m not with you.”

“You will be,” Fred shrugged, unbothered, and you refused to meet his eye because you knew you wouldn’t be able to restrain your smile if you did look at him.

“Come on, just come with us! We’ll be leaving in a few days and get there just a day before Christmas Eve, that’s more than enough time to pack your things,” Ron demanded, and you couldn’t help but give in, your body shaking with laughter.

“Alright, alright, I’ll spend the holiday with you.”

The circle of friends erupted into cheers, and you grinned, your sparkling eyes meeting Fred’s, who was truly glad he’d have you there for the break.

Things were really beginning to wind down shortly after, and you were getting ready to head back to your dorm and go to bed. Luna had already left, and you were one of the few people still remaining. You’d spent the rest of your time talking to that circle of friends, though Fred got next to you whenever he could and talked your ear off. When you were on your way to leave, holding your gift in its sparkly gift bag from Fred, you turned around at the sound of footsteps thudding behind you. It was Fred, running up to you, coming to a stop in front of you,

“YN, wait. I’ll walk you back to your dorm.”

“Sure,” you grinned warmly.

You and Fred left together, walking side by side in the dark, winding halls of the castle. You talked quietly, Fred taking any chance to make you laugh, and you did laugh each and every time. You stopped in front of your dormitory and stood there, facing each other, not quite saying anything, just smiling stupidly at each other. It was almost humorous how you tried to avoid your fate with Fred, knowing you liked him back. But you always beat around the bush, because you were really a very studious girl and you knew Fred Weasley would just be a distraction. But you knew he wasn’t that bad. How could he be?

“Well,” you sniffed awkwardly, cupping your gift bag in your palms.

“Welllll,” Fred echoed, dragging out the word and making you laugh.

“Really, Fred, thank you, I can’t imagine how you even got this, it’s beautiful, really.”

“Reminded me of you.”

“Oh, Fred,” you groaned, making a face like you’d just tasted a sour lemon and laughing. “You’re so cheesy.”

“But you like that about me,” Fred squinted his eyes at you, as if he was seeing right through you.

“I can neither confirm or deny that statement. Your head might explode if I confirm,” you teased, and he simply nodded in agreement.

“You’ve got a point.”

“Really though, how did you get this? I’ve never seen such a thing before. Don’t tell me you stole it from Professor Sprout.”

“Honestly, how much of a git do you think I am? I’ve got my connections, that’s all. It’s special, keep your eye on it.”

“Alright,” you grinned, sniffing the fragrant, honey-nectar scented center of the flower. “I’ll leave you be. I really do feel bad that I didn’t get you anything though. If I’d known I would’ve-”

Fred shook his head,

“Oh shut up. Of course I had to get you something, all I wanted this holiday was to get you something you’d like. And you like it, don’t you?” You nodded, and he smiled. “That’s all I need.”

You smiled, pleased, then sighed,

“I really should get going to bed though, and you should too, it’s nearly curfew.”

Fred merely shrugged carelessly,

“Meh, I’m on break, who gives a rat’s ass what Filch tries to do.”

“Okay, Fred, whatever you say,” you grinned, shaking your head playfully at his devil-may-care attitude. “Goodnight, now.”

“Goodnight,” Fred smiled at you.

You started to turn to your dorm, but you turned back at the last second, saying his name,

“Wait, Fred?”

“Yeah?” he replied, only for you to lean forward and kiss him softly on the cheek, pulling away slowly and blinking ever so gently. Blush was rising up his cheeks steadily, and he looked like he had melted on the spot, gawking at you.

You smiled, satisfied with yourself, and spun around, actually about to leave this time,

“See you in the morning!”

That night, you could’ve sworn your flower grew at least an inch taller, and you hadn’t even done a thing to it.

In the few days you had left at Hogwarts, you and Fred had been spending an awful lot of time together. You were actually taking the time to get to know him, because deep down you knew it was what you both wanted. Each time George passed by you two talking in an empty corridor, he coughed, “lovebirds!” And finally, it was time to leave. You all boarded the train back home, you sharing a car with Ginny and Hermione while the boys stayed with each other, though Fred passed by every hour or so to try and amuse you.

“D’you like him, Fred?” Ginny asked, leaning her head against the cool train window.

You looked down at the table, unable to hide your smile,

“Yeah, I do. And he knows it.”

“I think you two would be cute,” Hermione beamed, glancing up from the newspaper.

“I have to say, Fred’s never picked a better choice,” Ginny smiled.

The holidays at the Weasley house were hectic, but they were lovely all the same. George didn’t lie when he said his mother, Molly Weasley, made holidays stressful, but it was the good kind of stress. You were never bored, or lonely for that matter. You always had something to do, whether it be crusting pies, helping Molly magically wash the dishes, pillow fights with Ron and Harry, or listening to Hermione go on and on about her marks for her exams. Besides, Molly really did love you. She kept gushing over how smart and well-behaved you were. And you were convinced Fred had lied and told her you two were a couple, because any time she saw you and Fred together, she cooed, “you two!” and snapped a picture, leaving you blinded by the flash of her old camera.

It was probably the most bustling Christmas you’d had yet, and everything was going well.

The afternoon before, Molly had cooked a wonderful feast to be scarved down for tomorrow, and she put charms on all the meals to keep them warm and protected from the boys, who she knew would try to sneak down and take a bite before it was time. You sauntered around the kitchen on Christmas Eve. It was nighttime, and the kitchen was pitch black except for the light emanating from the tip of your wand. You opened the fridge, trying to make yourself a glass of warm pumpkin juice before bed. You’d stayed up late reading, thinking everyone else had gone to sleep. But you were wrong, and you gasped when the kitchen light turned on suddenly.

You jumped, clutching your chest and breathing in and out, only to see Fred laughing in the corner of the kitchen. You sighed in relief,

“Jesus, Fred, you scared me. Thought I was the only one up.”

Fred cocked his head to the side as if he were examining you,

“Late sleeper?”

You nodded,

“Sometimes. Why are you up?”

“I happen to be a late sleeper myself… and I heard your footsteps going down to the kitchen.”

You quirked a brow, amused,

“So you followed me?”

“This is my house, if anything, you’re following me,” Fred defended himself, folding his arms.

“I’m only joking, Weasley,” you snorted, continuing to fix yourself a glass of pumpkin juice.

“I like when you call me that,” Fred remarked, and you pretended not to hear him, but your cheeks were hot as ever.

He got closer to you, standing right beside you at the kitchen counter and leaning against it, watching as your hands shook out of nerves while you poured your juice. Since when did Fred make you nervous? And why was being close to him making you so lightheaded? He was looking at you, but you refused to look at him, keeping your eyes trained on your glass, not even noticing when it almost overflowed because your thoughts were elsewhere.

Fred, who had his cheek pressed into his palm, smirked, and did a onceover of you.

“Need help?” he taunted you.

You chuckled nervously, huffing,

“No?”

“You sure?” he asked, almost challenging you to look at him.

You turned to face him, rolling your eyes, but you weren’t prepared for him to be standing up, towering over you. You took a deep breath in, while he simply grinned. You looked up at him, blinking rapidly as if there was something in your eye.

“Here,” Fred leaned into you, and you froze, only to realize that he was just pulling out his wand and tapping it against your glass.

When you picked it up and took a drink, the pumpkin juice was just as warm as you’d wanted it to be, and you didn’t even need to heat it up like you were going to.

“Thanks,” you grinned, your eyes flickering from his to the floor.

“Should be getting to bed. Happy Christmas Eve,” Fred gave you a slick three fingered wave and slinked away up the stairs, leaving you there to exhale a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. You were in over your head, for sure.

On Christmas morning, you were the first one up, surprisingly. You got ready as quietly as possible, passing Hermione’s cat on the way to the bathroom as you got ready. For Christmas, you decided you’d dress nicely, putting on a well-fitting orange turtleneck with a black miniskirt. You headed down the stairs silently and found yourself in the kitchen, holding your plant in your hands so you could place it on the window in front of the sink and let it get a bit more light there.

You paused when you heard footsteps coming down the stairs, and when you saw Fred, you bit down on your lip. He grinned at you, dressed in his personal Christmas best, a sweater with “F” emblazoned on it that his mom forced him to wear every holiday season, and black skinny jeans.

“Hey,” was all he said with a knowing smile, and you grinned.

“Hi.”

“You’re up early,” Fred remarked, inching close to you so the only thing separating your body from his was the plant you were holding in between the two of you.

“You are too.”

“Funny coincidence.”

“Yeah. You’d almost think you were trying to catch me alone,” you narrowed your eyes at him playfully, a smug smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

“Maybe, maybe not,” Fred played along.

“You’re a real joker, Fred Weasley.”

“I know,” Fred agreed. “But I’d be a real Scrooge if I didn’t make one tiny little

improvement to this Christmas.”

“And what’s that?” you chimed.

Fred tapped his wand just above him, and lo and behold, a mistletoe flower appeared out of thin air, levitating above your heads. You looked up at it, holding your gaze on the plant for a few seconds before giggling, looking down at Fred who was smiling at you.

“Merry Christmas,” he remarked quietly, his brown eyes peering into yours, inching his head forward, spreading his warmth.

“Merry Christmas,” you practically whispered just in time for his lips to brush against yours, tilting your head forward to engulf him in a slow, sweet kiss under the mistletoe, the light shining in from the kitchen windows, a healthy amount of snow falling outside.

His lips tasted like peppermint, and he smelled like mischief, but you wanted to hold him close. His sweater was scratchy and warm and thick, bristling against you. He was tender with you, his hands reaching up to roam your face, caressing your cheek and pulling you in closer to him by the small of your back, the petals of the flower in between you pressing against your chests. After a while, you pulled away, Fred’s cheeks red as ever, and your entire body on fire. You weren’t sure why you’d held back for so long, because now that you had a taste of him, you wanted more and more. When you pulled away, you blinked a bit, coming back down onto earth. When you and Fred met eyes again, you both giggled stupidly, clearly high off each other’s touch.

When you looked down at the plant, you noticed it had grown inches taller suddenly, and you looked down at it in bewilderment. It had done the same thing after you parted ways with Fred the night of the holiday party in the Gryffindor common room.

Fred answered the question you were about to ask,

“It’s an Amorfluous flower. It’s meant to be given as a gift from one lover to another, so that each time we kiss, it grows.”

You were in awe of Fred. Not only had he managed to get you a gift that was extremely fitting for you, but he got you one that was even more sentimental than you had managed to realize. You were amazed, and you looked up at him awestruck, tears threatening to form in your eyes.

He chuckled at the sight of you and hugged you close, careful of the flower,

“Don’t cry!”

“It’s- it’s just so lovely,” you sniffled, wiping away the tears from your eyes. “Thank you, thank you so much.”

Fred smirked,

“You’ve made it up to me, the lack of a gift.”

You chuckled,

“Good.”

“Er… should we kiss again? For the flower, of course,” Fred suggested, nodding down at the flower.

“Yes, of course. For the flower,” you grinned knowingly and leaned in again, your lips uniting in a sweet kiss once more.

#harry potter #harry potter oneshot #harry potter imagine #fred weasley #fred weasley x black reader #fred weasley x reader #hogwarts #christmas imagine #harry potter x black reader #black reader #reader insert #poc!reader #black!reader

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tobealostwanderer · 3 years

Text

The Sun of the North - Chapter One

Oberyn Martell x OFC (x Ellaria Sand)

Warnings: 18+, descriptions of blood and gore, descriptions of death, eventual romance, eventual smut, eventual polyamory, I know barerly anything about GoT deserves it's own warning, Oberyn being OOC, story diverts from the show and book.

Timeline: This is set just after the death of Elia Martell. So Doran and Oberyn should be around 31 and 21 I think? I tried to make the ages make sense to but it is a bit confusing at times so I am keeping them at those ages. Amore is 19 years old when she travels to Sunspear, and Mara is 11.

Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones nor Of Ice And Fire. The rights belong to HBO and George R.R. Martin. I only own my characters, Amore Snow and Mara Snow.

I have just seen 3 seasons of GoT when I was like 16 so I can't remember a lot from it. I do try to be as accurate as possible by using Wikis and other fanfiction but please bear with me if I mess up events.

Masterlist

Taglist

Wordcount: 1492

Westeros was a peculiar place. From the cold, icy planes of the North to the sweltering heat of the South. Danger lurked everywhere and it was easy to be used as a pawn in the Game of Life. The game that had claimed a lot of people in wars and negligence of Lords.

My parents had been claimed a long time ago. The war had reached our little village and anyone not willing to send out their sons were found guilty of conspiracy against the Lord of the land. And thus my parents had been killed because they only had borne daughters. My eldest sister died along them as she tried to protect us from the vile men. I was only eight years of age when I was given the care of my younger sister, just a babe, and told to run away with our trusty horse, Steps.

And now? We have learned to live on the streets. Going from town to town, begging for food. Mara helped, being so young and innocent she reeled in a lot of coin in our earlier days which helped me buy her warm clothes and milk, and me some broth.

And so we had wandered Westeros for years and years, never being able to be settle down but always longing for home. That is when I met them, on my one and sixth year of age. The Starks were kind people and cared for us like we were their own. I would never be able repay Rickard and Lyarra Stark for what they have done for me or Mara but they always told me not to worry.

And thus we grew up with Brandon, Eddard, Lyanna and Benjen. Brandon was the eldest, then me, Eddard, Lyanna, Benjen and Mara. We were happy even though I saw the worry lines on Rickard’s face grow every day as the Mad King reigned. But he found joy in all of us. He taught me how to fight a few moons after my one and fifth birthday and soon Eddard and Brandon helped me as well. I turned out to be a great fight with daggers, swift but deadly, and enjoyed pinning down the taller and stronger guys as much as I enjoyed a good honey nut treat.

But this happiness didn’t last for years. And soon the upcoming war would take my father and brother. And me? Well..

I was standing on the deck of the tiny ship. My skirts and hair flowed behind me as the harsh wind whipped around me. The Shivering Seas did well to it’s name. It was cold, but it was always cold in the North.

I was on my way to Dorne. To pay respects to the Martells. The news of the death of Elia and her children had reached us and I had begged Lyanna, my adoptive mother, to let me go to Dorne on behalf of the Starks. She argued that it wasn’t a good idea, that the people of Dorne and the Martells were hurting and visiting would be unwise after such a brutal end to their lives. I understood. After everything, she was hurting so much, she couldn’t bear to lose another child. I went anyway, in the dark of the night, on my own. I had left a letter for Mother, Benjen and Mara to read and disembarked on my way to Sunspear.

I had met Elia Martell a few times. She was a kind soul and the brutal death of her and her children had shocked me. The letter in which her death was announced described the horrid scene in which people found her. Little Aegon was most likely flung against the wall, his little head bashed against the stones and he likely died of impact. Rhaenys was stabbed many times, almost unrecognisable on the cold stone flooring. Elia was brutally raped many times, having been covered and smudged into her own children’s blood before her head was crushed, making her almost unrecognisable as well.

Nowhere in the letter it spoke of whoever could’ve done this abhorrent thing so as the news spread through Winterfell, whispers were heard of who it could be. I had my own ideas. It couldn’t be a normal soldier, they wouldn’t be able to crush someone’s skull like that. And with the Lannisters sieging the Keep, my guesses went out to the Mountain, Tyrel Lannister’s Right Hand.

A sigh left me as I mulled over the contents of that letter. I don’t know what I would’ve done if Mara was brutally murdered like that. And after Lyanna’s disappearance and death, and Father and Brandon being held hostage and being killed afterwards, I don’t think that my heart could survive anymore heartbreak. I rather be killed a thousand times in the most horrible ways then go through the heartbreak of losing someone close to me again.

And still I went to Dorne. I needed to find a bit of closure after everything that happened. I needed something else after being cooped up in Winterfell for so long. Living in fear there, it almost made me forget all the good memories I held there. I couldn’t walk through the halls where Lyanna’s, Rickard’s and Brandon’s ghosts walked. I couldn’t go there without Eddard, who was still in King’s Landing. I couldn’t face Mara and Benjen, who were still so young and happy. I couldn’t be in the same room as Mother, who was still mourning everything, trying to hold it together for the sake of the land.

The days on the sea seemed to flow together like the waves we moved on. It was all so blended together. Every night I sat with the Captain over maps as he explained where we were, how far away we were of Winterfell and Sunspear. It would take a while, but the men working the ship were good company and polite enough to me. Even though I was used to disgusting language and glances, they were kind enough to me nonetheless.

It took a week and a half. The weather went from icy cold to smothering hot and the dresses I had brought along were suffocating and I went about my day in just my chemise, linen skirt and a thin overdress. It was modest enough but kept me cooler than the woollen dresses in my trunk.

As Sunspear came in view, I grew nervous. I had send my personal raven to Prince Doran to alert of my arrival and had received a positive answer back but even so, this is the first time since Mara and I have been taken in by the Starks that I have travelled. And the first time ever that I travelled alone. And I wished that my stay would be welcome and without burden.

We docked and I smiled at the crew and thanked the Captain as I set my feet on solid land. I was a little unstable but managed to keep my composure as the welcoming party approached. Two bannermen with the banners of House Martell, a handful of guards and at front the second Prince of Dorne, Oberyn.

He looked tired and a bit stern. His lips pulled down in a frown, unlike the smiles he constantly wore the day I met him. I curtsied when he stopped in front of me, a soft “Prince Oberyn” left my lips as I met his eyes again, coming out of the curtsy.

“Milady Amore, welcome to Sunspear.” A guard said. I inclined my head to the guard in acknowledgement and met Oberyn’s eyes again. “My family sends it’s condolences to you and your brother, Prince Doran, after the passing of your sister and her children, Prince Oberyn. We are saddened by the news and House Stark wishes to be of help during this harsh time.” It didn’t seem like my forced words were of any comfort to the Prince. He looked even angrier with every word spoken. I hoped that my eyes could send him my true message. “I am sorry that I am the only one of my family willing to come and I hope my presence isn’t another slap in the face. I want to help..”

“Thank you for your words, Lady Amore.” Prince Oberyn said. His voice was low and grave. He mentioned me to walk with him so I slipped my arm in his open one and we made our way through Sunspear to the Old Palace.

The walk was quiet apart from the bustling and talking of people in the city as we made our way through. Oberyn was obviously hurting and it made me curse my words with every step I took. I squeezed his arm briefly to comfort him. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him glance at me but I ignored it, just focusing on getting to the Palace.

Oh I hope that this was a good idea…

Chapter Two

Taglist: @pedropastelpascal,

#oberyn martell #oberyn martell x ofc #oberyn martell x ofc x ellaria #oberyn martell x reader #game of thrones #of ice and fire #The Sun of the North Fanfic

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lopithecusfanfiction · 4 years

Text

A Little Generosity Can Go A Long Way

Author: Lopithecus Pairing: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne Rating: General Word Count: 1352 Alternate: AO3 Summary: It's 3:00 am when an intruder enters Bruce's house. Things don't go quite as planned. Warnings:

Robbery

Intruder

Author's Note: This is for @lovelastart who requested “Home Invasion” from the Hurt/Comfort Bingo (I am no longer taking prompts for this.) First and foremost, apologies are in order. Lovelastart, I am really, really sorry this took me an abysmal amount of time to get this done. At first, it was because I was having really bad frequent migraines (which, unfortunately, have not gone fully away but they are a little less at the moment) and then I got let go from my job and I was really depressed from that and… well, time got away from me and before I knew it, 3 months had passed. I’m terribly sorry about that! Anyway, I’m sure you don’t want my excuses and you just want the fic you requested of me, so here you go. I hope you enjoy it!! Prompt: Home Invasion

Bruce yawns tiredly as he makes his way to the kitchen. It’s 3:00 am in the morning and everyone is asleep already, including Alfred. It was a pretty tame night, thankfully, and so there was no need for the older man to stay awake if Bruce was going to come home unscathed. That left Clark, who goes to bed early anyway.

Bruce opens the fridge, looking for something to eat quickly so he can sink himself into bed and finally go to sleep. Although nothing major happened that night, he still had to take care of his fair share of robberies which, depending on the sheer amount, can be pretty tiring in and of itself. Tonight, it had been a lot.

Finally deciding on just getting cereal, Bruce grabs for the milk when suddenly something is hitting his head, knocking him over to the side, and causing him to bang into the refrigerator door. He falls to the floor but quickly scrambles to get up, cupping the side of his head. He can feel a little wetness there now, which probably means he’s bleeding.

Guess Alfred is going to be getting up after all.

Bruce faces his opponent and squares him up. It’s a stocky man, tall, wearing a black ski mask to hide his features and a long, thick jacket. He’s also holding some kind of metal rod that is luckily thin enough that it couldn’t do too much damage to Bruce’s skull. The guy should have picked a different weapon. Bruce would laugh if it was something he did during a fight.

The guy lunges for him and Bruce just barely dodges. He takes note of how slow his body is moving, having worn itself out from his earlier fights. Still, he’s Batman, and Batman isn’t taken out from some lowlife thug breaking into his own house.

Bruce brings his elbow down onto the guy’s neck as the intruder stumbles past Bruce’s sidestep, knocking the man to the ground with a heavy grunt from the man. He groans on the floor, twisting to look at Bruce through the holes in the mask, bringing the bar back up to strike at Bruce. Unfortunately, Bruce isn’t fast enough this time and he manages to land a strike on Bruce’s side. He can take it though. He’s had worse.

“Who are you and what do you want?” Bruce asks as he reaches out for the bar as the man swings again. Bruce catches it in his hand, ignoring the sting of the impact on his palm, and yanks it out of the still wheezing man. Despite his size, he’s not very skillful or strong.

The whole man’s body collapses onto the floor, all tension leaving his body as he flops onto his back. “Damn it…” he sounds like he might cry. “I just…” Bruce stays quiet, letting the man get his nerve up. If he were dressed as Batman, he might have punched him for encouragement but at the moment he’s supposed to be billionaire Bruce Wayne and Bruce Wayne doesn’t go around punching criminals. “How’d you beat me?” the man asks instead.

Bruce resists the urge to roll his eyes. “Did you really think, as a rich man, I wouldn’t know some self-defense?”

“I guess not,” the man mumbles.

“What is your name?” Bruce relaxes as well. The guy is obviously no longer a threat.

The man pulls the ski mask up to reveal his face. “George.”

Bruce reaches out, offering a hand. “Well, George, you’re going to be in a lot of trouble soon so you might as well tell me why you did this.”

George takes the offered hand, allowing Bruce to haul him back up onto his feet. “I need the money,” he says quietly as if it’s something he should be ashamed of.

Bruce sighs. “It’s really early. Are you hungry? The police probably won’t give you anything decent for a while.”

“What?” George’s eyes are huge. “You’re… you’re offering to feed me?”

“Based on those muscles, you should be stronger. I take it you haven’t eaten a nice meal in a long time,” Bruce comments, shrugging nonchalantly.

George looks down at his feet, bashful almost. “Yeah,” he mumbles.

Bruce sighs again. “Look, I’m not that great of a cook, but my boyfriend is amazing. Let me go get him.” He gives George a pointed look. “Don’t go running off. The police will find you and if they can’t, you can guarantee Batman will.”

George audibly swallows hard. “I won’t, Sir, I promise.”

“Right…” Bruce goes to leave but then stops. He turns and opens a cabinet up, pulling out a bottle of wine. He looks at it and then the man’s jacket. “Maybe we can drink a little of this with our meal. I know it’s early but… it’s Gotham.” He places it down on the counter. “You know, this bottle could be sold for up to $10,000 dollars.” He leaves it at that, turning and heading up to his bedroom.

When he reaches the bedroom, it doesn’t take much to wake Clark who is immediately on him, checking his wounds. “You should have called for me. I would have helped.”

“It’s a robber, Clark, I could handle it.” At Clark’s disbelieving eyes, he adds, “I handled it.”

Clark sighs in defeat, knowing he won’t win this argument. “Let’s get you patched up then.”

“Actually, there’s something I need you to do first.”

Bruce leads Clark down to the kitchen once the Kryptonian has put on his glasses, grabbing a business card on his way, and explaining the issue. Clark seems amused by the whole thing but doesn’t comment on Bruce’s generosity. When they get back to the kitchen, Bruce notices the wine bottle is gone. He says nothing.

“Good morning, George,” Clark greets. “I hear you are in need of a meal.”

“A-actually,” he fidgets where he stands. “I think I’ve decided I’m not that hungry.” His eyes dart to the door. Bruce wonders if he’s going to try and make a run for it.

“Okay, how about this, George?” Bruce begins, stepping closer. George takes a step back. “I won’t call the police on you in one condition.”

“What do you want?”

“For you to eat something.”

George stares at him as if he’s gone insane but eventually slowly nods his head. “Okay.”

Clark smiles at him and immediately starts to cook the three of them breakfast while talking aimlessly, mostly about the vacations he and Bruce have gone on together. Once done, they all sit at the island, eating their scrambled eggs, toast, and bacon. George hums appreciatively, eating quickly. When he’s finished, he stands, chugs the rest of his water, and then says, “Well, thanks for the meal, Mister Wayne.” He gives Clark a nod in thanks. “I better get going.”

“Hmm,” Bruce hums, not giving the man much attention until he’s almost out the door. “George,” he calls him back, making George stop in his tracks and turn to face him. “The next time you need money, here.” Bruce hands him the business card that he had shoved into his sweatpant’s pocket. “Wayne Enterprises is always looking for people with your tenacity to work for them.”

George’s entire face lights up red. “T-t-thank you, Mister Wayne!” Then he’s gone, running through Bruce’s yard to get back down to the street.

Clark rubs a hand through Bruce’s hair, on the side that isn’t bruised, carding his fingers through the locks there. “That was kind of you, to offer a job.” Clark turns to look in the direction George is heading. “Do you think he’ll be okay with just that? He seemed not well off, at all.”

Bruce, thinking about the bottle of wine, smiles at Clark and leans over to give him a quick kiss on the lips. “He’ll be fine.” He stands, stretching his arms above his head, not missing the way Clark watches as his shirt rises up to show his stomach a little. “Now help me clean and bandage these wounds so I can finally go to sleep.”

—————————————————————————————————

A/N: So, a little less hurt, a little less comfort, but oh well. I hope you liked it anyway Lovelastart!

I started writing this with one thing in mind but Bruce refused to not be kind to George once he learned of the situation.

Thank you for reading!!

#DC Comics #SuperBat #Superman #Batman #Clark Kent #Kal El #Bruce Wayne #A Little Generosity Can Go A Long Way #My Fanfiction

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siancore · 4 years

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Baked With Love Part 2

Read Part 1 Here

Summary:

Bucky Barnes’ family owns a bakery in a small town. High school has long been over, and Bucky is dying to move to the city to pursue a musical career with his band. And his future looks promising, if he can just persuade his father to let him leave his job behind at their struggling family bakery.

It is no secret that Bucky used to love baking with his father, but things change. He just can’t fathom wasting his life away watching rising dough and hot ovens. With his mind made up to leave, Bucky convinces his father to advertise for a replacement. While interviewing candidates to fill the position he has vacated, Bucky meets Sam Wilson: An easy-going guy who is as eager about baking as Bucky is about leaving. They bond over baking and become close. Love looks like it is ready to bloom between them if Bucky, in his haste to escape, does not ruin it.

A/N: Part 1 didn’t have a lot of interest and I’m honestly bummed about it, but here’s Part 2 for those who did enjoy it. Meet-cute, maybe?

“Come on, Sam!” called Misty as she and Riley waited on the sofa. “How long does it take to microwave some popcorn?”

Sam rolled his eyes and shouted back from the kitchen, “I’m not microwaving it. I’m cookin’ it in a heated pan.”

Riley smiled and Misty got up from where she was seated to make her way to the kitchen of Sam’s grandmother’s house. She leaned against the doorjamb and folded her arms. Sam turned to look at her, flashing his bright smile.

“You mean to tell me you’re in here cooking the popcorn yourself?” she queried with a raised eyebrow.

Sam shrugged and replied, “Yeah, of course. It tastes better done this way. I can throw in the sea salt and add as much butter as I like. Trust me, you’re gonna love it.”

“Okay, Sammy,” she replied, pushing off the doorframe and backing away. “You’re lucky I trust you.”

…..

The movie was a quarter of the way through and Misty was begging Sam for more popcorn.

“Please, it’s so good. What’d you do to it? I knew you could cook, but damn. You’re even good at popcorn?”

Sam let out an amused laugh and took the empty bowl from his friend.

“It’s different than waiting to use one of the microwaves at the dorms,” said Sam as he sauntered into the kitchen to make some more of the snack for him and his friends. “That’s one thing I don’t miss about school: Having no place to actually cook decent meals.”

“You must be lovin’ it here, then,” said Riley.

“I am. Got the whole kitchen to myself,” said Sam with a somewhat sad little smile.

The movie was long finished, and the three friends lounged about talking.

“I’ve missed this,” Misty proffered. “Us hanging out together.”

“Me, too,” said Sam. “And I miss school, but I needed to do this. I needed to take this time off. And it’s been good. I’m gonna start looking for work, get settled in, and really make the most of it.”

“Find work?” asked Riley with a frown. “How long are you gonna be here, Sam?”

Sam shrugged his shoulders, tilted his head to the side, and said, “Dunno. As long as it takes.”

“What exactly is it?”

“This feeling inside,” Sam tried to explain. “This feeling of being restless and not enjoying things. It’s like, after Gramma passed away, I didn’t feel the same joy for school or cooking or anything like that. I needed to come back here. I hope bein’ here can help me find the joy again, if that makes sense.”

Misty leaned her head on Sam’s shoulder and then said, “It makes perfect sense, baby boy.”

Sam placed his head against hers and smiled.

“Well,” said Misty with a yawn. “I’m gonna head off to bed.”

“You need me to show you?” asked Sam.

“Nah, I got it,” she replied, looking at him and then Riley. “You two have a good night.”

She walked away and then said, “And don’t be too noisy.”

Sam and Riley got through the first half of a well-watched sitcom before Riley spoke up.

“Sammy?”

“Hmm?”

“I’ve missed you.”

Sam turned to look at his ex, proffered a gentle smile and said, “Yeah, I’ve missed you, too.”

Riley returned the grin and then leaned in. His lips came close to Sam’s just before the other man pulled away.

“Woah. Riley? What? What’re you doin’?”

“I – I thought…”

“No,” said Sam as he shifted away.

“I thought me coming here meant –”

“That we were getting back together?”

“Yeah.”

“No. That’s not it at all,” Sam explained, as he stood from where he was sitting. “Nothing’s changed. We’re not getting back together. We talked about this. It was good for a while, but I can’t deal with your clinginess and gaslighting. When I called you out on how you were acting, you blamed me, and that’s not cool. I love you, but we’re not gonna work like that.”

“I know,” said Riley, as he searched Sam’s eyes. “I just thought that with some time apart, we could make it work.”

“It’s not gonna work. You’ve got your issues, and I’ll be your friend, but that’s all I can be. And I’m not here to work out your issues for you, Riley. You understand that, right?”

Riley let his head drop and then said, “I know. I know. I just care about you.”

“And I care about you, too,” said Sam, as he sat back down. “But not like that. Not anymore. I can be your friend, but that’s it. You know that.”

A beat of silence passed between them before Riley lifted his gaze and said, “Yeah, I know. I get it. I do.”

Sam offered a nod of his head and said, “Okay.”

Riley tried to smile back at Sam as he said, softly, “Okay.”

Bucky was excited and pleased that his father had actually agreed to his proposal about hiring someone else to help out at the Bakery. They had put the adverts out and had a decent response. Presently, both father and son were interviewing those who had applied for the job. It was slow going, and, if Bucky was being completely honest, the candidates were not the best.

The first person he interviewed had no experience at all, and while George wanted to help them out with steady work, they just didn’t have the skillset he was looking for. The second interviewee said outright that they didn’t like waking up early. That would be a problem, considering a baker needed to arrive early to start baking. The third had no idea what the job entailed; they were just throwing job applications out into the universe and hoping for the best. The next asked if free pastries were part of the job. The rest were just not right, plain and simple. Bucky was disappointed and his father was tired.

As George cleared away the applications from the table in the back of the bakery. He filed them away and then returned to where his son was seated, head in his hands.

“We tried, Buck,” said George, as he placed a hand to his shoulder. “Sorry, honey. You had a good idea, it just didn’t work.”

Bucky shrugged and said, “Thanks for letting me try. I’m gonna close up and then go hang out with Steve and the guys.”

He then stood and walked out to the front of the shop to lock up.

“How am I ever gonna leave this place?” asked Bucky as T’Challa, Steve, and Okoye gave him sympathetic looks.

“It’ll happen,” said Okoye.

“Yeah,” Steve agreed. “We’ll find an apartment, soon, and then we’ll be outta here.”

“You know it’s not the end of the world, right?” T’Challa asked.

“I know,” Bucky replied. “I’m just ready to leave. I’m ready for all the gigs we’re gonna play. I’m ready to get out here.”

“True, but we gotta be realistic,” Steve added. “It’ll happen, but it’ll take time. There’s no need to rush.”

“That’s easy for you to say, Stevie,” Bucky replied, feeling crestfallen. “You have options. For me, it’s either stay here and make bread for the rest of my life, or finally try to make this music thing work. That’s it. That’s all I got.”

“Buck –”

“Don’t,” said Bucky as he stood to leave. “I’m gonna go home.”

With that, he made his way toward the exit.

It wasn’t too late by the time Bucky made it home. He searched his pockets for the house keys and then realised his phone wasn’t there. He cursed under his breath and then remembered that he left the device in the Bakery. Sighing loudly, Bucky made his way down to the shop.

He switched on the lights and found the device sitting atop the counter in the front of the Bakery. He leaned against the counter a beat, checked for messages, and then placed the phone securely in his pocket. Out of habit, he walked to the front door to make sure it was locked. Just then, Bucky was startled by a figure on the other side of the door. A friendly face smiled at him and then waved. Bucky vaguely recognized the young man on the other side of the glass. He unlocked the door and then peered out.

“Hey, sorry, we’re closed,” said Bucky, taking in the man’s appearance; he was possibly the cutest guy Bucky had ever seen in his life.

The guy held up a job application and said, “Sorry, but I ah, I heard there was a job going here?”

Bucky found himself staring a moment, before coming to his senses and saying, “Yeah, but uh, you’re gonna have to come back when we’re open.”

“Okay, cool,” said the stranger, flashing a bashful smile.

“Cool,” Bucky replied, at a loss for words and completely struck by the gorgeous face staring back at him.

“I’m Sam, by the way,” the other young man said. “I think I saw you the other day on your scooter.”

Bucky smiled coyly and ran his hand through his hair, “Yeah, that was me. I uh noticed you, too.”

“Cool, well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, man. Tomorrow.”

The pair held one another’s gaze a moment longer as Sam began to back away.

“Wait!” Bucky called out, stopping Sam in his tracks.

“Yeah?” Sam asked, placing his free hand in his pocket.

Bucky cleared his throat and then asked, “Why do you want this job?”

Sam’s face lit up at the question and Bucky thought his heart had stopped beating.

“I just really love to cook,” Sam explained. “Baking especially. I’m going to culinary school, actually; that’s how much I love it. I’m taking a break to sort some things out right now. But I want this job because I can do something I love while I figure things out.”

Bucky gave him a gentle smile and said, “Hey, that’s really nice. We could use someone like you. I mean, it ain’t up to me, but you’re already like a hundred times better than the other applicants.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, dude,” said Bucky as he marvelled at Sam’s pretty brown eyes. “Come back first thing tomorrow and we’ll see what happens.”

“Thanks, man. I appreciate the chance. See you tomorrow,” said Sam as he flashed a bright beam at the other man.

“Yeah,” said Bucky as his tummy did a hundred little flips at the sight of Sam’s smile. “See you soon.”

#sambucky #sambucky fanfiction #siancore: baked with love #awww i honestly think this might be a flop :(#i dunno i dunno i dunno #shall post to ao3 later

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blueeyedgeorgie · 4 years

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Makeup with Alex-A.E

“Alex got that Shane Dawson makeup kit, right? Maybe he could rope Y/N into filming a video with him (a “doing my girlfriends makeup” type thing) and it could be cute fluff Maybe the video also doubles as his introduction of Y/N to the fans ??”

Pairing: ImAllexx x Reader

Word Count: 1.7k+

___________________________

"I'm sure you guys only clicked on the video because Y/n is in the thumbnail," Alex spoke up as he took a seat on the cypress-colored couch. Next to him sat his friend, Y/n L/n. Y/n didn't have her own YouTube channel, but she was often spotted in his friends' videos. Just the other day Y/n was featured on Fraser's channel to talk about Trisha Paytas. "Yes, because I'm absolutely amazing," Y/n grinned. Her hand snuck her way into Alex's grasp, giving his hand a squeeze. "I can't disagree with that," a smile appeared on Alex's face as e looked to the floor in a bashful manner. Y/n merely let out a small giggle at his actions. "Are you gonna tell them or do I have to?" Y/n kept her eyes on Alex. "We also have news," Alex looked up to the camera, his smile stayed on his face. "Y/n and I have started dating." Excitedly, Y/n shot her hand that was holding Alex's into the camera frame, pulling his hand with her. Y/n's grin grew wider. "And even though most of you already know Y/n from other videos, what'd be better than talking about our relationship for 20 minutes while I try and do her makeup?" Alex let out a chuckle as he wrapped an arm around Y/n's shoulders, she leaned into him with a smile. "This should be fun," Y/n muttered gently. "Makeup with Alex." "So Y/n pulled out some of her makeup and placed it on the table, but I also pulled out my own makeup as well," Alex gave a look at the camera. He leaned down to the coffee table that stood in front of them, quickly he picked up a black eyeshadow palette with the word 'Conspiracy' sprawled out on the front. "If you remember, I got one of Shane Dawson's palettes when it first came out." "How'd you even get it?" Y/n shook her head. "I just walked in and picked it up," Alex gave a small shrug as he placed the palette back down. "Oh, well I'm just happy you let me use it sometimes," Y/n gave a shrug as well. "Of course," Alex let out another chuckle. "Anyways, I think I should start doing your makeup now." "I actually forgot I wasn't wearing any," Y/n spoke, watching Alex pick up a random foundation. "That's because you're beautiful with or without it," Alex smiled as he picked up a fan brush and foundation blender. "I think I'm gonna go with these first." "Awh, I love you, bubba," Y/n cooed. In a quick pace, she leaned close to her boyfriend, placing a kiss on his jawline, missing his cheek. "Love you too, cutie," Alex smiled. "I think you're supposed to close your eyes... maybe?" Y/n gave a look at the camera before she closed her eyes. "Am I doing something wrong?" "No, no, just do the makeup, bubba." It was now Alex's turn to look at the camera before turning back to his girlfriend. The brunette had placed the foundation onto Y/n's face by using the blender, but once the foundation was on Y/n's face, he swapped the blender out for the fan brush. Y/n let out a giggle at the feeling of Alex putting the foundation on her face. Carefully, she opened her eyes to see what he was using. "You're not using the right brush," Y/n bit her lip, watching her boyfriend's attention pull away from focusing on painting her face. "How should I know?" "You literally watch me do my makeup every day while you wait for me." "I don't pay that much attention, apparently," Alex sighed. "Was I doing it right with the weird pink thing?" "Uh, yeah," Y/n gave a nod. Alex swapped out the fan brush for the blender again. "What's this thing called again?" "A blender, Al." "Blender," Alex repeated as he began to pat in Y/n's foundation. After a moment, Alex pulled away and placed the pink little thing back onto the coffee table. "What's this thing?" Alex picked up a small tube of color corrector. Quietly he mumbled the label of the tube to himself. "That's color correcter, bubba," Y/n smiled. "Oh." Alex opened the tube, pulling out the applicator. He began to brush it against Y/n's cheekbones. Y/n let out a laugh from Alex and his decisions with the makeup. "What's wrong now?" "Nothing," Y/n shook her head. "I feel like something's wrong because you're laughing," Alex bit his lip. "No, I'm just laughing because it tickles when someone else does it," Y/n slightly lied. "Whatever," Alex chuckled. He placed the color corrector back on the table in front of them and picked the blender back up and began to work on blending in the corrector. "Concealer? No clue what that is but we're not even gonna touch it," Alex looked through the tubes, bottles, and packages on the table. Y/n gave a look at the camera once again. "Contour... I guess I'll try this," Alex picked up a random brush to go with it. The brunette began to spread contour across Y/n's face. After a few moments of contouring, Alex was finally happy with the amount he placed on his girlfriend's face. "I find it amusing how we're not even talking, we're just focusing on the makeup," Y/n laughed, watching Alex go through her makeup once again. "I kinda wish I told everyone before so we'd be able to answer some of their questions," Alex replied, glancing back at his girlfriend. "I have a question," Y/n smiled. "When did you realize you had feelings for me?" "I think it had to be that one night we went out to that one fancy restaurant that had just opened. We went out with a couple of friends, but seeing you all dressed up... I think that's when I realized it," Alex responded. "What about you, cutie?" "It had to be when I spent the night, cooking with you was so fun and you let me steal one of your hoodies," Y/n grinned. "Bronzer," Alex mumbled, reading a small container. "I think I have a clue what this is used for." "Oh?" "Isn't it to highlight your face or something?" Alex asked, grabbing a small brush to use for the bronzer. "Sorta," Y/n smiled, watching her boyfriend. Gently, Alex pressed one of his hands against Y/n's neck, making her hold place as he began to place the bronzer on her face. Y/n held her breath as he did, something about Alex having a hand on her neck felt right. It felt good. Slowly, she bit her lip as she paid attention to how her boyfriend focused on her makeup. Soon enough, the feeling of Alex's hand left Y/n's neck as he pulled away. Yet, he still flashed a quick smirk at Y/n before fully turning back to the table to pick something new out. A smile reappeared on Alex's face as he went back to looking at the makeup, "Is it time for the eyeshadow?" "Is it?" "I think it is." For a moment, Alex's hands lingered around the brushes as he tried to decide with one he'd use for her eyeshadow. Y/n watched his hand, he wore a few rings on his hand. She had no clue why, but she adored the fact Alex wore rings, something was just so attractive about him wearing rings. One of the rings he was wearing at the moment was black with gold bits. Was it a Gucci ring? Probably. Finally, Alex picked out a decent brush before opening the palette. "I think I'm gonna give you a pink and gold look," Alex looked at all the different colors before finally deciding to bury his brush into the pink named 'Trisha'. Alex placed the palette down and buried his free hand into Y/n's hair, yanking her hair back to make her head lean back. Y/n bit her lip, fighting off the urge to let out a noise from Alex's sudden action. She peeked one of her eyes open to see a small smirk on Alex's face. He knew what he was doing. "What's going on here?" "We're filming a video, George. So you might want to go put on your disguise," Alex responded. Y/n kept her eyes shut, listening to their voices. "Nah, I know you'll just blur my face out if I come into frame," George replied. "Ooh, Makeup? Are we doing Y/n's makeup? Lemme join." "Absolutely not," Alex replied, his rip on Y/n's hair loosening as he spoke to his flatmate. "Awh, c'mon! Y/n! Tell Alex I can join, I bet I can do better than him," George began to whine. "George, you literally tried to use eyeshadow to turn Alex into Mike Wazoski," Y/n replied, not bothering to open her eyes. "Boo!" George responded, finally heading back into his room. "Alright, back to what we were doing," Alex spoke once his flatmate was out of sight, once again his grip tightened on Y/n's hair. Y/n fought back the need to let out a moan. "You alright, Y/n?" "Just peachy," Y/n practically whined. "You don't sound like it." "Shut up, Alex," Y/n let out a giggle. After a few moments, Alex finally pulled his hand out of Y/n's hair. He turned back to the table, closing the palette and going back through the makeup. "Uh, mascara? No, Eyeliner I think," Alex finally picked up a black eyeliner that held gold cursive on the side of it. "Close your eyes, cutie." Y/n bit her lip as she followed instructions. She felt the tip of her eyeliner against her skin. After a moment, Alex told her she could open her eyes again. "I'm not even gonna try with the mascara, I might poke your eyes out," Alex shook his head at the sight of the black tube sitting on the coffee table ominously. "Finally, lipstick," Alex muttered, looking through the different shades Y/n owned. He decided on a soft pink shade before turning to Y/n. Gently, he applied the lipstick, Y/n watching as he did so. "Wait, I think something's missing from your lips, lemme just-" Alex leaned in, pressing his lips against Y/n's. Y/n smiled into the kiss, leaning closer as she placed a hand on her boyfriend's thigh. They broke apart from the kiss before they would begin to make out. After all, they were still filming. "Now I need to reapply your lipstick," Alex clicked his tongue. Y/n only shook her head with a small giggle. Once Alex was happy with his work, he placed the lipstick down. "I think I'm done." "You sure?" "Yes." "You forgot the blush." "...Fuck."

Taglist:

@daddydobrock

@anyasthoughts

@multifandom-but

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anasticklefics · 4 years

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Teenage Defiance

Fandom: Harry Potter

Characters: Sirius Black, Harry Potter

Summary: After Harry gets mad and refuses to speak to him, Sirius starts telling him about his parents to make him relent a bit.

A/N: Prompted by @teenagecupcakeperfection. I hope you like it!

Words: 2 411

Sirius could sometimes not stand to look at Harry. Lily’s eyes, James’ everything else, his own defiance, Remus’ determination. They’d only spent a mere year with him, and yet Harry had managed to turn into a mix of them all anyway. He couldn’t comprehend it and therefore didn’t try to.

He looked at him now, his jaw set in the way James’ used to when he was pissed off, his eyes storming like Lily’s. Sirius wondered if he would snap the way he himself used to, or visibly make himself calm down like Remus.

“Harry?” he tried, knowing he was walking on thin ice. Knowing Harry’s anger was directed toward him and having no idea how to deal with it.

On one hand, teenage defiance, which he had once praised to the skies. Grateful that he was even around to get this type of scalding anger from his godson. How they had joked about what type of kid Harry would turn into. How hypocritical they would be as they raised him, unsure of where to draw the line when they themselves had never worried about crossing it.

On the other hand, he found Harry’s anger to be unfair. He hadn’t wanted to keep him in the dark about The Order, but who was he to defy Dumbledore? Who was he to think he could come back and set his own rules now of all times?

On the third, if people suddenly had three hands, the anger made him want to curl up and cry. Harry probably didn’t like that the little time they had together was being occupied with him ignoring him either, but Sirius was the helpless one in this scenario.

“Please talk to me,” he continued when Harry merely glanced up at him and then away. He hadn’t missed the way his face had softened, but that kid was more stubborn than you’d think and still didn’t reply.

“I will beg,” he warned, and maybe he imagined the way Harry’s lips twitched, but he certainly didn’t imagine him turning away from him. To hide a smile or to get some space. Sirius wasn’t sure.

The kitchen was empty, Harry having entered as Sirius was getting his daily dose of just staring at a wall, their eyes meeting when Harry stopped in his tracks in the doorway. Sirius had fully expected him to turn on his heels and leave again, but as angry as Harry was, he seemed to draw the line at pettiness, even though Sirius would argue that the silent treatment was just as bad (he wasn’t about to say it).

They were sitting on opposite ends of the table, waiting for Merlin knows what. Sirius had no idea where the others were, but Harry hadn’t answered when he’d asked.

“You probably don’t even know yourself,” Sirius had teased, and Harry’s scowl had deepened.

“You know,” he said now, tilting his head at his godson. “Your father could hold a grudge for only a minute. All I needed to do was crack a joke and he was either shoving at me to shut up or full on laughing. He was laughing when he was shoving me too, mind you. Totally unable to be mad at his old friend. I mean, who could with this face?”

Harry’s curious glance at the mention of his father was quickly averted when Sirius beamed at him.

“Your mother, on the other hand.” Sirius whistled. “She could hold a grudge, all right, but you had to really have hurt her in order to get to that point. I thankfully never did. I wasn’t stupid, you know? I really thought she would eat James alive, but after turning her away when he first tried to hit on her when they were younger he realized he needed to pull himself together if he wanted to deserve her attention. And he did. Biggest transformation I’ve ever seen.”

Harry didn’t look away when Sirius caught his eye this time, his scowl having finally loosened.

“You, on the other hand,” Sirius continued. “seem to have fallen somewhere in the middle. I don’t think you will stay mad at me for the rest of your life, per se, but it seems I can’t get you to laugh immediately either. I reckon what I’m trying to say is that I’m sorry. You know I didn’t want to do it.”

“I know.”

Sirius lit up. “He talks!”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Being angry is tiring and- well, I’m angry enough at everyone else.”

“Oh?”

Harry ran a hand through his hair, not picking up on Sirius’ prompt. Later, then. Sirius wasn’t about to pry when he’d just made the kid talk to him again.

“Am I really like a mix of my parents?”

Sirius’ heart nearly broke at how small his voice sounded. How vulnerable.

“Yes. Oh, yes. I see so much of both of them in you.” He didn’t mention himself or Remus. Not the time.

“People always tell me I look like them.” Harry looked away again, though this time Sirius didn’t take it personally. “They rarely tell me how they were. As people, I mean.”

“Well.” Sirius stood and crossed the room, plopping down on the chair next to his godson. “Good thing you have their closest friends with you now.”

“Lupin told me a few things, back in third year. I just… I got so used to them being a topic that my aunt and uncle refused to talk about. And then, at Hogwarts- people were too busy talking about me and how my parents were killed that I felt I knew just as little about them as before. Well, almost. I hadn’t known they were wizards, obviously.”

He fell silent, lips curling upward properly when Sirius knocked their knees together. “You can always ask me about them.”

“I know.”

“Like, seriously, I’ll spill all their dirty secrets. Well, mostly James’. Lily I respect too much.”

Harry let out a laugh, the mischief flickering across his face too familiar. “All right, then. Tell me about my dad.”

Sirius leaned back in his chair, arms crossed as he pondered. “He started snoring really early on. Remus and I had planned on evicting him many times, but then he let me stay at his family home one summer after I got kicked out and I felt I couldn’t do that to him. Turns out his snoring is rather comforting when you’re in a predicament. Who knew?”

Harry’s grin made Sirius want to never stop talking. “I have no idea if I snore.”

“I’m sure you don’t.”

“Keep going.”

“Your father was very competitive, but was never a sore loser. He saw it all as a lesson and an urge to keep improving. He could be bloody annoying with his positivity, especially when you were already agitated yourself.”

Harry’s laugh was loud and heartfelt, which reminded him-

“He was also super ticklish. Like, you could just look at his ribs and he’d be laughing. He had a surprisingly silent laugh when you really got him. A huge squirmer. I feel like my nose will never be the same.”

Harry’s grin had turned bashful.

“It’s no surprise that a group of boys always started play wrestling, which would naturally lead to tickling. Your father was too competitive to stay on the sidelines, even though he knew it would result in him being tickled to death. He always tried to fight back, though.”

“Did it work?”

“Sometimes. If everyone decided to gang up on one person. He had to be quick, though, because one giggle from him and we’d all attack him first.”

“Sounds terrible.”

“It was. But also fun. We never went overboard or anything.”

Harry rubbed at his neck. “I guess I’m just used to Fred and George. They can be ruthless. Mostly to Ron.”

“You manage to flee the tickles, huh?”

Harry seemed to do it out of habit, but he slapped Sirius’ hand away when he went to poke his side. They stared at each other, Harry with a sudden realization, and Sirius with glee.

“I wonder if you’re as bad as your father.”

“I’m sure I’m not?”

“You don’t sound sure.”

Harry crossed his arms. “I had never really experienced it until I befriended the Weasleys.”

Sirius had never really experienced it either until he’d befriended the Marauders. They sadly had more in common than he’d thought.

“Well, that just won’t do.”

Harry didn’t rise or move away or straight up leave the room. Only sat as Sirius scooted closer, allowing his fingertips to reach for his ribs before he started squirming. Curious, yet unable to handle it when it was happening. His laughter was uncertain, his smile shy. He sounded just like James, Sirius realized with a pang.

His squirming was more subdued. While James was all limbs, Harry seemed to be curling in on himself instead, always moving, hands gripping Sirius’ wrists, but much more calmer than James had ever been. Sirius didn’t know if his inexperience had any part in it, but he’d known the Weasleys for four years, after all. He was sure the twins had made him squirm properly before.

“Your ribs seem bad, but they really can’t beat your dad’s,” Sirius was saying. “Unless you’re just not the begging type. James could scream himself hoarse within seconds.”

Harry wasn’t even the talking type, apparently. He was all laughter, which only got louder the longer Sirius kept tickling him. The opposite of James in that aspect.

He stopped before he could try any other spot, mostly because he heard the sound of footsteps and knew Harry would get embarrassed if someone walked in on Sirius tickling him to pieces. Just like James.

Sirius didn’t forget about his sensitivity, however. Now that Harry was speaking to him again, he found several moments to sneak a poke to various spots that were traditionally ticklish, and Harry seemed to be following tradition, all right.

He was good at pretending as if nothing was happening when Sirius walked past and poked at his belly or squeezed his side, but his reactions were bigger when they were alone. The fact that he never asked him to stop, whether during or after the tickling, kept Sirius going. Maybe it was because he never was at it for too long, unlike what Harry had told him about the twins. Maybe because they’d both missed this familial playfulness. Sirius hadn’t expected to spend the weeks stuck in his old family home tickling his teenage godson, but then again it was only a small part of what they did. Harry was of a more quiet nature, but they’d talked enough to last a lifetime.

It wasn’t just them, either. Conversations with Ron and Hermione, with Remus, with Ginny and Fred and George. Sirius saw Harry in all his stages of familiarity with the people coming and going in that house. What he’d missed for the past 14 years, he felt he was gaining back in barely half a summer.

“Have you had your first kiss yet?” he asked him one night, the two of them alone in Harry and Ron’s temporary room.

Harry colored, but his refusal seemed genuine. “No.”

“That’s hard to believe.”

His godson laughed, all bashfulness. “I haven’t really thought about it.”

“Uh huh. There’s no one you like?”

The blush deepened. “No.”

“Still don’t believe you, but I’ll digress. But hey. If you ever need advice, all you have to do is reach out, okay?” He gave Harry’s knee a squeeze. “I- oh, come on, I didn’t even mean to tickle you just now.”

Harry had snatched his knee away, already laughing. The vulnerability of the moment having made him even more sensitive, or so Sirius assumed. “Sorry.”

“You’re ridiculous. How bad are your knees? I haven’t tried them properly yet.”

Rather than protesting, Harry just didn’t say a thing, and Sirius reached out again to squeeze without being stopped. It was strange, being so familiar after not having really known each other for too long. Even stranger was how normal this felt; as if they’d spent their entire lives being close. Sirius had no idea how Remus hadn’t hugged Harry to death when he became his teacher. Sirius could never be that strong.

“Okay, so upper body seems to be bad. Knees not as much, but still. Very ticklish. Is there a spot that isn’t ticklish?”

He was just rambling, not expecting Harry to reply and being utterly surprised when he said, “I don’t think so.”

“Oh, is that a challenge?”

Sirius had an image of a toddler Harry, three or four maybe, letting his godfather make him squeal with laughter as they made a game out of testing all his tickle spots. That image was entirely made up, of course, but in another life this could’ve been an old tradition. Harry timidly allowing Sirius to turn him into a giggly mess as a teen, making him promise to not tell anyone but not being ready to fully let go of this thing of theirs.

This was as close as they would get to a tradition, and Sirius wasn’t about to waste it. “Can I try your thighs?”

Harry shrugged, not moving away as Sirius went to give them a squeeze, but reaching out to grab his hand with a gasp.

“Affirmative. Neck?”

They went from spot to spot, even ones Sirius knew were sensitive purely to make a thorough investigation, as he called it. Harry, never protesting, became a twitchy, giggly mess after a while, even though the whole experiment barely lasted a minute. Sirius reckoned even Harry had his limits, but there was one more spot Sirius was dying to try out - the one spot that had always killed James and had earned him many bloody noses.

“Feet?”

Harry didn’t hesitate as he stretched out his legs to give him access to his socked soles, toes twitching as Sirius moved his hands closer. Knowing it was risky to not hold the feet down, but not wanting to overstep. This whole game they had going was unbelievable as it was. He didn’t want to make Harry uncomfortable or make him not trust him. The moment Harry wanted him to stop, he would.

He wiggled his fingers against the arch of Harry’s right foot and earned himself yet another bloody nose, laughing despite the pain as Harry apologized over and over.

Their game had been completed.

#tickling #ticklish!harry #hp fic #tickle fic #sirius and harry #harry potter fic #mine #teenage defiance #ana's fics

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