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dreamwritesimagines · 2 months

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The Eye of the Hurricane [29] - Enticing

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback, you made my day! ❤️I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think! ❤️

Summary: It’s important to have a plan in mind before certain meetings.

Word Count: 2200

Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Warnings: Violence, guns, crime, blood, explicit language, dysfunctional relationship, mentions of sex. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.

Series Masterlist

Fine, maybe Bucky did have a point.

You were two seconds away from jumping his bones and to annoy you even more, he was so busy with work that you could barely see him.

But thankfully, you had a solution for that.

“Take these home please,” you told your driver as you stepped out of the car, motioning at the multiple bags of lingerie sets on the backseat. “Thank you.”

“Of course ma’am,” he said and you closed the door, then made your way to the building. You took the elevator, then approached Bucky’s office and smiled at his assistant.

“Is he inside?”

“Yes Mrs. Barnes,” she said. “With his father.”

You raised your brows, then heaved a sigh and knocked on the door before opening it. George looked over his shoulder from where he was sitting on the couch and a smile pulled at Bucky’s lips as soon as his gaze fell on you.

“Hey there, am I interrupting anything?”

“Not at all, come in!” Bucky said as he walked to you and pressed a kiss on top of your head, making your heart skip a beat. George smiled at you and stood up as well as you approached him.

“Hi honey.”

“George,” you greeted him back and let him kiss your cheek, then sat down next to him on the couch.

“I was thinking we could have lunch?” you asked and he made a face.

“I gotta meet Nat in half an hour sweetheart. Sorry.”

“About the raid issue?”

George raised his brows, looking between you as if he was surprised that you knew about it, but neither you nor Bucky commented on it.

“Well she also lost half a million,” Bucky said. “Needless to say, she’s furious.”

“Everyone is,” George said. “That cousin of yours is an idiot, Y/N. I mean there’s a difference between being new and being an amateur.”

“Stark called for an emergency meeting,” Bucky said with a smirk. “So did Clint, and I’m guessing so will Nat.”

You tried to keep your expression serene and heaved a sigh. “They will eat him alive.”

“Business talk can wait,” George told you. “How is your day going sweetheart?”

Not retorting to the condescending tone he thought he could hide was rather challenging, but you managed to control yourself. There was a time for everything, and you had to make sure not to look not as interested in just how Ian had screwed up, at least in front of George. You exchanged glances with Bucky who rolled his eyes, then turned to George.

“It’s going good,” you said. “I had coffee with Becca, then went shopping.”

“Oh what did you buy?”

All the lingerie sets you bought flashed in your mind and you bit back a smile as you stole a look at Bucky, then shrugged your shoulders.

“Jewelry,” you said, holding up your wrist to show your bracelet. “And yours, George?”

“Enjoying the retirement,” he said. “Something your father can’t do anytime soon, as it seems.”

You scoffed a small laugh. “He likes the job too much.”

“That’s not the only reason,” he muttered and you shot a look at Bucky who smirked.

“Yeah well, bad choice in heirs.”

“Has he talked to you?” George asked and you pulled your brows together, feigning confusion.

“About?”

“About what he’s going to do now that Ian screwed up in front of people that badly?”

“He doesn’t talk to me about the job,” you said. “But I’d say he made his choice. Now he just needs to train Ian.”

“That training was supposed to have started decades ago.”

You hummed. “And yet here we are.”

“If I remember right, your prenup said your second child would have claim on the territory, no?” George asked with a laugh. “Maybe you two should hurry up, Arthur does desperately need an heir it seems.”

The joke made your jaw clench. Of course he didn’t even consider you just like your father didn’t, but he was more than ready to accept your hypothetical child as the heir.

Anyone but you, apparently.

“Father…” Bucky muttered and George held up his hands.

“Just saying.”

“And that’s my cue,” you said, pushing yourself off the couch and George chuckled.

“Y/N, I was joking.”

“Oh I know, I just think it’s a good idea to see if my dad is alright now that you mentioned him,” you said, shooting him a fake smile before walking to Bucky to peck him on the cheek. “See you at home?”

“Absolutely,” he said and you walked out of the office, anger still poisoning your system.

Your father’s assistant told you that he was home today, so you went straight there without dropping by the company. As usual, the foyer and the rest of the house were full of your father’s or Ian’s bodyguards and his assistant was by the study door. You waved at her but before you could approach her, you heard your aunt’s voice echoing in the foyer.

“Y/N, hello!”

You tried not to grimace, then turned to smile at her.

“Auntie.”

She came closer to kiss your cheek. “Arthur is taking a call, let’s catch up in the meantime.”

“I’m actually in a hurry, I just wanted to check whether he’s alright—”

“He is,” your aunt assured you as she gently steered you to the living room. “Albeit a bit tense but you know, it happens.”

“Does it though?” you muttered as you sat down on the couch. She waved a dismissive hand in the air.

“I’m sure you’ve heard about Ian’s tiny little mistake?”

“I haven’t,” you said. “I have heard about the million dollar mistake though.”

She pressed her lips together.

“He is under tremendous amount of pressure,” she told you solemnly. “Running around everywhere.”

You tried not to roll your eyes. “Is that right?”

“And I told your father the same thing, I think he’s being too harsh with him lately.”

“Well, a lot of bosses want his head on a spike,” you pointed out. “I’d say he is being quite nice to him, actually.”

Your aunt shot you a glare but you only smiled, making her heave a sigh and clasp her hands in her lap.

“Arthur says people are pushing for a sit down,” she said. “And that Ian must be there for some reason. I don’t know why he insists on it—”

“Because if he didn’t attend it’d make him look even worse,” you said. “No one would take him seriously after that.”

“He’s not the boss!”

“He’s the heir,” you forced yourself to say. “Bosses can take heirs with them to the meetings. Father has a point, he can’t coddle him especially in a situation like this.”

“Everyone makes mistakes,” she insisted. “I’m sure Bucky has made them too.”

“He hasn’t,” you said, aware of the proud tone in your voice. “He was raised for this shit, so he actually pays attention. Unlike Ian.”

She clicked her tongue.

“Well you must talk to him,” she said and you pulled your brows together.

“To Bucky? Why?”

“Ian needs someone in that room that will have his back.”

You tried to stop the laughter threatening to spill from your lips.

“And you think Bucky will do it?”

“He will if you ask him to.”

“Why on earth would I ask him to?” you asked with a scoff and she threw her hands up.

“Because we’re family!” she said. “Ian would do the same for you.”

“Ian would throw me to the wolves if the roles were reversed,” you pointed out with a chuckle. “You know it as well as I do. They’d eat me alive during that meeting and he wouldn’t lift a finger, he’d encourage it.”

“You’re being very unfair to him, Y/N.”

“Maybe you just forgot what your son’s personality is like because you barely spend any time with him,” you said calmly and she narrowed her eyes.

“Careful.”

You dragged the tip of your tongue and held up your hands, gesturing surrender.

“Bucky wouldn’t help Ian even if I asked him to,” you said. “He doesn’t take him seriously.”

“And why is that?”

You shrugged your shoulders. “I’m gonna go on a limb and assume it’s because Ian makes mistakes that cost my father and the other bosses millions of dollars.”

“What’s a couple of millions in this business?” she asked with a small laugh. “Nothing.”

You heaved a sigh. “It gives a message, auntie.”

She crossed her legs, sticking her nose in the air.

“Either way, talk to Bucky,” she said. “Everyone says he listens to what you say, so it might be a good idea to put in some good word for Ian before that meeting.”

You arched a brow, but before you could comment on it, your father’s assistant entered the room.

“Y/N, he says he can see you now.”

“Oh thank you,” you said and got up from the couch. “Auntie. Always a pleasure.”

She just shot you a smile and you shook your head slightly, then followed your father’s assistant to his study.

When you got back home, Bucky still wasn’t back so you had enough time to put your plan into action. The set you had chosen for tonight was black; the lacy corset matching the garter belts holding your stockings. You were just done with fixing your hair when you heard Bucky opening the front door, so you threw yourself on the bed and grabbed the book on your nightstand to open it.

“Charm?”

“Upstairs!” you called out, turning on your stomach and swinging your legs back and forth lazily, trying to bite back your smirk as Bucky walked into the room, reading something on his phone.

“I have so much to tell you about the meeting today,” he said without taking his eyes off of the screen and went to place his gun on the small coffee table and you hummed.

“What?”

“Nat is furious, and she and Clint actually—” he stopped talking as soon as he raised his eyes from the phone and you looked over your shoulder to see him frozen in his spot.

“She and Clint?” you asked him as if there was nothing out of the ordinary and he blinked a couple of times in complete silence, staring at you.

“Bucky?” you said and he swallowed thickly.

“What the fuck—am I dreaming?”

“Why would you be dreaming?” you asked and rolled over to lean back on your palms, crossing your legs. “We should talk by the way.”

“Oh we’re not talking,” he said, pulling you by the ankle to the edge of the bed and you let out a squeal that turned into a giggle before you pushed at him and got up from the bed. He let out a groan.

“Charm…”

“What?”

“Is this a new way for you to torture me?”

“No, I just think we should talk.”

“I can’t contribute anything to the conversation because I don’t have any blood in my brain right now, it’s all rushing south.”

You rolled your eyes at him and leaned on your hip. “Can you focus?”

“No.”

“Bucky!”

“You’re in a corset and garter belts and you want me to focus?” he asked, taking a step towards you but you took a step back, smirking.

“Calm down.”

“Come here.”

“No because we need to talk first.”

“If this is about who breaks first,” he said. “I broke first, you won, now come here.”

“I’m glad you agree but that’s not it,” you said. “About the sit down, is there a date yet?”

“A lot of people would start with dirty talk—”

“Business talk is my dirty talk,” you stated. “So?”

“Next week,” he said, pulling at one of the ribbons on the corset and you swatted his hand away.

“Ian is going to be there so—”

“Take it off.”

“Good lingerie is wasted on men I swear to God…” you muttered, trying to ignore the way your stomach did a happy flip. “So if Ian is there, I need to be there.”

“Done.”

“The only way—” you batted his hand away again. “The only way for me to be there is if others believe I’m your heir in case of an emergency, because—”

“Done.”

You let out a laugh. “That easily?”

“Sweetheart you could ask me for all my possessions including the company right now and the answer would still be yes,” he said, making you let out a laugh as he wrapped his vibrainum arm around you and easily lifted you up. He carried you to the bed to drop you there and got rid of his shirt, letting you see his muscular before he got on top of you, his lips finding yours. Your eyes fluttered close and a happy sigh left your lips when he pulled back to look down at you.

“You’re gorgeous, you know that?”

You could feel the fire warming your cheeks and a giggle escaped from you before you pushed at him slightly so that you could straddle him. He quickly pulled at the ribbons holding the corset together and you tilted your head.

“So I win?” you asked again and he nodded, grinning.

“You win babe.”

You smirked, then let him pull the corset off of you to throw it somewhere in the room and leaned down to kiss him again.

Chapter 30

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filmsmakkari · 2 months

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your highness

fred weasley x slytherin!reader

Summary: When Slytherin beats Gryffindor in the final quidditch match of the season, Fred Weasley decides to give the Slytherin princess a little reward

CW: NSFW, semi public sex(?), oral (f receiving), dirty talk, praising.

Author's Note- As usual, I had a black reader in mind, so (Y/N) is described as having braids, but that's the only physical description. Anyone can imagine themselves in this fic. Also emmm I have never written smut in my life saurrr... I hope this makes you horny and I'm sorry if it doesn't!

To say that (Y/N) (L/N) hated Fred Weasley would be an understatement.

The Princess of Slytherin was in the prefect’s restroom, trying to wash the red and gold dye out of her hair. The last quidditch game of the autumn term was the next day, and Fred fucking Weasley thought it would be funny to make a mockery of the Slytherin team captain by having Peeves throw ink at her as she tried to run down the moving staircases.

“That bloody…” she muttered as she roughly scrubbed her scalp. She’d been at it for what felt like hours when the dye finally washed away, and the raven-winged color of her long braids was finally visible again.

Enraged, (Y/N) stomped out of the bathroom, envisioning ways to get her revenge. In her anger and fantasies of all the means of torture she could inflict upon the irritating prankster, she was barely aware of her feet carrying her down to the ever-calming bioluminescence of the Slytherin common room. She waved her wand violently, blowing around a stack of papers and knocking over a desk, catching the attention of Blaise Zabini.

The boy seemed slightly frightened as he said, “Hey (Y/N/N), you alright?”

(Y/N) huffed with irritation. “Oh, I’m more than alright. I’m ready to knock Weasley off his bloody broom.”

The Great Hall was alive with conversation. Some students excitedly cast charms, creating fireworks with their house colors and animals, while others feasted on fruits and vegetables in preparation for the big match. Slytherin vs. Gryffindor games were always the most anticipated. The extreme disdain between the two teams brought out the absolute best in them as players. Even if it was occasionally violent, it made for a great game.

Fred and George Weasley sauntered into the hall with the typical swagger of Gryffindors, scanning the tables and admiring the displays from the students. As Fred eyed the Slytherin table, his gaze fell upon her. There in her quidditch sweater, brown knee-high boots, and a horribly tempting skirt, the Slytherin Princess, who’d earned her title by getting the best grades in her house, being captain of the quidditch team, and being so ridiculously beautiful that even the proudest Gryffindors tried their luck with her, was sitting on the table, locked in conversation with Blaise Zabini and Emma Vanity- the Slytherin chasers.

“Discussing a new and improved strategy for the pitch?” Fred asked, approaching her. “I might as well tell you now, you’re wasting your time.”

(Y/N) turned to him with an eye roll. “Keep taunting me, Weasel. It’s the most satisfaction you’ll get today.”

“Keep dreaming. Tell me, how’d you like my little gift yesterday?” Fred asked, resting his hands on the table and leaning close to her face.

(Y/N) hummed. “To be honest I’d expected more from you, beater. You couldn’t even do the job yourself. That scared of little old me?”

“You wish. You’ll see out there today. Tell you what. If you win, which you won’t, I’ll reward you,” Fred smirked.

“Please, what could you possibly have that I want?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know? Too bad you’ll never find out.” Fred winked and walked over to the Gryffindor table, filling (Y/N) with so much irritation that it made her face hot.

Fred Weasley was eating his words.

The match was over before it began, the Slytherin players flying like bullets, (Y/N) ’s strategy working to absolute perfection, giving (Y/N) the perfect opportunity to catch the snitch without hesitation, winning the last game of the season.

The after-party was a blur of green and silver, fireworks, and cheering. One second (Y/N) was being hoisted up in the air by her teammates while they chanted her name; the next, she was playing games with giggle juice and fire whisky with her classmates. The snake lair was on fire with passion and excitement. While (Y/N) was reveling in it all, she had another celebration in mind. While her friends chanted so loud that the paintings were all forced to cover their ears, (Y/N) quickly slipped out of the common room and skipped happily up the stairs with a clear destination in mind.

As the sleeping form of the fat lady came into view, (Y/N) suddenly realized she had no actual plan. She couldn’t get into the Gryffindor common room, and even if she could, what would she do? Find Weasley in his dorm room and slap him? Cast a spell turning all the furniture silver and green to boast Slytherin pride? Steal Fred’s clothes while he was in the shower and- oh. Somewhat embarrassed at how eager she’d been to go to the Gryffindor common room and at how her thoughts kept wandering back to Fred, (Y/N) quickly turned around and began to go back to her dorm but was quickly stopped in her tracks.

Standing before her was the very person who’d been nagging at her thoughts all night. There was Fred Weasley, with dripping wet red hair and no shirt, looking down on her with irritation and amusement.

“Well well,” he said tauntingly, stepping closer and closer to her until her back was pressed against the wall. “Just what is the snake princess doing so close to the lion’s den? Came here to gloat?” Heat was radiating off of him. He was angry about the match.

(Y/N) swallowed, suddenly nervous, her usual Slytherin pride and confidence nowhere to be found. “As a matter of fact, Weaselbee, I’m here to see you. I told you I’d win, I’m here to claim my reward.”

Fred raised an eyebrow at this. He walked over to the fat lady, knocking on the portrait softly. The fat lady awoke with a jump, giving Fred a frustrated glare. “Sorry about this,” said Fred. “Iced Mice.” The fat lady hesitated. “And just what are you doing bringing her in here?”

(Y/N)’ s bite finally returned as she spoke, “I can show you better than I can tell you. How about a charm for taking the tongues of bad singers?” Fred chuckled at that.

“Why, I never!” said the fat lady as she finally swung open the door.

Fred took hold of (Y/N) ’s hand as he walked in, dragging her behind him.

(Y/N)’ s words were full of venom as she whisper-shouted, “Just what do you think you’re doing, you slimy-”

“Just be quiet for once, princess.”

Indignation swelled in (Y/N) ’s chest, but she obeyed. Though she toothlessly fought back, attempting every now and then to snatch her arm away from him, deep down, she wanted to see where this would go.

Fred dragged her to a dark corner, taking her by her hips and lifting her onto a desk.

“What the hell are you doing?” (Y/N) asked with a furious look, but there was no bite behind the glare. Her heart was pounding so loudly she was afraid he’d hear it.

“You came for your reward, didn’t you? You were so desperate for it that you were willing to cheat during the match,” he said, moving her hair and leaning into her ear.

(Y/N) shuddered at the closeness before pushing him away. “I didn’t cheat, Weasley, the hell are you talking about?”

Fred hummed, smoking at her and placing his arms on either side of her, caging her in.

(Y/N) scoffed. “This is ridiculous, I can’t believe I wasted my time coming here. Have a nice life carrot top.”

(Y/N) pushed him again, hopping off the desk and starting to walk away from him, but Fred quickly grabbed her by the waist, pulling her back into him and placing a wet, passionate kiss on her lips. (Y/N)’ s eyes widened in shock as Fred Weasley, the person she hated most since first year, slipped his tongue into her mouth and lifted her back onto the desk. Shocked and confused, she pushed him away a third time.

Fred looked deeply into her eyes, a tendril of red hair hanging over his eyes, making him impossibly more attractive. “Oh c’mon, love, don’t act like you don’t want it too. Like you haven’t wanted it since fourth year when you walked in on me showering after the quidditch cup.”

(Y/N)’s face got hot at the memory. “I hate you. You hate me. I’m the “princess of Slytherin,” remember?”

“Well then, your highness, allow me to serve you,” said Fred, dropping to his knees.

“What are you doing?” (Y/N) asked, her voice shaking as Fred ran his hands up and down her thighs, barely past her skirt. The tight little green dress and those white knee-high socks she was wearing had been driving him crazy since he first saw them, and he wanted nothing more than to see what was hidden underneath them.

“I’m rewarding you, even if you did cheat like a naughty little serpent, somehow I feel like this will be just as much as a reward for me.” He spread her legs wide, getting in between them and slowly peeling back her skirt.

(Y/N) breathed in sharply. “You have tormented me for six years, and now you expect me to let you use me to get off?’

“‘M sorry,” said Fred, kissing her thigh softly. (Y/N) shuddered. Fred kissed his way up to her sopping wet heat, muttering “I’m sorries” between every kiss. He finally made his way to her lacy undergarment, placing a soft kiss there. “You’re so wet, darling,” he said, popping his head out and looking at her, “It seems like you’ve already forgiven me.”

“In your bloody dreams, Weasley,” (Y/N) said with an unconvincing scoff. “I’ll hate you until the day I die.”

Fred hummed before quickly dipping his head back between her thighs, sliding her panties to the side, and licking a long stripe through her slick.

(Y/N) let out a throaty moan at the sensation, gripping the desk tightly.

Fred chuckled against her, the vibrations making her breathe in deeply. “What was that about you hating me, love?” he asked.

“Shut up and get on with my reward, asshole.”

Fred smirked. “As you wish, your grace.”

Fred grabbed her thighs tightly and went to work, taking her clit into his mouth and sucking it like a starving man. (Y/N) moaned loudly before placing her hand over her mouth. Fred looked up at her, his sudden pause making her whimper. “No, no, no, darling. Don’t hide the noises.” He slowly pushed a single long finger inside her. “Let the whole school know.” Another finger. He looked into her eyes with a wicked smile. “Let them all hear how the snake princess let a lion make her scream.” He added two fingers that time and rapidly pumped in and out. And, just as he said she would, (Y/N) screamed. She went to cover her mouth again, but with his free hand, he took both of her wrists and held them in front of her. It burned, but it felt so good. (Y/N) began to move her hips slightly to increase the sensation, making Fred smile. “That’s it, beautiful, good girl. Good girl.” Fred spoke in a way that was almost patronizing. If she weren’t so close to the edge, she probably would have made some snarky remark, but (Y/N) couldn’t think straight as the pressure in her stomach was building up, and the Weasley boy was making her see stars. She let out another loud moan, throwing her head back as the pressure became unbearable.

“Fuck, fuck, FUCK,” (Y/N) screamed as Fred’s fingers slammed into her g-spot, and she finally couldn’t take it anymore. (Y/N) let out a scream as she came, barely aware of anything around her. Her vision went blurry as the hot juices spilled out of her. Fred wasted no time re-attaching his mouth to her drenched cunt, licking up her juices until she was clean. “Mmm, sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted. Surprising for such a nasty girl,” Fred said, slapping her thigh, sliding her panties back over, and standing up.

He placed his arms on either side of her, staring at her intensely, his hair disheveled and her cum around his mouth. (Y/N) matched his gaze with equal intensity, her heart pounding, a million questions running through her head. After a few beats of silence, she finally spoke.

“I still hate you.”

Fred actually laughed at that, shaking his head before looking back at her. “Beat me again, princess, and I’ll give you a better reward then my fingers and my mouth,” he rasped into her ear before walking off to his dorm room, leaving her with her legs spread on a table of the Gryffindor common room.

“We’ll see how much you hate me then!”

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley smut #slytherin reader #fred weasley x yn #fred weasley x fem!reader #harry potter imagine #fred weasley #slytherin #gryffindor

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lilywastaken · 2 years

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⇝ LOVE LANGUAGES !

CC!DreamWasTaken, CC!Sapnap, CC!GeorgeNotFound, CC!Wilbur Soot x GN!Reader.

SUMMARY: CCs and their love languages <3.

WARNINGS: SFW! Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and fluff.

A/N: I'm alive!! Very late valentine's post, but classes and homeworks have been crazy :(( anyways, I hope these are good!! Please don't forget to reblog/comment if you enjoy the post, it helps a lot!! Thank you for reading! <333 If you see any mistakes, do not hesitate to let me know, please!!!

MASTERLIST.

DREAM.

Physical touch — Dream thrives on your touch, whether it be a quick caress to his hand or one of his long required cuddle sessions. He loves the feeling of your skin on his (he's a bit touch starved, a global pandemic and being a faceless YouTuber will do that to you.), and will take any opportunity given to hold your hand when he walks along with you or sneak up behind you to press your body against his.

Due to him not using a cam on his streams, he sometimes asks (more like demands) you to pull up a chair next to him just so he can just feel you next to him, your hands playing absentmindedly with his free one, playing with his rings and slowly making your way onto his lap, where you have a better view of his monitors and an easier way to press kisses onto his freckled cheeks.

Words of affirmation — Much like any other person, Dream enjoys the simple reassurance that his partner appreciates him, a small "I love you." will cause him to shut down immediately. He as well is very vocal when it comes to his love for you, complimenting you on the daily and expressing how much you mean to him even when you've just woken up and you're pretty sure you're comparable to the girl from The Ring, but to him, you're breathtaking whenever and however.

He also likes the small moments you both spend at night in bed just whispering how much you love each other, soft giggles and the wet sounds of kisses resonating around the bedroom.

Dream's very fond of sending you short and sweet messages at random times of the day, even when you're a few inches away from him, he'll start giggling like a schoolgirl as he watches you read over his sappy message.

Quality time — He has a lot of free time on his hands when he's not working on content, and he prefers to spend it with you and his friends, going out to restaurants and just walking around, enjoying the time he can now spend outside without worrying about anyone recognising him.

Dream likes eating out with you a lot, before his face reveal dates consisted of whatever take out was available and some shitty movie Sapnap had chosen before falling asleep on the sofa. But now they consist of some fancy restaurant of his choosing and holding your hand over the table, thumb rubbing over your knuckles and talking about whatever.

Receiving/giving gifts — Dream LOVES spoiling you. I mean, have you seen how he acts with George? He's an unofficial sugar daddy for you both. He sees your eyes linger on some piece of jewellery or an item of clothing he thinks would look amazing on you, expect for it to appear in a little box or a bag on your bed the next day. He also goes all out on Valentine's Day, booking a table for two at a fancy restaurant and gets you a single rose, since he knows it's more meaningful than an extravagant bouquet of flowers (Don't let him fool you, he's given you many bouquets before.), and some small present he knows you'll love.

Like any other person, he likes receiving gifts, and can always count on you to get him something he will love, like a little teddy bear with a Sooners jersey one with his name on the back.

Acts of service — Although he's not very good at it, Dream does enjoy cooking for you at times, and although he does try and make the end product look fancy, you can always tell that it's box Mac and cheese or some fancy ramen he got out of a packet, but it's the thought that counts. He also is very keen on cleaning for you when he's over at your flat, he likes helping on mundane chores like washing and drying the dishes or lifting up furniture so you can reach those pesky corners full of dust.

SAPNAP.

Physical touch — Sap is very big on physical touch, he enjoys being close to you in any way he can, brushing his hand against the small of your back when he walks past you in the hallway, melting in your arms when you come behind him while he's on his computer and hugging him from behind, he lives for your affection.

He's also very cuddly during your down time together, needing to have you in his arms whenever he's sitting or lying down on the sofa and subconsciously gravitating towards your own body during nighttime, hands grabbing at your waist to pull you into his warmth.

Words of affirmation — I don't see Sapnap really being in touch with his emotions until further into your relationship, so at the beginning, you'd have to be the one to initiate that type of communication with him, but he won't actively confirm his feelings until a few months into your relationship.

Once he's comfortable, he will spend hours at a time just lying in bed with you murmuring about how much he cares for you, loves you, appreciates you being with him.

He's the kind of person to ignore any previous texts you've sent him just to send out an "I love you" text and go back to ignoring you.

He does really enjoy being reassured about your love for him as well, please cup his face in your hands and tell him how much you love him.

Quality time — Sapnap spends a lot of his time playing video games, we know that, so he doesn't really get much one on one time with you that isn't hanging out on a discord call together or having you perched up on his lap doing your own thing while he shouts obscenities at the other players.

So when you two get your time together, he makes the best of it, taking you to ridiculous places you'd never have gone to before, fancy restaurants that would inevitably end up giving you food poisoning, or just lying with you on the sofa watching a movie until George comes in and ruins it.

He honestly doesn't really care what you two do in your spare time, having your hand in his and listening to your ramble on about anything is enough for him, no matter the place or time.

Receiving/giving gifts — Sometimes, just for shits and giggles, Sapnap just buys your entire wishlist and watches your reaction when tons of boxes arrive at your porch, laughing and snickering as you run after him to chastise him for using up so much money on you.

But he doesn't care, he has money for a reason, and he likes the sparkle in your eye whenever he gives you something or he accepts some gift from you, he just enjoys spoiling you AND being spoiled.

Acts of service — When it comes to him, it's the little things. Standing in the corner of the kitchen waiting for you to ask him to cut or peel something, holding the Christmas decoration box while another hand lays on your back making sure you don't fall as you hang baubles on the tree, washing the dishes and cleaning up the kitchen after you make a meal for the both of you, brining you snacks or a proper meal when you're working… Just small things that show his affection towards you.

GEORGENOTFOUND.

Physical touch — George is not that big on physical touch, but he won't actively run away from it when presented with a hug or a kiss from you. He's not the type of person to initiate touch out of the blue, he's the type to take it slow and move towards a nice cuddle session while taking it easy.

But when you finally get him to yourself, know that he will be putty in your hands almost immediately, head slotted in your chest and eyes drooping closed, your warm touch and soft kisses and reassurance enough to send this man to sleep.

He's also the type to roll his eyes or groan out in disgust whenever you kiss him in public or in front of his friends, but secretly gets nervous and giddy whenever he sees you lean in to press your lips to his or move your hand to grasp his.

Words of affirmation — George isn't really good at expressing his emotions, but he does show them through other ways like his actions. That doesn't mean he won't ever say "I love you" or tell you how much he appreciates you, it's just very rare for him to actually find the words and way to express them to you.

He finds it easier to communicate those kinds of things through text, so expect a few messages written in such a way that are able to rival those 16th century love letters randomly sent throughout the day.

Quality time — George doesn't spend much time streaming (as we all know) so he's got quite a lot of time on his hands to spend with his friends and you, whether it's just sitting next to you while you work doing his own thing or actively going out on a date or staying inside to play a game together ( he always loses but makes you think that he did on purpose ).

Also please be the one to organise dates, because although George does reservate date nights at nice restaurants or clear his schedule to take you somewhere, he will forget. You'll be in the middle of a cuddle session with him, half watching the movie, half focusing on your boyfriend's pretty face when he suddenly jumps in place, eyes wide as he shouts about a reservation he just remembered. But he tries, at least. He won't always forget your reservations, but there will be a few moments where he does act like a dumbass.

Receiving/giving gifts — This man likes being spoiled, that's a given. See how happy he gets when Dream just takes out his credit card unasked? He's a prince who loves to be spoiled by his partner. So don't hesitate to get him something, even if it's a small thing like a scarf or a piece of jewellery you think would look good on him, he will take it and appreciate it a whole lot, even if it's the most useless thing in the world, he'll love it. It came from you, one of the people he loves the most and will treasure it as if it's the crown jewels themselves.

Acts of service — He's quite lazy sometimes, but that doesn't mean he won't do anything for you. As stated before, he doesn't really show his love through words, so his actions are the way to show his appreciation for you. He does chores for you around the house, the dishes, cleaning up any dirty laundry he can find strewn across the floor, cooking any random shit he can find and trying his best to make it look appetising for you, etc.

But apart from those mundane chores, he also does more little things like Sapnap: helping you with your makeup or hair or clothes, trailing after you while you cook waiting to help, instantly taking over whatever task you're working on whenever you need a break, making sure you're week hydrated and rested when you spend more time than usual in front of a screen.

WILBUR SOOT.

Physical touch — Wilburs a very touchy person as he's confirmed himself, always finding his hand wrapping around yours or resting on your shoulders, pulling your back to his chest so he can rest his chin on the crown of your head, enjoying how flustered you get whenever he pulls that kind of shit in public or around your friends.

He immediately gravitates towards you whenever you're both in the same place/room, his eyes finding yours and sending you a flashing smile before scurrying towards you just to press himself to your side, hand running over your back and busying himself with drawing on your skin; or if you're facing away from him when he finds you, he'll grab your waist from behind and watch you scream out of shock before hitting his chest, snickering as he pulls you into his arms.

Words of affirmation — Wilbur is a fucking poet when it comes to his love for you, spending hours at a time at his desk writing sickengly sweet verses in his little notebook about you and how fucking in love he is, leaving his notes around the house just so you'll pick them up and read through them, smiling brightly whenever you bring them back to him and ask him about it. He's very open with his love, whispering soft "I love you"s into your ear at random times of the day, strumming idly in his guitar and trying to find some type of melody that fits in with all the beautiful words he's written about you. Also expect lots of compliments through text as well, a "you look breathtaking today" sent when he's across the room from you, a goofy smile on his face as he watches you read it.

Quality time — It's the little things for Wil, like the feeling of lifting you in his arms and peppering kisses across your face the moment after a concert ends, adrenaline rushing through his veins making him more brave than usual; taking you out to bars and pubs with your friends just so you both can curl into one of the leather sofas and sip your drinks together; sitting on your bed while you scroll through your laptop as he strums on his guitar, singing softly to you or asking for your opinion on whatever riff he just came up with.

You don't really get much one-on-one dates. Let me explain. Wilbur tries his best to get a nice restaurant reservation, and when he finally gets a table, he's waiting for you to show up with a bright smile and a positive outlook on the evening, only for you to end up arriving with Tommy or James somehow tagging along with Wilbur when he leaves the office. Doesn't mean you don't have a nice time, though.

Receiving/giving gifts — Wilburs not a big gift giver, so he doesn't really mind if you don't either, but he will appreciate it massively if you do. Get him a new guitar and his old one will be out of the window (not actually, he'd probably give it to Tommy or just mount it on the wall), or some new sweaters that look amazing on him and he'll just burn every other item of clothing he owns. He isn't one to never buy stuff for his s/o, though, you see something you like and don't think you have enough for it? He's waving his card in front of your face. Tommy comments on something he heard you say you wanted? It's showing up a few days later. Also does his best to go all out on holidays/birthdays.

Acts of service — Wil enjoys showering with you a lot. Like just rubbing in the shampoo into your hair and playing with your locks, then leaning down so you can do the same to him? Peak acts of service for him. Also making tea for you (or coffee, but his specialty is tea) and bringing it to you on a cold night, cooking some recipe he saw online and making sure it's perfectly done so you're able to stomach it, and just doing chores around the house while you work or are busy.

Also will melt if you do small things like change his guitar strings or clean his desk while you're at his office.

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bella-rose29 · 9 months

Text

Deck the Halls (and not your partner) - part 3

Word count: 3.9k

Warnings: swearing, Stephanie is a bitch, lockwood was a complete arse in the past, he's also very guarded in the present, they kiss for like three seconds (because Steph makes them), mentions of sex, mentions of lockwood's family being dead, neither of them can deal with emotions, proof read maybe once

series master list

Anthony Lockwood was starting to think that this family Christmas would be a disaster.

He had no issue with playing the perfect boyfriend at all; in fact, he was doing rather brilliantly at it.

But something wasn't quite right with Y/n.

Now he didn't know how large families were meant to work, since his own relatives were either gone or lived too far away and his only experience with larger gatherings was the few times he'd been to George's, but he did know that the snide remarks about how much cake Y/n should be given and the fake laughter from her aunt wasn't particularly regular.

The cake and tea situation had certainly been strange.

Normally Y/n went through around four cups of tea before noon, and if cake was offered she would have such a large slice that Lockwood would often joke about leaving some for the rest of them. Instead of cracking one of those jokes that afternoon, he was currently staring at her half-drunk mug and a plate of cake that hadn't even been eaten, and Y/n was in the toilet instead of glaring at him.

He didn't exactly like her, but he hadn't been raised to not be a gentleman. He excused himself with a smile, pushing himself out of the loveseat and making his way out of the living room in a search for his fake girlfriend. It took him nearly five minutes to check all the bathrooms in the house, and naturally the last one that he knocked on was the one she was in. There hadn't been any answer, but he had heard sniffles from the other side of the door of their en-suite bathroom and had assumed that it was Y/n.

"Are you alright?" He was starting to get tired of asking that question, but she was clearly not alright, and if this whole charade went wrong then she'd just have more reason to hate him, so he was attempting to carry out damage control.

"I'm fine, just... go back downstairs, Lockwood."

"Anthony."

"Whatever." He could hear her huff in annoyance, and bit back a retort, instead settling for a frown. Lockwood sat down, his legs pulled up to his chest and his arms wrapped around his knees to keep his balance as he leant backwards.

"I'm not going back without you," he said to the door. "Your sister looks like she's going to eat me alive, and I don't think I'll be given the satisfaction of dying afterwards which scares me."

"...What?"

"I said that-"

"I heard what you said, I just... don't know what you mean."

"Your sister... is going... to eat me. And I don't mean 'she's going to eat me like Christmas dinner', I mean 'she's going to... eat... me." He was trying to get his point across through euphemisms, but apparently that wasn't working. It didn't help that Y/n couldn't see his face or hand gestures, but at least he heard the door lock click.

He had barely registered the sound before the door opened behind him and he fell backwards, only being stopped from landing on his back like an upside down beetle by Y/n's legs.

"What the fuck are you doing? Get off the floor, you dipshit."

He stood up, brushing himself off and turning around to inspect her face. She'd obviously been crying, but was trying to hide it, and was now shoving past him into the bedroom.

"What do you mean, eat you?"

"You know..." he gestured vaguely, now feeling embarrassed. He sighed when Y/n only looked quizzically at him. "She keeps looking at me like she wants to fuck me and it's making me uncomfortable."

"Oh, poor you. What a shame for you."

"Oh shove off." She was irritating him again. At least that meant she was somewhat back to normal. "Are you going to come back downstairs? I think your mother has nearly finished cooking dinner."

"Right... uh- I don't know, really." She was folding her arms now, closing in on herself and looking away. Lockwood felt like he was missing something, the key piece of the puzzle that would give him all the answers, and it was frustrating him. It was so close, he was sure of it, but what 'it' was he couldn't say.

"Well you can't leave me down there on my own! You dragged me up here to be your boyfriend for the holidays!"

"You'll be fine. You're great in these situations!"

"Yeah but this is your family, Y/n, you should spend time with them. You never know when-" He couldn't finish, his throat closing up slightly.

"I don't exactly want to spend time around them when I have to pretend that I'm hopelessly in love with you!"

"Well you don't have to go that far with it!"

"Oh like you aren't? What was that earlier? 'Best Touch in England' and 'there's nothing that could have stopped me from falling for your daughter'!"

"I've got to butter them up somehow, haven't I?" She huffed again.

"Look. I have no issue with pretending to date you. I have no issue with pretending to date you in front of my family to make them think I'm not a lair, even though I am. What I do have an issue with is you trying to tell me how to live my life in my own home, and how to act. I know my family, Lockwood, and I know what I'm doing."

"Do you? Because so far I've seen you leave half a mug of tea and an entire slice of cake, which is entirely unlike you. And what the hell was that thing that happened with Stephanie saying you don't need a large slice? Is that why you don't want to come down for dinner?"

"No, it's not that, I just... Stephanie always makes comments about me because she doesn't like me, and I don't really feel like spending an entire meal being watched by her."

"Well then I'll tell them you're not feeling well because of the journey and could we eat up here!"

"You-!" she was still shouting, but broke off when she registered his words. He had only just realised what he'd said himself, and he was taken aback at his offer. "That... would actually be nice, actually. If you don't mind."

"No, I don't. It means I don't have to fake liking you for a while."

Y/n scoffed, but she looked somewhat less disgruntled than she had before.

~~~

Ten minutes later Lockwood was knocking on the door, demanding to be let in.

"Seriously, can you hurry up? My arms are going to fall off in a second!"

"You are such a drama queen," she replied as she opened the door. He would never survive as a waiter, which was surprising since given he had clearly practiced with a rapier for years and had a strong throw, Y/n had assumed that he had somewhat sturdy arms. With the way he was acting now anyone would think he'd never held a thing in his life.

"Yeah, sure, let me come in. I need to put this down, I think I'm going to die."

"Fucking idiot," she muttered, stepping back and allowing him room to walk inside. He put the tray down on the desk, dragging over a second chair to put beside the one that was already there and sitting down. Y/n stood nearby, unsure about sharing a meal with Lockwood as he got stuck in, but then he paused for a moment and looked back at her with a frown.

"Well? Are you going to sit down? Imagine what your family will say when they find out I let you starve."

"Of course all you're worried about is what other people will think of you," she grumbled, reluctantly pulling out the desk chair and sitting on it.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"You're so obsessed with your image, Lockwood. It's a wonder that nobody has suffocated on your ego yet."

"I am not obsessed!"

"Ok, sure. Remind me, how long did you spend on your hair this morning?" Y/n asked, her face the picture of innocence. Lockwood floundered for a moment, then stuck a forkful of food in his mouth.

"That's irrelevant."

"I think it's entirely relevant."

"Shut up and eat your veg, Schmoopie."

Y/n threw a piece of carrot at him, and laughed when it landed in his hair and made him shriek.

~~~

Y/n had snuck downstairs with their empty plates and glasses while Lockwood used the toilet.

She had thought she could simply put everything in the dishwasher and go right back upstairs, but just as she closed the door to the machine and turned around she was greeted by her cousin.

"So," Stephanie started, attempting (the key word being 'attempted') to look disinterested. Y/n internally groaned, knowing exactly where this was leading. "How long have you two been... a thing?"

"8 months. And it's not a 'thing', Steph. He's my boyfriend."

"Sure, sure." Her tone suggested that she didn't believe Y/n at all, and was agreeing with her in much the same way that one might agree with a child who had said something wrong, but looked proud of themselves for saying it. "How'd it happen, then? Who asked who? What was the first kiss like?"

"Steph, I'm really tired, alright? And I'm only going to have to repeat this story multiple times tomorrow to literally fifty people, so please just let me go to bed and I'll make sure you're the first one I tell in the morning, yeah?" Y/n started heading for the door, pushing past her cousin.

"Oh, so you have more time to come up with the perfect lie?" Stephanie's words made her freeze with one foot out of the kitchen, and when she turned back the other girl was stood with a smug smile on her face.

"What do you mean?" Shit, her voice was shaking, and she was certain that if Stephanie came any closer she would see the slight sweat that had broken out on her forehead.

"Oh please. Nobody like him would ever go for someone like you, Y/n. I mean, he is way out of your league!"

"Personally I think that Y/n is way out of my league, but each to their own, I suppose." She hadn't even heard Lockwood come in, but now he was wrapping his arm around her waist like it belonged there and smiling softly at her like they hadn't been arguing about five minutes before (the argument was about something pointless, but that didn't stop Y/n from gloating when he gave in and said that she was right). "You alright, darling?"

"Yeah, just tired. Could we-"

"Oh, since you're both here, maybe you could share the story of how it all happened?" Stephanie cut her off, and completely ignored Y/n's responding scowl.

"I think we'll save that for tomorrow, Steph. If it'll make you happy we'll tell everyone at the same time and give a big speech," Lockwood said, and Y/n's insides started churning at the thought. She would have to find a way to convince Lockwood to do all the talking, or even her deaf older relatives would know that this whole relationship was a farce.

"Well, how about a kiss then? I still find it hard to believe that my little baby cousin has a boyfriend!"

"There's two months between out birthdays, Steph. It's really not that much. And we're not just going to kiss for your entertainment!"

"Aw, darling, you wound me. You don't want an excuse to kiss me?" Y/n could tell that Lockwood was having far too much fun with this, pouting and clutching his chest, pretending to stagger backwards in pain, and finally offering up his mouth in a ridiculous attempt to gain a kiss. She knew that he didn't actually want to kiss her, and what he really wanted was to rile her up, but she couldn't help but feel nerves in her stomach at the idea of it.

"Not really. You get enough of them as it is, Anthony." It felt weird, his first name in her mouth, and he paused for a moment in his actions to stare at her, tilting his head and frowning slightly.

"Oh, just one little kiss? You are under mistletoe, after all," Stephanie piped up again, pointing gleefully at the plant that had been badly taped to the doorframe.

The doorframe that Lockwood was leaning against, and that Y/n was stood under.

Shit.

They had an audience now, since her parents and siblings had come out of the living room to see what the conversation was about in the kitchen. Even her grandparents had emerged from their downstairs bedroom to join in. Y/n swallowed thickly as she looked around at everyone, her eyes finally landing on Lockwood. His frown was still in place, but his face was more relaxed. He pushed off of the doorframe, stepping forward and placing his hands on Y/n's waist as he leaned in a little.

"Is this... I mean... do you-?"

"We probably should. We were gonna have to at some point, right?" He was close enough now that she could feel his breath on her cheek, and his eyes kept flicking between hers and her mouth.

"Right." Lockwood brought a hand up to her face, holding her jaw gently as though he thought she might break if he applied any more pressure. His nose was brushing hers, and she had to push herself up on her toes and wrap her arms around his neck to bring her lips to his.

The kiss was short, only a couple of seconds at most, but as soon as they pulled away from each other she missed it.

Why did she miss it?

Claps from Y/n's family followed shortly after, and she was glad for once that Lockwood had no sense of personal space because it meant that she could hide her face in his chest without it coming across as strange to him, since he hadn't let go of her waist.

She absolutely could not start craving a real relationship with Anthony Lockwood.

Not when they hated each other with a burning passion.

And especially not when she had previously heard him say that he would never like her because she was 'not good enough for the company'.

No, she couldn't crave a thing with him other than their usual dynamic.

~~~

Lockwood was warm.

They had turned out the light and gone to bed about forty minutes ago, and after around twenty he had heard Y/n's breathing even out as she drifted off. As per usual he was still awake, left to stare up at the ceiling while he tried everything he could think of to fall asleep.

Normally it was the fear of nightmares that kept him awake, and if anybody asked tomorrow he would tell them that, or possibly something about how he was so used to working at night that he now found it difficult to sleep.

Realistically, though, he was too warm.

He had contemplated the pros and cons of taking off his pyjamas (pro: he'd be cooler, con: Y/n might scream at him and attack him with a blunt object) for the last thirty minutes, and had heard an owl hoot for the sixth time. He was also relatively sure that there was a fox somewhere outside the house, but since he had spent his whole life living in the city he wasn't entirely sure what they sounded like. The ghosts normally attacked any animals that tried to make a home in London, and as such wildlife was limited.

Another five minutes later and Lockwood decided that if he was going to die by having a lamp thrown at his head, he would much rather be more comfortable than warm and stifled, and peeled off the blanket that Y/n had given him when he first got comfortable in the armchair to take his pyjamas off. He folded them neatly, creeping around so that he didn't wake up the witch sleeping in the bed, then got back in the armchair and pulled the blanket over him again.

Why was he still warm?

He huffed in frustration, making a mental list of all the reasons his body could be overheating, then froze.

Somewhere along the way he'd added 'kiss' to the list, and then all of a sudden his mind was filling with the events of earlier and images of mistletoe.

Shit.

It had been awkward after they kissed in the kitchen doorway, Y/n's whole family watching and clapping with joy afterwards, and he had been very glad that she had hidden her face in his chest, because that meant that she couldn't see his own flushed face.

He had told himself that he was blushing because that had been his first proper kiss, and then followed that up by listing all the annoying things about Y/n.

They had been forced back into the living room for another two hours after that, with introductions being made to Y/n's grandparents (the ones that owned the house) and siblings (since they hadn't had the chance to say a proper hello yet). He had felt a little scared when all four of Y/n's brothers crowded around him, including 11 year old Tom, and made a promise to have a chat the next day, and then he'd been downright fearing for his life when Olivia pushed through and draped herself over his arm.

Y/n had simply been snickering in a corner at the whole thing.

Lockwood had glared at her in response, hoping that she might come and save him, but instead she turned back to her grandparents with a smirk and left him to her sister.

When they had finally been allowed to leave for bed, Lockwood and Y/n had got stuck in the doorway in their rush to go upstairs.

"After you, darling."

"No, you go first, Anthony."

Her family had been not-so-secretly watching the whole affair, and after a moment of staring at each other Lockwood had stepped back and swept his arm out for her to go first. He told himself it was because he had been raised to be a gentleman and also so that her family would think of him as the perfect boyfriend, but realistically it was so that he could hide his second flushed face of the evening when his gaze darted down to her mouth.

They had got ready for bed in silence, the only words spoken between them "excuse me" and "thanks" as they moved around, and then Y/n had given him the throw blanket from the end of the bed and turned out the lights.

"You sure you're fine in the chair?"

"Perfectly fine, Schmoopie."

"Do you want to die, Lockwood? Because you're getting dangerously close to seeing my rapier sticking out of your torso."

He hadn't answered her question, instead opting to shuffle around in the chair until he was as comfortable as he could be and bidding her goodnight.

And now here he was, around fifty minutes later, attempting to go to sleep while he also attempted to not think of the feeling of Y/n's lips on his.

He really should give up the game of hating each other that the two of them had going on.

Since that first night where they had met by quite literally bumping into each other, Lockwood had maintained the belief that she was no good for his business.

His meaning for what that meant had changed over the years, though.

Originally he'd thought that she would be clumsy and ineffective in a fight since she'd walked right into him and nearly pushed him over, and then when she'd come for an interview and walked into the doorframe his mentality had stayed the same. He was in too much debt to waste money on an agent that was as accident prone as Y/n.

But then? Then he'd seen her in action.

It had been around four months after she first joined Lockwood and Co (as he had stubbornly refused to go on jobs with her). George was behind on research for other jobs, and Lucy had a case of her own to deal with. Lockwood would have taken this particular one on his own, but Holly had recounted the client's report of what could be felt and dictated that he needed backup or he wasn't going. She herself had claimed there was a mountain of paperwork with her name on, and so Lockwood had been left with Y/n as his only option.

The taxi ride had been silent, with Y/n ignoring him and instead looking out the window, and when Lockwood thanked the driver his mouth was dry from disuse.

He knew he'd been an arse the last few months when all she was doing was attempting to be nice, but now he felt he was too far in to stop. She likely wouldn't believe he was being sincere anyway.

Two hours later they were done, worn out from running around trying to find Sources, and Lockwood had taken a new stance on his feelings towards Y/n.

It would have taken them at least twice as long to locate the Sources if Y/n hadn't used her Touch, and from what he could gather she was actually seeing the scenes play out in front of her, complete with sound and all as though she was actually there. He had never seen anything like it before, and when he went to tell her in the taxi home he was met with a very different Y/n to the one that had been trying to be his friend.

"You were incredible back there, Y/n."

"Not sure why you care, Lockwood. You've spent the last four months avoiding me and putting me on different jobs so you don't have to be around me." Her tone was harsh and cold, so far from the warm voice she had had only a few hours before, and Lockwood couldn't help but bite back.

"Of course I don't want to be around you, I was only saying that to make you think you're actually worth keeping around." It was awful, and he would never normally say something like that, but she was an enigma and he was tired and scared that if anyone found out about her Talent then she would take the spotlight away from him, and the words were out of his mouth before his brain could catch up and tell him to stop. She had stared at him, and for a moment he thought she might start crying from the way her eyes glistened and her lip trembled slightly, but then her expression was turning hard and a scowl settled on her face, and after that it became the norm for Lockwood to catch her eye and be glared at.

He knew he should apologise, but he couldn't figure out how to do it in a way that she would accept, and they were so entrenched in this hatred now that he was struggling to see how they could ever leave.

No, better to stick to what was normal and safe.

Not his normal mentality, but when venturing into the unknown meant exploring why he felt so warm, he was perfectly fine with staying behind the iron chains he had placed around his heart.

part 4

Tag list: @ahead-fullofdreams, @anathemaloren, @augustisintheair, @avdiobliss, @aysha4life, @briar-rose23, @curseofhecate, @dangelnleif, @edible-rat-vomit, @el-de-phi, @ell0ra-br3kk3r, @informedimagining, @karensirkobabes, @locklyebrainrot, @locknco, @mentallyillsodapop, @mischivana, @mitskiswift99, @mrsklockwood, @mrsyixingunicorn10, @no-morning-glories, @novelizt, @ran23sblog, @star-of-velaris, @superpositvecloudshipper, @t2sh0, @taygrls, @tournesol77, @whenselenefallsinlove, @wordsarelife

let me know if you want to be added to/removed from the tag list! <3

#lockwood and co #lockwood & co #anthony lockwood #anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x you #lockwood x reader #enemies to lovers #fake dating #christmas

176 notes · View notes

bloodstainedsaint · 9 months

Text

noises in the bedroom with ron, lew, lieb, luz, and shifty

word count: 770+

warnings: reader has female genitalia, degradation (only in ron's), praise, teasing, i call nixon a whore for the reader (it's true)

notes: i couldn't include babe in this one cause i just decided that i would write for him (and therefore i must do Research) but hope you guys enjoy anyway !!

ronald speirs

big on praise-degradation, like 50/50 on it

unless you managed to really set him off (ex; make him jealous on purpose, tease him, be a brat, etc.), then don't expect very many kind words

he can be so mean and unfair when he wants to, but by the end of it he’s worshiping you like you're a deity

he’ll call you a slut but his slut, yk?

could not care less about who hears — no one's gonna confront him about it anyway with his reputation, and they're definitely not coming up to you either since they know ron is going to be death glaring them the whole time

he groans and grunts huskily + openly and encourages you to not cover up/muffle your sounds with your hand

(quickies are, of course, the exception since that would be unsafe, and if higher-ups are around, obviously he's about to care; in any other situation though, no one is safe from hearing the two of you)

lewis nixon

somehow his moans are louder than yours???

LIKE that's not a bad thing, it just means he's enjoying it just as much as you but he's just so vocal about it, saying your name or princess, doll, sweetheart like his life depended on it

(he's such a whore for you, especially when he goes down on you. you're gonna be feeling the vibrations of his groans bc omg is he obsessed with eating you out…but that's another story)

this is mostly because he also does not care who hears (same exceptions as ron). i imagine dick having to come talk to you all flustered, his face matching his hair and his eyes cast to the ground, asking you guys to keep it down

…nixon definitely didn't get any play for two weeks after that

despite being the #1 slut for you, he still manages to tease you, saying things like, “tell me how bad you want it.” (as if he doesn't want it just as bad)

joseph liebgott

he's probably the biggest pottymouth out of the five

anything he does is followed up by a hoarse “fuck, doll” or “shit, (y/n)”

he's trying to cover up the fact that he's a bit of a whiner/panter

he’ll kiss marks onto and around your breasts to muffle the sound of his moans

definitely says “yeah, you like that?” or “that feel good, baby?” during foreplay, smirking down at you while you’re begging for more (he's a little cocky with it)

becomes soft during and afterwards; he's scared to be vulnerable but he can't help telling you how pretty you look, how good you feel, and how much he loves you

will probably confess some of these things in german so he's not as vulnerable, but you still get the gist either way (and if you do understand german, he's screwed)

george luz

honestly he's just kind of unserious, like this man is giggling he's so happy to be with you (and his laughter and smile are infectious so now you're laughing too and telling him to shut up)

he’ll praise you with jokes, telling you you're prettier than any pinup model

“rita doesn't have anything on you, beautiful.” cue you rolling your eyes with a smile and telling him he’s cheesy

he's a little bit of a cusser too (especially when you play with his hair), not to the level of lieb though

“damn, (y/n), i'm lucky you're all mine.”

eventually the jokes and goofiness dissolve into him straight up telling you how good you feel around him and that you're especially gorgeous like this

+ him confessing his love for you when he's still catching his breath

“(y/n), have i ever told you how much i love you?”

“maybe 100 times today, george”

“oh so not enough then” you kiss him before he can remind you again

shifty powers

loves to praise you (and be praised honestly)

like he swears up and down that you're the most perfect girl alive

he can't believe that you're his and he's yours

kind of shy about his moans but he can't stop himself/hide them well enough because he moans at the slightest touch (he's so in love with you)

whimpers when you say he's making you feel good and “don't stop”

he's definitely asking if you're sure about anything and everything, reminding you that you don't have to go through with this if you don't absolutely want to

you just have to be like “darrell c. powers, please just take me” and lord will he oblige you with the brightest goddamn smile on his face

taglist: @mads-weasley, @ronsparky, @dcyllom, @malarkgirlypop, @joetoyesbrassknuckles101, @samwinchesterslostshoe

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honey-crypt · 2 months

Note

Also going off of the idea that elliott is obsessed with sweets....perhaps its a way for the farmer to seduce him? Like making him some really nice brownies or something and feeding them to him, maybe leading to something spicy if theyre so inclined ✨️

a/n: hehehe this was fun to write. sadly, no nsfw cuz i wrote this at 9am and i got no horny writing juice in the early hours.... but nonetheless, enjoy!

word count: 2.3k

warnings: mention of aphrodisiacs but no nsfw

summary: you had your heart set on wooing elliott since meeting him. seeing his love for sweets, especially for chocolate, you enlist the help of evelyn to make brownies as an attempt to win him over.

★ sweetness - elliott x farmer ★

You knew Elliott had a sweet tooth with the way you would pass him by the ice cream stand nearly every afternoon in summer. He would always grab an ice cream presumably after a morning spent in the library, his order was chocolate ice cream with rainbow sprinkles. You couldn't help but stare at him whenever you saw him eat his ice cream, almost running into a tree and dropping your geodes on more than one occasion.

Elliott, oh sweet Elliott; the moment you locked eyes with him at the beach was the moment you fell head over heels for the redheaded writer. You couldn’t help it! After all, the way he spoke so smoothly with such elegance, the small acts of kindness you witnessed him do, his passion for the arts, every part of him intrigued you. You had to learn more about him, so you did. You learned everything you could about him through your hangouts, slowly but surely becoming friends. Yet, you wanted more, you needed more, so you hatched a plan.

Elliott’s sweet tooth was his weakness. You had seen the way he melted from the mere taste of chocolate, so it made sense that his favorite dessert was brownies. However, you weren’t the best baker, or at least you hadn’t made brownies before. Luckily, you had a solution, enlisting the best baker you knew: Granny Evelyn.

“Oh, brownies,” the elderly woman smiled whimsily, “I haven’t made brownies in ages, my dear George and Alex always preferred my cookies.”

You frowned, “So you can’t help me bake brownies?”

She shook her head with a small laugh, “Oh, no, no, dear. I can most assuredly help you! Allow me to grab my recipe book,” the town’s grandmother perused through her kitchen, opening cabinets and drawers until she found a plastic binder. Yellowed from years of use, it was a relic of a lifetime before you. A smile broke out on your face when Evelyn informed you, “Let’s get to baking, my dear.”

Hours went by, as you gathered the ingredients needed and assembled the brownie mixture with Evelyn. Carefully, you poured out the mixture on the baking sheet and worked with Evelyn to smooth it out. Once ready, she placed the tray in the oven and handed you the chocolate-covered spatula, “Have a taste, dear.”

Curious, you licked the chocolate off the spatula and nearly went weak in the knees. It was delicious- no, it was simply scrumptious! You voiced your opinion aloud to Evelyn, “Oh my Yoba, Evelyn, this tastes so good!”

“Oh, splendid,” she smiled at you. Another hour or so went by before the oven timer dinged, signaling that the brownies were ready. A heavenly scent engulfed the kitchen when you pulled the brownies out of the oven. Your mouth watered at the sight of the crisp brownies, perfectly cooked. Evelyn chuckled at your reaction, she then proceeded to cut out a small portion of brownie and held out to you, “Have a taste, you earned it.”

You took the piece and bit into her, the chocolate melting in your mouth. Holy shit, you finished off your piece without hesitation, This is Heaven. You wiped any crumbles off your lips with a napkin (Evelyn always got on you for using your sleeve) and let out a sigh, “Thank you so much for helping me out.”

“Of course,” the grandmother patted you on the arm, “Anything for a young soul in love,” your face heated up at her comment, “Oh, did you- I’ve been alive for many decades, dear. I know love when I see it,” she answered. Evelyn handed you the plate of brownies, “I wish you the best of luck, dear.”

You set the plate down and embraced Evelyn gently, not wanting to break the older woman’s bones if you hugged too tight. You released her from the hug and picked up the plate, “Thank you for everything.”

“Of course,” she waved you off, “You can do it, (Y/N). I believe in you!” a small laugh escaped your lips at her support and exited the Mullner’s residence. You checked the time on your watch, it was around three in the afternoon. Elliott was most likely in his cabin, engaging in a writing session. He was always a hard worker when it came to his writing.

You approached the cabin, worn out from years of exposure to the elements. Your heart fluttered when you reached the door. You held out your hand to knock on the door, but stopped yourself short, “Shit, shit,” anxiety overcame you, “This is a bad idea,” you turned on your heel, “I’ll just deliver them in the mail.”

The door suddenly creaked open, “(Y/N)?” you whipped your head back towards the door and saw the cabin’s occupant, Elliott, standing in the doorway. He wore his usual summer ensemble, a flowy turquoise shirt secured by brown suspenders and khaki pants. You gripped the tray of brownies so tight that if it was made of china, it would break; you steadied yourself before speaking, “Elliott! Hi! How are you?”

“I’m doing well,” he responded, adjusting his suspenders, “I was just about to head out to the library to return a book,” your eyes trailed off to see the book in his hands, a green cover with the words The Dunwich Horror inked on. You sheepishly smiled, “I’m sorry to disturb you, I can come back another time.”

“No, no!” exclaimed Elliott, “It’s quite alright, (Y/N),” his emerald eyes stared down the plate of brownies, “You baked brownies?” you could see his usual sophisticated expression shifted into one of child-like wonder. You gave the writer a nod of confirmation, “Well, Granny Evelyn helped me, it’s her recipe… but yeah, I baked you brownies.”

Elliott stepped back into his cabin and to the side, “Please! Please come in,” you entered the cabin wordlessly, you had only been inside on a few occasions but its design didn’t change one bit, still frugal and minimalist. You set the brownies down on the nearby table and sat down on the ground, legs crossed.

“Please,” the writer gestured to his desk, “Have a proper seat, my friend.”

“Alright,” you rose from the ground and plopped down at his writing desk. You eyed the assortment of unfinished papers and broken duck feather quills. A typewriter laid away from the mess, a paper in the center and half-filled with words. Must be Elliott’s manuscript.

“May I have a brownie?” asked Elliott. Your eyes darted to him, the redhead hovering by the brownies with the timidness of a small child, “Of course, you can,” you gave him permission to have a brownie, “I baked them just for you.”

“You should have one!” he commented before biting into the brownie. His eyes lit up with joy, as Elliott let out a moan, “Oh my Yoba,” his voice was muffled by the brownie chunk in his mouth, “This is heavenly. You did an amazing job!”

Your face warmed up at the compliment, “Thank you. I’m glad you like them.”

“Like them?” he questioned, finishing off his brownie, “Darling, I love them.”

You concealed your flustered state by coughing into your arm, hoping Elliott didn’t notice how embarrassed you were from him calling you darling. He didn’t know how much his words had an effect on you, how easily you crumbled at the slightest smile and the simplest of pet names like dear or darling. Oh, how you wanted to take him right then and there, to show him how much he drove you mad.

“Here,” something poked you in the cheek. You looked up and saw Elliott holding out a brownie to you, “Have a taste.”

You took the brownie and bit into it, relishing its savory delicacy. Just like Elliott, you quickly finished your brownie and let out a satisfied sigh. An idea suddenly popped up in your mind when you saw Elliott reach for another piece, “Wait,” he stopped upon hearing your voice, “I wanna try something.”

Elliott watched in bewilderment, as you grabbed a brownie from the tray. You sat next to him on the bed, the frame creaking a bit under the weight of two people. Mustering up all the courage you had, you held the brownie to his lips, “Here.”

Elliott peered down at the brownie then back at you. You were about to pull it away, cursing yourself for the stupid idea, when he bit down on the brownie. Silent, you remained still as a statue, as you fed Elliott the brownie. The cabin became uncomfortably hot, whether because of the summer heat or the odd feeling in your stomach. Yoba, oh Yoba, I wanna kiss his lips, you watched Elliott’s pretty nude pink lips move while he chewed. I need him.

“Simply marvelous,” your crush spoke up, snapping out of your fantasy. You grinned, happy that Elliott enjoyed the brownies so much, and mused to him, “They’re all yours for the keeping.”

“You spoil me,” the writer chuckled. He stood up and picked up the plate of brownies, walking over to his kitchenette and placing the plate inside the fridge. Elliott then returned to his spot on the bed with you, “I must make sure to give my thanks to Evelyn, as well.”

The temperature of the cabin intensified, a bead of sweat dripped down your forehead onto your hand. Elliott seemed to have noticed the change in temperature and cracked the window by his bed open, “Oh Yoba, I hope we get some rain soon,” he muttered, “It has been way too hot for way too many days.”

“Agreed,” you mumbled, fanning yourself with your shirt. Yoba, I need to get these clothes off. Elliott unbuttoned a few buttons of his shirt, his sun-kissed skin glistening with sweat and a bit of chest hair poking out, “I swear, I could be naked right now.”

You choked on air at the sudden statement. Elliott noticed your surprise and laughed loudly, uncharacteristic to his sober self. I didn’t add any alcohol to these brownies. He removed his hair tie and let his long ginger hair free, draping his shoulders. Yoba, he has the prettiest hair I’ve ever seen.

“You’re usually not this… forward,” you stumbled to find the right word, “Unfiltered? Is unfiltered the right word to use?”

“I apologize,” he wiped away some sweat with his forearm, “The heat makes me lose some sense,” Elliott leaned back and laid on the bed, his legs hanging off. You followed in suit, laying down and tilting your head to look at Elliott. He looked back at you and flashed a smile, his teeth as white and as blinding as pearls.

“You’re so beautiful,” you blurted out. His eyes widened and his cheeks turned as red as his hair, “Oh- Oh, I am?” he stuttered, unusually for such a smooth talker. You blinked and realized what you just said, letting out a squeak of horror, “Oh- Oh shit, you were not supposed to hear my inner thoughts!”

“But what if I told you that you’re so beautiful, too?”

You gawked at the redhead, “What?”

Elliott rolled over and got closer to you, your faces almost touching, “What if,” he inched closer, “I told you,” and closer, “That you’re so beautiful, too?” his lips were dangerously close to yours. Something overcame you, perhaps it was Yoba’s intervention, and you gently pecked his lips. Elliott blinked in surprise before pecking you back. The two of you exchanged a series of pecks and soon, you began to kiss one another deeper and deeper until you were full-on Fino Riza kissing.

In the midst of your feverish makeout session, you managed to get on top of Elliott, your pelvis resting on his lower abdomen. You kissed him with all the passion you had, as did Elliott. It felt like hours had gone by before the kiss was finally broken, leaving both you and Elliott in a panting mess.

“Wow,” you let out a shaky laugh, “I actually kissed my crush.”

“As did I,” answered Elliott, his cheeks flushed red from the heat and the energy in the room. You whipped your head around, “Wait, you have a crush on me?”

“From the moment I first laid my eyes on your beautiful self,” he confessed. You couldn’t help but laugh at the coincidence, “That’s insane because that happened to me, too,” the writer began to laugh with you, “Oh, Yoba! We could have dated much sooner!”

You paused from laughing, “Does that mean?” he nodded, “I would be honor to have you as my partner, (Y/N). Would you do me the honor and allow me to be yours?”

“Yoba, you’re too romantic for your own good,” you snorted, “But yes, I want you to be my partner,” you pressed a light kiss on his lips. Elliott smiled as big as he could after the kiss, over the moon with happiness. The two of you resumed laying down on his bed and held one another, basking in joy of your new relationship.

…

The next day after you began dating Elliott, you found Evelyn outside the Stardrop Saloon, tending to the flowers. You jogged up to her with a grin, “Evelyn!” she paused her watering and smiled back, “Good morning, dear. How are you today?”

“Really good,” you answered, “I just wanted to thank you for yesterday. Those brownies were a lifesaver,” you rubbed the back of your neck, “Me and Elliott, we- uh, we’re dating now, too.”

“Splendid!” the old woman responded, “Chocolate always puts my George in a good mood.”

“Oh really? How come?”

“I believe chocolate is a mood booster of some sort. Before him and I became the elders you see now, I used to bake him those brownies to get him in a romantic mood.”

You blinked, “Oh, I see.”

Wasn’t chocolate an aphrodisiac, as well?

#honey crypt fics #stardew valley #sdv #stardew #sdv elliott #stardew valley elliott #stardew elliott #sdv elliott x farmer #sdv elliott x reader #stardew valley elliott x farmer #stardew valley elliott x reader #stardew elliott x farmer #stardew elliott x reader

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george-weasleys-girl · 1 year

Note

Heyy, could you write something where the reader is jealous? You can choose if you want to write about Fred or George

Thank you for your request! This is a long one. It really took on a life of its own. I hope you like it.

~•~

George x Fem Reader

~•~

George’s laughter carried across the store, bringing a smile to your face. You turned to see what had delighted him so much and immediately regretted it. Your heart plummeted, and sullen glower replaced your smile as you watched him chat with the bouncy, vapid woman who'd started coming into the shop at least once a week, making a beeline straight to George every time. She obviously had a thing for him, and from the looks of it, he was developing a thing for her.

You just couldn't understand why George would be even remotely attracted to her. Sure, she was pretty, but she was also dumb as a stump. You'd talked to her a few times and were convinced she had a maximum of two brain cells bouncing around in her skull, one of which was solely responsible for keeping her alive.

You looked back up to see George, smiling wide, enraptured by whatever nonsense she was babbling as she twirled her precious little curls around her index finger.

Wiping away the tears from your eyes, you went back to stocking the Canary Creams, slamming them down on the display, startling the elderly lady perusing the shelf next to you.

"Sorry, ma'am," you apologized. "Rough day." The woman huffed and shook her head before scurrying off to the other side of the store.

You sighed, your shoulders sagging in defeat. You knew you had no right to be jealous. George was your boss, not your boyfriend. He could flirt with whoever the hell he wants. If your heart got broken in the process, it was your own damn fault for falling for him.

~•~

George watched as you tidied up a display of Fainting Fancies. When he hired you two years ago, he was exhausted and frazzled and was looking for people who could learn the ropes quickly and help out in the newly reopened shop until Fred recovered from the spinal injury he'd gotten during the Battle of Hogwarts.

In no time, you were all but running the store, allowing him to spend more time with his twin. He was eternally grateful, but it wasn't until around six months later that he saw you as anything more than a valued employee.

At that point, Fred had started working for a couple of hours a day. But he was still fragile, and one afternoon, he lost his balance and fell. You did two things that day that endeared you to George forever. While he ran to help Fred, you somehow managed to keep both the customers and other employees away from the area, saving Fred from the embarrassment of being seen sprawled out on the floor.

Then, after spending several hours at the hospital, followed by the difficult task of getting a very stubborn and very grumpy Fred settled into bed, George wanted nothing more than to just fall flat on his face in bed, or on the couch or even the floor. All three sounded equally appealing. But he couldn't. Fred needed to eat, and he probably should, too.

He'd just decided to use magic to whip up some chicken fingers and french fries when someone knocked on the door, causing a confused look to cross his face. It couldn't be one of the employees. The shop had long since closed, and everybody had gone home. And he knew it wouldn't be his mum. Fred had made him promise not to tell the family he'd fallen. He didn't want them "worrying over nothing."

George opened up the door to find you standing there with a huge bowl of spaghetti and some freshly baked garlic bread. "Hey," you said a little shyly. "I figured you'd probably be exhausted when you got home, so I thought I'd make dinner for you and Fred. I hope you don't mind."

"Mind?" A massive smile replaced the confusion on George's face. "No, I don't mind at all, come in!" He opened the door wider. "You are an absolute angel for doing this. How did you know we were home?"

"I didn't," you replied. "But I still have the flat key you gave me, so I could check in on Fred when you got wrapped up with customers. I thought I'd just leave it on the counter with a spell cast to keep it nice and hot."

For a moment, George looked like he might cry, but then he smiled again. "Would you like to join us for dinner? Well, really me. Fred will take his dinner in bed."

"Well, I've already eaten," you said, watching his face fall. "But I can never turn down a slice of garlic bread."

"Ok, great!" He replied. "Just let me get Fred set up."

You smiled. "Shall I get him a plate together?"

"Thank you! That would be wonderful," George said as he hurried into Fred's bedroom.

That was the night George Weasley fell in love with you.

~•~

You managed to make it through the rest of the morning without breaking down. By the time your lunch break rolled around, you had reigned your emotions back under control.

You sat outside on the little patio behind the shop, nibbling on your sandwich and mulling over the situation. You'd never intended to fall in love with George. In fact, you'd never intended to work at the joke shop at all. You'd taken the job out of sheer desperation.

While at Hogwarts, you discovered you had a knack for healing, and since you didn't have a clue what you wanted to do after graduation, training as a healer seemed just as good as anything else. As it turned out, you grew to love the work, and for a while, you couldn't imagine doing anything else.

And then the war happened.

You didn't know if it was because you weren't cut out for the raw intensity of being a healer or if it was watching helplessly as people you knew and loved died all around you. Either way, the war broke you.

The very thought of continuing on as healer sent you into paralyzing panic attacks. So, you packed up and moved in with your muggle sister. For the first few months, you carried your weight by doing all the cleaning and cooking and taking on any other chores that needed doing.

It worked well for a while, but your sister didn't have a great paying job, and it soon became evident that you'd need to pitch in financially. You'd hoped to find something in the magical world, but the prospects weren't promising. Most of the business owners had taken to the hills after the return of Voldemort. And, though they were now returning, many of them barely had the means left to restart their business, never mind hiring on help.

The outlook was so bleak that you were beginning to think that working in the muggle world was your only option. Then, one morning, you spied a Help Wanted ad in the Daily Prophet. Within a week, you were working at the infamous Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. Then, within a couple of months, you'd become George's right-hand woman, taking on the lion's share of running the shop so he could take care of Fred.

Soon after, George found out you had healing experience and started asking you for advice. Eventually, you were going upstairs to help. More often than not, it was to convince Fred to do something. Or not do something.

"He won't listen to me," George would say. "Maybe he'll listen to you."

That's when your feelings for George began to develop. During those early days, watching him care for his brother with such patience and gentleness, even when Fred was at his worst, won you over.

"I don't need your fucking help!" Fred would yell.

"I know," George would calmly say, "but the healers said you could reverse some of your progress if you try to stand on your own right now. You don't want to end up back in the hospital, do you?"

"No," Fred would huff.

"Good. Now, put your arm around my shoulders so we can get you in your wheelchair."

And now, here you were. Madly in love with a man who'd never feel the same. Who was now falling in love with someone you were certain didn't deserve him or could make him happy. You rolled your eyes. So much for keeping your emotions in check. You balled up what was left of your sandwich and hurled it into the nearby waste bin and then preceded to stomp from one end of the patio to the other, your hands balled into tight fists, until your break was over.

~•~

"Mate, I know you like her," Fred spoke as he and George finished up some paperwork in the office.

"I more than like her, Freddie, but I'm her boss for Godric's sake. I can't just start dating an employee."

"Why not?"

"What do you mean, why not?" George stared at his twin. "For one, it's unprofessional, and two, what if it doesn't work out? It would make everything weird."

Fred sighed. "You have a limited time to ask her out. She might quit or meet someone else, and then where will you be?"

George remained silent for a long while, chewing on his thumbnail. "Maybe you're right," he said finally.

"Of course I'm right," Fred smirked. "So, are you going to do it?"

"Yeah," George half-grinned. "I'm gonna ask her out."

~•~

You'd finished up with your closing duties and headed upstairs to see if George or Fred needed you to do anything else before you left.

Their office door was open, just a crack. You lifted your hand to knock when you heard Fred's cheeky voice. "Of course I'm right. So are you gonna do it?"

"Yeah," George answered. "I'm gonna ask her out."

It was if someone had punched you in the gut. George was going to ask Miss Vapid out. You clamped your mouth over your hand to cover the sob that fell from your lips unbidden and backed away from the door as quietly as possible. As soon as you were out of earshot, you turned and fled the shop.

~•~

"Did she just leave?" George made one more turn around the store. "Without saying anything?"

"That's not like her," Fred said.

"No. It isn't," George raked his fingers through his hair. "I hope everything's alright."

~•~

You barely slept that night, and when you did, your dreams were plagued with images of George laughing with his soon to be girlfriend, holding her hand, kissing her. You'd wake up in tears, followed by another hour of tossing and turning, before dozing back off and starting the whole vicious cycle over again.

When the sun finally crested the horizon, you drug yourself out of bed and headed to the kitchen. Luckily, today was your day off, and you fully intended to start it off right. With a glass of wine or two or maybe ten. You were exhausted, sore, and heartsick, and you just didn't want to feel anymore.

You'd just finished off your second glass when someone knocked on the door. You rolled your eyes. Who the hell is here, ruining my perfectly good pity party at... you looked down at your watch, the fucking ass-crack of dawn?

~•~

George spent the night pacing from one end of the apartment to the other.

Why would you just leave like that?

Were you feeling ill?

Or did something happen yesterday?

Did he or Fred say something stupid and hurt your feelings?

Why didn't you just come and talk to him if that was the case?

He'd almost sent you an owl at least 782 times last night, but chickened out every time. And of course, today was your day off. So that meant he'd spend the next twenty-four hours worrying himself sick over you.

"George, have you slept at all?" Fred shuffled out of his bedroom, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"No."

Fred sighed and went to put on a pot of coffee. "Why don't you just go and talk to her?"

"Don't you think that'd be a bit weird. Me, her boss, showing up on her doorstep at 7am, wondering why she left work without saying goodbye."

"At this point, Georgie, who the fuck cares? You're going to make yourself physically ill if you don't find out what's going on."

George rubbed a hand over his face. "Ok. Yeah. You're right. But I need about a gallon of coffee first."

Fred opened up one of the kitchen cabinets and pulled out a thermos. "Take it with you, mate."

~•~

You swung the door open, ready to give whoever it was a piece of your mind, and froze when you saw George standing there. He looked exactly like you felt. Good thing he's not flying anywhere, your tipsy self thought briefly. He'd have to check in the bags under his eyes before they'd let him on the plane.

"Why are you here?" The words came out sharper than you intended it, causing George to take a step back.

"I, um, I was worried about you," he fumbled. "You left without saying goodbye yesterday."

"You're here at seven in the morning because I didn't say goodbye?"

"Well, yeah... that's not like you. At all. I was worried something had happened yesterday."

Worried something had happened yesterday? You almost laughed in his face. "Come on in," you said. "I'm gonna need another glass of wine for this one. Want one?"

George followed you into the living room. "Love...why are you drinking? How much have you had?"

You shrugged and upended your glass and then wiped your mouth on your sleeve. "Why do you care? I can do what I want in my free time. You're just my boss. It's not like you're my boyfriend or anything."

He visibly flinched at the last comment, but at this point, you didn't care.

"I really am worried. Something happened yesterday. Please tell me what it was. I want to help."

This time, you did laugh. "You really wanna know what happened yesterday? I realized that I'm a fucking idiot. That's what happened yesterday."

"I - I don't understand," George searched her eyes for any clues.

"No, of course you wouldn't. And it's not your fault. Not really. And I shouldn't be angry with you, but I am," you rambled. "It's my own fault for being stupid. And I'm gonna keep being stupid as long as I'm working there. So, yeah, I'm giving you my two week notice."

"What?! How we go from you saying you're stupid to you quitting?"

"It doesn't matter." You reached for the wine bottle, but George grabbed it first and moved it out of your reach.

"Hey!" You tried to grab it back, but he stood, took it to the kitchen, and emptied the rest of it into the sink.

"Why the fuck did you do that?"

"Because you're done with it," George tossed the empty bottle in the trash. "And we're going to work through whatever the fuck this is."

You sighed. "There's nothing to work through. I'm quitting, and that's that."

"No." George said simply.

"No? What do you mean, no?"

"I'm not letting you quit."

"As if you have a choice in the matter," you said. "Why do you care anyway? You'll find someone to replace me easily enough. Probably someone who's better than me."

"No," George repeated. "No one can replace you. There's no one better than you."

You shook your head and stood, turning away from him. "Not even your new girlfriend," you muttered under your breath.

"My new girl - what are you talking about?"

Shit. You didn't mean for him to hear that.

"What new girlfriend?" He asked again.

Something about the way he said it, with such shock and indignation, as if he had no idea what you were talking about, set you off, and you rounded on him. "Mindy or Wendy or whatever the fuck her name is!"

He looked genuinely confused for a moment, and then realization hit. "You mean Cindy? Cindy Fletcher? Why in Godric's name would I want to date her?"

"I don't know," you threw your hands in the air. "You tell me. You were all up in her face yesterday, hanging on to her every word."

"She was telling me about her muggle cousins new invention, and it sounded really cool and - " George paused. "Wait, why do you care so much who I talk to?"

"I - I don't," you stammered. "Just forget it. Just forget I said anything at all."

"Are you - jealous?"

You turned your back to him again. "Don't be ridiculous."

"You are, aren't you?" There was surprise in his voice and something else you couldn't quite place.

He moved to stand before you. "Do you," he hesitated for a moment. "Like me? Like as more than just your boss or your friend?"

The tears you'd been fighting to hold back poured down your cheeks. There was no denying it now. "Yes, I like you! Ok? I more than like you. But you're my boss - "

George pulled you into his arms, silencing you with a kiss. Your first instinct to anyone kissing you unexpectedly was to push them away. But then it dawned on you what was happening. Did George like you back? Apparently so, otherwise he wouldn't be kissing you right now. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer, deepening the kiss.

~•~

"I've been wanting to do that for ages," George confessed. You were cuddled on the sofa, refusing to let go of one another.

"Me too," you smiled. "Why did you never say anything?"

George shrugged. "I'm your boss. It would've been inappropriate. And what if things didn't work out? Talk about awkward. Us trying to work together."

"Hm," you nodded. "So does that mean I should still quit?"

"If it means I can keep kissing you like that, I'll fire you right now."

You giggled. "I don't think that will be necessary."

"Good," he said. "The place would fall apart without you."

"Pfft, don't be silly," you scoffed.

George pulled back a little so he could look at your face. "I'm not. I'm being dead serious. The shop would fall apart without you. And so would I."

You opened your mouth to respond, but the only thing that came out were the words you'd been holding back for so long. "I love you, George Weasley."

His smile melted your heart. "I love you, too," he said and pulled you in for another kiss.

~•~

@milivanili99 @fancy-pantaloons @turvi @zvummyummy @xmjthewitchx @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @georgie-weasley @samberriejams @nighttimemoonlover @jsjcue @wzrd-wheezes @mrsgweasley @hufflepuffie @morally-grey-obsessed @fredweasleyyyyy @anvaaryn @lastwandastan @samshifts @asuperconfusedgirl @hmisa11 @superduckmilkshake @mysticsheepsoul @gemofthenight @1lellykins @junerprsh @sierraluvz @wolfkill16 @kaysau2510 @qmylovexoxo @planetkt @costheticbabe @drama-queen-fromthevault @thatonepersonwhocantwrite @smallsweetvanillabean @themaraudersslut @hanne-montana

#george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley x you #george weasley x fem!reader #george weasley headcannon #george weasley angst #george weasley fluff #hp universe #hp fandom

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uftopia · 2 months

Text

posting a bit of an old rivals duo au i had years ago that i never really shared or drew publicly, but i finally wrote up a summary of what i have last night and would like to share (currently unfinished and needs polishing) i would love to start drawing it so this is just context

vvv

dream (birth name DayDream and referred to as Day) is the heir to the throne, of (unnamed kingdom/essempi). his older brother is foolish. foolish is a knight in training, hence why he won’t be king next.

for context, most people in this kingdom are fairy hybrids, some with feathery wings, some with classic wings, some like butterfly wings. in each wing category, there are preferred attributes to wings and different classes. the royal family mostly contains thick, feathery wings embroidered with magic in each feather.

day was born weak, and his wings hadn’t grown beyond age 10. they’re small, underdeveloped, and slightly patchy. he can’t fly nor hover, and the townsfolk are biased against that- who is this boy and why does he have the right to be king, when there are so many others who have gorgeous working wings? foolish is the kindest to him alongside his friends sylvee, sapnap, and george (unspoken crush lol)

(his mother was written to be puffy but that and whether the fact that she’s alive is subject to change. his father is dead.)

daydream has never wanted to be king, let alone part of the family. the kingdom hates him, disrespects him, and he finds himself unliked by some of his family members both across seas and across the hall. as pretty and lavish as his life is- he is often overwhelmed and wishes of nothing more than to be invisible. this makes the down dislike him more, calling his behavior ungrateful and selfish. his unease grows by the day. he gains new garments to wear to coronation day. he doesn’t try them on prior.

during his coronation day, after being crowned king, a big ball was held late into the night. a toast was made, gifts were given, and day offered an incredibly short speech.

foolish makes his rounds, insisting on his duties as a guard, and day gets to invite his “lower class” friends, sap and george. getting into the trouble that they do, used to making the most out of nothing, the catering table is flipped and sets off a chain reaction of multiple lights and various things breaking. expensive items and statues are now either broken or unpleasant to look at, and with day’s growing uneasiness, he flees, leaving sapnap and george to fend for themselves in the mess.

because of the commotion, he leaves unnoticed for now, grabbing a “go bag” he packed in his room months ago, and slips on a cloak and scarf to protect his identity.

here is where he begins to meet techno. day (now disliking his name) finds an “abandoned” potato farm, accompanied by a charming house in an open field. there are also apple trees and carrot patches.

day spends the rest of the night settling down and going to sleep in the bed he found, and wakes up to try and tend to the garden. he tries to farm and pluck food from the ground to eat, attempting to replace it and plant as he goes along- but growing up where servants did everything for you, he doesn’t really understand much of it. he starts to break down halfway into the day and sits covered in his cloak, shaking and crying- because what was he thinking, running away like this? he can’t survive, he won’t survive, but he most certainly cannot turn back now.

he makes the shift to dream, his preferred name.

a piglin, who he would learn is technoblade, greets him from behind and scares dream shitless, but he just comments, “i’ve been watching you mess up my farm for way too long, you’re doing this all wrong,” and begins to fix the mess dream made. he explains what he’s doing and why, and replants the potatoes. he invites dream in to eat.

they begin to live together and know each other, dream can’t bring himself to leave and techno doesn’t want to ask. after a bit techno does reveal he knows there’s a lost prince/king, and that dream is him. the conversation goes something like this:

“so, did you ever get a crown?”

“i uh- aah what?”

“you’re not very good at hiding it, being the king. your clothing has the royal sigil on them. you go by ‘dream’, assumingely from daydream. you also don’t seem to know a thing about farming, and don’t think i don’t recognize that jewelry, dude.”

“i don’t…” he cowers.

“i’m not gonna turn you in, i don’t care at all, but i figured we’d get that out there before shit goes down.”

“i thought you were kind of disconnected from that… talk?”

“i’m more connected than you know.”

there’s a couple of neighboring kingdoms that are looking for dream for the ransom money, but none are too concerned when foolish is there, a person more fit to be king. dream eventually decides to go on the run, away from techno to keep him out of trouble- after all, he’s learned to farm and sustain himself. techno stops him before he can go far by himself, “we’re a team. friends, even” dream teases him for that.

they travel, learning even more about each other, such as dream showing his pitiful wings, his relationship with george, his friendship with sapnap, how he was treated and why he did what he did- and the secrets of any royal castle you’ll go in. techno nods along like he doesn’t know.

but techno reveals he was incredibly connected to royalty, in a friendly familial way. he wasn’t related by any means, but his dear friend was king. a crow, with gorgeous green getups and a wingspan that seemed to weigh him down. he had a son with blonde hair, aged 13 years.

he was assigned knight to this kid, protecting him, but he might as well have been a babysitter. he played non stop, and they both enjoyed the casualness of it all, both swearing off of the formalities around each other. tommy hated the fanciness of it all, the rules, boundaries, lack of risk, being the heir.

dream understood.

techno explains that he was so bright and curious, he wanted his freedom more than anything. alongside this techno had begun to train him on how to use swords, bows, potions, and the soil: he believed tommy could make it on his own.

so when tommy set out one day with nothing but the weapons and clothes on his back, techno turned his back to the king, his friend, and let him go.

tommy is presumed dead. techno never forgave himself for that, that boy was like his brother- having grown up with him from age 6. techno was banished from the kingdom and immediately fired, his life spared on the basis of phil not being strong enough to kill another beloved person he knew.

techno enjoys helping dream to an unhealthy amount because of the circumstances. he feels as though if he let dream go that initial meeting, he too may have suffered the same fate by technos allowance. he and tommy are too similar in his mind to let it go.

at this point sapnap and george have fled prison and managed to make it out of the kingdom without getting caught. george, though not well off, is gifted in magic, and manages to follow dreams trail using enchantments. let me tell you they are fucking UPSET at dream for leaving them. this essentially becomes manhunt 2.0.

dream and techno enjoy being on the road together even if dream feels like he’s holding techno back. they don’t even know where they’re running to, but to them it’s the journey not the destination.

(thoughts i had but was unsure about, when furthering the story)

dream eventually gets caught again and taken back to the castle with snfs help, maybe the king title is revoked from him?? but imagine him locked up kind of like in rapunzels tower, unable to really leave bc his wings are disabled. the kingdom didn’t like him before, and now they CERTAINLY don’t

#rivalsduo #unnamed for now #i used to call it #to all of you #before though #idk why?

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god-has-entered-my-body · 5 months

Text

I'll take it one day at a time - M.H x Reader // pt.7

A/N: this took a while to write soz my loves TW: hard drugs especially in this one, please take care of yourself! Also very NSFW minors do not interact. I had a fun time writing it and an even better time listening to @beforeyougo-turnthebiglightoff (absolute cunt) tell me i'm evil❤️ Enjoy yourself my loves!!

wc: 5k

part eight

It hurts

Everything hurts. This impossible pain that was eating you alive from the inside out. You missed him, it was like a part of you had been ripped out of you. Since the day you met you hadn't spent more than two or three days apart, and even that was by force of either his parents or yours.

You kept replaying that day in your mind. The way he had looked at you, his eyes wide and teary, begging you to let him explain. Maybe you should have stayed, made him tell you exactly what had happened. What made it all worse was that Ruby was a part of all this. She had given it to him in the first place, the thought made your stomach churn.

The past few days had been spent laying in your bed, curled up in a ball under dirty covers. He had lied to you. The lights were dim, barely illuminating the numerous piles of plates that littered the surfaces in your room. Your mother had tried multiple times to get you out of bed, but you just ignored her, not being able to find the strength.

Hann had come over, meeting your mother in the process. She had directed him to your room, saying something about your boyfriend leaving you. Completely false, since you hadn't said anything to her. She liked to assume things, taking on whatever narrative helped her feel better.

The door creaked open, light flooding the otherwise dark room.

His hand brushed against your arm as he sat down at the foot of your bed, his eyes filled with worry. You didn't speak at first, refusing to make eye contact. It hurt too much.

“Darling, where is Matty?” The pet name made your heart wrench, reminding you of him. The pit in your stomach just dug itself deeper, and it felt like a thousand knives were stabbing into you always.

You shrug your shoulders, honestly not knowing where he was. Matty had called and called, texting you hundreds of times begging you to talk to him. By the second day, you had already switched off your phone, chucking into a corner, forgotten.

“No one knows where he is, George is having a proper meltdown.” he continues, his voice slightly shaky, the anxiety in it evident. He tells you how they had tried his house, and it turning up empty. Mattys parents were away, and nobody knew how to get ahold of them.

“Adam.” was all you could muster, not having spoken in days. The creak of the bed is deafening as you turn around to face him, looking up. “He..” your voice cracks, tears welling up in your eyes.

“...he did something. Heroin.” you manage to finish your sentence before breaking out into tears again, clutching his arm. “He promised he wouldnt do it again.” the sound of Mattys voice filled your mind, broken promises and lies.

“I believed him.” you force out, your eyes pleading with Hann to say something.

“Jesus Christ, are you serious?” The question is rhetorical. He knows.

The day is spent with Adam comforting you through crying fits and feelings of blame, even bringing you water and food.

You ask for a spliff, that being the only thing you knew would calm your nerves. Not having done anything else since your fight with Matty, you were starting to feel small symptoms of withdrawal. Cold sweat, dizziness, you had even thrown up once or twice into the bin next to your desk.

Hann, like the angel he is, pulls out a baggie of weed, rolling you a spliff. You ask him to open the window to let the smoke out, not quite in the mood for a hotbox. He obliges, and the warm air that is let into the room feels nice. The light helps too, letting you see the absolute state your room was in.

The haze of the weed calms you down, your crying down to only silent tears rolling down your face as Adam tries to speak to you. You don't listen, his voice sounds distorted and far away. At some point, he gets up to leave, telling you to switch on your phone. When you don't react, he searches for it, finding it underneath a pile of clothes. Turning it on, he sets it onto the nightstand, pressing a comforting kiss to your forehead as the door closes behind him.

You were alone.

With the spliff almost down to the filter, you chuck it into the rubbish, noticing Adam had cleared the vomit from it. It dwindles out, burning a small whole into the plastic of the fresh bin bag. Staring at the wall for what felt like an eternity, you hear your phone start to ring.

You think it's Adam calling, making sure you were eating the sandwich he had made you, so you pick up, not bothering to look at the ID. The receiver picks up only silence for the first few seconds of the call, then heavy breaths fill your ears. Matty.

Your heart jumps at the sound of him breathing on the other end of the line, dread filling you instantly. Something was wrong, you could feel it.

“I-'' he cuts himself off, a laboured groan leaving his lips. “I don't..”

Something starts in you, and you jump to your feet. Eyes darting around the room to locate your keys, you tug your shoes on while holding the phone between your ear and shoulder.

“Where are you?” you say, trying to remain calm. “Matty, where the fuck are you.” you repeat, your voice sounding more urgent.

His answer is barely audible, but you understand.

“I'm at Carolines..- please- I can't..” the line goes dead, the dial tone as loud as sirens in your head.

You push past your mother, ignoring her requests to know where you're going. This wasn't the time, you had to get to him, now.

You were never particularly athletic, always opting to cut P.E in favour of smoking a spliff behind the bushes with one George or Matty. Breathing heavily, you sprint down the street towards the old paper factory, dodging cars and people like it was an olympic sport.

Out of breath and sweaty, the last bolt up the flight of stairs leading to the terrace was difficult, your legs almost giving out on you multiple times. The door to the platform was already open when you finally made it to the top.

Your heart stops when you see curls peeking out from the side of the sofa, falling limply over the material of the armrest. A soft groan echoes through the air, pained and tired.

The sight of him will be burned into your mind until the day you die. Matty is half laying half sitting on the cushions, an old pillow holding him up, his skin deathly pale, even more so than usual. Tears run down his face, track marks littering the inside of his forearms.

“I’m- i’m s-so sorry, I didn't-” his words are weak, still coming from a very bad high. You start to take care of him, just like you did in that bathroom all those weeks ago. The needle is still in his arm, dirty and used, he winces when you pull it out, chucking it off of the balcony.

“We need to- you need help, Matty, I'm serious.” His eyes widen at your statement, his free hand reaching up to grab you. “P-please, don't call anyone.” he starts, visibly shaking. “I dont- i just want you.. no one else.” he’s scared. You've never seen him scared before, the fear visible on his face.

“Just hold still, let me-” You have no experience in cleaning wounds of any kind, but you try your best, finding a pack of tissues in your bag, wiping down his arm.

His hands are still shaking, and they feel cold to the touch. It breaks your heart to see him like this, scared and cold, not knowing what to do.

“Please don't tell anyone.'' He forces the words out of his mouth, making eye contact with you.

“I won't. But this is the last time.” you answer, stroking his upper arm comfortingly. He looks wrecked, dark circles under his eyes, hair obviously unwashed. He was wearing the same clothes he was when you last saw him

“Do you have anything else on you?” you ask, holding out your hand. You weren't letting him do this again. Never again.

He nods, taking a kit out of his pocket. Inside, another needle, a spoon, and a small baggie. Taking it out of his hands, you walk over to the edge of the terrace, shaking the sandy coloured substance out onto the street, letting it fly into the wind to disappear.

The needle was broken in two, also thrown over the edge of the terrace. Gone

Matty let out soft groans as he moved to properly lay down, asking you to sit with him. You do, lowering yourself onto the ground next to the sofa, your hand reaching up to stroke his face. His tears still stream down his face, and you wipe them away, smiling at him.

“I'm moving in with you.”

“I missed you.”

Both of you spoke at the same time, your voices overlapping. He raises his eyebrows at you, words forming in his mouth before dying.

“Okay.” he nods, accepting your decision.

“I’ve told Hann. We’re getting you clean, I don't care if you want to or not.”

“Okay.”

Silence

“I love you.” the words slip out of your mouth, hitting him just as hard as they did you. He squeezes your hand, leaning down for a kiss. He doesn't say it back. The two of you sit there, staring into each other's eyes. Mattys breathing becomes more regular, and so do his pupils.

“Don't do that ever again, please.” your voice is small, audibly shaking.

“I won't.” a wave of deja vu washes over you

He won't.

What are we?

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Fuck you are! You're not going anywhere” your mothers shrill voice pierces your ears, and you shake your head. Packing your things, you walked around grabbing the remaining clothes out of your wardrobe, stuffing them into a suitcase.

Your mother had tried to stop you, but she couldn't. Having turned 18 a while ago, you were free to go wherever you pleased. Mattys house was already filled with a bunch of your stuff, and you had been sleeping over there more often than in your own bed. What was the difference?

“If you leave now, you're not my daughter anymore.” she said quietly, almost expectantly.

You roll your eyes.

“Never really was, was I?” that was all you needed to say. All you've been wanting to say for years. Her eyes widen, and you turn around as the hurt spreads onto her face.

The door shuts with a loud bang, the sound echoing through the neighbourhood.

—-------------------------------------------------------

The days dragged by as Matty became more and more restless, making it entirely your problem. No amount of weed could calm him down, jittery and shaking. The itch was there for you as well, albeit not as strong as Mattys, who was close to crying by the looks of it.

But he had promised you, and was intending to keep said promise even if it was extremely uncomfortable, the headache that was spread throughout his head wasn't helping either.

The two of you had spent the day in each other's arms, a blanket draped over you. The TV was quiet, the lights flickering over Mattys face softly as he pulled your lips into a firm kiss.

‘What are we?’

You push the thought out of your head, letting yourself be kissed. His hand drew small circles onto the side of your arm, ever so often stopping to lightly pinch at the skin, making you jump. You felt his smile against your lips, the feeling only comparable to some sort of divinity. It was soft moments like these that made you forget everything else. The fighting, the drugs, the others.

You had called Hann, letting him know that you and Matty needed space. Withholding most details, like the state you had found him in, you assure him of Mattys wellbeing, stating “He’s going through it, but I've got it under control. Denise doesn't know, and don't tell her when she comes back.” His mother was set to make a return sometime in the next couple months, you overheard her tell Matty on the phone.

The kiss deepens, with Matty attempting to slip his tongue into your mouth, and you let him. Since this started happening, it had always been you that had control of the situation, not letting him even get a taste of power before pushing him down, telling him to “Be good for me, yeah? I'll give you what you want, just…”

His hand threads itself in your hair, and you gasp at the slight tug he gives it. The look in his eye when you finally glance up makes your breath hitch. Pupils completely blown out, he looks at you with an expression that can only be described as pure lust.

He pulls away for a split second, his eyes asking you a silent question. You nod.

Immediately, his hands are occupied with pushing your shirt up, hands palming your tits, and you feel rough calluses against your skin, making you moan. It seems like all of the oxygen had been sucked out of the room when he pressed a searing hot kiss onto your ribs, slowly working his way to run his tongue across your peaked nipple, making your back arch back into him.

He lets out a low, almost animalistic groan as you grind against him, your hips rolling onto his steadily growing erection. A flicker of pride flashed through you at the thought of you being the reason he was worked up after a few kisses and a look. You smile, raking a hand through his hair as he kisses down your stomach, quickly stopping him before he could go and lower.

“Can we switch?” you ask, batting your eyelashes, a faux innocent expression. He nods vigorously, letting you climb on top of him.

The look he gave you when you started to grind down onto him is priceless, wide eyes and parted lips staring back at you. You kiss down his neck, leaving aggressive hickeys in your wake, marking him up. He adjusts underneath you, and you reach a hand up to his chest, raking your hand over the expanse of it. The nipple piercing catches your eye, the black metal almost shimmering in the light.

“O-oh my go- fuckk-” his moans fill the air when you tug on it, a sharp pain reverberating through his body, and you feel him twitch against your leg. Your teeth find the piercing, biting down and pulling again, drinking in the noises he makes in response. Hands find his sides, thumbing at his ribs, trying to distract from the pain coming from his chest.

“You want me?” you ask, smugly, seeing his expression rapidly change. He looks blissed out, and you haven't even properly touched him yet. The next words to come out of your mouth make his breath hitch and his hips buck upwards in desperation.

“Want me to suck you off? I promise I'm good.” you mock his words, grinning at him in the same manner he did. The sight of you perched on top of him and your question almost made him cum in his pants, again.

“P-please, i promise i won't touch- just.. please” his voice cracks as he says the last word, morphing into a drawn out moan, the sound going straight to your core.

“But- i want you to get off first.” he never ceases to surprise you, his statement making you perk up, raising an eyebrow at him. “You can, you know..” he vaguely gestures at his thigh, eyes avoiding yours. A laugh escapes you when you realise what he meant, an extremely unsexy snort leaving your lips.

“You want me to.. Seriously? Grind on your thigh?” he cringes at the way you say it, flexing his legs under you. “Well, yeah, you're pretty and I like to.. watch you?” he sounds unsure, like you're about to laugh at him again. The compliment takes you by surprise, butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

You don't speak anymore, instead sitting up straight, towering over him. Mattys breathing becomes even more irregular than it already was, his chest rising and falling up and down rapidly. “Okay, i'll do it.'' Your voice is breathless and small, but his reaction is thankful, hands finding your hips comfortingly.

Your fingers toy with the hem of Mattys shirt, which was now pulled back down. He nods, giving you permission to take it off of him, softly moaning as it brushes against his nipple, still sensitive and raw from your previous attack on his chest.

Your lack of pants in the first place helped you settle onto his thigh comfortably, the shirt you had on covering most of you. You could feel his gaze on you, watching your every move. An experimental grind onto his jean-clad thigh made a spark of pleasure lick up your spine, a soft moan leaving your lips as you make eye contact with Matty. He urges you on, hands creeping up to cup your tits again, softer this time.

You grind down harder, feeling a dull pleasure spread throughout your body. Matty lets out a quiet groan at the sight of you using him to get off, getting even harder than he thought possible. Speeding up, you settle into a distinct rhythm, your hips ever so slightly guided by Mattys hands resting on them.

“You look so pretty like this.”

He sounds genuine, his eyes raking over your body with a look of adoration. You smile, letting out a moan as he tensed his thigh slightly, upping the pressure against your clit. Lowering down to catch his lips in a desperate kiss, you can feel yourself get closer to the edge, Mattys tongue licking into your mouth only spurring you on.

“Fuck- Matty.” you look down, seeing Mattys eyes still on you makes something ignite within you, the rubber band in your core tightening even more. His hands play with your nipples, thumbing at the skin, leaving light kisses on the back of your hand. His expression is sickly sweet, almost cocky. You cup his face, kissing him roughly as you feel yourself throttling towards your orgasm.

A hand finds his cock, firmly palming him through his jeans, making him groan into your mouth. You can feel a wet patch forming on the front of his pants, soaking them with precum. A particularly pathetic moan and skilled twist of your nipple from Matty makes you fall apart on his thigh, legs shaking as you grind your way through your climax.

Your breathing is heavy when you finally start to come down from your high, Matty jumpy and twitchy underneath you, watching you collect yourself. There's a wet patch on the front of his jeans where you had just been, perfectly matching the one he had caused all by himself.

“Is this all f’me?” you ask, your hand stroking him through the material of his pants, watching him clench his fists at his side. You bat your eyelashes at him again, and he lets out a short string of please’s and begging. The sight in front of you is absolutely delicious, Matty panting and squirming, his curls sticking to his forehead.

“Relax for me baby, let me take care of you.” you coo, watching his reactions closely. He throws his head back, hitting the pillows as he lets out another loud groan. Your hand moves to the zipper of his jeans, slowly unbuttoning them. The tent in his boxers is obvious, his cock straining against the thin material.

Your nails graze his thigh, digging into the skin. You knew he liked a bit of pain to his pleasure, and you were going to give him just that.

His hand finds your hair as you pull down his boxers, letting his erection spring out. Precum dribbled down the side, coating his cock in a layer of shine. Your hand wraps around him, giving him a light squeeze. The moan he lets out is heavenly, and you stroke up and down the length of him, thumbing his slit. He shudders, his hand tightening in your hair.

“Please- do something.” you listen to him, reaching down to drag your tongue up the underside of his cock. Sputtering and moaning, he mutters out “T-thank you, fuck, thats so good.”

You do the same again, taking him into your mouth. He feels heavy on your tongue, precum spilling out of the tip.

“I’m not gonna last- i’m sorry I-” you cut him off with a graze of your teeth along the inside of his thigh. His thighs tense as your hand grasps the base of his cock, stroking what your mouth can't take. You bob your head, groans of pleasure leaving his lips as he bucks up into your mouth. He tries to apologise, and you tell him you’ll stop if he does that again.

Nodding, he watches as your hand tugs at him, your bright nails a stark contrast to the leaking head of his cock. The sight is erotic, the way your red-rimmed mouth moves up and down his length, taking him deeper each time.

“I can’t- i’m going to-” he tries to pull you off of him, but you resist, instead speeding up your movements, desperately trying to bring him to the edge. Your eyes are watering and you can feel spit dripping down the side of your chin, but that didn't matter to you. You needed to feel Matty come undone in your mouth, and you were so close.

He whined, bucking up into your mouth, biting back yet another apology.

“F-fuck-” is your only warning before he spills into yor mouth, hot ropes of cum painting the back of your throat. His hand never left your hair, gripping onto it for dear life as you worked him through his orgasm.

Sticking out your tongue to show off what he had done, Matty screws his eyes shut at the sight, a groan leaving his parted lips. You swallow.

“That was.. So fucking good.” you giggle at the praise, crawling up to kiss him deeply. He can taste himself on your tongue, moaning softly into the kiss. You reach down to play with the piercing on his chest. The sounds he made were too heavenly to make you stop.

The hickeys you had sucked into the skin of his neck and chest made you gawk at him, admiring your work.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” he smirks at you, cocky. You take out the camera you kept in your bag, which was conveniently sitting on the glass table adjacent to the sofa. Angling the camera so you could capture everything, the flash goes off three separate times. It blinds him the first time, making his eyes shut at the light.

The second picture is better, with Matty looking at you instead of the camera, a provocative grin spread onto his face. He was always a sucker for attention, absolutely relishing in it. The picture perfectly caught the deep purple of the marks you had left on him, contrasting his pale skin perfectly.

The third picture though, was your favourite. Your hand had made its way to his nipple, pulling at the piercing right before snapping the photo. His face contorted in a mix of pain and pleasure, mouth slightly open with his eyes almost fully closed. He sure was a sight for sore eyes, the expression igniting a fire in you.

Leaning down to kiss him, you chuck the camera somewhere behind you, hearing it hit cushions on the other end of the sofa. The moment was soft, tender, like a fond memory.

One thing ruined it all. A nagging feeling at the back of your mind you just couldn't calm.

"What are we?"

—-------------------------------------------------------

It had taken days of convincing to get Matty to go with you. Ross and Adam had invited you to dinner, and George was also going to be there. He was reluctant to go, not wanting to face any of them. After hours of pleading and a makeout session, you stood by the door and watched as he put his shoes on.

You both walked hand in hand down the street, taking a shortcut through an old junkyard. Hann was probably just as nervous as Matty was to see him again, and you told him as much. Matty just shrugged, eyes glued to the ground in front of him.

The ring of the doorbell as you pressed it made him finally look up. Ross answered, eyes softening and he saw you both. He pulled you in for a hug, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. Matty was twitchy and frankly, scared, to see everyone again. The way he had acted made him cringe inwardly.

“Hey Matty.” Ross spoke as he pulled him in for one of his big man hugs. Matty hugged him back, finally smiling. It was okay, everything was going to be okay.

The conversation had been hard at first, with Hann going on his ‘drugs are bad for you’ rant again. Matty sat and listened, and so did you, squeezing his hand under the table when Adam finally finished, getting up to put on the kettle.

George was sitting on the couch, eyeing you as you went to plop next to him. Everything seemed normal, except for Hann’s incessant rambling and checking if everything was alright, which was pretty regular now that you really thought about it.

The night was spent laughing and watching Pulp Fiction on the telly. It felt like old times, before everything had gone to shit. You smile fondly at the memories of Matty and Ross almost killing each other over trivial games of FIFA, clawing at each other until Hann finally pulled them apart.

You watch the others, absolutely engrossed in the movie, with soft munching coming from the direction of Ross and his bag of prawn cocktail crisps. He had an obsession with the flavour, reluctant to try anything else. George had even offered him a tenner to swap with him his cheese flavoured ones, and he flat out refused.

The night was calm, with you leaning against Mattys chest for the majority of the movie. You felt his breathing and heartbeat in his chest, it calmed you. Everything felt alright, and you could feel your eyes droop closed. The last thing you remember was Mattys hand stroking your hip lightly as you drifted off into a peaceful sleep, breathing in the scent of his cologne.

#the 1975 #matty healy #adam hann #ross macdonald #george daniel #matty healy smut #matty healy angst #tw:drugs #matty healy fluff #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy x reader #matty healy x you #matty healy x y/n #matty x you #the 1975 smut #matty healy fic #drive like i do

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ride-thedragon · 2 months

Text

Nettles: A Retelling of Snow White.

This post comes from the conceptualisation from my mutual @lilyofthevalley-11

She pointed it out, and I've been spiralling about the concept ever since. Nettles is a character you can find a lot of parallels/ foils with in both her own story and context (dance era) and the main ASOIAF series (Daenerys and Brienne come to mind most obviously). So with both those characters being major subversions of the fantasy and story formation (Daenerys as the lead and saviour in the narrative/ Brienne as the white Knight and beauty of her story) it makes sense for George to use that method on a character he favours. With that in mind, this is meta and entirely speculative with proof I find, let's begin:

Tldr: Nettles is like snow white in the same way Jaime and Brienne are like Beauty and the Beast. George loves weird stuff like that. It's not exact, but it's prominent enough for this post.

THE OBVIOUS PARALLELS.

1. THE EVIL QUEEN:

The evil queen in the original story is the wife of the king after his first wife dies. In Nettles' story, the evil queen would be Rhaenyra. The similarity posed with both would be being replaced by a younger woman. Nettles is positioned as a character foil to Rhaneyra much as the evil queen is positioned as the foil to Snow White. Nettles is Rhaenyra's exact opposite in the narrative.

2. Mirror Mirror

Daemon gives Nettles a silvered looking glass as a gift in Maidenpool. we are told. Mysaria, in this instance, is the proverbial mirror that alerts the queen that Nettles is sleeping with Daemon.

3. Ways to kill.

Rhaenyra wishes for Lord Mooton to take Nettles head of at a table (eating) or in bed (sleeping) to 'free' Daemon from the spell he has placed on her.

This is the equivalent to the huntsman who was asked in the story to kill Snow White and bring back organs as proof of the murder.

4. Gifts and So on.

So Daemon at this point is essentially training Nettles in the ways of court and etiquette. He's also buying her a lot of gifts. In Snow White, she gets a lot of gifts as well, but they are meant to kill her.

Nettles gets a hairbrush, and Snow White gets a comb. Snow White gets a ribbon, and Nettles gets a bunch of clothes, but the famous apple can be seen as either the romantic relationship she and Daemon have that calls for her life or the actual food they were eating which technically was red due to the beets. But I have a third and better option for the apple.

5. Ser /Prince Florian.

Ser Florian is a character that adds a plea that Nettles is a child no matter what she's accused of or is doing. He shares a name with the prince from Snow White.

6. Caves, Houses, and Cottages.

It's basically up for grabs because she is sentenced in Maidenpool (like the dwarves cottage), and then she is in the Vale for a time but is found by the Arryns who fought for Rhaenyra to her knowledge (another cottage) but when Sheepstealer takes her away she finds the burned men who devote themselves to them (kinda like the castle in the end). Again, this isn't a 1 to 1 comparison.

INTERPRETATIONS

1. An obvious Appearence.

They both have distinct appearances that cause them some strife. Snow White is the most fair girl alive, and that's why the Queen wants to kill her. Rhaenyra reasons that Nettles is so common and un- Valyrian that she must've used spells to claim a dragon and get with Daemon.

2. Apples and Letter

In this context I think the most symbolic thing for the apple would be the letter and decree Rhaenyra sends to Maidenpool, disguised as a plea to save Daemon.

3. Dwarves, Maidenpool Men, and The Burned Men.

Thematically, I believe that both the men of Maidenpool and the burned men serve as different counterparts to the dwarves, Nettles learns and lives there for about 5 months and helps about by protecting them from Vhagar.

But when she leaves after the letter she runs into the burned men who become a sort of protection from what she believes would be a call on her life by a queen she doesn't know is living or dead.

MORAL PURPOSE.

Innocence and True Beauty.

I think the strongest argument for this comparison stems from the way both stories play out and how they are meant to be interpreted in a moral sense.

Both are stories where a vain queen can not fathom being replaced, so they choose to murder a young girl rather than deal with it.

The point of Snow White was that true beauty is more so aligned with behaviour more so than just looks. Snow White, being the fairest, doesn't mean a lot because we don't know anything about the queen other than the fact that she's older than Snow White.

Nettles is never said to be beautiful at all, but she is often contrasted with Rhaenyra as being caring and innocent. The looks don't matter as much as the innocence of youth and kindness.

SUBVERSIONS.

1. How does innocence look?

Now George chose to make Nettles a black girl at the centre of all this. Snow White is literally as white as snow, so there is a purposeful intentionality of changing the look of innocence. There is a history of Black girls being treated as women and not seen as innocent no matter how young they are, so it is important and influences the story.

2. What is true Beauty?

The Valyrians are seen as the ideal of Beauty in asoiaf but they are also not good people by any stretch of the imagination. In every way Nettles is described, she is the opposite of Valyrian beauty in every way, but she is also a marker of how beauty can be internalised as opposed to the decisions of others. True Beauty like in the original story is internal.

3. Damsels

A complaint I keep seeing about Nettles is that she does nothing in the narrative. As in all, her actions don't have a major narrative change and that she's mostly a passive character. But that kinda makes her a damsel trope. In the story, Snow White doesn't do much but clean and get almost killed a few times. The point of these characters isn't to drive the plot with action alone (she fights in the Gullet, takes over King's Landing, becomes a fire witch in the Vale, and tracks Aemond in Maidenpool) but to motivate other characters and become a catalyst for their introduction in the story.

Maidenpool is still loyal to Rhaenyra without Nettles, Daemon lives if she remains, Aemond doesn't fight if she still flies with Daemon, etc.

4. Kisses from Princes

What does the kiss from the prince do to Snow White? It wakes her up, gives her a life she wouldn't have, true loves kiss. In the original, it's funnier because he literally moves her from her coffin and dislodged the apple in her throat. Daemon saving Nettles serves the same purpose. It has the flare of Daemon Targaryen, but the point is that when he lets her escape, he saves her life from both Rhaenyra and having to fight Aemond.

5. Wrong and Right.

Finally, wrong and right. Snow White does nothing wrong despite what the woke mob (I'm being sarcastic because I've been rambling) wants you to believe. But Nettles isn't innocent. She might be stealing sheep from the shepherds to claim her dragon. She kills innocents in the Battle of the Gullet no matter how remorseful she is and then has a probable affair with a married man. But like snow white, Nettles is consistently said to be and treated like an innocent in the narrative. Her actions don't stain her as a bad person because she isn't. Put quite literally into perspective, she's one of the most innocent characters we meet because of the world she exists in. In a world that kills children for the sake of war and revenge, that starve and tax populations for the sake of power, a girl with the infathomable height of power that is flying a dragon, cries and mourns after what she experiences. When a prince pulls a sword on a maester after reading a letter, she asks what's wrong, and when she leaves the narrative, it's in tears again. Right and wrong in both stories mean many different things, but George adapted it to fit in alignment with Nettles' story and his world.

That's it.

🍎

#nettles #nettles asoiaf #netty #a song of ice and fire #fire and blood #snow white #asoiaf #daemon targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #mysaria #snow white as nettles #nettles thoughts #sheepstealer #i feel insane everytime i do this #but im having fun

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the-dumpster-fire-of-life · 1 year

Text

LoverMan

Requested?: Yes/No

Description: Tom had you for years, and lost you due to who he was.

I'm Mister Loverman

"Hey, Tom?" You called out from yours and Tom's room, getting your lover to come to the doorframe, leaning against it

"Yeah?" Tom asked, looking you up and down to study your outfit as you stood in front of the mirror.

"Do you think this looks good on me?" You asked, turning on him slightly as he pushed off the door frame, walking closer.

Tom stood behind you now in the mirror, looking you over as you looked at him through the mirror.

Tom wrapped an arm around your waist, leaning a hand on your hip where you had an underwear band resting there to show off.

"Yeah, you look hot." Tom said, smirking amusedly as he leaned his chin onto your shoulder, kissing your neck.

"You sure? I don't think so." You said, studying yourself in the mirror as you tilted your head to give Tom more room to kiss your neck.

"It does," Tom reassured, slightly muffled as he still kissed along your shoulder and neck.

"Plus, it doesn't really matter as it's gonna end up on the floor tonight anyway." Tom teased, finding amusement in the way your jaw dropped in a surprised smile.

Tom laughed, hooking a finger under the underwear band as he pulled it, letting it go as it made a small snapping noise.

You smacked his hand, laughing as he dodged, holding his arm into himself as his face scrunched up in laughter as you smacked him over again.

"You're not being very LoverMan material right now." You said, laughing as Tom yelped when you smacked the back of his head, knocking off his hat.

"What do you mean?! I'm a very good LoverMan." Tom said, sarcastic as he nodded to himself in approval.

You rolled your eyes playfully. "Yeah, sure." You chuckled before leaning in to kiss his cheek as you passed, walking to grab your bag.

"I'll be back later, ass. I'll bring some food later on." You said, throwing your bag over your shoulder as you headed to the door.

"Don't forget the food! Also, love you!" Tom said, calling after you, watching the way you walked away as you waved over your shoulder.

"Love you, too!" You said, opening the door and blowing him a kiss as you smiled before walking out the door.

Little did Tom know that was the last time he would see you alive ever again.

You walked out and that was the biggest mistake Tom ever let happen.

And I miss my lover, man…

You went to the club, and nobody knew what happened next for days.

Tom could still remember it all. And how it all went down to the back of his hand.

You went missing. Nobody could find you or knew anything but that a group of girls around your age had dragged out a drunk you from the party.

You were gone for two days.

Tom didn't sleep or eat, he didn't move from his phone as he hoped from a call from anyone or you and that everything was okay.

He waited until he got the call and was able to go drive and pick you up in his car, to hug and kiss you and never let you go ever again.

He remembered a knock at the door. Tom couldn't help but think it was you, and almost ran to it and broke it off the hinges as he swung it open.

It wasn't you.

Tom looked down at his feet and he saw a VHS tape, a note saying "From (Name)." On it.

Tom remembered being frantic, grabbing it as he got back to the VHS tape and almost cracking it as he stuffed it in.

Tom regretted it as soon as it started.

Tom couldn't remember it but he remembered the screams. He remembered the cry's from you and the laughter at you from the girls.

Tom remembered hearing his name and hearing you beg for him to come get you. Tom remembered the blood, the tears, everything.

And he especially remembered how life drained from your eyes and how the girls paraded around your bruised and bloody body.

Tom remembered turning off the TV, sitting on the couch in silence as he refused to move, as moving would make it real.

He only moved when Bill, Gustav and Georg busted down his door, finding him still at the TV.

Tom remembered saying nothing, only pointing at the VHS player with a shaking hand as a frantic Gustav took it out, having gotten a similar one and wanting to know if Tom had gotten one as well.

They got their answer.

One they later turned into police, and one that would have them later on identify your body.

It came out you were murdered for simply being with Tom Kaulitz. Murdered by stalker fans who were crazed and thought you stole him from them.

It was hard too, even through the blood and gashes you still looked at you. And you looking so best up and cold and dead had Tom covering his mouth, running out the morgue and into the street.

He could only feel Georg's hand on his back as he threw up his empty stomach on the street, getting looks and photos taken but not caring as he sobbed.

Tom had really lost you.

All because it was his fault.

—---------------------------------------------------------

As time went on Tom fell into a ritual, an unhelpful and unhealthy one that rverhnr told him to quiet, but he couldn't stop himself.

Tom would take girls back to his room almost every time they went out, searching for you in a crowd and seeing something you held that they did as well.

They may not have been you, but they looked like you.

And to Tom, that was good enough to trick his mind that they were you.

Tom looked at the girl as he got ready, glancing over to see her through the mirror.

He couldn't help but imagine it was you. Like it was you as he got ready in the morning after waking up beside you.

Like it was you sleeping in as he slept beside you.

But seeing the girl sit up in the mirror as he put his jacket back on, and seeing the same hair you once had, his illusion broke.

Because even though she had your features, she wasn't you.

Tom had lost you.

And even though Tom tried to find you while fucking, flirting, or laying with someone else, he couldn't replace you.

Because Tom would love you for the rest of his life, a life you were a part of for less than you should've been.

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

@lyzit @cyb3rlex @billysjumbie @billsjumbie95 @bigbootahjudy @ilovebill-and-gustav @r3dheadedw0rld @V4mpyboyy @novaaisstupid @billybabeskaulitz @yas-v @iischafer @dilfverz @ahswhore0 @graciegizmo3184 @80s-tingz @ryiana @yuriayatoz @bunnysenpai31 @banshailey @bellastoner420 @victryzvv9 @stxngnr @killed-kiss @stilesandjames @m00nzyblogs @sylisan

#tokio hotel #tokio hotel imagine #tokio hotel x reader #bill kaulitz #tom kaulitz imagines #tom kaulitz #tom kaulitz x reader #tokio hotel georg #gustav tokio hotel

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menlove · 2 months

Note

random question but what are your favorite vocal moments from each of the bugs? like a song where you particularly like how they sound (:

ooooooh i love this question tbh

paul: soooo many so many. for now i'll say... "oh! darling". close second is "helter skelter". but "oh! darling" is just nuts like dear fucking christ his vocals on that and the way he purposefully made them scratchy... eating him alive. if i were allowed to go w his solo stuff i'd 100% say "monkberry moon delight" like good god man

john: is it cheating to say "be my baby".... that's not beatle era but his cover of "be my baby" changed my world and made me delete lesbian out of my bio in shame. of beatles songs thoughhhhh there's a lot it's hard to choose a Favorite but one of my Favorites has gotta be "baby it's you" like god when he says "don't want nobody, nobody" and "can't help myself" the voice scratch....... indecent

george: gonna be real.... their unreleased cover of "take care of my baby" like fasdfasdf just his endearing young voice and also i just loooove that song so much. he also does this sort of. smooth thing w his voice that he doesn't do in a lot of the other songs he sings lead on? also "within you without you" is a good george time. i do just like his voice in general tbh. any george song is a good time.

ringo: any ringo vocal song is a gem honestly i love them all but if i had to choose... probably "act naturally". i just love the fact that it's country and he leans fully into the country inflection on the song and it's great. secondddd would have to be "don't pass me by" i fucking adoooore that song

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zomwiez · 3 months

Text

okay but if you had to eat a beatle (as in cannibalism) who would u pick.

personally i love george but hes too bony and smoked a lot so theres not alot to eat and would probably not taste that good.

im thinking paul bc he stoped smoking early, and was not approving to drug use until later in life so he was probably the healthiest, so thats points for taste. and he looks like an anime girl so idk look cute taste good??? right?????? idk maybe not but makes sense to me.

john never quit smoking and was the heaviest smoker along w george, also was the first to start substance abuse (i think) and even did heroin, but even if he didnt he looks like he tastes like sucking a lime (OR A LEMON AMIRITE HAHAHAJ JOHN LEMON) so its a no from me.

ringo looks tasty tbh. cheeks and thighs could taste good if you cook em right. also quit smoking at some point so idk??? also hes like a wifebeater i think,, so eat a wifebeater save a wife lol.

id probably pick ringo or paul which is coincidentially also the only two that are still alive. but u would rather eat late 50s early 60s beatles since they were healthier and also the meat would be more tender.

lmk ur thoughts :-]

#the beatles #classic rock #ringo starr #george harrison #paul mccartney #john lennon #cannibalposting

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ilyasorokinn · 1 year

Text

sorry , george daniel

note, okay, this is the first time i've written for george. also, i love charli and george. just want to preface by saying that idk why? pair, george daniel x reader summary, george and y/n got into an argument before the show, so as a way of apologizing to him, she surprises him at the show. warnings, argument word count, 1317 words

(gif not mine)

The fight you had gotten into wasn't the worst fight you and George had ever had, but you had to fly home because they were still on tour and you had to get home and go back to your life. if you flew home and didn't get to apologize, it would eat you alive for months.

So, you quickly booked a later flight and went to the closest craft store to enact your plan. The only other person who was in on it was Ross because you didn't trust Matty not to tell George. You would've told Adam too but you couldn't find him when you were telling Ross.

Ross got you a ticket and helped you with an easy sign that George would see from the stage (he helped test out the viewability by standing in George's spot on the stage while you stood in various spots around the pit till you found the perfect spot.)

So, a few hours later, you were sitting in the pit with all the fans. A few of them recognized you and you talked with them, making jokes and waiting for the show to start.

"Nice tattoo." You smiled, pointing to the box tattooed on the girl's skin.

"Oh, thanks." She smiled sheepishly, "Do you have one too?" She asked.

"Small one." You turned your arm, showing her the small box on your wrist, "Got it with George, and I swear to God, I almost passed out." You both laughed.

"So, I have to admit, I would've thought you'd be in a box or something." She hesitantly starts.

"Yeah," You sighed, "We sort of got into a fight, so I'm here to make a grand romantic gesture apology."

She smiled, "That's so sweet." Before adding, "And I promise I'm not one of those fans who, like, spread information on the internet."

You chuckled, "Thank you, I appreciate that."

You started to get more and more nervous as time ticked down and it got closer to when the boys were gonna come out. Your phone dinged in your pocket, so you quickly pulled it out and checked to see the message.

g <3 hey hope you landed safe i'm sorry love you ❤️

You read and re-read the message a few times because your heart was melting and you felt like crying a little. You wanted to respond, but you didn't want to ruin the surprise, so you waited.

The boys came out, and while you normally waited backstage, or watched them perform from a special seat, or from the sidelines, nothing ever compared to the energy in the pit.

You waited a couple songs until Matty did his speech just because you didn't want to ruin a song. Once he sounded like the end of his speech, you raised up your sign, which easily grabbed everyone's attention.

"Holy..." Matty stopped speaking, about to go on off on whoever interrupted him, but when he saw who it was, he laughed. He looked back at George, who was squinting to read the sign, "Geez, George." He muttered, shaking his head as the crowd laughed.

He couldn't help but bashfully smile when he finally read it, "Awh, he's blushing." Matty teased. Instead of responding, Geroge flips him off. He smiles at you once more and winks before Matty steps in, "All right, that's enough. We get it, you love each other." He rolled his eyes while you laughed, "Back to me." He stated.

After the show, and after saying goodbye to the new friend you made in the pit, you were led backstage by a security guard to the green room where everyone else was hanging out.

The first person to see you walk in was, to no one's surprise, George, whose head had been on a swivel since they had sent the security guard to get you.

He jumped off the couch and immediately wrapped you in a big hug, one that was so powerful you had to take a few steps back so as to not fall over. He pulled away just far enough that he could get a good look at your face.

"I'm really sorry." You spoke at the same time before smiling when you realized you had said it at the same time.

"Really, I am." You stated.

"I know, I am, too." He leaned down, practically bent in half, so he could lean his forehead on yours, "How about this, we accept each other's apologies and spend the rest of the night together?" He offered.

"Yeah, that sounds good." You hummed, leaning up and kissing him.

"When's your flight?" He asked.

"Tomorrow at 10." He frowned, "I know." You sighed, "But we can enjoy tonight." You offered him a smile.

"Yeah." He nodded, whisking you away to grab a drink. Before making it to the drinks, you bumped into the Ross, who gave you a knowing smile.

“Mission accomplished, Mr. Macdonald.” You gave him a high-five.

“Glad to have been of service, Mrs. Daniel.” He winked when you rolled your eyes.

When you woke up the next morning, you really wished you hadn't. You didn't think you had too much to drink, but after 2, someone kept handing you drinks and you kept drinking them. The pounding headache was also a sign that had maybe a little too much to drink.

You glanced over at George, who was so asleep you didn't think a natural disaster would wake him. Sadly, you knew he didn't get good sleep like this while on tour, so you were upset you had to wake him but you also had a plane to catch.

"G." You whispered, placing soft gentle kisses on and around his face, to try and wake him, but to no one's surprise, he didn't wake up. You sighed and sent a quick prayer before standing up on the bed. You took a breath before you started jumping, "Wake up, wake up!" You shouted.

George instantly jolted awake and looked around, alarmed as he tried to calm his racing heart. When he saw you standing above him, an apologetic look on his face, he fell back on the bed and shut his eyes, trying to catch his breath.

"Sorry." You jumped down beside him and kissed his forehead, "I tried to wake you up nicely, but you could sleep through a tornado and I have a plane to catch."

He mumbled something you couldn't quite understand, but you knew he was wide awake now, so you left him to get ready while you got ready yourself.

By the time you were done getting ready and had packed all your stuff away, George had been ready and was waiting for you, watching TV in the other room.

"You ready?" You nodded, rolling your bags towards the door, but George stopped you, grabbing the handles, and leaving your hands free.

"Thank you." You smiled, holding the hotel room door open for him before you walked hand in hand down the hall towards the elevator.

The ride to the airport was quiet and short, too short for either of your likings. George got out first and helped you out then grabbed your bags from the trunk and set them down before turning to you, a pout on his face.

"I'll see you soon." You reminded him, throwing your arms around his neck and hugging him close, "So soon."

"I know." He sighed, "Remember, call me when you land."

"I will." You nodded, pulling away so you could kiss him one last time, "Don't cause too much trouble without me."

"I won't." He smiled, pecking your lips one more time, "Get home safe."

"I will." You nodded before detaching yourself from him and grabbing the handles of your bags, "I love you." You told him one last time.

"I love you, too." He smiled, waving to you and watching you walk into the airport.

my taglist: @romanticingheroin @sadqn1 @befrwime @mattymybeloved @zzzhealy @fanaticalfantasist @thefrontofmymind @scooby-doodoo

add yourself to my taglist!

#george daniel imagine #george daniel imagines #george daniel x reader #george daniel fic #george daniel blurbs #george daniel #the 1975 imagine #the 1975 imagines #the 1975 fic #the 1975 blurbs #the 1975 fanfic #the 1975 #george daniel fanfic #taylor writes: 1975 #taylor writes

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