#n flying x reader

[ellieabbyy]

i’d literally lose my mind if i came across her in the wild

[hangup119]

when pigs fly ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

you will only admit that you actually like kim leehan when pigs start to fly. for now, though, everyone else will just have to suffer the push-and-pull that happens whenever the two of you are near each other's vicinity.

or: your younger brother invites you to join his minecraft server, and chaos ensues.

pairing. gamer!kim leehan + fem!reader

genres + warnings. non-idol au, streamer au, gamer au, rivals to lovers(?), brother’s best friend(?) | profanity, sexual jokes, violent jokes, not rly r2l more like u-piss-me-off-but-u-dgaf2lovers HAHA i do not know what i am doing..., y/n is hard to get!!! or is she... 😈, woonhak and jaehyun just want to become the next big mc content creators but thats not possible when u arent the main character i fear😞

status. on-going | taglist. open | networks. @onedoornet

author’s note. this is completely inspired from the awesome @lionhanie’s bnd playing mc headcanons 🫡 plz show them some support bc this smau wouldn’t be here today if not for it 😿 ANYWAYS FIRST BND WORK LESGOO ( REBLOGS APPRECIATED <3 )

main story ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

crossover

profiles one | two

01 #needthat

02 woonagi OUT 🔥

03 female acquired 🙏😎

04 day 1

05 𝓲’𝓶 𝓰𝓸𝓷𝓷𝓪 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓶

06 your worst nightmare

07 he’s right behind me isn’t he

08 pretty privilege at its finest

09 ho is u falala ?

. . . & more to come!

[eowynstwin]

Blackbird, Fly - Two

Cowboy Gaz x mail order bride—only, not his. After exchanging letters for half a year with ranching man Hans König, you finally travel out west to marry him. It becomes clear to you that something is bothering him—perhaps it has something to do with you. previous masterlist ao3 next

Kyle Garrick—who instructs you to call him Gaz, explaining it as a nickname—drives you out of town in a two-horse wagon. The countryside is dyed in pastels by the softening light of a just-setting sun, every bit as beautiful as Hans had written when he told you about it.

Like a painting, he said. Everywhere you look could be framed in gold. I wake up every day in this land and thank God I have the fortune to live in it.

Here now, as the wagon rattles down the wheel-carved trail, you understand his words. You feel that if you brushed your fingers against the sky overhead, towering with lavender-bottomed clouds as thick and soft as cotton on the stem, that they might come away smeared in blue and pink and violet. The surrounding landscape is a cornucopia of vibrant greens, rich browns of trees and soil, and clusters of orange, yellow, and white wildflowers.

You keep looking all around you to take it in, jostling your driver beside you, but Gaz seems not to mind. At least, he doesn’t say anything.

You’ve been trying not to feel so aware of his presence, but the endeavor is impossible. He is a solid weight beside you on the driver’s seat, exuding warmth where your shoulders brush against each other, and the earthy, masculine scent of him is inescapable. Every time his elbow or knee or thigh nudges yours during the natural sway and jostle of the wagon ride, you have to keep yourself from leaping out of your skin. Ever since you stepped foot off the train, you’ve felt like a lightning rod set out in anticipation of a storm.

You ascribe it to displaced longing for your husband-to-be. You’d spent the whole journey west imagining how you’d meet, longing for the moment he took you into his arms for the first time. Gaz is a handsome man—it’s only natural that your unfulfilled anticipation would transfer onto him. Especially considering he said you were perfect.

But then said very little after that. He’d seemed—well, not friendly, but at least amicable on the train platform, so you wonder if your manners have offended somehow. He’s spent most of the drive now with his eyes ahead, partly obscured by the brim of his hat. Occasionally he glances at the letters in your hand, but otherwise does not acknowledge you.

After one such glance, your discomfort with the silence becomes too much to bear.

“I read my favorites every night,” you tell him.

If Gaz is surprised when you break the silence, he doesn’t show it. “That so,” he murmurs.

All you have is his profile, very handsome in the light. The line of his mouth is taut.

“I know it’s silly,” you continue nervously—you have a bad habit of rambling when you’re uncomfortable. Adjusting your carpetbag in your lap, you go on, “but you must understand, this is the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to me. I never expected to marry, you see.”

He grunts.

“Much less to be a mail order bride,” you say. “I always thought I would be an old maid, for lack of available suitors if nothing else. Mama and Daddy thought I ought to learn to read and write, to improve my prospects, but most folks where I’m from don’t care much about all that.”

“I see,” replies Gaz. He still does not look at you.

“Sometimes I think it even made them like me less, like I was putting on airs, being smarter than them.” You realize immediately how arrogant you must sound. “Oh, but I don’t mean any offense! I don’t mean to suggest I have ideas above my station. It’s only just that, I wondered for years and years why no one offered for me, and it was the only thing I could think of. Why would a farmer’s daughter need to read and write? And why would a wife need to, if her duty is to tend to her children and her home? So that must be why no man has ever been very interested in me.”

You realize with horror that words are pouring out of you faster than you can keep up with them. And your driver’s attention has not shifted; his eyes remain on the road.

You look at your lap, face burning. “I’m sorry, I’m just annoying you, Mr. Gaz. I’m sorry.”

Shame grips you, tight and awkward. If you’d wanted to endear yourself to this cowboy at all, you’ve already failed.

But Gaz finally says, “Most men are idiots.” You look at him; he does not look at you. “I’ve only just met you, and I like you fine.”

He says it matter-of-factly, as if no more need saying on the subject. Simple and to the point; an economy of feeling you imagine must be characteristic of men in this part of the country.

Hans was like that too, in his letters. Communicating feeling without dancing around it, with a bluntness that ends up soft in its honesty.

It eases the tension frothing poisonous in your belly. “Thank you,” you say.

You ride in silence for a stretch. A cool breeze catches the free-floating ends of your hair, rustles along in the tall grass by the wayside. The steady thump thump thump of the horse’s hooves, and the creak of tackle and leather, are the only sounds populating the air.

Home was quiet like this, too; the fields stretching endless and green beneath the sky, the silence there so blank and open that birdcall traveled for miles, and the lowing of the family milk cow sounded sometimes like the trumpet of God.

You peek again at Kyle Garrick. There’s a furrow to his brow, the kind a man gets when he’s in a mood and won’t admit it if asked.

“I’m sorry,” you say again, quietly, because he made you feel better about things, and you’ve done little more than whine.

He finally looks at you, the edges of his face lined and glowing in the evening light. Studies you, for a moment. The furrow eases.

“No,” he says, “I’m sorry, Miss. I don’t mean to be short with you. I’m afraid manners are secondary on a ranch, without a good woman nearby to remind about ‘em.”

You give him a small smile. “Have you worked for Hans very long?”

He turns his gaze back to the road. “Six or seven years, now.”

You toy with the clasp of your bag; you’re brimming with questions. “Is he really all that tall?”

“Oh, yes,” Gaz says. “Like a giant.”

“What’s he like?”

Gaz gives a great breath through pursed, full lips. “Fair, I guess. Asks a lot of us—but then most bosses out here will. Worked for his father for a few years before him, too.”

“You must be a good hand then,” you say.

“I work hard,” says Gaz. “That’s all that matters.”

“I’m sure Hans is grateful,” you reply. “He must trust you very much, to send you for me.”

The furrow returns. “He must.”

It becomes clear to you that something is bothering him, and it’s nothing you will resolve between now and when you make it to the ranch. Perhaps it has something to do with you—a new face, an unknown quantity that threatens to knock the balance of his livelihood askew.

You sigh a little. Of course, you should have expected to have to win Hans’ people over. Their loyalty to the late Mrs. König will inevitably be challenged by your arrival.

Neither of you speak again—you decide not to push what little grace Kyle Garrick has given you, and he does not volunteer any more conversation. The rest of the ride is unremarkable, leaving room for anticipation to grow in your stomach; soon the wagon crests the slope of a hill, and your destination comes into view.

Long Mask Ranch sits at the base of a range of mountain foothills, fed and watered emerald green by spring runoff. You’ve been on Hans’ land for a while now; opening up before you is the ranch proper. A collection of buildings form a semicircle around a large corral in the valley: stables, a barn, some cabins, and a large two-story gabled manor, painted white.

The sun sinks further toward the horizon as you approach, painting the world in liquid orange. Figures resolve themselves, people moving tables and chairs around, and on the manor’s front porch, observing the proceedings, stands a tall man in a rancher’s coat and hat.

Lightning suddenly bolts through you. You sit very, very still as Gaz pulls the wagon through a cast iron archway adorned with LMR at the apogee. Your heart thrums in your throat like a picked guitar string. When you finally come to a stop, the man’s head turns to toward you.

At the worst possible moment, shyness grips you. You look around, at anywhere but him, at the house, the corral, the cowboy beside you.

You startle to meet Gaz’s eyes. The expression he wears is a mask of seriousness.

“This is it,” he says.

Your voice leaves your chest trembling. “Thank you, Mr. Gaz.”

“Just Gaz is fine, Miss.”

“I couldn’t possibly,” you reply. Propriety feels like the only solid thing to cling to just now.

He looks away. The line of his mouth tightens. “Of course,” he says.

He dismounts the wagon in one smooth motion, boots hitting the packed earth hard. Out of the corner of your eye, you see the tall man start his way over to you. Gaz rounds the back of the wagon, and you give your bag to him once he’s at your side. He offers his hand to help you down.

You’re dazed as you take it, lightheaded as suddenly the present moment becomes very, very real. It’s warm, his hand; rough in all the places you expect a cowboy’s hand to be. Yet there’s something soft in the way your palms meet, how the dips and contours align with each other and fit together. You’re shaking very hard as you ease your way from the seat, gripping him tightly until your feet meet the ground, and his grip circles yours with a solidness to it in a way unlike any man has ever held you.

You meet his eyes again when he hands you your bag. Gaz gives your hand a squeeze, averts his gaze, and lets you go.

“There she is!” an accented voice announces.

You pull your gaze from Kyle Garrick and the mystery of his tension with you, and turn to face your intended husband.

Hans König has loomed large in your imagination for half a year. He’d described to you what he looked like, of course, as best he could, but you find as you look upon his face that no written word can convey what it means to meet for the first time the man you will marry. You’d fallen in love with someone formless, absent, but inscribed in other ways with enough distinction to nurture your tender feelings.

Looking upon him now, though…his appearance offers nothing to that distinction. He’s neither ugly nor handsome. As he comes to stand before you, you think he rather looks like every other middle-aged man you’ve met in your short life, although certainly much taller. You meet his eyes—pale blue, as he’d related—and the rush of love you’d expected to feel, once you knew who he was, simply does not come.

This man is a stranger to you.

You reprimand yourself immediately. He isn’t a stranger. You’ve known him for six months. His face is simply not one you have attached any love to yet; the measure of his character is contained in the stack of paper in your hands. In the promises he made to you to make your quietest dreams come true.

So you smile the way you’d dreamed you would—like watching the sun crest the horizon after a long night of darkness, seeing the bounty of the near future coming toward you. Summoning joy by making room for it to exist.

“Hello, Hans,” you say, “it’s me.”

Hans König steps forward. He looms over you truly, now, eclipsing your vision. “It is you, indeed.”

Without another word, right there in front of Gaz, Hans grips your shoulders, bends down, and kisses you on the mouth.

Your brows shoot upward. It’s the first time anyone has ever kissed you. His lips are…hard, and motionless against yours. Almost perfunctory. You are so shocked he’s done it that you don’t think to respond, and then as suddenly as it happened, it’s over. He pulls away, pats your shoulders with a little smile, and then looks at Gaz.

“Get that wagon put away and then go help the others,” says Hans to the cowboy, slinging one arm around your shoulder.

Your brows lift further. Is that all he has to say to him, for delivering you safe and sound?

Gaz doesn’t seem to share your feelings. “Yes, sir,” is all he says, even and toneless.

But he looks between you and his employer for more than just the span of a heartbeat. Eyes going from him, to you, to the arm around your shoulders. Then he meets your gaze, expression stony.

If Gaz is wary of your presence here—if you’re going to win him over—the best time to start is now. “Thank you very much for seeing me here safely,” you say. “I was so glad of your company, Mr. Gaz.”

To your dismay, his expression only tightens. Gaz looks at Hans again, then back at you.

“You’re welcome, Miss,” he says.

Then he climbs back into the wagon, gives the reins a snap, and drives away.

-

a/n: fun fact, the ranch and neighboring town are based off Valentine and Emerald Ranch from rdr2 :) the ranch layout is more like Pronghorn Ranch however.

[harbingersglory]

hii could i req an soft dom arlecchino x sub/fem reader?? something w a really needy whiny reader n maybe like a mommy kink or thigh riding IDK tysm for ur time !

{☆} characters arlecchino {☆} notes drabble, fem reader, sub reader {☆} warnings 18+ content

"Slowly, doll. We're not in a rush." Arlecchino reprimands lightly, squeezing your hips with just enough force to keep you unmoving on her thigh– she was still being gentle, but the subtle warning in her tone spoke to how easily she could push you against the desk and turn you into such a mess that you couldn't even remember your own name..just that you were hers.

But the barest hint of stimulation from her slacks pressed against your throbbing cunt had you twitching, barely able to form words. All you could think about was the scorching, twisting need building in your stomach, desperation for relief slowly climbing until you'd think she was doing this on purpose to drive you mad.

"Please– 'm a good girl, right? I've been good.." You choked out, only to be met with the rough, husky laugh echoing in your ear that made you feel dizzy with a rush of need, her nails gliding along the skin of your hips as she pressed you down even more firmly– you couldn't see her face but it was easy to imagine the crooked smile twisting her lips at the way you inhaled sharply and tried to buck against her thigh.

"Shh. I know, doll. I've got you, just relax." She murmured in that sickly sweet tone that always had your knees buckling, the raspiness of her voice sending shivers down your spine. It was almost impossible to relax with her so close, the notes of metal lingering on her skin despite how well she presents herself– but you trusted her, despite how you know you shouldn't.

"There we go. Good girl." Arlecchino's grip on your hips loosened just enough for you to move if you so wished, and oh did it take every ounce of restraint to not do just that..she hadn't said you were allowed to, and you weren't about to spoil her good mood by being a brat. Not tonight, anyway. "Do you want to cum, doll?"

The fervent nod you offer in place of words draws a laugh from her lips, one that is almost mocking, making your face flush in embarrassment– but the sudden tap against your hip makes your mind go blank to the point you forget it all together, focused only on the feeling of her thigh rubbing against your cunt as you bucked against her thigh, the fabric slick and wet against your inner thighs. You'd have half the heart to be embarrassed about that, too, if not for the sudden brush of her thumb against your aching, neglected clit. Just that small touch has you speeding up your movements, practically drooling as you whimpered like a dog in heat.

"That's more like it, doll. Such a pretty girl." Arlecchino hummed, her other hand trailing up your stomach, between the valley of your breasts and ghosting across your throat before settling on grabbing your jaw in a firm, yet almost tender touch as she tilted your head to the side just enough for her to pull you into a burning kiss. It left you lightheaded, grinding down against her thigh as she claimed your mouth as her own, her thumb still ghosting over your clit sporadically.

She'd spent so long teasing you, constantly touching you but never where you needed her, that you already felt like you were going to snap like a wire. She must've been in a really good mood, then, when she pulled away from the kiss with an almost predatory lick of her lips, yet she settled on pressing kisses to your skin rather then the usual sharp bite of her teeth as they sunk into the curve of your shoulder.

"Are you close? Go on. I want to see your face when you cum– you look the prettiest when you finally break apart, doll." Arlecchino mused idly– as if she wasn't talking to you while you continued to rub your aching cunt against her thigh, chasing your own release through shaky, strained breaths. Her thumb swiped over your lips, brushing strands of hair stuck to your skin from your face– at the same time as she swiped her thumb more firmly against your clit, creating a vicious contrast that had you both melting at the barest hint of almost softness from her and the touch of her hand between your legs, dragging you into an orgasm that leaves you trembling and, had she not shoved her fingers into your mouth, screaming, tears pooling in the corners of your eyes.

"All done, little doll. Take it easy." She murmured, voice so quiet you almost didn't hear it, thumb swiping across your cheek to wipe away the stray tear, her hands pulling away to settle on your sides. "You did well– good girl. Let me take it from here."

[halfwayhearted]

Arda Güler fic where he’s awkward and shy around reader and she doesn’t know why (friends) and then gets frustrated at him and he gets frustrated back and its like a “because I like you!!??” moment.

Kiss Her You Fool — Arda Güler.

Pairing: Arda Güler x Fem!Reader

Summary: You can’t help but think he’s upset with you; you just didn’t know how wrong you were. So, so wrong.

Word Count: 740+

Disclaimer/s — Slight (?) angst, no use of Y/N, and then fluff!

A/N: Arda Güler. Please. If you can hear me.

The only thing that consumed your mind was a desperate, “Did I do something wrong?”

Because why was your best friend, of all people, suddenly acting different? It didn’t just start happening now—it had started months ago. Four months ago, to be exact, was when you began noticing changes in him and your friendship.

You just about had it.

The final straw hit hard when, like always, you offered to cook dinner for both of you at his place. You'd often feel so bored while he did his thing, so you figured you'd be helpful. That's just how it had always gone. Until he began questioning you.

The moment he saw you taking out what you needed, Arda just stood there, clearing his throat and awkwardly scratching the back of his neck.

You lifted your head, a smile forming on your face. “Hey. Do you not have pepper? I can’t find—”

“What are you doing?” He asked.

“What does it look like?” A joke, of course. It was painfully obvious that he didn’t see it that way when his eyes narrowed just a fraction. Enough to make your eyebrows furrow in confusion.

His face flushed slightly, you didn’t notice. “You don’t have to do that. I didn’t ask you to do that.”

“Oh! Well—you don’t have to ask, you know that. I’ve done it plenty of times before, you never said anything about it.” You paused, “Should I stop?”

Eyes widening, he shook his head, “No! No, sorry. It’s fine, you can… you can continue.”

Okay… wow! So… awkward? Yes! Expected? Unfortunately. This had quite literally become the new ‘norm’ for both of you.

You weren’t having it.

Your expression hardens while you set down the seasonings onto the counter, voice firm, “Okay, stop. Talk to me. Did I do something wrong?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Please, don’t give me that,” you interjected, crossing your arms over your chest and continuing, “Did I do something wrong? Because it feels like I might’ve done something wrong.”

One second, two, three, a minute. Silence ensues.

You let out a scoff, not bothering to say another word, just quietly putting everything back. As you try to walk away, his hand moves to grip your wrist, gentle yet unyielding. He quietly utters your name, and in frustration, your eyes shut tightly.

Opening his mouth to speak, he quickly closes it again, a small groan escaping instead. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” he finally manages to say.

You don’t buy it. “Then why are you acting so… so weird? Huh? Do you think I don’t notice when you become distant? I’m not stupid, Arda. I know.”

You know? What do you know? His jaw clenches and he shakes his head, “No, you don’t.”

Another scoff. “Oh, I don’t?”

His irritation is almost tangible, practically seething with it. “No! No—you don’t.”

‘No, you don’t.’ Are you kidding? “Then, what! What don’t I know?! Enlighten me, please, won’t you? Because I’m confused—”

“I like you!” He admitted, his voice strained with emotion. “So, no. You don’t know! You just don’t.”

Now it’s your turn to match his wide-eyed gaze. He likes you. He’s been acting weird the last couple of months because he liked you.

And you liked him back.

Your frown forms into a smile. His eyebrows knit together even further. He had just confessed, and here you were, smiling. “Why’re you—”

“You like me,” you repeated softly, running a hand over your face. He continued to stare at you with hopeful eyes, you didn’t say anything else. Just gazed off into the distance, lost in thought. He was starting to get a bit… nervous, a little antsy.

He huffed, “Can you say something else?”

Snapping your gaze to meet his, your body relaxes, and your expression softens in a way that makes him want to kiss you right then and there.

Thankfully, it seems like you had the same idea.

The second your lips meet, his hands hover over your hips, like he’s afraid that this moment might not even be real at all. Slowly but surely, he eases into it and gently rests his hands on you. A smile graces his lips when he fully starts to embrace the kiss, completely lost in the moment with you.

It doesn’t last as long as he’d want it to. Though, what you tell him afterward makes up for it.

“I like you too, you idiot.”

Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated ^_^.

DT(s) — @pedrilcvr ! ౨ৎ

[sapphosclosefriend]

I've never been a Channing Tatum girlie but these two together make me bi panic too much GIVE THEM TO ME PLEEEASEEE!!!!!

[kawaii-leilei54]

Unforgetful Summer

Crush! Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Friends to lovers, becoming of age, fluff, crack, swearing, smut, angst, mentions of anxiety

After graduation, jungkook, y/n, and their friends decide to have a unforgettable summer before going their separate ways.

A/n: some themes maybe from the C-drama : When I fly towards you (my favorite c drama ever) mixed with "Our beloved summer" (K-drama) I recommend listening to this playlist while reading! Enjoy :3

Unforgetful Summer

Character intro:

Y/n : (19) a student, likes books and the beach, like to hang out with friends and can be adventurous, but shy.

Jungkook:(19) also a student, was in soccer for 4 years and was on the student debate team

Namjoon: (19) student, top of his class, was on the basketball team and loves books way more than y/n, has a small crush on park minsoo (a girl at school)

Kim seokjin: (19) was the captain of the debate team (won every time) likes gaming and has a horrible sleep schedule

Min Yoongi: (19) was in the basket ball team and loves the library and stays uplate too but reads BL books (and writes them) instead of sleeping but makes up for it by sleeping all day.

Jung hoseok:(19) is the shy one of the group like y/n but likes going outside and doing things, it's a bit anxious and insecure but loves his friends more than anything, is very sassy when least expected.

Park Jimin:(19) is hoseok’s best friend, is way more sassy than hoseok and doesn't care what anything thinks, (like seokjin) he is confident and flirtatious and has kind heart.

Kim taehyung:(19) bougie but very humble, he helps out with volunteer work and visits kids in the orphanage on his time off, he hopes to go to college when he graduates and become a caseworker

I don't own any of BTS and this all strictly FICTIONAL!!

Chapters: Loading..

Chapter 1: Set me free

Chapter 2: For the summer

Chapter 3: Mask off

Chapter 4: Love yourself first

Chapter 4.5 : Groupchat leaked

Chapter 5: He likes who??

Chapter 6: Vacation and spilled emotions

Chapter 7: Enough

Chapter 8: The truth untold

Chapter 9: We been knew

Chapter 10: FINALE

Epilogue: Memories

[cissa-calls]

Countdown to Agatha: Day 806

Wanda: “Alright team. Before we split up and explore, just remember: here we are just tourists. There’s no mission, no need for dramatics, we are just tourists visiting an old castle to enjoy ourselves and soak in the history and majesty of this site.”

Y/N and Agatha: “Understood”

Wanda: *wanders off by herself*

Agatha: “Hey Y/N-“

Y/N: “-No! We’re not doing this again! I know what you’re about to do. And I refuse. For once, we are not going to create needless trouble for Wanda when she asked us for one normal day. We are capable of being mature, composed adults!”

Agatha: “Whatever. It doesn’t matter, you wouldn’t have been able to do it anyways…”

Y/N: “Do what?”

Agatha: “Climb up that turret and do the Monty Python scene.”

Y/N:…

*five minutes later*

Y/N screaming in a terrible French accent from atop a turret down to Agatha in front of tourists and the entire northern hemisphere: “I FART IN YOUR GENERAL DIRECTION!”

Wanda: “What are you doing?!”

Agatha: “Fine Art Wanda. Fine. Art.”

[scrambledslut]

you mean to tell me i’m supposed to be mad at THIS guy?!?!? bffr

[joka13]

FANFICTION: Weasley Twins x Reader (Slytherin Girl) - Part 26

WARNINGS: British swearing

You, Fred, and George stroll cheerily down the hall together. At some point, an unspoken agreement is made and the three of you start skipping in unison. Your laugh echos throughout the halls. You're so happy that you feel like you could jump up into the air and start flying about without the assistance of a broom. Just when you're beginning to believe that nothing could ruin your mood, you turn a corner and almost plow into Professor Umbridge.

"Oh!" Umbridge exclaims, stumbling a few steps back.

"Sorry, Professor!" you quickly apologize in hopes that it will save you and the twins from detention. "We didn't see you there..."

Umbridge smiles tightly and straightens her feathery, light pink hat. "Obviously not." She brushes down her matching pink cardigan and skirt. "And where are you all coming from?"

"The vivarium," you reply smoothly. You had already rehearsed the lie many times in your head in case of an encounter such as this. The vivarium is right across from the Room of Requirement, so, unless she had somehow seen you exit the Room, your answer would give Umbridge no reason to be suspicious. "I just adore magical creatures!" You give her an ecstatic smile for added effect, and you see in your peripheral vision Fred and George exchanging a look over your head.

Umbridge blinks. "Ah. And are you aware that you are late for class?"

"Yes," you sigh. You pull an exasperated expression and nod in George's direction. "This one accidentally knocked over a cage of Cornish Pixies and they all got loose!"

"I—!" George starts to defend himself, but you quickly grind the heel of your shoe into the toe of his. George goes silent.

"As I said, it was an accident. I'm glad we were able to clean it all up as fast as we did," you chuckle sheepishly.

"I'm assuming that means everything is back in order?" Umbridge asks, checking her watch.

"Yes, Ma'am," you reply stoutly. "I made sure of—"

She waves a hand impatiently. "Yes, yes, fine, fine. Off to class now." Professor Umbridge quickly shuffles past you and the twins and continues on her way.

After a few moments of waiting for Umbridge to be out of earshot, Fred pokes you in you in the side teasingly. "Wow, y/n, I think that's the first time I've ever heard you fib!"

You slap his hand away, giggling. "No, it's not. I'm just so good at it that you didn't realize when it was happening."

"Really?" Fred asks curiously. He seems a bit concerned.

"Yeah," George answers for you as he massages the end of the shoe you stepped on. "It was when she called you handsome."

You and Fred laugh. It was as much of an insult to George as it was to Fred, seeing as how they are identical twins.

"Sorry, but I don't quite remember y/n ever calling me handsome," Fred says, pretending to wipe a tear from under his eye.

"Really? Well, we'd better fix that!" you snort.

Fred and George both cock an orange eyebrow as you make a show of quickly combing your fingers through your hair and clearing your throat in preparation.

"Oh, Fred! You're so handsome!" you swoon, dramatically putting the back of your hand to your forehead like an actress would.

To your surprise, only George laughs. Fred wears a critical expression. He shakes his head.

"You're almost there," Fred says. "But it's more like this." He proceeds to reenact your hand motion, and then faints on top of George who exclaims in alarm, barely catching him. After a few seconds, Fred opens his eyes and stares dreamily up at George (who's still holding him).

"Fred?" Fred says to George. "I-Is that you?"

"'Tis I, y/n," George replies, looking down at Fred with smoldering eyes. "Your knight in shining... I'm sorry, you're bloody heavy," George laughs, breaking character, and drops Fred. Fred lets out a girlish scream as he falls to the floor.

You clap your hands enthusiastically in applause, howling with laughter.

"That was just brilliant!" you try to say sarcastically, but you're still laughing.

"Thank you, thank you," Fred huffs as he gets to his feet and brushes his robes off. "Now it's your turn." He opens his arms in offering, and you giggle.

"I don't think so. We best be getting off to class now," you say in a lousy Umbridge impersonation.

"But class has got to be 'bout halfway done by now," says George. "I don't see a point in going."

Fred nods. "Agreed."

The twins turn to stare at you, waiting for your own agreement. After a moment of you staring back with no other reaction, they pull out their ultimate weapon: the goofy, toothy, crooked grin.

You can't help but smile and you groan, covering your face with both hands in giddy embarrassment as you blush.

"C'mon, y/n," Fred encourages, moving to wrap his arm around your shoulders slyly.

George does the same on your other side. "Life's made for livin'!" He clicks his tongue. "Say, how often do you fly?"

You peek out from between your fingers curiously. "Never."

Fred and George immediately lock eyes with each other and share a knowing smirk. "Guess we know what we're gonna do," they chuckle in unison.

[nats-bottom]

KJ - Drunk

Summary: Kelly Jones asks y/n questions about her work at NASA

Pairings: Kelly Jones x Reader

Warnings: Fly Me to the Moon spoilers, swearing, misogyny, bullying if you squint, lying

Notes: If you haven't seen Fly Me to the Moon, then I would wait until you see it, unless you don't care about spoilers! (or don't care about seeing it, but I highly recommend it! It's such a great movie!)

I also have accounts on Wattpad and AO3! The users there are @ paige_vers

Please give me requests! You can submit them here or on my insta, @ scarlettsoutset

ᨖᨖೱᨖ⧗ᨖⴵᨖ🕷️ᨖⴵᨖ⧗ᨖೱᨖᨖ

Y/N POV

Oh shit. There she is. That woman I said all those things to at the diner that night. If I knew that she would be fucking working with me, then I wouldn't have said all that. That was just meant for someone who I was never supposed to meet again. Some stranger. But here she is, walking towards me. She has a clipboard in her hands, and so does her assistant, or at least that's who I assume that is. 

I watch as they walk closer towards me, and I start to freeze. I stop what I'm doing and just stand there, looking at the two women. I drop my hands to my side and clench them into fists as I feel them start to get sweaty. 

"Well hello there. Y/n, was it?" She says as a smirk plays across her beautiful face. She stretches out her right hand towards me, putting the clipboard between her left arm and her stomach. I wipe my hands on my skirt, not wanting her to feel my nervousness through my sweaty hands. 

"Yes, and you're Kelly, right?" I say, reaching out my right hand and shaking hers. I feel a spark of sorts as I feel her soft, warm hands. I feel a bit embarrassed, knowing that my hands are dry from working on the rocket all day. Well, they are a little moist from all the sweat, but that doesn't help. 

"Can I ask you a few questions? This will only take a few minutes, since I can tell that you're a busy lady." She says with a wink. I just look at her, lost in her green eyes that could hold mine forever. She just stands there, waiting for an answer. "Y//n?"

I snap out of my trance, and reply, "Oh, uh what? Oh yeah sure." I say, finally realizing what she said. I roll my shoulders back, entering a more relaxed stance. 

"Ok so to start, how old are you?" Kelly asks. She picks up her clipboard, and so does her assistant.

"I'm 24."

"Write down 36." Kelly says to her assistant. She writes something down on her clipboard. Kelly reads out the next question, "And what made you want to work here?" She looks at me with a glimmer of hope in her eyes. Yet I know that I'm about to crush it.

"I saw a flier for it on the college dorm announcement board." I tell her the truth.

"Write something about how she wanted to be the first girl to space." Kelly says as she looks down at her clipboard for the next question.

"It's true." I say. Both women look up at me from their clipboards.

"Make sure you get all this." Kelly says to her assistant, this time a little more quietly. 

"Yeah. Ever since I heard of what NASA was trying to do, I always wanted to be the first woman in space. With the whole space race and everything, I thought it would be a great opportunity to be the first." I reminisce, looking between Kelly and her assistant, but mainly at Kelly. "I submitted my application to be an astronaut, because you have to apply before they even consider you, but I was denied. They said that they don't allow women because it might mess with their reproductive systems. (I really have no clue, I'm just making that part up). I heard that they just laughed when they had a girl apply for the program." I say sadly. If you were to look closely, you might even notice the tear starting to form in my eye.

"So then what did you do after that?" Kelly's assistant asks, completely engrossed in my story.

"So then I decided to go into engineering, and I saw the flier for NASA on the bulletin board in my college dorm. They had an internship for seniors, so I tried that out, loved it, and they kept me on as an employee. So that's how I ended up here." I say, with my arms out, gesturing to the place. Kelly's assistant scrambles down her notes, and Kelly just looks at me with wide eyes, her mouth gaping a little bit. I smirk at this; the fact that I amazed her makes me proud.

She clears her throat and straightens herself out. "Are you the only woman working here?"

"In this department, yes. In the office there are more. The guys try to send me in there as much as they can though, because 'that's my place.'" I say with air quotes. 

"Do you like working here though?" Kelly asks. 

"Yeah, I do." I let out a huff. "I try to ignore the guys as much as I can, all their teasing and such. But it's a good job. I quite enjoy it."

"That's good." Kelly says to me. "Did you get all that?" She asks her assistant, who nods, while writing something else down. "Will you go find someone else to interview please? I'll be over in a minute." Kelly says to her assistant.

"Yeah, I'll go ask those men over there." Her assistant says, pointing towards two of my coworkers. She walks over to them confidently, and starts some small talk with them.

"Hey I'm sorry about the other day, it was something meant for a stranger. Not someone I would see again. I'm really so-" I start to say.

"Stop it right there. You have nothing to be sorry for. I was actually hoping I could ask you out for a drink?" Kelly interrupts me.

"Oh, uh, yeah that'd be cool. I know a good bar not too far from here."

"Great. How about tonight at eight?" Kelly says.

"Sounds good." I grin at her. She hands me her clipboard and a pen, and I look at her with an unknowing look. 

"For the address." She assures me.

"Oh ok." I take the clipboard and write down the address and hand it back to her. She looks down at it and nods. 

"See you tonight!" Kelly says excitedly. She gives me a smile, then walks away to her assistant. I watch her hips sway back and forth as she walks away. Damn she's hot. 

I get back to work, the day dragging on as I wait for tonight's adventures.

[handercover]

Ok but hear me out- AU where Tom Riddle played quidditch

I've been in a brain rot for months on this because I wholeheartedly believe he would be the most bastard person to ever play quidditch

(But also guy would look good in a uniform and muscles and imagine the fanfiction potential,but also also a good way to start a cult and get peeps to thirst and follow you)

[eowynstwin]

Blackbird, Fly

After exchanging letters for half a year with ranching man Hans König, you finally travel out west to be his bride. But when you arrive, you find he is not at all like the man you corresponded with—meanwhile, handsome cowboy Kyle “Gaz” Garrick looks at you like you hung the moon and stars.

one two

Also on ao3

[hangup119]

when pigs fly 09. ho is u falala ?

prev | masterlist | next

in which you you’re always butting heads with kim leehan in your brother’s minecraft server, but everyone else thinks that you two just can’t keep your hand off of each other. which could be the case… though you highly doubt that when leehan enjoys blowing up your houses more than considering asking you out.

taglist. @shoberi @lionhanie @molensworld @antlix @winuvs @icewons @dalliesque @taroddori @astrae4 @mintyun @cherrytaesan @saintriots @noodlesfeet @nujeskz @fae-renjun @tocupid @onlyhyunjin @otblous @haoahae @soobiverse @cyjzzl @hyukarina @renjunsversion @naviiy @sngj08 @etherealiitty @lailols @lunaavity @i05wook @idksomecreativename @wonpoem @injunnie-lemon @xcosmi @7thgyu @i1uvc4ke @selleprotection @papichulomacy @haechology @kage-yaa @dimplewonie @hanbinniesmango @horijiro @tkooooop @luvvhaerin @p-d1ddy @darlingz99 @the-swageyama-tobiyolo @enhacolor @lateforthisappgirl @miyawwn

reblogs appreciated!

[imaginethezeldaverse]

Y and F for Revali maybe?👏

Mhm, mhm, not a problem! Under the cut:

NSFW Alphabet Template can be found here

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Oh you’re going down doggy style. But not a traditional doggy where you’re held at the hips, no no. Revali is pinning you under the weight of him, his downy chest at your back, his voice a strained growl in your ear. He wants you under him and wanting, taking everything he’s got, with you being only able to hold onto his wings (as he so lovingly has laced his finger-shaped wing tips in the spaces between your fingers) and/or mewling into whatever surface is under you.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Decently high, I would say. He’s a Rito in his prime, and a bird of prey no less, so when he wants something, he’ll have it. Especially if that something is you (with your consent, of course, he’s not a monster). Revali might honestly wear you out from how much he may want to take you. And mating season? When he’s in a rut? Ohhhhhhh you better stretch.

[sapphosclosefriend]

FUCK MEEE PLEASE DO IT NOOOOWWW!!!! 😭