#of molly's leave it better than you found it

[mrm0rgansw0man]

no grave can hold my body down, ill crawl home to her

summary:

arthur morgan knew he was the type of man that shouldn’t risk falling in love, but jesus she just made it so hard NOT to

a/n: first fic!! inspired by work song by hozier lol. hope y’all enjoy it Xx 💗

re-uploading this fic on my new account because im planning on making a second part of it! should be out soon :) Xx

‘Arthur Morgan, you fool’ He thought to himself, mentally swearing for catching himself staring at their camps newest member yet again. But he just couldn’t help it. He knew he shouldn’t indulge in this. It was stupid really, any attempt at love in the past had failed him. All because of this life he chose to live. One that wasn’t easy to leave behind. Though Arthur knew, if you asked him to he’d throw it all away. God this man would do anything for you, he practically worshiped the ground you walked on. He didn’t know why he was so captivated by you, maybe it was your honey sweet voice, or the kindness you showed him right from your first day of knowing him. He couldn’t stop himself from loving every little thing about you, to him you were perfect. A goddamned goddess. He thought you deserved someone better than him. A woman such as yourself deserved to live a good life, one where the law isn’t out to get you. One where people could be out to hurt you because of your husband’s line of work. You deserved to feel safe and secure in your life. Nothing like the chaos you were living through now.

Little did Arthur know, you were feeling the exact same way about him. You had deep feelings for Arthur Morgan, you were as sweet like sugar on that man. You loved everything about him, but most of all how he treated you. He made 100% sure you felt safe and were taken care of all the time. You were one of the first people he’d check up on when returning from a job. Or you mentioned something you needed and the next day he would just so happen to need to run to town and what do you know, the exact scarf, seasoning, hair ribbon, you name it would be included in his haul. And if he was around at meal times, he would not so subtly make sure you got your portion. All of this and yet, he rarely said a word to you. It confused you to no end, it felt like he cared about you deeply but he rarely paid any attention to you. You were a lost soul before you started riding with the Van Der Lindes, and because of the Blackwater situation it was hard for the gang to let in a new mouth to feed. But ever since the beginning Arthur made you feel so welcomed. You don’t know what you did do deserve his kindness but it was deeply appreciated. Mary-Beth was CONVINCED Arthur was sweet on you, so we’re Tilly, Molly, Abigail, Karen, goodness even Susan Grimahaw herself made a comment about it you once. You wanted to believe it so badly, but he didn’t talk to you!! He could just be a kind man of little words and you’re reading into the situation all wrong.

‘Oh well…’ You thought with a sigh, flicking your eyes up from the needle work you had long been neglecting because of your thinking. To your surprise, you found a pair of beautiful blue eyes already looking in your direction…

~~~~~~~

“Shit!” Arthur swore under his breath, god dammit you were still as a staute for ages before this why’d you have to look up now?? Arthur begrudgingly tore my eyes away from t and started walking to his horse- where he was supposed to be already. Hosea wanted to take him into town for some reason he had yet to say.

“Arthur!” Hosea said warmly. He then raised an eyebrow. “I hope you didn’t have any trouble getting here?”

‘Oh I this is NOT goin’ there.’ Arthur thought.

“Course not.” He said flatly. Hosea smiled a knowing smile, before long they mounted thier horses and were off.

The ride to Valentine was thankfully silent and quick. But Arthur knew that was going to change as soon as Hosea informed him that he was taking Arthur to the saloon to “Chat over a drink” With such a grin on his face that Arthur knew he was nothing short of doomed.

After getting situated at the bar with a neat whiskey and a beer, Hosea start talking to Arthur, though it felt more like he was speaking AT at him. Making little remarks about love and what it does for people. Sharing little stories of “the joys of marriage.” …..very sneaky, Hosea.

“Hosea…. Please get to whatever point it is yer tryin’ to make here.” Arthur said, cutting into his rambling.

“Arthur….” He cooed, sounding like he was talking to some schoolyard boy. “I’ve been watching you pine over (Name) for MONTHS.”

Arthur said nothing. Nothing but a silent prayer that his cheeks weren’t burning a fiery shade of red.

“I know you’re sweet on her, it’s as obvious as a wolf standing in a pack of sheep!”

Arthur ran a hand over my face and let out a tired sigh. Hosea sipped his beer, waiting for him to respond.

“What ‘m I supposed’t say?” Arthur grumbled, crossing his arms over my chest. ‘God, what a pathetic fool I am.’ Arthur thought. “Not like she’d want an ugly bastard like me ‘nyway.”

“On the contrary! Hosea chuckles. “I was walking by the women’s tent last nigh- couldn’t sleep. Wanted to walk a bit to clear my head- and my boy you should’ve heard the things (Name) was saying about you!”

At that, Arthur sat up a little straighter. “What things…?” He asked, slightly wearily. Hosea smiled.

“Son, she’s fallen for you head first! If only you’d start speaking more then 2 words a week to her! You do so much for that girl Arthur, would it be so hard to do that too?”

He didn’t say anything. Learning that, by some fucking MIRACLE- the woman of his dreams has fallen for him was making his head spin. Could this really be happening?? Could this work?? A stab of pain shot through him as he remembered Mary, and how things ended with her. But this could be different, after all you were with the gang. You didn’t care about his life, you loved him despite it all…Arthur hadn’t dared let himself think that a love with you could possibly work out. The thought made him giddy. He felt dumb as rocks, feeling so strongly for you without ever saying a damn word to you. But he couldn’t let himself get to know you- he couldn’t bare to hear your silky voice say his name more then you already do. With such kindness, such love.He wanted to talk to you, to love you, to cherish you and worship you like you deserved to be, but-

“Hosea, I’m afraid.” Arthur said quietly. “Look at ‘er, I can’t drag this woman down the path I’m on. She doesn’t deserve a man like me.”

Hosea pushed Arthur’s untouched whiskey towards him, Arthur took the glass and downed it all in one go. He listened to Hosea’a next words at the fiery liquid settled in his stomach.

“Are you going to risk making that decision for her?”

~~~~~~~

You sat on the cold ground in front of the dying out campfire, grateful that everyone had fallen into their cots for the night. You loved the solitude of nighttime. It was so nice to be by yourself, enjoying the quiet peace of the stars above you.

Before long, your thoughts (as they always did) turned to Arthur Morgan. Hosea has returned to camp hours ago, telling you that Arthur should be back shortly. It’s been hours and still no sign of him. You knew it was normal, but you couldn’t help but worry while he was out of camp. Which was stupid really, you weren’t his girl. Just because he was kind didn’t mean you had to get your knickers all on a twist over him.

‘Damn your mysterious-ness Arthur Morgan….’

You only know you dozed off when the familiar sound of a horse whining woke you up. And then an even more familiar voice soothing the distressed animal.

“Easy girl…. Y’know I can’t spend all my time with ya’ don’t you?”

You stretched your arms out and listened to the sweet interaction. Despite him being the gang’s toughest enforcer, a wanted dead or alive outlaw, Arthur truly was a sweetheart. He treated all the women of the camp with the utmost respect and was such a help to any soul in need of. If only he knew how badly you needed him.

You from your spot on the ground, drawing the outlaws attention. He approached with a small smile.

“Glad it was jus’ you..” Arthur said, hoping he didn’t sound as nervous as he felt. You on the other hand were absolutely over the MOON at the fact that Arthur had finally decided to talk to you.

“Oh I hope you’re not too disappointed Mr. Morgan!” You said with a light chuckle. Arthur, not sensing your sarcasm through his nerves, panicked.

“N-no! Not at all, ma’am! I apologize if I came off that way-”

“I’m just teasing ya’ Arthur. It’s quite alright.” You said and smiled. A smile so sweet and bright Arthur could’ve melted on the spot. Your sweet smile, the way his name rolled off your lips. Arthur wasn’t a religious man, but he might as well have been in heaven.

“(Name)….” Arthur said, his sweet southern drawl when he said your name making you blush. “I’d like to apologize. For how I’ve been treatin’ you.”

“Oh Arthur! You’ve been nothin’ but kind to me since I’ve been here- whatever are you sorry for?” You asked him, genuinely shocked at the man’s statement. Were you talking to the same Arthur who took care of your horse for you, bought you ribbons to put in your hair, and watched over you like a protective hawk? Sure he didn’t speak to you much, but you knew he was a man of few words. Even if it hurt sometimes, could live with it. You didn’t need him to love you back for you to love him all the same. You’d almost accepted it. Almost.

Arthur sighed a deep and nervous sigh, his thoughts blurring and the several whiskeys he had in him were NOT helping. Not a bit.

“You see- well it’s, it’s just-” Arthur stammered- god he was making a complete FOOL of himself!

You stepped closer to Arthur, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. You looked up at him nervously. The two of you had never been close as this. Arthur looked down at you, you had concern laced in your eyes. Concern for him. Your long hair was falling out of its messy braid, the loose strands framing your face beautifully. He could see the nights starts reflected in your eyes.

‘How beautiful..’ Arthur thought. He was completely captivated by you. ‘How could a woman like this be allowed to roam the same earth as someone like me..?’

Without even realizing what he was doing, Arthur pulled you flush against his chest, one arm wrapping around your waist and the other reaching up to cup your chin. His touch was feather light as he stroked his thumb over your face.

“I ain’t never felt like this before Miss…” Arthur mumbled, leaning his forehead down to touch your. He didn’t have time to wonder (or thank) whatever divine force gave him to courage to do this. “You got me makin’ a fool outta myself…”

You let out a soft gasp at the a sudden touch from Arthur. You had only ever been like this in your sweetest dreams, was this really happening??

“Arthur…?” You whispered, questioning him. “Wha…What ‘re you d-”

That’s it. He couldn’t take it anymore. To hell with the risks, the past to hell with it all! He had come to love you more than life itself. You were exactly what he needed in his painful and cruel life.

You were such a loving soul, treating everyone and everything around you so kindly it was heartwarming. You give and give and GIVE to everyone around you. You never judged anyone around you for their actions- past or present. You picked up chores from the other women when they needed a break. You sung little Jack to sleep when Abigail was too exhausted to lift her head from her cot. You put braided flowers into your beautiful long hair whenever you had a moment to yourself. You smiled at him every morning when you left your tent to begin your day. You always kept the pink silk scarf he picked up for you and left in your tent with a note in the pocket of your skirt. You picked at nails and hummed when you were nervous. You loved staying up late, gazing at the stars and admiring the universe. He had pages upon pages of you doing exactly that sketched in his journal.

You were heaven sent. You were perfect. The world didn’t fucking deserve you.

Arthur slammed his lips down onto yours without wasting another moment. And he shuddered at the feelings of your lips finally being against his own. You kissed him back just has hard, standing on your tip toes to wrap your arms around his broad shoulders. You felt his tongue slide against his bottom lip, and wasted not a moment opening your mouth to let him in.

Months of longing, tension, were fought out as your tongues pushed against each other. Of course Arthur won, you could barely contain the moan that was building in the back of your throat when you felt his tongue exploring your mouth like a starving man. If he hadn’t been holding you so tightly, you would’ve fallen over. The sheer want and desperation of the kiss made your knees go completely weak.

Unfortunately, you both needed air and had to pull away. Arthur rested his forehead against your own. The both of you stood there, panting with closed eyes. Neither wanting the moment to end.

When you eventually opened your eyes, you looked up at Arthur. And couldn’t help the giddy smile that spread across your face. Arthur wrapped both of his strong arms around your waist, and he smiled sweetly back at you. You both stood there for a moment, swaying gently back and forth as you embraced each other. The silence that fell between you both was comfortable and welcome as you gazed into each others eyes, both sharing the same look of love and adoration.

Arthur was the one who finally broke the silence between the two of you, and you will never forget his next words.

“Please darlin’” He whispered. “I’m beggin’ you… I want you to be my girl. I’m sorry I was a fool for such a long time-”

You leaned up on your tip toes and silenced him with a gentle kiss.

“I wouldn’t have you any other way, Mr. Morgan.”

#arthur morgan fic #arthur morgan #arthur morgan fanfiction #i love you arthur morgan #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #work song #inspired by a hozier song #rdr2 arthur #arthur morgan fluff #tension #love confessions #red dead redemption 2 #x reader #arthur morgan rdr2 #rdr2 #arthur is foolishly in love #re upload

[lisbeth-kk]

May Prompts (26) Manipulate

The Luckiest Girl in the World (chapter 26)

Summary: Rosie finds an unmarked box in her wardrobe. When John scolds himself for lacking as a parent, Rosie sets things straight.

Twenty-Six Years Old

Six months after my return to London, I was moving out again. The internship at the ministry of justice paid surprisingly well. I couldn’t help but think that a certain uncle had been using his manipulation skills again… In addition to my wage, the generous inheritance from Nana and Timothy’s income from his published novel, were more than sufficient to buy a decent flat in Stockwell. 

Nana had clearly wanted that 221 Baker Street was well looked after, and gifted it to her two boys, and insisted in her will that if Deidre, or Dee, as she preferred to be called, needed a home, 221A should be hers. And for the last two years, 221A had been occupied by Dee. My parents got along with her like a house on fire.

“It’s like having a younger version of Hudders down there,” Papa stated.

“Agreed. The sassiness runs in the family, I presume. Dee’s skills in the kitchen are sadly things she did not inherit from her aunt, though,” Dad said.

“Definitely not! She almost sat the flat on fire when she was boiling eggs,” Papa filled in.

***

Moving out the first time, had been poles apart to this move. That time I was going on an adventure, and I knew it was for just a period. When I moved in with Timothy, it was forever, and that was more bittersweet than I’d anticipated.

Moving to Paris, I had only taken clothes, some books, my laptop and the like. Stripping my room bare, was something entirely different. There were so many memories, and I knew I had to get rid of some of them because the flat wasn’t exactly big, and there were Timothy’s things to consider as well.

Over the next weeks I felt that I lived inside a cardboard box. They were everywhere, even downstairs to let me have some room to move around upstairs and leave the bed free to sleep in.

On the floor inside my wardrobe, I found an old box that had remained hidden behind clothes, rucksacks, shoes and a bag with blankets. It wasn’t marked and I couldn’t remember having placed it there. I opened the flaps and gasped in surprise.

“How are you getting on?” Dad called from the stairs and seconds later he entered my room.

I looked up at him with a stunned expression. When he saw the box, his shoulders slumped, and he sighed heavily.

“Right. I’d forgotten all about that one,” he said sheepishly. “I’ve failed to keep her memory alive for you, haven’t I?”

“Dad,” I scolded him. “You had far more important things to cope with when she died. Raising me with Papa is the greatest gift you could’ve given me. Never be sorry for that. I don’t remember her at all. From what I’ve gathered she did some horrible things to you both. No, stop. She did. I may not know the full extent of it, but it doesn’t matter that she was my mother. Remember what Papa said about extended and chosen family. They can be way better than the biological one. Not that I would want to replace you, mind.”

We both looked down at the photo of my mother and Dad on their wedding day. I didn’t recall when it had been replaced with the wedding photo of Dad and Papa. It felt strange and a bit eerie to look at Dad embracing another person like that. I took it out and placed it in the box that was going to the bins.

“Rosie!” Dad exclaimed, more out of shock than anything else.

“It’s wrong, Dad. I don��t need that. To me she’s the one who gave me life, but she was never in it when it mattered, and I’ve never missed having a mother. I consider myself the luckiest girl in the world having you and Papa as parents. You’ve done a great job, and uncle Myc, Nana, Molly, Granny, Pops, and uncle Greg have been brilliant carers as well. Now, what else is in here?”

I found Ted, still stained with tomato sauce, a white baby blanket with a bee pattern, tiny boxes containing a curl of my hair, my first tooth, a book where my growth, my first real meal, my first words, my first steps, my first trip, (to Barts), my favourite toys and books were painstakingly written down in Papa’s handwriting. My eyes filled with tears when I realised how much love lay behind those notes.

“He didn’t let me near that book with my horrible handwriting,” Dad said in a choked voice, clearly as emotional as me.

Another book caught my eye. The one uncle Greg had mentioned. A book with children’s names. It was worn, and I didn’t know whether that was from Papa searching for male names starting with a G, or my mother’s search for names meant for me.

“Did you…”

“No,” Dad cut me off. “She’d already decided on a name once we got back together. After…”

He didn’t have to finish that sentence, and I’m glad he stopped himself. Just thinking about it made me nauseous. 

I hadn’t told Timothy about her yet, but I knew I needed to. He would eventually ask. The lack of photos of her would ensure that. I reminded myself to ask uncle Myc how much I could reveal. Not that I knew more than half of it myself.

After I’d put the box aside, I leant into Dad where he sat beside me and placed my head on his shoulder. He put his arm around me and pulled me in for a hug.

“I’m so glad you decided to move back here with me after she died,” I murmured. “We would’ve been miserable without him.”

“Yeah, two years was enough for a lifetime,” Dad said and drew me closer, kissing the top of my head.

“I bet Papa is relieved that he can walk around in just a sheet now that I’m moving out for good,” I quipped to brighten the mood.

Dad chuckled and he was unable to hide the glint in his eyes at this prospect.

Also available on AO3

All the love to the other magnificent participants <3 Thanks to everyone for the endless support and especially to those who normally don't read parent!lock, but despite that are walking the extra mile. I'm in awe!

@calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @raina-at @helloliriels

More tags in the replies

#may prompts 2024 #may 26: manipulation #sherlock fandom #rosie watson #sherlock #john watson #johnlock #bbc sherlock #sherlock fanfic #ao3 fanfic

[soldier-poet-king]

in the saga of fran taking five billion years to finish cr2 because she’s afraid of endings. i watched another portion of the finale today. trent fight over. break reached. im just. too weak for this. i TRULY cannot bear saying goodbye to the m9. im disproportionately inconsolable

#i have been dragging out the finale for LITERALLY TWO YEARS #i have spread out the aeor arc literally that long #IT'S INSANE PERSON BEHAVIOUR #BUT ALSO IF I HAVE TO SAY GOODBYE TO THE M9 IM GOING TO FKIN. #i have grown so much in that time and it's like. saying goodbye to the piece of myself that grew there too #the not...not really hope. but the grim determination #the maybe we are both damned but maybe we can try #of caleb (and essek's) arc. even a traitor may mend. i have known one who did #of molly's leave it better than you found it #of cad. darling dearest cad. and the. one day someone will pray to the gods and you showing up will be the answer #how startling that a silly dnd campaign full of dick jokes somehow reflects this core little part of me #the ethos of what i am trying to do and be and live and exist as #walk gentle and do good and maybe we never forget the weight of my sins and the weight of my doubt and desperation #but in the meantime. roll up the sleeves. there are books to read and things to learn and good to do #franposting

[gvalesdraws]

finally visualised this meme after critrole watching because this is basically what happened

#yeah it is a meme but man. i will never be free again #the fact that molly literally changed their directions and impacted them so much #“leave every place better than we found it” like beau why you had to say it im kicking the walls every time #art #my art #critical role mollymauk #critical role fanart #critical role #cr2 #mollymauk tealeaf #the mighty nein fanart #the mighty nein #fjord #jester lavorre #caleb widogast #nott the brave #beauregard lionett

[hanaaria]

the worst thing about watching campaign 2 is that i'm slowly getting closer and closer to ep 26 AND I KNOW WHAT FUCKING HAPPENS IN IT AND I KNOW I'M GONNA CRY SOOOO HARD

#molly really is such a wonderful character #the like???? little acts of kindness????? #the 'leave every place a little better than when you found it'??????? #that shit is my jam man #but at the same time.......... reaching ep 26 also means that i'll finally get to meet my boy cad whom i also love very much........ #dammit #anyways i'm in the middle of ep 24 currently so. yeah. im just enjoying molly while he's still here #ALSO ENJOYING KIRI OH MY GOD I LOVE THAT BABY BIRD SO MUCH SHE'S ADORABLE #anyways #hana watches cr2 #hananans

[residentinsomniacartist]

wait wait wait guys have you ever thought about how the Mighty Nein are everything they shouldn’t be upon first glance

no no guys guys listen to me they’re all the antithesis of what they’re meant to be and that’s why they’re such amazing and heartfelt characters

like, Caleb is a wizard who’s afraid of his own fire magic. his own power causes him to falter in battle. his strongest spells are his most dangerous to himself. wizards are supposed to be prideful of their magic, but Caleb’s is the reason he hates himself

Beau is a monk who never wanted to be. her job is one that people normally associate with being calm and collected and Beau was a wild rebellious kid who got dragged into this line of work against her will. she never wanted to be this!! but now she is and she’s gotta deal with it!!

Fjord is a warlock who never wanted power from his pact, which is why you’d think a warlock would make their pact at all. but no. Fjord made his pact because he wanted to live, not because he wanted power. he was a scared orphan who hated his tusks, not a buff, muscled, angry half-orc like people assumed

Nott is NOT, that’s the whole crux of her narrative! she wasn’t pretty, like a halfling girl was supposed to be. she wasn’t a goblin, she was just transformed into one. and not only that, but despite being a three-foot-tall alcoholic kleptomaniac, she’s the mom of the group!

Jester is a Cleric whose god isn’t actually a god and who would much rather bash bad guys over the head with her lollipop than have to stop and heal her friends!! she’s a bubbly, optimistic ray-of-sunshine, but you know when she says she’s gonna change the world with friendship she means it as a threat

Mollymauk is an amnesiac, but he doesn’t want to remember who he was. if you ask him, that wasn’t him! he might be a flirtatious hedonistic carnie, but he’s also single-mindedly devoted to making the world a better and more loved place than it was when he found it. he’s a liar, but he means well. he’s an arrogant fool, yes, but he’s right! he did it! he left it better!

Caduceus seems like he’d be creepy and grim from growing up in a graveyard, but he’s actually the most chill out of the entire Nein by far. he’s calm, he’s sweet, and he’s comforting, more than anything else. you’d think he’d be amazed by seeing the outside world for the first time, but he spends the whole time knowing that one day he’ll return home, that he wasn’t supposed to be the one to leave

Yasha is a barbarian with skeletal wings and a dramatic, monochromatic look, but she’s a complete sweetheart. she’s Molly’s best friend, she was a carnival bouncer, she’s a lesbian disaster who collects pressed flowers in a book out of love for the wife she lost. those black wings were actually hiding soft white feathers

Essek was born straight into the den of politics, he was a spymaster, he literally started a war for his own gain, and yet. he’s sounds irredeemable on paper, but. he’s not!! sure, the Nein kind of have to drag his alignment kicking and screaming into neutral, but they manage it. Essek learns and grows and he overcomes his nature. he becomes good, against all odds

guys guys guys don’t you see it!! look at them!!they’re such compelling characters!! they’re everything they’re not supposed to be!! dude y’all how didn’t I realize this earlier!! they subvert their narratives in the most interesting ways ever and I justhshsbhshshsjnsmshsnhsfn!!

#having very normal thoughts about the hyperfixation before bed as you can see #god I love the Mighty Nein #I swear to god their story is one of the best things I’ve ever discovered #it just #it just screams ‘you can be more than what the world made you to be’ #‘you can be more than you once were’ #‘you can live and grow and love and it can be so so amazing. just let yourself have it’ #the Mighty Nein’s story is one of such overwhelming hope and love for the world and I just #*distant sobbing* /pos #the mighty nein #critical role campaign 2 spoilers #critical role #cr c2 #caleb widogast #beauregard lionett #fjord stone #nott the brave #veth brenatto #jester lavorre #mollymauk tealeaf #caduceus clay #yasha nydoorin #essek thelyss #cr meta #resident rambles

[ordinaryschmuck]

I love that The Ghost and Molly McGee's forced cancellation isn't just frustrating to fans of the show but to people in the animation industry as well. They're just as sick as we are about how much studios disrespect animation. They keep looking for the next Spongebob, Simspons, or goodness forbid Family Guy, but instead having faith in the creators and their content, they just...wait. They wait to make a profit and do the bare minimum to market their shows and make them available.

Let's look at Gravity Falls for example. I remember that when Gravity Falls was still airing, you would be able to find out a new episode was coming out based on coming across a commercial by random chance or by the people working the show promoting it online. Add that with the fact that it was on a different channel that required you paying MORE for your cable to get it. It WAS available through Disney Channel, a channel more available at a cheaper price, but the entire of Season Two got moved to the more expensive Disney XD, where Disney shows go to die, because...REASONS. With no warning or announcement. I think I found out about Gravity Falls moving to Disney XD because the trailer played during a commercial break. And that's just the START the show's problems. Mixed in with poor marketing, the show would have a crazy inconsistent schedule, where we'd have four episodes a week, a few months of NOTHING, a few more episodes a week, nothing for a few months, a random episode playing between that nothingness with next to no promotion, and all of that happening to the rest of the show until it finally died a slow death with its series finale where four episodes got stretched out for six months. That...is NOT okay. And it doesn't stop with Gravity Falls.

Steven Universe, OK KO, Ducktales 2017, Amphibia, The Owl House, and now Ghost and Molly McGee are all shows that had similar and sometimes WORSE treatments as Gravity Falls did, where the networks gave next to NO marketing, the creators had to promote their own shows themselves, and the airing schedules were so inconsistent with wildly long hiatuses that only the most dedicated fans were willing to keep watching. General audiences (mainly kids) weren't willing to keep up with shows that had ongoing stories if the episodes stories kept being too spaced apart and never had reruns as frequent as other shows like Teen Titans Go or Big City Greens (Or whatever's constantly on network TV nowadays. I don't know. I mostly watch shit on streaming).

The people of the animation industry is catching onto all of these tricks, and they're getting sick of it. They're getting sick of inconsistent schedules. They're getting sick of trying to bend over backwards in every possible way to make the show they wanted. By either making serialized content as episodic as possible so the network could air it more or by condensing their stories as much as they can, already expecting that forced cancellation to happen sooner than later. And in some cases, they don't even get the luxury of being told their show is ending. Did you know that Inside Job and Paranormal Park both had seasons that were already in development before Netflix pulled the plug shortly after releasing new episodes of their shows? Did you know that The Ghost and Molly McGee was already working on a Season Three before Disney shut that down so they had to force out a series finale that would still be good despite the cancellation? Because it's true. It's ALWAYS true. Creators want to make MORE, but the studios won't let them because they didn't profit off of it. Except they WOULD HAVE if they treated it better.

I want kids to grow up with characters that stick around through their childhood, just like I did with mine. I want kids to have their own Ed, Edd n Eddy, Codename: Kids Next Door, Phineas and Ferb, or Kim Possible. I want kids to watch shows that last more than two-three seasons, stick around for years, and leave an impact as if they have all the time in the world because to them, it feels like they do. I want kids to have a show that ends on a high note because the creators wanted it and not because the networks demanded it. But the unfortunate thing is that it doesn't seem possible nowadays. Because if a mostly episodic show like The Ghost and Molly McGee fails, despite being charming and inoffensive and something most kids will love, the what hope IS left.

#the ghost and molly mcgee #gravity falls #steven universe #ok ko #ducktales 2017 #amphibia #the owl house #disney #cartoon network #netflix #animation #rant

[kinzis-writing]

Three Years | George Weasley

Kinzi's 25 days of Christmas: Blogmas Day 2.

Summary: In which Y/N and George have been together for three years, and it takes a mistake for him to take the next step of their relationship.

Pairing: George Weasley x Fem! Reader

Warning(s): mentions of wizard war, mentions of death (not major character and not specified),

This could have ended way better, also the fact that this imagine is shorter than I like as well. I am doing my best at making my Blogmas posts as long as possible, but sometimes it takes me hours to plan the plot of these short stories out. I am a perfectionist, so that is why I never re-read and edit any mistakes because I am afraid of wanting to go back and change the whole story. *Fred did not die in the war*

Three years, it has been three years since George had grown a pair and asked Y/N to be his girlfriend. Since then, there had been many events happen in the course of their relationship. They had moved past the awkwardness of the beginning of the relationship, they had gone through their firsts that every relationship goes through, and everything in between.

Their relationship had survived the second wizard war but had challenges. Seeing as Fred had to be taken care of because of an accident and then George getting hurt before then. It was a hectic and stressful time for the couple, but now everything was back to normal. Well, normal as everything could be after losing some of the nicest people.

Christmas was tomorrow and Fred and George had many customers in and out of the joke shop. Whether it was for Christmas gifts or something before going home for a Christmas prank. They had many customers a day and George had found it hard to be able to see Y/N during the holiday season. The joke shop was closing early and they would stay closed until after Christmas because they all knew the wrath of Molly if they did not show up on time or if they left early.

On Christmas day, Molly was having dinner at the newly built burrow and told everyone that dinner was at 5 o'clock sharp. That morning, George had gotten up to wrap the present for Y/N that he had spent a decent amount of money only to find it missing from the place that he had put it.

"Hey, Fred." George called knocking on his bedroom door and walking in, "have you seen-" He stopped when he noticed Fred's girlfriend wearing the necklace and earring set that he bought specifically for Y/N. The reason he had picked them out was because he had seen her looking at them and she refused to buy them because of the price they costed. “Found them.” He mumbled to himself, his eyes not leaving the necklace.

He was sure that there had to be some sort of mix up. His twin would not steal his girlfriend’s gift on purpose. Instead of getting angry, George did what he believed was right, found Fred and asked him what he thought he was doing.

“I’m sorry,” Fred mumbled when he noticed the distressed look on George’s face. “I grabbed the wrong gift and before I could correct it she was so happy.” He trailed off making George groan. “You could give Y/N the gift I bought for Angela.” He suggested.

George thought about it for a moment, they had hidden their gifts in the same place. Meaning it was an easy mix up and he knew that Fred was telling the truth about grabbing the wrong box. Fred had planned on getting Angela a promise ring, and that gift would work if George hadn’t already given Y/N one of those almost a year ago.

“I’ll come up with something.” George mumbled before leaving his twin to himself. He had less than four hours to come up with the perfect gift for his girlfriend and he was determined to find it.

Four hours had flown by and by the time George and Fred joined everyone at the burrow, Y/N was already there. It wasn’t a shock to the twin, seeing as she was early to everything.

“You’re lucky you aren’t a minute later.” Y/N spoke as she walked up and greeted George from where she had been helping Molly. She had gotten there early knowing that it would be hectic if she didn't. "Molly has be waiting for you guys to arrive."

George gave her a quick kiss before going and putting their gifts under the tree. He wasn't sure how Y/N would like his gift, but he had come up with something... sentimental. Angelina had gone into the kitchen to see what the girls were up to, while Fred and George joined their brothers and Harry by the fire.

"I doubt that Ron even got me something." Hermione stated to Y/N who was setting the Table for Molly. "He's still so awkward about some things."

Y/N let out a small laugh, "I think that's just Ron." Y/N was a year between each group. Fred and George were a year older than her, and she was a year older than the golden trio, while being two years older than Ginny. "Hi, Angie." She greeted with a smile her eyes flickering to the earrings and necklace the girl was wearing. "I love your jewelry set! I wanted to buy the same one, but I didn't want to pay that price."

Angiela gave the younger girl a small smile, "Thank you, Fred got it for me." she replied before going over to greet Molly.

Dinner had come and gone within an hour and Molly had the kitchen cleaning itself. The family gathered around the fireplace as they got ready to open presents. Y/N was sitting on the floor, between George's legs as he sat on the couch. She was chatting with Hermione as they were talking about the after-holiday plans and if anything had to change.

"I think I am going to move." Y/N told Hermione as the girl played with the necklace she always wore. "The place I live at is getting worse and the landlord won't fix it."

Pretty soon the presents were being handed out by the Weasley's and everyone gathered knowing the Christmas tradition at the Weasley's house. Y/N had gotten George the thing he had been wanting for a while and he was beyond excited to receive the gift. It was unexpected and it made him nervous about her opening her gift.

"Can you go upstairs?" George asked Y/N as he noticed Molly hand her the gift that he had gotten her. "I would prefer you not open it in front of everyone." he mumbled quietly as the couple stood up and snuck off.

The pair in the room that they assumed was Ginny's for when she came back home just due to the looks of the room and so on. "There was a mix up of gifts this morning," George started as Y/N went to open her gift. "Fred gave Angela yours and-" He stopped talking when he noticed Y/N's reaction to what was in the box.

Wide eyes stared down at the little jewelry box, you would assume it would hold something that you could wear. Yet, it was nothing close to that. The key laid flatly in the velvet box, and y/n did not know what to think. "What Are-What are you asking?" she asked scared to assume.

Maybe this was a sign that she could come and go as she pleases instead of knocking, or maybe it was exactly what she thought it was. "Will you move in with us, well me?" He asked carefully. "I know it's not expensive and like I said, Fred gave Angela yours by mistake and-"

His sentence was interrupted by Y/N stepping forward and wrapping her arms around the boy she had loved for four years, even though they had only been together for three. "It's perfect." She assured to ease his nerves at the fact that his gift was something he already had, or just the price of making a copy of the key. "You didn't have to get me anything."

George shrugged, "I figured it was time to take the next step, it just took a push from Fred." he spoke softly to the girl he knew he was so lucky to have.

"Well, you just saved me the stress of apartment hunting." She replied back as she grabbed the key out of the box and handed him the box back, knowing that it probably belonged to Fred's other gift. "I love you so much, you know that right?"

"Of course, love." George nodded with a smile on his face. "I love you as well." With that Y/N leaned forward and caught the Weasley's lips between hers. They kissed for a moment before pulling away, George with a cheeky grin, "I could have proposed instead."

Y/N's smile grew at the thought of eventually marrying George and becoming a Weasley herself. "That sounds like a plan for next year." She winked before kissing him one more time and leaving the room, him trailing behind her.

"Are you saying you'd rather live with me, instead of marrying me right now!?" He asked not knowing how to take the information if she were to confirm.

"I have to live with you first to see if we're compatible." She told him with a shrug, but she was joking. Regardless of what happened she knew that she would love him.

"What does that mean?"

I hated the way I ended this, but Blogmas day 2 is complete! I have been working on Blogmas, requests, and my Mattheo series so I have been busy. This is on top of having to study for my finals so.

#george weasley #george weasley imagines #Kinzi's 25 days of Christmas #blogmas #Blogmas day 2 #harry potter imagines #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fandom #george wealsey imagine #george weasly x reader #george weasely smut #weasley twins #fred weasley #hermione granger #ron weasley #imagine #imagines #25 days of christmas #christmas

[mrmorganswoman]

no grave can hold my body down, ill crawl home to her

summary:

arthur morgan knew he was the type of man that shouldn’t risk falling in love, but jesus she just made it so hard NOT to

a/n: first fic!! inspired by work song by hozier lol. hope y’all enjoy it Xx 💗

‘Arthur Morgan, you fool’ He thought to himself, mentally swearing for catching himself staring at their camps newest member yet again. But he just couldn’t help it. He knew he shouldn’t indulge in this. It was stupid really, any attempt at love in the past had failed him. All because of this life he chose to live. One that wasn’t easy to leave behind. Though Arthur knew, if you asked him to he’d throw it all away. God this man would do anything for you, he practically worshiped the ground you walked on. He didn’t know why he was so captivated by you, maybe it was your honey sweet voice, or the kindness you showed him right from your first day of knowing him. He couldn’t stop himself from loving every little thing about you, to him you were perfect. A goddamned goddess. He thought you deserved someone better than him. A woman such as yourself deserved to live a good life, one where the law isn’t out to get you. One where people could be out to hurt you because of your husband’s line of work. You deserved to feel safe and secure in your life. Nothing like the chaos you were living through now.

Little did Arthur know, you were feeling the exact same way about him. You had deep feelings for Arthur Morgan, you were as sweet like sugar on that man. You loved everything about him, but most of all how he treated you. He made 100% sure you felt safe and were taken care of all the time. You were one of the first people he’d check up on when returning from a job. Or you mentioned something you needed and the next day he would just so happen to need to run to town and what do you know, the exact scarf, seasoning, hair ribbon, you name it would be included in his haul. And if he was around at meal times, he would not so subtly make sure you got your portion. All of this and yet, he rarely said a word to you. It confused you to no end, it felt like he cared about you deeply but he rarely paid any attention to you. You were a lost soul before you started riding with the Van Der Lindes, and because of the Blackwater situation it was hard for the gang to let in a new mouth to feed. But ever since the beginning Arthur made you feel so welcomed. You don’t know what you did do deserve his kindness but it was deeply appreciated. Mary-Beth was CONVINCED Arthur was sweet on you, so we’re Tilly, Molly, Abigail, Karen, goodness even Susan Grimahaw herself made a comment about it you once. You wanted to believe it so badly, but he didn’t talk to you!! He could just be a kind man of little words and you’re reading into the situation all wrong.

‘Oh well…’ You thought with a sigh, flicking your eyes up from the needle work you had long been neglecting because of your thinking. To your surprise, you found a pair of beautiful blue eyes already looking in your direction…

~~~~~~~

“Shit!” Arthur swore under his breath, god dammit you were still as a staute for ages before this why’d you have to look up now?? Arthur begrudgingly tore my eyes away from t and started walking to his horse- where he was supposed to be already. Hosea wanted to take him into town for some reason he had yet to say.

“Arthur!” Hosea said warmly. He then raised an eyebrow. “I hope you didn’t have any trouble getting here?”

‘Oh I this is NOT goin’ there.’ Arthur thought.

“Course not.” He said flatly. Hosea smiled a knowing smile, before long they mounted thier horses and were off.

The ride to Valentine was thankfully silent and quick. But Arthur knew that was going to change as soon as Hosea informed him that he was taking Arthur to the saloon to “Chat over a drink” With such a grin on his face that Arthur knew he was nothing short of doomed.

After getting situated at the bar with a neat whiskey and a beer, Hosea start talking to Arthur, though it felt more like he was speaking AT at him. Making little remarks about love and what it does for people. Sharing little stories of “the joys of marriage.” …..very sneaky, Hosea.

“Hosea…. Please get to whatever point it is yer tryin’ to make here.” Arthur said, cutting into his rambling.

“Arthur….” He cooed, sounding like he was talking to some schoolyard boy. “I’ve been watching you pine over (Name) for MONTHS.”

Arthur said nothing. Nothing but a silent prayer that his cheeks weren’t burning a fiery shade of red.

“I know you’re sweet on her, it’s as obvious as a wolf standing in a pack of sheep!”

Arthur ran a hand over my face and let out a tired sigh. Hosea sipped his beer, waiting for him to respond.

“What ‘m I supposed’t say?” Arthur grumbled, crossing his arms over my chest. ‘God, what a pathetic fool I am.’ Arthur thought. “Not like she’d want an ugly bastard like me ‘nyway.”

“On the contrary! Hosea chuckles. “I was walking by the women’s tent last nigh- couldn’t sleep. Wanted to walk a bit to clear my head- and my boy you should’ve heard the things (Name) was saying about you!”

At that, Arthur sat up a little straighter. “What things…?” He asked, slightly wearily. Hosea smiled.

“Son, she’s fallen for you head first! If only you’d start speaking more then 2 words a week to her! You do so much for that girl Arthur, would it be so hard to do that too?”

He didn’t say anything. Learning that, by some fucking MIRACLE- the woman of his dreams has fallen for him was making his head spin. Could this really be happening?? Could this work?? A stab of pain shot through him as he remembered Mary, and how things ended with her. But this could be different, after all you were with the gang. You didn’t care about his life, you loved him despite it all…Arthur hadn’t dared let himself think that a love with you could possibly work out. The thought made him giddy. He felt dumb as rocks, feeling so strongly for you without ever saying a damn word to you. But he couldn’t let himself get to know you- he couldn’t bare to hear your silky voice say his name more then you already do. With such kindness, such love.He wanted to talk to you, to love you, to cherish you and worship you like you deserved to be, but-

“Hosea, I’m afraid.” Arthur said quietly. “Look at ‘er, I can’t drag this woman down the path I’m on. She doesn’t deserve a man like me.”

Hosea pushed Arthur’s untouched whiskey towards him, Arthur took the glass and downed it all in one go. He listened to Hosea’a next words at the fiery liquid settled in his stomach.

“Are you going to risk making that decision for her?”

~~~~~~~

You sat on the cold ground in front of the dying out campfire, grateful that everyone had fallen into their cots for the night. You loved the solitude of nighttime. It was so nice to be by yourself, enjoying the quiet peace of the stars above you.

Before long, your thoughts (as they always did) turned to Arthur Morgan. Hosea has returned to camp hours ago, telling you that Arthur should be back shortly. It’s been hours and still no sign of him. You knew it was normal, but you couldn’t help but worry while he was out of camp. Which was stupid really, you weren’t his girl. Just because he was kind didn’t mean you had to get your knickers all on a twist over him.

‘Damn your mysterious-ness Arthur Morgan….’

You only know you dozed off when the familiar sound of a horse whining woke you up. And then an even more familiar voice soothing the distressed animal.

“Easy girl…. Y’know I can’t spend all my time with ya’ don’t you?”

You stretched your arms out and listened to the sweet interaction. Despite him being the gang’s toughest enforcer, a wanted dead or alive outlaw, Arthur truly was a sweetheart. He treated all the women of the camp with the utmost respect and was such a help to any soul in need of. If only he knew how badly you needed him.

You from your spot on the ground, drawing the outlaws attention. He approached with a small smile.

“Glad it was jus’ you..” Arthur said, hoping he didn’t sound as nervous as he felt. You on the other hand were absolutely over the MOON at the fact that Arthur had finally decided to talk to you.

“Oh I hope you’re not too disappointed Mr. Morgan!” You said with a light chuckle. Arthur, not sensing your sarcasm through his nerves, panicked.

“N-no! Not at all, ma’am! I apologize if I came off that way-”

“I’m just teasing ya’ Arthur. It’s quite alright.” You said and smiled. A smile so sweet and bright Arthur could’ve melted on the spot. Your sweet smile, the way his name rolled off your lips. Arthur wasn’t a religious man, but he might as well have been in heaven.

“(Name)….” Arthur said, his sweet southern drawl when he said your name making you blush. “I’d like to apologize. For how I’ve been treatin’ you.”

“Oh Arthur! You’ve been nothin’ but kind to me since I’ve been here- whatever are you sorry for?” You asked him, genuinely shocked at the man’s statement. Were you talking to the same Arthur who took care of your horse for you, bought you ribbons to put in your hair, and watched over you like a protective hawk? Sure he didn’t speak to you much, but you knew he was a man of few words. Even if it hurt sometimes, could live with it. You didn’t need him to love you back for you to love him all the same. You’d almost accepted it. Almost.

Arthur sighed a deep and nervous sigh, his thoughts blurring and the several whiskeys he had in him were NOT helping. Not a bit.

“You see- well it’s, it’s just-” Arthur stammered- god he was making a complete FOOL of himself!

You stepped closer to Arthur, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. You looked up at him nervously. The two of you had never been close as this. Arthur looked down at you, you had concern laced in your eyes. Concern for him. Your long hair was falling out of its messy braid, the loose strands framing your face beautifully. He could see the nights starts reflected in your eyes.

‘How beautiful..’ Arthur thought. He was completely captivated by you. ‘How could a woman like this be allowed to roam the same earth as someone like me..?’

Without even realizing what he was doing, Arthur pulled you flush against his chest, one arm wrapping around your waist and the other reaching up to cup your chin. His touch was feather light as he stroked his thumb over your face.

“I ain’t never felt like this before Miss…” Arthur mumbled, leaning his forehead down to touch your. He didn’t have time to wonder (or thank) whatever divine force gave him to courage to do this. “You got me makin’ a fool outta myself…”

You let out a soft gasp at the a sudden touch from Arthur. You had only ever been like this in your sweetest dreams, was this really happening??

“Arthur…?” You whispered, questioning him. “Wha…What ‘re you d-”

That’s it. He couldn’t take it anymore. To hell with the risks, the past to hell with it all! He had come to love you more than life itself. You were exactly what he needed in his painful and cruel life.

You were such a loving soul, treating everyone and everything around you so kindly it was heartwarming. You give and give and GIVE to everyone around you. You never judged anyone around you for their actions- past or present. You picked up chores from the other women when they needed a break. You sung little Jack to sleep when Abigail was too exhausted to lift her head from her cot. You put braided flowers into your beautiful long hair whenever you had a moment to yourself. You smiled at him every morning when you left your tent to begin your day. You always kept the pink silk scarf he picked up for you and left in your tent with a note in the pocket of your skirt. You picked at nails and hummed when you were nervous. You loved staying up late, gazing at the stars and admiring the universe. He had pages upon pages of you doing exactly that sketched in his journal.

You were heaven sent. You were perfect. The world didn’t fucking deserve you.

Arthur slammed his lips down onto yours without wasting another moment. And he shuddered at the feelings of your lips finally being against his own. You kissed him back just has hard, standing on your tip toes to wrap your arms around his broad shoulders. You felt his tongue slide against his bottom lip, and wasted not a moment opening your mouth to let him in.

Months of longing, tension, were fought out as your tongues pushed against each other. Of course Arthur won, you could barely contain the moan that was building in the back of your throat when you felt his tongue exploring your mouth like a starving man. If he hadn’t been holding you so tightly, you would’ve fallen over. The sheer want and desperation of the kiss made your knees go completely weak.

Unfortunately, you both needed air and had to pull away. Arthur rested his forehead against your own. The both of you stood there, panting with closed eyes. Neither wanting the moment to end.

When you eventually opened your eyes, you looked up at Arthur. And couldn’t help the giddy smile that spread across your face. Arthur wrapped both of his strong arms around your waist, and he smiled sweetly back at you. You both stood there for a moment, swaying gently back and forth as you embraced each other. The silence that fell between you both was comfortable and welcome as you gazed into each others eyes, both sharing the same look of love and adoration.

Arthur was the one who finally broke the silence between the two of you, and you will never forget his next words.

“Please darlin’” He whispered. “I’m beggin’ you… I want you to be my girl. I’m sorry I was a fool for such a long time-”

You leaned up on your tip toes and silenced him with a gentle kiss.

“I wouldn’t have you any other way, Mr. Morgan.”

#arthur morgan fic #arthur morgan #arthur morgan fanfiction #i love you arthur morgan #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x reader #work song #inspired by a hozier song #arthur morgan fluff #tension #love confessions #rdr2 #rdr2 arthur #red dead redemption 2 #red dead #rdr #arthur is foolishly in love #x reader

[turvi]

Scotland Yard: Send me an au or a scenario, and I will write a fic for you.

Draco Malfoy and falling in love with a muggle.

Like after the war he settles in a nice muggle neighborhood and makes friends with the kind neighbour next door who ofc isn't aware of magic and then he finds himself falling for her.

Happy ending please cuz <33

LUCKY CHARM

WARNING: CANON DEATH, ANGST, KISSING

Draco entered his temporary and desolate house. The air in the house was colder than the air outside. It was contrasting the blossoming colours of spring outside. It was dark and cold. He immediately closed the door. Even though no one will recognise him here, he fears being identified.

He quickly settled in. He had brought minimum luggage with him. What was the point of carrying his belongings where he didn't belong?

Draco moved his belongings into what would be his bedroom. His eyes fell on the mirror. He no longer recognised the person he had become. His older self was a distant memory. His face looked ashen, his eyes colder than before.

He sat on the bed, contemplating whether he should check up on his parents, but he couldn't even bring himself to move. Draco looked out of the window. The muggles cheerfully chat and walk unbeknownst to the jeopardy that the wizarding world had fallen into. Yes, Harry managed to kill The Dark Lord. But at what cost.

Three days ago, he had found himself in front of the Burrow. His jaw clenched, and his fingers twitched. He didn't really know why he was here. What he had done could not be forgotten by a simple apology. But he found himself grieving Fred's death. It was his fault he was dead. They wouldn't want to see him, especially George. Yes, he would actively show his dislike for the Weasleys, but he still grieved that they lost their child. And George lost his twin. He can't imagine what he must be going through.

Suddenly he looked up to see Molly had spotted him, and she was making her way to the front door. But when she opened it, he was gone.

Two months later, Draco was finally able to leave the house. The sunlight felt brighter than usual, or maybe the solitude was getting the better of him. He kept his head down, trying not to make eye contact with anyone.

He tried looking for shops that had fewer customers. Within the next ten steps, he found a cafe. It looked brand new. In fact, it was so new it looked like he was the first customer.

The cafe looked cosy. He observed the artwork that was on the wall. It suited the minimalist look of the cafe.

"You want something?." Draco flinched and turned to see a girl beside him. Her apron was covered in flour and chocolate, he smelled a hint of vanilla off of her, and the dim light above her made her look angelic. Even though she looked his age but the bright smile on her lips made her look a few years younger.

"Uh...no, I am...I am just looking around." Draco thought his response was good. He wanted to remain forgettable. He kept his eyes on the paintings despite his earlier distaste for them. But he couldn't pay attention to them. The scent of vanilla grew stronger.

He realised she was closer, looking at the paintings too. She was still smiling. That made Draco frown. She cleared her throat. "Let me know if you need anything. I will be behind the counter. Not like I can go anywhere." She awkwardly smiled. He didn't want her to stop smiling. She felt like a breath of fresh air. The scent of vanilla on her didn't help either.

Draco looked at the delicious treats that were on display. He couldn't remember the last time he ate. His stomach grumbled. The girl wordlessly went behind the counter to reheat a chocolate pastry.

"Here." She handed him the dessert with a sweet smile. Draco offered his own little smile as he ate the pastry. His eyes fluttered, and he stifled a moan. Being the only heir to the Malfoy family, he had access to all kinds of luxuries. He had tasted all kinds of expensive and imported desserts, but they all failed in front of this simple pastry.

"Did you like it?" As much as she tried to hide it, Draco was still able to detect a sense of insecurity in her, a feeling he was too familiar with. And while Draco had initially thought to just pay for her efforts and leave but he felt wrong to go without saying anything.

"It's actually good," Draco told her, avoiding looking into her eyes. "When did you open this shop?" he asked nervously, but her sweet smile and calm voice eased him up.

"Last week. And you are my first customer." Draco couldn't help but smile at her optimism.

"Well, I am sure you will get more customers." As soon as he said that they heard the door creak open and an elderly woman slowly made her way to the counter.

"Hi...do you sell cookies?" she asked sweetly, and the girl excitedly nodded before she went into the kitchen. The old lady smiled at Draco, and he smiled back. But Draco frowned. He felt like he had seen this old lady before. He couldn't remember where. Suddenly he felt her cold, wrinkly hand on his cheek. "It's not your fault."

Draco forgot how to breathe for a second and saw as the girl came back and handed the lady cookies. He looked at her wide-eyed as she sweetly thanked the girl and went away like nothing happened. Leaving Draco in his thoughts.

Weeks went by, and the crowd in her cafe grew. Drace was one of them. He was a regular now. He often had a craving for her sweet treats. He eventually learnt her name when he accidentally spilt his coffee on her counter when she opened her hair to relieve the pain in her scalp from holding it in a bun all day.

"Y/n L/n, such a sweet name." he smiled at her as he helped her clean her counter. Even their conversations were regular now. It took him time to open up to her, but eventually, she became his sunlight after a dark storm.

"Thank you, I like your name too. It's unique." she looked up to see him looking at her lips and immediately looking away. She felt her cheeks warm but didn't point out that she caught him staring. Y/n wanted him to be comfortable around her and not overwhelm him with her blooming romantic feelings for him.

"Oh, I have a new dish on my menu. Wanna try it?" Y/n excitedly offers, wanting to impress the blonde man.

"Only if I get a discount." Draco cheekily smiled, and that was the first time she saw him come out of his shelf. She smirked, and Draco thought she couldn't look more beautiful. "Better you are getting it for free."

"Why am I special?" he asked as he leaned on the counter, trying to look smug, yet internally he was shaking nervously. "Nah, just my guinea pig."

He liked the sound of being hers. The amount of time he had spent here in her company, where he knew at first he was an insufferable twat, but her patience and kindness and her sweet treats had slowly broken down the walls he had created.

"Would you like to go out someday?" Draco was surprised at his own confidence. He tightly gripped the counter, anticipating her rejection, when her sweet voice comforted him again. "I would love that. Where are you thinking?"

He was immediately at a loss for words. "Uh...uhm...nowhere...really. I was thinking maybe we could explore the town. I haven't been outside in a while, so maybe you could take me to your favourite spots?"

"Ok, tomorrow after I close the cafe?"

Draco nodded. "Yep, it's a date." he quickly walked towards the door, his heart healing at the sound of her giggles.

The mirror in his room now showed a different reality. His face looked healthier. His smile dropped for a minute as the thought of his parents crossed his mind. He will talk to them. But not now. Today he will spend time with Y/n.

When he got out of his house, he immediately spotted her. She smiled when she saw him. Her appearance felt brighter than the sunlight. Does she know she is beautiful? That when she is in front of him, he forgets about the world and his problems.

He swallowed thickly when she got closer. He fixed his hair and clothes, offering her his arm. "Shall we?"

"Ohh, what a gentleman." his breathing got heavier when he felt her gentle touch on his arm. He didn't deserve her. She didn't know the crimes he had done. She doesn't know the person he was in the wizarding world. For her, he was just another man. But she will stop smiling at him when she knows what he has done.

His train of thought was stopped when he felt her warm palm on his arm, her eyes focused only on him. He wanted to cry, beg for forgiveness but he felt too numb to even move.

"Are you ok? It's alright if you changed your mind about this."

His eyes teared up to see that she really meant what she said. Y/n took his hands in her hands looking up at him. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"I...I am sorry I just need some time. I am ok." He will tell her when the time is right and he knew he can trust her as he watched her smile assuredly at him.

"We don't need to rush. I am here for you."

He watched her eyes flutter as he tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. Draco cupped her cheek looking into her eyes "Thank you so much." He gently brushed his nose with hers. "Can I?"

"Please"

Draco heard her breath hitch when gently kissed her lips, now cupping her face with both his hands, his heart overpowering his brain as he deepened the kiss when he felt her kiss back. They broke the kiss breathlessly looking into each other's eyes. "I'm sorry"

She smiled and pecked his lips. "Don't be, I like this. I like you."

Draco smiled widely. "Would mind if I kissed you again?"

She smirked. "I would if you won't."

And he did. He didn't know what he felt for her, or what it was but he felt ready to figure out his feelings for Y/n. He hugged her and wondered what was in store for them now?

A/N: I probably hinted at part 2 oh well let me know if you want that. REBLOGS AND COMMENTS ARE APPRECIATED

#draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x fem!reader #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy fic #draco lucius malfoy #draco fanfiction #draco malfoy imagine #draco x reader #draco x female reader #draco x you #draco x y/n #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy angst #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter imagine #draco malfoy #draco fandom #draco malfoy fanfiction #ask turvi #turvi writes #500 followers celebration #500 followers

[tropes-and-tales]

The Softest in the World

Day 15:  Fingering (Dave York x F!Reader)

(For the 2023 Kinktober event found here! Is it April? Yes. Am I that far behind in posting that it's April and I'm still working through Kinktober requests? Also yes.) 

CW:  Smut (Fingering; talk of masturbation; oblique talk of vague future sex acts); 18+ only.

Word Count:  4102

AN:  This is a sequel to this, and it was requested for Kinktober by an anon!

AN2: Never edited, never beta'ed. I live and die by my slopping typing.

The first Christmas without Carol goes far better for Dave than he ever thought it would.  Of course he misses his wife, nearly a year out from her sudden death.  Molly and Alice miss their mother too.  But the immediate grief—that sharp, cutting pain that left them breathless and stunned—has faded into a more mellow sorrow.  Ever-present, but it doesn’t take Dave out at the knees anymore.

He knows he owes much of his family’s collective healing to you, the nanny he hired months after Carol died.  You’re the one who stepped in and took charge of their lives.  You never tried to replace Carol, but you’ve managed their day-to-day moments and their larger healing.

This first Christmas was your idea too.  A month in Vermont, away from the family home where memories may have been too thick and pressing to allow for any joy.  It had proved out to be a great idea too:  long days sledding and snow-shoeing and building snow forts leave the girls exhausted by evening, too tired to ruminate about their missing mother.

And it allows Dave more time with you.

Usually you only live at the York home when he’s traveling.  You handle their lives at home—drive the girls to and from school, to and from activities.  You handle the maid who comes in twice a week to clean.  You keep the refrigerator full, get the girls bathed and put to bed with a story and a hug each night.  But Dave is never there to see it—when he returns home from his work trips, you leave for your own apartment.

This month in Vermont?  You sleep in the room just down the hallway from him.  You share a bathroom with him, leave behind the scent of your shampoo and soap after you shower.  He hears you each night when you, like clockwork, pad out into the kitchen for a glass of water that you gulp down until you’re breathless.

More than all of that, he has front row seats to how you care for his girls.  You’re tough but fair.  You cut them plenty of slack, grieving as they are, but you don’t allow them to run roughshod over you.  You play with them, you teach them, and you genuinely seem to love them…and they genuinely love you as well.

Him, though?  Dave can’t seem to get a bead on you when it comes to him.  Your ease with the girls disappears the moment the two of you are alone.  You can’t always meet his eye line.  You flinch away from him if he brushes against you.  Sometimes he wonders if you can sense his former double life—if you have some preternatural prey response to being so close to a predator.  But more than once, he’s caught you watching him on the sly.  He’s noticed your heavy-lidded eyes, the way you pull your lower lip between your teeth.

When he cornered you in the hallway a few days earlier, he definitely noticed how your breathing quickened.

Maybe you can sense his killer nature, but Dave would also guess that you are attracted to him.  And knowing what he does of your character, you probably feel conflicted about that.  Guilty.  Maybe even a cliché, the nanny falling for the widowed father of her charges.

If Dave has taken one lesson from Carol’s death, though, it’s this:  life is short, and life can end in a blink.  Why not live while you can?

-----

The day before Christmas is spent in a nearby town.  You plan it, of course, and you layer in fun stuff with all the errands you have to run and make it a family affair.  You take the girls ice skating at a nearby pond.  Dave stands along the rink’s edge and watches you take lazy circles on the ice, Molly’s and Alice’s mittened hands firmly in yours until they get comfortable on their own.  Then you skate over to him, and the two of you watch in silence.

Then there’s hot chocolate at a nearby café, last minute presents for the stockings, and the grocery store.  You return to the cabin laden with bags, and the evening flies by.  You and the girls make flat breads for dinner, and afterwards, you put on a Christmas movie while the girls put the finishing touches on the tree Dave bought earlier in the month.

Dave helps the girls with their evening baths.  He gets them tucked into bed, reads them a story.  He presses a kiss to each of their foreheads, and they are out like a light before he’s even quietly clicking their bedroom door shut behind him.

As he’s been tending to his daughters, you’ve tidied up in the kitchen and living room, and now you’re pulling the wrapped gifts from their hiding spot in the hallway closet to arrange them under the tree.

At the sound of his footfall, you glance up and offer him a smile.

“They out already?” you ask.

Dave chuckles.  “Before I even left the room.”

You smile, brush the back of your hand across your forehead, miming hard work.  “It’s exhausting work, trying to exhaust them.”

“And you manage to do it every time.”  He joins you near the tree, kneels down beside you.

“Sometimes I make them run laps at home,” you reply with a laugh, and maybe you don’t notice your casual use of the word home, but Dave notices.

Dave notices everything.

He noticed, for example, how you stood by him at the skating rink, perfect posture and a tension radiating off of you when Dave moved close enough for his coat to brush against yours.  He noticed the way you ducked your head at the café, how you pretended not to hear the women who sat nearby and remarked on the lovely little family that you, Dave, and the girls made.

He notices now how you lean away from him just a fraction, how you start when his fingers touch yours each time he hands you a wrapped gift to place.  He notices that you won’t look at him, that you keep your gaze carefully fixed on the presents or the tree.  He crowds you closer, plays dumb about it, and he notices when the pink tip of your tongue darts out and licks a wet line along your lower lip. 

Part of Dave—the dark part of him, the predator in him—wants to grip your face between his hand and force you to look at him.  He wants to hold your gaze until it’s too much for you; he wants to stare at you until you squirm and beg him to let you go.  And then he wants to not let you go, your begging futile—he wants to hold you tighter and lean in and draw his own tongue along that bitable lower lip of yours.

He keeps that part of him at bay.  He knows he has to go slow.  Slow movements.  You freeze around him, but if he comes on too strong or too fast, you’ll bolt.  He needs to quiet that prey instinct, make you feel safe.  Alleviate your guilt, if you have any, at being attracted to a widower.

So Dave decides to seduce you instead. 

When you reach for the next gift, he instead grasps your wrist lightly.  He can feel your pulse against his grip, and he hears the breath you draw in.  He holds you like that until you have the courage to look at him, and he smiles at you to put you at ease.

“I’ll finish up,” he tells you, his voice low.  “Why don’t you go get a bottle of wine and some glasses?  We can have a drink on the couch.”

You hesitate…then nod.  It shouldn’t be a turn-on, but Dave loves the hesitancy, then the obedient way you stand up and do exactly as he says.  It’s not hard for him to imagine other things he could order you to do, the same uncertainty before you obey him.

-----

The wine is Moscato-adjacent.  It’s one of those local vintages made with fruits other than grapes, and far too sweet for Dave’s taste, but you had picked it out at the grocery store, so he sips it carefully and hides his winces when the cloying sweetness burns against the back of his throat.

You?  You nearly gulp it down, and he realizes how nervous you are to be here:  alone on a couch beside him, the room dark except for the lit-up Christmas tree and the crackling fire in the fireplace.  It’s romantic, but you’re his employee, and he swears he can feel you flailing out of your depths to find yourself in this moment.

“Easy,” he says.  He stills your hand when you reach for the bottle.  You’ve bolted down the first glass so fast, and Dave doesn’t want you drunk.  He doesn’t even want you tipsy.  He wants just the barest bit of your nerves soothed, but he wants you fully in control of yourself. 

He wants you to be completely, stone sober when you beg him.

“Slow down,” he continues.  “You don’t want to overdo it.”

You laugh, a nervous giggle that spills out of your mouth, and you start to say, “I just…” but you trail off, don’t finish the sentence. 

What were you going to say, Dave wonders?

I just am nervous.

I just think this is too much.

I just think it’s wrong.  It’s too soon.  It’s too complicated.  It’s too unseemly.  What will people think, if anyone ever finds out?

“It’s okay.”  He says it soothingly.  He eases your empty glass out of your other hand, and he sets it down along with his own mostly-full glass, but he does it with one hand—his other, he keeps wrapped around your wrist, unwilling to break his hold on you.

“Mr. York…”  You start, and he hears the nerves in your voice.  He hears the wobble in your words, the faint tremor, but he also swears he can hear desire too—a huskiness to your voice, the slightest rough edge.  And you squirm in your seat, just a bit, but you don’t try to pull away from him.

“Mister York?  Since when did I become Mister?”  It shouldn’t be so hot, you calling him that, formal with the tremble in your words, but then you breathe out his first name—Dave—and you draw it out, and that’s even hotter.

His hand on your wrist, he pulls you to him, tugs your upper body towards him, and you let him.  You go willingly, but your eyes widen.  In shock?  Fear?  Lust?

“Tell me you want this,” he murmurs, his face inches from yours.  “If you don’t, say so now, and we’ll forget it ever happened.”

The tip of your tongue darts out, licks nervously against your lower lip.  “It’s just…”  You take a breath, try again.  “It’s just complicated.”

“That’s not a yes or a no, baby.”

You huff and offer him a tremulous smile at his use of a nickname, so he adds, “it’s a simple question.”

You hesitate, and Dave wonders if you’re really conflicted about it.  If you’re weighing how your life will change depending on how you answer…

…or if you just don’t want to seem eager, because you nod, then whisper “yes, I do want this,” and when he bridges the remaining distance between you, you’re right there, ready and eager to slot your mouth over his, to part your lips to his searching tongue, to cup his stubbled face with your free hand.

-----

Other men might take you then and there.  They might claim you right on the couch, in front of a dying fire and a Christmas tree sparkling with lights.  They might rush it, make it some sweaty, sad fumble, then parting to each slink to separate bedrooms.

Dave York has always enjoyed the long game.  If he were a game hunter, he would enjoy it better to sit in a tree stand for hours before dawn.  He would relish the cool planning, the stalking, the calculating and recalibrating as needed.

Dave York doesn’t fuck you just yet.  He wants to give you a taste, just a morsel, because he wants you slavering for it.  He wants you looking at him with those wide eyes, that lower lip caught between your teeth, as you beg him for more.

So this night, he only pushes you gently back against the couch as he kisses you.  He lowers himself onto you—lets you feel the weight and heft of his body against yours, lets you feel how he can press you into the couch with his weight.  He lets you feel the length of his growing erection where it presses against your hip, and each little whimper makes him harder.

He kisses you deeply—tastes the glass of Moscato you gulped down, tastes the sweetness of you beyond the tart, sweet wine.  He slides his tongue against yours, licks the inside of your mouth, and he smiles inwardly when you shyly try to do the same.  You are mostly led by him but there’s little movements—your tongue pressing back against his, say, or the upward press of your hips as you search for friction—where you try to lead too.

He braces himself with one hand, which allows the other to roam free.  He cups your flushed face, feels the heat of your blushing.  He draws his hand down, traces a path down your neck, circles his palm there, feels how much he can fit in the span of one palm.  Not because he likes choking—he’s never been into breathplay or anything so risky, but he does like the tame feel of his hand partially around your neck with the feel of your pulse and the ragged breaths you pull in.

Then lower.  He grasps the softness of your breast, and even through the sweater and bra, he can feel your pebbled nipple.  He brushes the pad of his thumb over it, back and forth, and it makes your hips lift up again…and then you groan when you find nothing to meet you, no friction and no touch.

“Be patient,” he whispers in your ear.  He nips at your lobe, darts his tongue against the whorl of your ear, and you whimper at the sensation of his hot breath fanning over you.

He moves his free hand lower still.  He finds the hem of your sweater, snakes his hand under it.  Then he finds the waistband of your leggings.  He sends up a silent prayer that he gets to live in a time and place where leggings are a thing—no tricky buttons or zippers, just an elastic waistband so easy to slip his hand under, and he cups your mound through the soft cotton of your panties.  Dave chuckles near your ear, then lifts his head to look at you because you’re already wet there, the damp cotton cleaving to you as he skates his fingers over you.

“Bad girl,” he whispers.  “Getting wet for your boss.”

He’s watching you as he says it, and he sees the flash of hurt that crosses your face before your pupils get wider and your lips part, as you breathe out a heavy breath.  You’re such a good girl; Dave obviously vetted you before ever letting you into his girls’ lives.  Straight A student, honors, full ride in college.  Not even a speeding ticket in your history.  He bets you’ve never been called bad, never been a bad girl, and it seems to hurt you for a beat before you embrace this tamest step outside of your erotic comfort zone.

Dave has so many more steps he wants to lead you on.  He wants to take your hand in his and lead you into darker, deeper waters.  He imagines spanking you, binding you, blindfolding you.  He imagines twisting your innate desire to please into something sensual; he imagines training you to greet him on your knees.  He imagines rewarding you, calling you a good girl instead, fucking you senseless until you are left overstimulated and weeping, ruined for any other cock but his.

“Is this just from right now?” he continues, and he strokes you through your soaked panties, feels how they are molded to your folds and cleft.  “Or have you been thinking about this?”

“I don’t—”

“Tell me.”  He pinches you lightly—not enough to hurt, but the sensation pulls a gasp from you, and your hand flies up to grasp his bicep where his bracing arm is near your head.  “Tell me why you’re so wet.”

“I’ve been thinking about this.”  It comes out a whisper, barely audible.  Tinged in shame, and that’s the first thing Dave will burn out of you.  Guilt.  Shame.  He’ll break you down and tear those useless emotions out of you.

“When?”  Another light pinch, another gasp.  Your hand grips his arm harder, and Dave will see dusty little bruises there in the morning.

“Since….ah, since a while.”  Another pinch, and you add, “over the summer.”

The summer.  When Dave was around more due to his busy period at word dying off.  When Dave ran each morning and returned home to find you cleaning up the breakfast mess, when he shed his sweaty shirt and walked through the house on his way to shower.  When he pretended not to notice the way your eyes followed him each step, and when he pretended like he needed a glass of cold water, shirtless, that he drank down in your eye line.

Bad girl indeed.

“You touch yourself to the thought of me?”  Here he moves his hand, shifts it to slip under the lacy band of your panties, and he’s delighted to feel a strip of damp curls there, happy that you haven’t shaved or waxed yourself bare.  He drags his fingers through them, then finds your clit, slick and swollen, and he touches you lightly there.  Strums you with his thumb and chuckles at the keening whine that tears out of your throat.

“Answer me.  You touch yourself, thinking about me?”

“….yes.”

“Like this?”

“S-sometimes.”

“Not every time?”

You fix him with a pleading look, but you’re barely able to hold his gaze for long.  When he brushes his lips over your cheekbone, he can feel how hot your face is.  This is a challenge to you, possibly humiliating, but also arousing because you continue to lift your hips, chasing the touch you’re desperate for.  Such a soft little thing, the softest in the world, and yet you’ve been touching yourself to the thought of him.

Dave stills his hand, and he chuckles again at the groan of disappointment you make.  “Tell me or I stop.”

You swallow, nod.  “Sometimes I…I have a vi…a vibrator.”

He can imagine it; a sad little tucked-away piece of silicone or plastic.  You probably pull it out in the darkness of your room, ashamed at pleasuring yourself.  You probably bury it under your socks and blush when your hand brushes against it when you’re putting laundry away.

He hums, considers the mental image that rises to his mind.  Your legs spread under the covers, running the toy over your clit, maybe pushing it inside you.  Imagining it was him instead.

Not that different from the times he’s gripped his own cock, stroked himself in the shower or in his room and pretended it was you instead of his hand.

Dave could demand to know your fantasies.  He could make you tell him what scenarios you’ve used to get off to him.  Him bending you over the kitchen counter?  Him fucking you in the shower?  Him sneaking into your bedroom at night, sliding under the covers and slipping his already-hard cock into your tight little pussy?  He could make you blush harder and demand to know these things, but he wants to take this slow, so he kisses you instead, murmurs his thanks, calls you a good girl for answering his questions, and when your face lights up at the praise, Dave pushes one thick finger into you and draws the sweetest, throatiest groan from you.

Other men might take you then and there, but Dave only finger-fucks you.  He goes so slow, eases it out, pushes it back in so you feel every goddamned bit of him entering you.  He keeps his thumb firm on your clit, and just the pressure makes you whimper each time he presses a little harder.

He adds a second finger and feels the delicious stretch as your pussy cedes to him.  You’re unbelievably warm, slick, and your pussy twitches and pulses around him each time he breeches the confines of your body.  It’s tight, but you’re nervous, and each bit of praise—good girl, such a good fucking girl for me, just relax and let me make you feel good, baby—makes you unclench a bit more.  You relax, and you find the rhythm that he fingers you, and you lift your hips to meet his fingers.

When he adds a third finger, you hiss at the thickness of it, the tight fit.  He stills, watches your face for any pain, and when he doesn’t see any, he continues.

Three fingers is a good start to preparing you for his cock, he thinks.  He imagines the feel of pushing into you, mounting you, and he imagines your fingers digging into his shoulders as he bottoms out in you.

In due time.  Now he fingers you, he scissors his fingers inside you and feels the answering throb in his erection each time you whine or whimper or groan, the sweetest symphony of sounds he’s able to pull from you.  When he starts circling your clit with his thumb, when he crooks his fingers inside you, pressing gently until he finds the spot that makes you gasp out his name, but you call him Mister York again, and it unlocks something inside him, the power you’re letting him have over you.  He dips his head and sinks his teeth into the side of your neck, right at the pulse point, and you gasp again.  Your other hand flies up and cradles the back of his head, and you twist your fingers through his hair, but you don’t pull him away—you hold him there, and he licks against the dimpled marks he’s left in your skin, he breathes against the wet line on your neck, and he’ll see a lurid bruise there in the morning too that will make him instantly hard.

“You’re going to come for me,” he growls against your neck.  “You’re going to be a good girl and come when I tell you.”

And his mind boggles at the possibilities with you because you do exactly as he says.  You nod at his order, and you press your hips in time to his searching fingers, and he feels when your orgasm approaches because you lose much of your embarrassment.  You swear in a hoarse whisper against his head—oh fuck, D-Dave, fuck fuck fuck, I’m close, I’m gonna, oh, don’t stop—and you spread your legs wider to make room for his hand, and the lurid sound of his hand working against your wetness doesn’t seem to even register to you.  The entire living room smells like sex and you don’t care, and when you gasp and buck your hips up into his hand, he feels your orgasm break around you:  the pulse of your cunt gripping his fingers, the hot slick of cum that coats his hand, the way your body shakes under his.

He fingers you through it.  He draws out your pleasure until you shove at him lightly, tell him it’s too much, and he stops.  He feels the tension of your orgasm—the arching body, the trembling—leave you, and you lay underneath him, sated and heavy with your release.

Dave draws his hand out from under your clothing, and he straightens the hem of your sweater where it rode up a bit.  Then he fixes you with an unblinking stare and lifts his hand to his mouth, and he smiles at your shocked expression as he licks his fingers clean.  Then, with the taste of you on his lips, he lowers his head and kisses you again—deep and slow, so you can taste yourself too.

“Good girl,” he tells you when he breaks the kiss.  “You’re going to be such a good girl for me.”

#dave york #dave york imagine #dave york x reader #dave york x you #kinktober 2023 #tropes and tales #the equalizer 2

[misseviehyde]

BITS AND PIECES

Molly was beginning to regret entering the cursed dolls house with her friend Emma. True they'd been running away from their bitchy bully Madison and her clique and the strange abandoned house on the edge of town had seemed a safe refuge - but some feeling had told her at the time that they were putting themselves in terrible danger.

As they'd entered the old house, its evil magic had taken effect. The girls had groaned as their bodies changed. Plastic skin gleamed as joints became articulated and in a matter of minutes they'd been transformed into living animate dolls. Emma and Molly now looked like toys... but toys that could walk and talk.

They tried to leave, but the mansion also appeared to be bigger on the inside than the outside and now they were trapped clopping around in the impossible maze-like dimensions of the house.

"Oh my goodness," gasped Emma in horror at her new plastic body. "This... this can't be possible!" She reached over to touch her own arm and screamed as she accidentally detached it from the articulated joint with a pop. Then she calmed, realising it didn't hurt and there was no blood.

Molly looked at her friend in shock. "Looks like we have detachable parts now. Just like a real doll," mused Emma - and before Molly could stop her, she had yanked Molly's arm till it came out with a pop.

Molly watched in sick fascination as Emma popped Molly's arm into her socket and pushed her orignal arm into Molly.

Emma giggled, she now had Molly's sleeve of tattoos and she wiggled her new arm with fascination.

"Looks like we can swap body parts now. I wonder if we get out of the house, would this become permanent?"

"Hey! Give me my arm back!"

"Mmmmh. Later. This feels kinda good..."

Ignoring Molly'd protests, the two of them began looking around and finding a staircase they climbed up it hoping to possibly find a window or something on the upper floor.

They found nothing, so wandering around for a few minutes they returned to the staircase - only to find Madison flanked by her bitchy lieutenants waiting.

She and her cohorts were also now plastic dolls. Madison looked like a demented Barbie.

"I don't know how you nerds turned us into these dolls, but you'll pay for this," screamed the plastic bully as she waved her jointed arms around in rage.

But before she could do anything all three girls began to scream as Emma suddenly rushed at them and pushed them down the stairs.

They tumbled and fell backwards, their plastic bodies breaking and falling into pieces as they fell down the stairs. Their heads rolled away from their torsos and other bits broke off as they landed in a heap of bits and pieces.

Molly looked at her friend in horror. "You... you killed them."

"No, they aren't dead. The magic seems to make us invulnerable. We can put them back together again later. But before we do..."

A wicked grin came over Emma's plastic face. Walking down the stairs she picked up one of Madison's legs. It was long and sexy, smoother and shapelier than her own. Popping her own leg off she attached Madison's instead and then grabbing the other one did the same.

"Mmmmmh ohhh fuck that feels good."

Giggling Emma stood up. She was now taller and her legs looked amazing. "Oh fuckkkk. I feel so much more powerful and dominant. Soooo confident. Mmmmh these body parts come with feels and I LIKE it. Taking your arm felt good, but this is even better."

Admiring her legs, Emma began looking around with a hungry look on her face. There was a wild gleam in her eyes.

"Wh... what are you doing?" gasped Molly in sick fascination.

"Just making a few other improvements," smirked Emma. "After all if we have changeable parts now... why not?"

She grinned as she found what she was looking for. Lucy, Madison's minion, had the biggest tits at school. They were huge and round - massive fucking milkers that jiggled and wobbled enticingly. Now those tits lay ready to be used.

Lifting them up, Emma detached her own small breasts and with a click, pushed Lucy's onto her chest. "Ohhhh fuck yes, that feels good," she groaned in pleasure as they attached. "I feel like such a... such a fucking bitch. I need MORE."

Turning round she laughed. She now towered over Molly and her massive tits dominated the room.

Emma mashed her plastic tits with glee. "These are gonna feel so fucking good when I become a real girl again, but they are already making me feel so powerful. Mmmmmh I think I'd like to be a bully. Being pathetic boring Emma is so dull."

"Emma, this is crazy. You can't do this. It's wrong."

"You're right," giggled Emma. "It is wrong but it feels so fucking good. Besides I won't be Emma for long. I'm sick of being so weak and pathetic. My body is in control now and it needs a new head. This body deserves to be bitchy. I can take it all. I can become the bully."

Picking up Madison's lifeless looking blonde head from the floor, Emma laughed madly as she reached up and to Molly's shock casually ripped off her own head.

Her body simply tossed her old head aside like it didn't need it, then with a groan of pleasure pushed Madison's slutty blonde head into the neck socket till it clicked.

Evil eyes fluttered open and the new super bitch stretched happily. "Mmmmh yummy, feels so good to have a new personality in the driving seat. I AM Madison now."

"E.... Emma?"

"In a manner of speaking loser. There's bits of her inside my perfect new body - but I'm like totes the best parts of all you sluts now. Haha, now let's rebuild my minions and then I can leave and start my new hot life as a super bitch. Lucy will just have to cope with smaller tits. Think I'll help myself to a better ass and a tighter pussy too whilst we are at it. Hey... you're a virgin right loser? Bet your pussy is super tight..."

Molly whimpered as her new bully approached with a mad gleam in her cruel eyes and she screamed as the new Madison began to tear her apart...

****

Madison groaned as she exited the house and plastic became flesh again. She loved the sensation as all of her new body parts finally merged and turned her into the slutty bimbo bitch she deserved to be. She was now a mix of all the best parts of the girls and rubbing her massive tits she could feel her new superior pussy start to tingle.

Her two minions exited behind her, now looking smaller and weaker without the assets she had taken.

"What about that loser Molly, you aren't gonna leave her like that are you Madison?" asked Lucy sulking at her now small tits.

"What loser?" laughed Madison as she strode away. "I don't remember any loser. What a shame, imagine being trapped in that house forever."

And deep inside the cursed mansion, a plastic mouth screamed from amongst a discarded pile of bits and pieces...

THE END

#dollification #evie hyde #f2f transformation #attribute theft #weird story #plastic #doll #bitchification

[cherry-pop-elf]

How the Weasley siblings would react to you getting a tattoo inspired by them

Don’t forget, I take writing commissions! Don’t be shy!

William: Bill

He was shocked you even took his advice, but happy regardless. He was still trying to convince his family to get protection ruins tattooed on. They genuinely work. He’s alive after all, is he not? He’s so happy you got it. He is able to sleep FAR more soundly now, knowing you’ll be safer. He also, now, had more ammunition to convince the rest of his family to get one as well. There was also the fact it warms his heart to you it was him that inspired you to get it. That what he said really did matter, to you. You listened, and that meant the world to him. That alone was what made him feel flushed. Ah, his Habibi.

Charlie

He was waiting for the day. He’s drenched in his own. Often teasing that anyone who gets to close to him leave with one, like some kind of pox’s. Yeah, Molly never found it funny. But it seemed you did, since you got your own dragon around your arm. He can’t deny it. He’s a sucker for matching tattoos. There is something so beautiful about it, after all. So, it tugs on his heart strings. Knowing that the two of you matched. That a part of him was with you, constantly. But you never heard that from anyone. Shhhhh

Percy

He shocked, and rather curious. Now why would you go and do such a thing like that? He always found them rather unprofessional looking. Often sighting his own siblings as such examples. Like he was somehow better than them, because he had none. Yeah. You are totally cooler than a Curse Breaker, or Dragonologist, buddy. Keep dreaming. However, knowing why you got it has changed his views. Just a little. To see that you had a simple word on your wrist. His name. Simple, modest, sweet, and to the point. He still hated tattoos, but maybe he just hated them on certain people.

Fred

Loves it. He’s over the moon. He found it so sweet, and teases you about it constantly. How you are his, by law. Of course that’s not true, but you kinda knew what you signed up for. That ever teasing nightmare, the second that purple ink touched your skin. But, you got your revenge. Once you saw something familiar zipping across his arm one day. Oh the war you two had from it all.

George

He’s flustered, and flattered. He found it so sweet, and pretty adorable. That he had you inspired so much. He loves touching it, whenever you two are together. Tracing his fingers over the orange skin. He just found it so sweet. He had to return the favor, and now you two match. As him a blushing fool whenever you kiss his. Expect yours to be smooched in return. He just couldn’t get enough of it. He felt so special, and kinda different. He had something Fred didn’t, and now it was a nice reminder that they weren’t as identical as the world said. He had you.

Ron

He was wondering why you were so giggly, for a while. It all made sense, when he saw it. You were waiting for him to finally notice that damn flying car. It was one time-! Course now it’s the damn guardian of the woods, and makes sure kids get returned home safely. That was kinda nice. Deep down, he does like it. Loves that you loved his story so much, you wanted to remember it forever. Made him feel special. He deserves it, and you made sure that Ron knew he was special. Just like everyone else.

Ginny

Honestly, she kinda beat you to the punch. You both couldn’t stop laughing, when you saw each other’s tattoos. Seeing that quidditch broom flying was making her laugh that Weasley laugh. There was a reason you two dated, after all. Didn’t even have to say a word, and you two found a way to have matching ink. Didn’t even try, and it had you both in stitches. The hugs didn’t stop, as you two admire your brand new works of art.

#harry potter magic awakened #harry potter #hpma #magic awakened #weasley siblings #bill Weasley #bill weasley x reader #Charlie Weasley #charlie weasley x reader #Percy Weasley #percy weasley x reader #Fred Weasley #fred weasley x reader #George Weasley #george weasley x reader #fred and george #Weasley twins #mr weasley #Ron Weasley #ron weasley x reader #ginny weasley #ginny weasley x reader #hp #harry potter headcanon #tattoos #harry potter x reader #Headcanons #hp headcanon #x reader #my commissions are open

[a-hazbin-soul]

Velvette x reader: Angel's adopted sister 1/?

Warnings: Valentino being a jackass, potential smut in the future

You parked your little black car near the V tower and made your way inside. You were always a little early picking up Angel Dust. Party because his schedule was a mess and a little bit because you loved watching Velvette work her magic.

"I should be done here in 40 minutes unless Val decides to be a dick."

"Okay, I'll be there soon."

It didn't take long for you to see Velvette getting annoyed at one of her models, but she somehow always found a few minutes to talk to you.

"Ugh, do none of you know anything about posture? There are children with better posture!" She said before she saw you. "Everyone take a break. And don't fucking get anything on those dresses!"

She walked up to you and grabbed one of your hands. Dragging you out of the doorway. "Y/N, doll, you got here at the perfect time. These models are driving me crazy!" She gave you a hug, and you both sat down on the new couch she brought

"Would you ever want to be a model? You're gorgeous and way smarter than at least half of these girls." Her compliment made your face as pink as her hair. You knew she didn't say things like that often.

"I never really thought about it. Do you really think I could do a good job?" Velvette smiled at you. "Y/N, I know you can." You heard your phone vibrate.

"Val must be sick. He's actually letting me leave on time. "

"Okay, I'll be right there."

Velvette wrote something down and handed it to you. "Here, think about it and call me when you can." You smiled and took the paper. "Thanks, Velvette. I'll talk to you later. "

You took the elevator to Val's studio and found Angel Dust. "Alright, let's go back to the hotel before your shitlord boss changes his mind again." Angel already had his stuff with him, and you guys took the elevator and quickly made it to the car.

"So, did you get to see your girlfriend today?" Angel said jokingly. "She's not my girlfriend. We just...talk sometimes." Angel gave you the, "Come on, you and I both know what you think about her." Look, and you started driving to the hotel. "I just want you to be careful. Don't let your guard down around any of the Vees."

There wasn't much traffic for once, and you got to the hotel pretty fast. "Huskers!" Angel yelled, running for his grouchy boyfriend. "Hey baby, me and Nuggets missed you." Said pig ran from behind the bar to meet his dads.

You sat on the couch in the lobby for a little while, barely paying attention to some movie and adding Velvette to your contacts.

Y/N : Hey Velvette, it's Y/N. Text me when you get a chance.

A few minutes later, you decided to go to bed. Your room was a decent distance from anyone else, so nobody would hear you taking a shower.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning, you woke up to a text from Velvette.

Velvette: Hey doll. I know Angel has to work today (Valentino won't shut up), so I was wondering if you wanted to take some photos today? Some of these models are driving me crazy! - ♡

You had thought about it, and at the very least, you'd be able to keep an eye on Valentino since he never stopped bugging Velvette. And, modeling could be fun.

Y/N: Yes, I would love to. I'll be there when I drop Angel off.

Velvette: Can't wait!

After breakfast and getting ready, Angel kissed Husker goodbye, and you headed to VVV tower.

"Do you want me to go in there with you? I hate having to leave you with that rotten jiz rag." Angel Dust pulled into a hug with all four arms. "I'll be okay, sis. I'm used to him. You said you'd see each other later, and he told you to be safe.

He made it to his dressing room and sighed after closing the door. You weren't Molly, and you could never replace her. But Angel didn't know what he would do without you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part two will be out soon!

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel x you #vivziepop #vivziepop hazbin hotel #velvette x fem reader #velvette x fem!reader #velvette x reader #velvette x you #velvette x y/n #angel dust #hazbin angel dust #hazbin hotel angel dust #angel dust x husk #angel dust x reader #platonic angel dust x reader

[witchthewriter]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐫𝐲𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

10 years after the Battle of Hogwarts, the same boys who shared a dormitory are now raising little humans. 

⤷ female, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading! 

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ              

𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿

𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐏𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

・The Nurturing Dad™

・Always makes sure the baby has everything it wants and needs (always goes over the top.)

    “Harry she already has everything. Just sit down!” 

“But maybe she wants more binkies? Or another teddy? Babies love teddies-” 

・Because he was given very little in his childhood, Harry unconsciously experiences that type of love through his daughter

・You had to point it out to him a few days before her first birthday. Harry was going OVERBOARD. 

   “She won’t remember Harry, it’s okay.”

“I don’t care if she doesn’t remember. She deserves it anyway.”

・He hates hearing her cry. The Dursleys used to let him cry and cry when he was younger. So his baby self realised no one was coming when he cried - so he stopped

・So, he never wants that to happen to his baby girl. 

・Bought her a broom for her third birthday. It was only a toy one, barely hovering more than four feet in the air. But your little one loved it

・Molly and Arthur are referred to as Nanny and Poppy. Harry’s smile was ear to ear when Molly told him they wanted to be called that

    “You’re our son, Harry.” 

・Harry gets up in the middle of the night to check on her. He just loves looking at her in the doorway

𝐑𝐨𝐧 𝐖𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐲

・The Interactive Dad™

・The first time you got pregnant, you were only expecting ONE baby. But lo-and-behold, two heartbeats were found on the monitor. 

・Ron nearly fainted

・Molly cried when you told her the news

・Ginny was ecstatic! So eager to be an Aunt. George was a bit hesitant, as well as distant when you told him. He didn’t want to be around the babies because he thought he’d give them some sort of darkness. 

・But as soon as they were born, George was in love with them and with being an Uncle.

・When you were in the hospital bed, exhausted but content, the Weasley’s found their way to your suite and Ginny was holding balloons

・ Molly cried again

・They two babies, a girl and a boy, had freckles but only one had red hair

・When George sat down and was given both babies to hold, you could see the change in him. 

     “He...he looks like Fred.” 

“We know. His names Fred, and the other is Georgina.” 

・During the birth, Ron was there the whole time. From beginning to end. He told you to squeeze his hand as much as you needed to

・Is a stay-at-home dad. When you go to work, Ron has the twins strapped to his front and back. 

      “Look who’s home!” He calls from the kitchen. The place is pretty messy, but he’s started on dinner. 

・The twins wear the beanies, scarves and jumpers that Nana Molly has knitted for them

・Georgina has a thing with biting though, and the first time she bit Ron he was ... kinda impressed

    “Honey at least we know she can defend herself-”

𝐍𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐦

・The Thoughtful & Affectionate Dad™

・His child is the light of his life. You couldn’t find a better father. 

・He’s patient, caring, level-headed and loving. 

・Makes the baby’s food, does bath time and changes nappies (probably changed more than you have. He always says “You carried him for nine months, ripped parts of yourself to birth him. The least I can do is change his nappies.) 

・He remembers your little boy’s favourite toy, colour, food and place. 

・Neville has a hard time leaving your son with anyone, or going somewhere else without him. He constantly sends messages and writes down detailed instructions on how to look after your baby

・Takes as many photos of your son as possible. Has a whole book of them already 

・Neville also shows anyone/everyone the photo he keeps in his pocket of you two. It’s of the first Christmas you had in your own home with your firstborn

・Isn’t afraid of showing your son affection. He’ll pepper kisses all over his face and it makes him giggle (the baby, well, Neville as well...)

・LOVES reading bedtime stories 

𝐒𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐮𝐬 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐧

・The Providing Dad™

・You’re either a working mum or stay at home mum. Seamus is out during the week, working for the ministry

・He felt really bad in the beginning because your son wouldn’t recognise him. The hours were long, especially because the ministry was working overtime, trying to get the Wizarding World back into shape

・But with consistency, and patience, Seamus bonded with his son so strongly

・Seamus makes everyone feel safe at home. He locks all the doors and windows, and can be relied on for backup whenever it’s wanted 

・Did your son inherit the blowing things up gene? To your utter dismay. Yes. 

・Was a bit defensive when your son liked ‘girly’ things, but you explained gender norms and expression. When he saw how much your son found joy in dressing up or playing with dolls, he came round

・You dress your son in matching outfits with Seamus. You do it without telling him and see how long it takes for him to notice (he hasn’t noticed yet)

𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐬

・The Cool Dad™

・Everyone wants to come around to your house because Dean is so friendly

・Dean actually loves going shopping for your daughter. He loves the little outfits, the pink onesies and tutus with matching fairy wings. 

・He’s great with sleepovers. They drive you insane, but he handles chaos so easily

・You asked him about it one day. 

   “How do you handle it, Dean? They’re so loud when they’re together! There’s so much mess too. God, I don’t want to ruin their fun but it’s driving me crazy!” 

       “I know, it’s okay sweetheart. I guess it doesn’t bother me because it doesn’t matter. And the mess, the noise, it’s all caused because they’re having fun.” 

  “You have a point. But you keep your calm with everything!” 

         “Don’t take this the wrong way, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. The battle at Hogwarts changed me. Life is so fragile. Anything can mean nothing and everything - you just have to decide what’s important and what isn’t.”

・Uses your daughter to flirt with you. He’ll send her in with a bunch of roses and says “these are from daddy” but she gets bored with it and drops them on the floor 

・DEFINITELY plays dress up and has a favourite princess crown

#harry potter #harry potter headcanons #harry potter preferences #ron weasley #ron weasley headcanons #ron weasley x reader #neville longbottom #neville longbottom x reader #neville longbottom headcanons #neville longbottom x you #seamus finnigan #seamus finnigan headcanons #seamus finnigan x reader #dean thomas #dean thomas x reader #dean thomas headcanons #parent headcanons #parent preferences #preferences #witch the writer #witch the writer preferences #dad headcanons #father headcanons

[georgeweasleyslostearhq]

BUTTERFLIES

Pairings: George Weasley x Fem!reader Summary: George gets flashbacks of your relationship as he watches you walk down the aisle to marry him Warnings: mention of tears, i think that's it

George's eyes met yours as he stood at the end of the aisle, waiting there for you to reach him as you walked to the music

the butterflies made their appearance in his stomach as he stared at you with pure love and longing

he had waited years for this, and it was finally happening

George couldn't help but remember all the times the butterflies invaded him stomach throughout knowing you before this moment

-

"Fred! George! hurry up, we're late!" Molly yelled at the twins

"we're right behind you mum, and the train doesn't leave for another 3 minutes!" Fred spoke in defense, trailing after Molly.

Molly rushed all of her kids through the wall of the train station.

Fred and George ran through it for the first time with their trolleys, which held their luggage for their first year at Hogwarts

George went through the wall and came out on the other side, slightly losing control of his trolley and bumping into somebody, making them fall

George panicked as he heard them wince in pain

he let go of his trolley and looked down at you on the ground

"I'm really sorry" he apologised, holding his hand out to help you

"it's fine" you huffed, taking the boys hand

"I'm Y/n" you introduced yourself

George felt a flutter inside his heart when you smiled at him sweetly

"George, are you alright?" he asked after telling you his name

"I'll be just fine"

-

"we're so going to make the team, Georgie" Fred smiled as a large group of Gryffindors huddled up for tryouts for Quidditch

"we'll be the best beaters on the team" Fred smirked

Oliver wood started talking about the rules and taking down what positions people wanted to play

"Y/L/N, what are you trying out for?" Wood called, seeing you in amongst the people

"Chaser" you replied

George turned around to see you with the newest broomstick in your hands, standing with Angelina Johnson

"you play quidditch?" George questioned as you caught his stare

"yeah, i do. is that a problem?" you frowned, teasing him

"n- no" he stuttered, feeling the nervous butterflies rise up in his stomach as you glared at him

"i'm just surprised, you didn't strike me as a quidditch type of girl" he went on

"I bet I'm better than you" you laughed, looking him up and down

George only blinked nervously

-

Fred and George rushed through hogsmeade to finally get to the store they've heard all about from their brothers

the twins excitedly walked through the door of Zonko's to look at all the things they dream they could have

George explored the shop, going in a completely different direction from his older twin to find you looking hiccough sweets

"never thought i'd see you in here" George spoke up with a smile

you turned to him and rolled your eyes with a grin

"what can I say, i like the common sweet prank" you grabbed a few and walked closer to him

"although i know you and Fred are the kings of pranks here so, any suggestions on what's good? I need teach a douchebag a lesson for burning my homework" you smirked

George raised his eyebrows "Tristen?" he asked

you nodded your head in reply

"I've always been interesting in tricking somebody but never really acted upon it, this just gives me a reason" you shrugged mischievously

George's 13 year old heart pumped faster in his chest as the butterflies swarmed in his stomach

you couldn't've gotten any better

"well...you could always try some dungbombs, they always do the trick or..."

he went on to have a ramble for about 10 minutes that day, telling you the best way to get Tristen back, and even offered to do it with you

-

George sat on the couch, head in his hands as he thought about Ginny, worrying about her

you had walked in after a long study session for potions when you found him in the common room, looking stressed

"you ok there, George?" you wondered, not knowing what to do

"I'm fine, don't worry" he sighed

Fred had gone to bed, also worrying while George decided to stay up a bit longer

you had heard about what happened to his sister, so you knew he wasn't entirely 'fine'

so you stayed with him, you slowly walked up to the couch and sat next to him

"I'm really sorry about your sister...it'll be ok though, I'm sure she can handle whatever's happening" you started, hoping it would help, even it was a lie. you didn't know it would be ok

George sat frozen, if it were anyone else next to him, he probably wouldn't yelled at them, saying that they had no idea. but he knew you were trying to help

"she'll be ok, George" you placed a hand on his shoulder, giving him a sad smile even though he wasn't looking at you

"she's lucky to have a brother like you...caring as much as you are" you sighed

that made George finally look up at you

you moved your hand from his shoulder to around his torso, giving him a comforting hug

the way your hands wrapped around him made the butterflies make another appearance, George had been used to them by now, he welcomed them in with a smile as he hugged you back

-

George had grown closer to you, becoming good- if not best friends

you would help with his school work and with his and Fred's pranks

the one problem was that you had a boyfriend that year, but not for long

you came rushing through the common room, tears in your eyes as you ran for the dorms

"hey, Y/n, what's wrong!?" George came to your aid as soon as he saw you

he got up from the couch and pulled you into his arms before you got to the stairs

you cried in his arms "he cheated on me" you murmured

your words made George's blood boil, He never liked that guy, and deep down he knew he would do something to hurt you

he brought you over to the couch and made you tell him what fully happened

"why do the nice ones always turn out to be the assholes?" you wept

"well if they're assholes then they were never the good ones, the good ones are the good ones and the assholes are the assholes" George shrugged, he didn't know what to say

he had never been in a relationship before, mostly because of the way you had always made him feel

"well why can't they all be like you? you're good, great" you sobbed

George cleared his throat, caught off guard by your statement

he let the butterflies fill his stomach as you cried into his chest, telling him how he would be a good boyfriend

-

George stood beside you as the professor told the class about the potion

you, along with many other girls took a step closer, entranced by the smell of the potion.

Amortentia.

George laughed at you when you smiled lazily, your eyes almost almost having pink hearts in them as you breathed the scnet in

what George hadn't expected was to get the very strong scent of you as he finally breathed through his nose

George took a step beck and cleared his throat, looking at you in the corner of his eye as he let the smell fill his nose

the butterflies rose to his stomach and made him feel faint, feeling overwhelmed

you had noticed his faint figure beside you and leaned closer to him

"you alright Georgie?" you whispered

"I'll be just fine, Love"

-

George wandered the halls, trying to find you, to ask you to the Yule Ball, after smelling you in the Amortentia last week, he realised that he needs to ask you out

the feeling he gets when he's around you is too good to lose

he heard your voice behind him and turned around

"george! there you are!" you beamed

"hey! I've been looking for you" he asked, meeting you in the middle of the hallway

"me too, I need to ask you something" you said

"oh, you go first" George spoke quickly, really wanting to ask you, or he'll start to overthink and chicken out

"do you have something to tell me too?" she wondered

"yeah but you go first" George smiled

"well I was just thinking...Justin Thornhill asked me to the ball at breakfast this morning, I don't know why I told you that- right, um. well I said no, obviously. b- because I want to go with you. do you want to go to the ball with me?" you rambled, getting to the question that has been on your tongue for a week

George's eyes went wide and the butterflies piled into his stomach as soon as the question came from your mouth.

you had said what he'd been dying to say

George's heart pumped inside his chest rapidly, he almost thought you could hear it

"yes, t- that's what I was going to ask you!" George grinned happily

it was safe to say the butterflies never left after that, every time he'd see you after that, they would pop in and say hello

the whole night of the ball they stayed there

-

George fiddled with his fingers as he told you his plan on leaving with Fred early to start the shop

you had been dating since the day after the yule ball and he was nervous you wouldn't support it, just like his mum

"that's..great! I'm really proud of you, I know you'll do great" you said, kissing his cheek

"really?" he raised his eyebrows

"of course...the shop will be amazing, I just know it" you nodded, full heartedly supporting him

you had no idea how much that meant for him to hear, that you thought he'd do good, that you supported him

it made the butterflies flutter in his stomach, knowing that you approved of what he's doing

-

George felt the tears coming when you finally reached him, taking his hand and smiling up at him, happy that you would be marrying him

and all these years, he still gets butterflies when you look at him

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

#george weasley imagine #george weasley #george weasley x fem #oliver phelps #x fem!reader #oneshot #fluff #cute #imagines #harry potter universe