#Git Flow

[webmethodology]

Discover the ultimate resource for creating an efficient Python game development workflow using Git. Get essential strategies and best practices for seamless project management.

[kalloway]

everyone is gonna be playing Nightreign and im over here contemplating what my next Dark Souls 2 build should be, lmfao

[autobahnmp3]

our coffee machine at work is in maintenance thus week and the replacement SUCKS FUCKING ASS I HATE UT SOOOO FUCKING MUCH

[celiababy]

Ain't Right part 3

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Joel thinks you deserve better.

Warnings: 18+ SMUT MDNI, age gap (56/20), swearing, unprotected p in v, fingering, oral f!receiving, cockwarming, size kink, skinny dipping, angsty, kinda asshole/grumpy Joel, mention of alcohol

Celia's note: SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG OMG. but i threw in that much request angst i hope yall enjoy!!!!! Also happy valentines day!!! peace n luv fr

Aint Right part 1 Ain't Right part 2

Recently, life has been great for you.

Winter was gone as fast as it came, and spring started to take root in Jackson. Your favorite season.

The months that passed since Christmas had been like a dream. You and Joel's relationship had been all unicorns and rainbows—well, to you, anyway.

Finally, you were starting to pry open the gates to Joel's thoughts. Becoming close with him meant so much to you, even when he would off-handedly share information about himself by accident, you'd immediately commit it to long-term memory.

He didn't like to talk about himself much, but when he did, you were all ears.

Joel, on the other hand, didn't have to try as hard with you.

There was a constant flow of words out of your mouth, especially around him. You couldn't help it, really. You talked when you were nervous, and you were always nervous around Joel—that never went away.

But all in all, you were overflowing with happiness.

Joel, however, was feeling a little differently.

Ever since this relationship with you started, he's had this subtle ache about it.

His insecurities of being an old man were eating at him, day by day. His conscious just couldn't stop pestering him with the idea that you deserved better.

He felt that by being intimate with you, as much as he liked it, was holding you back from living your life.

By allowing you to indulge in this relationship with him, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was setting your life up for failure.

He was picturing some White Fang situation where you were some wild animal that was getting too close to him, and in order to prevent you from getting hurt by domestication, he'd have to throw rocks at you and tell you to 'go on an' git'. Even though he deeply cared about you.

These insecurites really came to the surface whenever you two were in bed together.

He was 56 years old, for crying out loud. He had two rounds in him max, anything more might give him a heart attack.

He'd clock the little disappointed pout you'd make when he couldn't go again, even when you tried to act otherwise. He was just in his head about the entire thing—which was so unlike him.

You were doin' things to him, thats for damn sure.

Joel couldn't deny the affect you had on him anymore. You were starting to become a top priority; he was unable to stop himself from putting you first.

How was it so easy for you to become to important in his life?

He pondered this thought while coming back from a supply run, riding in on horseback. The sound of hooves crunching twigs and rocks was an oddly theraputic sound, one that helped stop him from thinking so much.

Upon his return, Joel drops off his supplies and guides his horse back into its stable. He gives it a few loving pats before leaving, walking down the main road with the breeze in his hair.

His eyes scan the people crowding the streets, hoping to catch a glimpse of his favorite face.

And he does.

Eventually, Joel spots you, helping an older lady up her porch steps. You’re smiling, eyes sparkling like everything in the world was all fine and dandy.

It never got easier seeing you wear cooler clothes in public.

Sure, he's seen your naked body plenty of times, but there was something about you in a tank top, jean shorts and cowboy boots that just did things to him.

His heart tugs in his chest as he watches you complete the kind act, skipping back down the steps once the lady waves you goodbye.

That’s when you see him, across the street, just staring at you.

Your face lights up like fireworks when you notice. It always did. But Joel never got tired of seeing it.

He watches you jog his way, nearly running straight into him but managing to stop yourself last second.

“Hey! How’d that run go?” You ask, beaming up at him and trying your hardest not to smack his lips with yours.

“Good.” He nods, clenching his jaw.

Jesus, you looked so good right now—Joel was having a very hard time focusing on what to say when you were distracting him with your bangin’ bod.

“Good.” You copy, finding a moment to assess him. He seemed tense, more tense than usual. Joel knows you’re about to ask him what’s wrong—and he can’t face that question right now.

So he speaks before he knows what he’s saying. “You should come out with me again, next time, I mean. Actually try n' help instead of.. flirt.”

He's disgusing his intense feelings for you with an insult, because of course he is.

You scoff at his diss, rolling your eyes. “You loved my flirtin’.” You copied his texan drawl to mock him, earning you a glare.

“Well, I’d love to. Is it a date?” You purr, stepping into his personal space, prompting Joel to make quick use of his self control.

If he could act on his impulse, he would have bent you over and fucked you right there on the sidewalk.

He clears his throat before nodding. “Sure. Tomorrow. It’s a date.” He bites out like it pains him, because in truth, he'd rather take you out to dinner or something than another stupid supply run.

You’re smiling again, swaying on your feet. You make a few glances around to make sure no one’s watching before popping up and kissing him on his cheek.

“Kay, see you then." You chirp ever so sweetly, walking away in your small jean shorts.

You were really tugging on his heart strings.

When tomorrow comes, you're sitting on your porch swing, waiting for Joel to come and get you.

You were excited—mainly because you two would be out of sight from prying eyes. You could act on all your impulses.

You didn't mind people figuring you two out, you're kind of sure they already had, but you felt that Joel did care, and you wanted to respect his boundaires. Even though he never made those clear.

But, you felt you were pushing it with that kiss on the cheek yesterday, and you didn't want him upset with you.

The sudden thought made you worry.

Maybe he was upset with you. He did glare at you yesterday.

You probably did something, your anxious mind tells you.

You're snapped out of your thoughts due to the sound of hooves clopping against the road. Looking up, you're met with the pleasure-inducing sight of Joel.

He's walking with a horse beside him, holding its lead with a trained hand.

He's wearing that faded gray shirt and those jeans that seem like they're hanging on by a thread. So casual.

But, then you take a closer look at his appearance. He...trimmed his beard and attempted to slick back his hair...?

...Was he trying to look nice for you?

"Did you get all pretty for me?" You ask with a giddy smile, skipping down your steps.

He grumbles something incoherent under his breath before rolling his eyes. Yet, you swear you can see the faintest bit of blush on his cheeks. "You ready to go?" He asks, gesturing to the horse.

He's trying to change the subject, but you need to let him know you appreciate his efforts.

"You look really good, Joel. I mean—you always look good, but today especially." You bring your hand up to feel his hair, smiling happily. He can tell you're being geniune, but he's never been good with compliments.

"Thanks, sweetheart—now get on the damn horse." He sounds exasperated, but theres a small smile on his lips.

He helps you up onto the back before climbing on himself. "Wrap yer arms 'round me. Don't fall off." He murmurs, steering the horse towards the gates.

You slide up so that your chest is pressed against his back, and outstretch your arms to wrap around him. Once you two successfully leave the town and no one is watching, that's when you rest your cheek on his shoulder blade.

It's cozy. It's intimate. It's Joel.

You could fall asleep against him like this.

He remains silent because he knows how peaceful you feel right now. He wants to let you enjoy the moment.

You're admiring the forest scenary, occasionally resting your eyes. You don't know where Joel is taking you—maybe he's heading straight towards the middle of nowhere to drop you off and leave. Getting rid of you probably would've been in his best interest.

You're smiling at the thought because you know yourself. Even if he did do that, you'd find a way back to him. Like a loyal dog.

"Wait," Your voice cracks through the silence. Joel stops the horse, turning his head back to look at you. "Is that a lake?" He turns his head to where you're looking, his eyes catching the blue water that you're so enamoured by.

"Don't know what else it would be."

You roll your eyes at his smartassary. "...Can we go?"

"To the lake?" He reiterates, a confused look on his face. "'N do what?"

You shrug your shoulders, feeling stupid for asking all the sudden.

Immediately, Joel notices how you shrink into yourself. He wants to punch himself in the dick because he's being an asshole.

To fix his mistake, he makes a clicking sound with his tongue and steers the horse down to the body of water.

You're giddy again in no time, a soft but excited squeal escaping your throat.

He manages to find a small clearing within the brush; open tall grass, a fallen tree trunk perfect for sitting, and direct access to the lake.

"So pretty." You muse, simply in awe of the nature around you.

You didn't really leave town much—only when you had to. So, seeing stuff like this, really meant a lot to you.

Joel gets off the horse and immediately turns to help you down. His hands find themselves on your hips while yours latch onto his shoulders.

He lowers you effortlessly, his grasp lingering for longer than it needed to.

Your skin lights on fire at his touch, dirty thoughts instantly flooding your brain.

The lake, the seculsion, the tension...there was really only one thing you were thinking about right now.

"Hey, what if we just...didn't go on that supply run?" You muse, avoiding eye contact for a moment because no matter how close you've gotten with Joel, he still made you nervous.

He shoots you a questioning look, which gives you the idea to show rather than tell.

You step closer to the waters edge, beginning to take off your boots. Joel's watching with that stern look, but it quickly fades, replaced with lust when you start shedding off your clothes.

First your shorts, then your tank top.

"Let's go swimming!" You say with that happy smile, the one that makes his heart beat soar.

He can't stop his eyes from devouring every inch of your stark naked body.

Not only did Joel enjoy your pert breasts and supple ass, he was also equally obsessed with the not overtly sexual things about you. Your hair, shoulders, collar bone, forearms, the curve of your spine—everything, he was consumed by it all.

He realizes that he needs to answer you, but all that comes out is a scoff.

"Hey—no. We don't know what the hells in that water." He huffs as his boner peaks through his jeans.

"Fine, guess I'll swim alone then." You say nonchalantly, knowing if you went in, odds were, Joel wouldn't be far behind.

And you were right.

As soon as you enter the cool water, you see Joel starting to undress in the corner of your eye.

You pretened you're not watching, and eventually he joins you in the lake.

You've waded out rather far into the water, waiting to speak until you know Joel is close.

"Doesn't it feel nice?" You ask, letting your body float above the surface, limbs outstretched while you stared up at the fluffy clouds.

If you could do this forever, you would. Naked as the day you were born, floating in warm spring water with Joel's company—maybe this was heaven.

Sure felt like it.

You almost don't even notice Joel's palm run up your shin and thigh, only when his hand lightly drifts over your lower stomach, is when you become all too aware.

Yet, he doesn't venture south.

Instead, he makes a path further up your stomach, then your ribs, then the valley of your breasts, until he rests his hand over your heart.

You stare at his face as he completes this insane act, completely baffled at the fact that he seemed so entranced and calm, while you were trying not to freak out.

He notices your stare, and finally meets your eye contact. No words leave his mouth—he can't seem to find any that feel right.

But he's thinking about how beautiful you are. How sweet and doting, how smart and witty. Everything about you encompassed into a few short words just didn't feel worthy enough.

But you can't just leave things the way they are.

Slowly, you situate yourself around him, attaching to his body like a koala bear. Your arms slide around his shoulders while your legs wrap around his waist.

Skin to skin, face to face, so fucking intense.

Joel's strong arms find themselves around your torso, keeping you close to him.

"Yeah, it does feel nice." Joel replies, his voice soft, his eyes even softer.

You smile, big and geniune, a feeling of bliss taking over you. "Isn't this so much better than some silly supply run?"

Joel rolls his eyes, which spurs you on even more.

"Come on, admit it; you'd rather be out here with me, than some stinky convience store looting pills." You tighten your legs a little around his torso, feeling your cunt become flush with his bare stomach.

You feel a surge of pride when his breath hitches and his erect cock prods at your ass.

But it doesn't take long for his expression to fall back into its natural scowl.

"M'not admitin' shit." He murmurs, bringing a hand up to move your wet hair over your shoulder and onto your back. It's an absentminded motion, one that Joel isn't really thinking about doing.

He just felt the urge to touch you.

You giggle at him, dropping your forehead to his shoulder to laugh.

Joel huffs, trying to stop smirking because your giggle is contagious. "Quit." Is all he says, shaking his head. "Can't believe you got me out 'ere doin' this shit." He grumbles, adjusting his hold on you slightly.

"What 'shit'?" You mimick him and his texan drawl, earning you a stern glare.

"Naked in a lake like m'some fuckin' teenager." He speaks with an unamused expression, before his eyes land back onto you and his gaze softens. "What're you doin' to me, huh?"

It's a rhetorical question, but he says it like he's truly desperate for an answer.

You're not sure how to respond. His eye contact is making your brain all foggy.

It's silent.

You can only hear the rustling water, your breathing, and the general nature sounds in the distance.

Joel knows he confused you with his words, so he takes a moment to look away.

"Alright," He huffs out eventually. "Time to go."

He doesn't give you a chance to protest because he's already walking back to the shore, his arm remaining secured tightly around your back, basically carrying you.

You're not ready to leave, but you know Joel is, so you just opt for a dejected sigh.

He lets you back down on your feet when you're both on the grass, lingering his hand on the small of your back when he picks up your clothes. He uncrinckles your shirt before opening it up so you could easily put it on.

"This is becoming a habit of yours." You murmur softly, putting on the tank top and cringing at the way it sticks to your wet skin.

"Mm?" Joel doesn't know what you're referring to. He's never realized his pattern of clothing you. It was a simple act, but one you found endearing.

"Nothin'." You chirp, sliding on your shorts and boots.

Joel looks at you assessingly while buttoning his jeans back up, sucking in his stomach to zip them.

You're looking right back at him, admiring the way his wet hair looks, how the grays peak out in the most perfect way.

In a nervous manner, you shift on your feet, sliding your hands down into your jean pockets. "You sure you don't wanna...fool around?" You muse, looking at him with raised eyebrows.

Joel smirks down at the ground as he continues to button up his shirt, shaking his head.

"You're too late kid, should've asked when we were naked." He's teasing, walking back over to the horse and gesturing for you to come.

You groan out, dragging your feet as you walk over to him and the horse. You were being dramatic, and Joel see's right through it.

"Quit whinin'. C'mon," He mutters, grabbing you by the hips to hoist you back onto the saddle.

"You're no fun, old man." You mumble, which freezes Joel in his tracks.

He doesn't know why, but that one off-handed comment ignites a blazing string of destructive thoughts.

As if he wasn't already insecure enough about being old and no fun.

His brain is jump-starting the self-depricating train of thought he had grown accustomed to, only this time, it had more fuel because you unknowingly confirmed it.

Of course, that isn't what you meant at all. It was just a teasing little comment, one you didn't think twice about. You weren't actually upset—at all.

Nevertheless, Joel's already in deep.

Slowly, he swings himself behind you onto the horse, grabbing the reins and starting forward.

You're quick to notice his demeanor, but choosing to keep your mouth shut.

The entire ride back is silent.

It was just like the ride there, only with a more suffocating air.

You have an inkling, but you have no idea the extent of his turmoil behind you.

Eventually, you two make it back to the stables. Joel helps you down from the horse, moving like a robot with no facial expression.

He's got that look in his eye that worries you. Every atom in your body wants to ask him what's wrong, but you also don't want to pry.

However, Joel would never open up to you unprompted. So, you at least try.

Your hand drifts upwards to his face, smoothing some of his hair down by his ear. "Is everything okay?" You finally ask, your voice purposefully soft and light so you don't startle him like he was some wild animal.

He inhales through his nose and clenches his jaw.

Oh.

Something was really wrong.

Your gaze goes from slightly weary to concerned in a flash, nervously biting down on your lower lip. "Is there anything I can do to help?" You ask, very evidently willing to do whatever he needed.

Joel had never been good with emotional timing. At the end of the day, he was still a man.

“We’ve gotta stop this.” He blurts.

You’re still for a moment, confused with his abrupt and vague words. You wait patiently for an elaboration.

Eventually, one comes, to Joel’s own dismay.

“We can’t see each other anymore—not like this.”

A beat passes.

Then another.

And then another.

You’re frozen with dread.

It’s like your body has forgotten all functions as you sit there and stare at him.

Surprisingly, the only thing you’re able to think of in this life changing moment, is the Christmas party at Maria and Tommy’s.

You’re thinking about how Joel fucked you in the guest bedroom, and how he said he didn’t want you having sex with anyone else.

You remember how happy you felt—like you two were exclusive or something.

How stupid were you?

With a quick intake of air, you swallow and look away.

“Did I do something wrong?” You croak, your voice akin to a wilting flower.

Joel is wracked with guilt the moment he hears you. But his mind is forcing him to do this.

“No—no. You haven’t done anythin’ wrong. This is all me, I fucked up and let this go on for too long.”

His answer provides no relief.

“But, I thought we—I thought you liked me?” You’re stumbling over your words because you’re so distraught, trying to blink away your persistent tears.

Shit.

Joel can hardly look at you. He would crumble and die if he did—the sadness in your expression is like several stabs to the gut.

Truth is, he did like you.

Thats why he wants to end things.

“I’m sorry.” Is all he can manage, head hanging down to look at the dirt.

You’re not looking at him either, instead opting to blankly stare at one of the horses in the stable.

“So,” You start, your voice cracking because you’ve started crying at this point. “You don’t wanna hook up, does that mean we can still hang out?”

Joel takes a big deep breath before answering.

"It would be best if we didn't see each other at all." Finally, he makes eye contact with you, and immediately regrets it.

You look like you've just been shot, for christsake—might as well have.

It was like he just tore your heart out, threw it to the ground, curb-stomped it, and kicked it down a gutter.

"Okay," you murmur, nodding slowly, trying to seem some-what chill about things. Inside, however, it was like World War III. "Uhm, I'm just gonna go home." Your voice is a croak, and Joel watches with the utmost remorse as you walk away.

It feels like shock.

Was this a break up? Were you even together in the first place? Why didn't he want to see you at all? Questions, questions, and more questions rattle in your brain as you shuffle away, hands shaking and eyes pouring.

You look down at the ring Joel gifted you on your finger, debting whether you should take it off or not.

Joel feels awful.

And it's not like the awful he felt the very first time he regected you—this time it's far more painful. It's a deeper wound, an uglier, gross, puss-infested cut that keeps getting worse the farther you walk away.

He thought he'd feel some relief.

He thought that after ending things, he would be rid of that nagging voice in his head.

But no, it remained.

Only now, it barked thoughts of wrong-doing.

'Why would you do that? Things were going great, you've fucked everything. You just broke her heart—’ and it goes on and on and on.

For a moment, the panic he feels registers in his mind as a heart attack. Thats what it felt like, anyway.

He has to brace himself against one of the wood beams in the barn, aggressively rubbing his chest to try and get his heart rate normal. Joel loses his breath in the process, not realizing that he's having a panic attack.

Whatever happens next, you don't see.

You never looked back after you walked away. *** "I don't know why you're all caught up about this, Joel." Tommy admits, a disappointed expression on his face.

Joel glares at his younger brother from the bar top, clearly disgruntled by Tommy's inability to understand his side of the situation.

It had been exactly 17 hours since Joel cut things off with you. He'd been drinking for at least 10 of those hours.

Somewhat drunkenly, he had told Tommy a very short and curt version of what happened.

But he got the picture. Tommy sighs, hanging his head for a minute before bringing it back up to speak again. "All m'sayin' is, it's the end of the damn world, Joel. Her 'future' ain’t graunteed; she'll be lucky if she makes it past 30 with the way things are. She's been 'round long enough to know that herself, n'for some fuckin' reason, she wants you—"

"She don't know what the hell she wants."

"See—that's where you're wrong, Joel." Tommy slams the whiskey glass that he was cleaning down on the bar, fed up and frustrated. "I've known 'er longer than you. She's a smart girl n'you're sellin' her short. Wake the hell up." He bites out before walking away, clearly finished with the conversation.

He had been watching and listening to Joel mop and groan about it all day and night—he had enough.

Other than the anger from being talked to in that manner welling inside of Joel, there was also a moment of clarity.

As much as it killed him to admit, Tommy was right.

He was selling you short.

The world is too ugly and fucked up for him not to act like everyday might be his last. He would be stupid to not just settle down and be happy with you for however long he had left.

Shit.

All alone in Tipsy Bison, Joel was slowly beginning to realize how majorly he screwed up.

He ruined things because he was too damn scared.

He didn't think there was a worse feeling than this—dealing with this huge fucking mistkae.

He wasn't sure if he would be able to come back from how things ended.

That look that you had in your eyes...Fuck. Joel didn't think he even deserved a second chance.

But goddammit if he didn't try.

After throwing the rest of his whiskey back, Joel got up from the barstool and hurriedly walked out, slamming the doors behind him.

He marches all the way to your place, ignoring whoever tried to talk to him on the way.

He had to do this. He couldn't live with himself if he didn't.

Finally, he makes it to your quaint little home, haulting in front of it. There is some imaginary force stopping him, something pulling him back.

It's that nagging voice in his head again, the one that caused this whole mess in the first place.

But this time, he ignores it, and trudges up your porch steps.

Joel knocks rather forcefully, his jaw clenching when you don't answer within seconds.

He bangs on the door again with his fist, hard, his patience wearing dangerously thin.

When you still don't answer, he enters anyway with your spare key (he always kept it on him), calling out your name as soon as he steps inside.

You hear him from your bed upstairs, though you honestly think you're hallucinating. You've been crying for hours, the only sound in your ears were your sniffles and sobs.

His heavy footsteps seem to get louder and louder, and when he calls out your name outside you're door, that's when you realize you weren't hallucinating at all.

You sit up just as Joel opens your door, your eyes wide with shock and tears.

He takes a couple steps inside before he sees how utterly devastated you looked. The sight of you renders him immoveable.

He feels…like the biggest asshole-asshat-douchebag-fuckwad-dickhead thats ever walked the planet.

“Why…are you here?” Your broken voice asks, trying your best to hold back tears.

Even after all he did, you still spoke so softly, all your respect for him still there.

He had talked himself up the entire walk over, but all his words were dying on his tongue.

He was beginning to think that there was nothing he could say that would make what he did right.

“Babygirl I—”

He sees you psychically flinch at his voice, and it makes his heart break all over again.

His feet carry him to the edge of your bed, hands coming out to hold your face.

You’re not sure how to process his touch, not sure how to process any of what’s happening, but you’re trying your best.

“I was wrong,” his thumb is wiping off the tear stains on your cheeks, a forced gentleness to his touch. “So fuckin’ wrong, babygirl. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Upon hearing his words, you can’t stop the floodgate of your tears. You start bawling, your shoulders shaking with each sob.

“I was so scared.” You cry, bringing your hands up to latch onto him. You wanted to explain more, explain why you were scared—because having Joel and then suddenly not having him, was like ripping your heart out.

He can’t scoop you up in his arms fast enough.

He gets in the bed with you, lifting you onto his lap while he cradles your head to his chest, kissing the top of your scalp.

"M'not lettin' you go. I promise." He husks, his grip on you strong.

And Joel kept this promise.

He held you the entire night, ensuring that you were secure and warm.

In the morning, you immediately asked what changed his mind.

"I was frustrated." He starts, exhaustion etched into his face. "I couldn't understand why you wanted me. Felt I was keeping you from some great life—a young husband n' some white picket fence. But..life here is probably as good as it's gonna get. And this," He looks to the both of you, alluding to the relationship you shared. "Is really fuckin' good."

Your heart is crumbling at his confession.

Discovering that he spent so much time insecure about things, both infuriated and saddened you.

When you were about to respond and explain away his worries, he speaks again.

"M'not lettin' you go. What I did was a mistake. M'sorry."

You're crying again, sniffling softly against him.

"You should've just fuckin' talked to me," You whimper, burying your face into his neck. "I could've—”

"Ain't nothin' you could'a done. You never did anythin' wrong." Joel reassures, pulling you from his shoulder so he can look at your face. "You gon' forgive me?"

"Obviously," you mumble, looking at him with a fake frustrated expression. "I meant it when I said I've always been yours."

And just like that, things were resolved.

You brought your hand down to grip his flannel, sighing into his chest. Joel also sighed in relief, realizing that you weren't going anywhere.

To raise the spirits in the room, you crane your neck up to look up at him, a soft smile playing at your lips.

"M'still mad at you. How are you gonna make it up to me?" Initally, you weren't really insinuading anything sexual—you were thinking he could take you for dinner or ice cream or something.

But Joel has something different in mind.

He gently grabs your jaw, angling your face so he could kiss you how he wanted. His tongue is warm in your mouth, his mustache prickly against your face.

When he breaks away, you're out of breath, looking up at him with wide eyes.

"I got an idea." Joel mumbles, carressing your jawline with his thumb.

Slowly, he sits up only to position himself between your thighs. With his calloused hands, he slides his palm up the planes of your legs until he reaches your pants.

You shiver when he dips his fingers under your waist band, pulling them down agonizingly slowly.

"This okay?" He asks in a gentle tone, one that makes your stomach do flips.

"Yes," You say immediately and breathlessly. "Very okay."

The corners of his mouth turn up to resemble a smirk, before his gaze returns back to the area between your legs. He runs his fingers down your clothed slit, feeling the way your wetness coated the stringy fabric.

You let out a soft gasp, slightly bucking your hips, hungry for more of his touch.

He plays there for a while before finally taking your underwear off, setting it somewhere on the bed.

Joel inhales through his nose when he sees your glistening cunt, trying to not cum in his pants at just the sight. He doesn't stop his impulse to pull your folds apart, running his thumb along your lips.

He's being so slow and gentle—it’s making your heart rate each dangerous levels.

His thumb then ventures up to lovingly rub your clit, his eyes scanning your face to watching your reaction.

Your legs are shaking as you kept them apart for Joel, your hands fisting the sheets as you cope with the sensations he's allowing you.

Your chest is heaving up and down and your eyes are glazed over with a hazy fog—one that Joel loves to see.

Then, out of nowhere, Joel lowers his head and connects his lips to your clit.

The act makes you jolt, mostly because you weren't expecting it.

His tongue laps at you, slowly at first, but then something shifts in Joel.

It's like the hunger for your cunt overwhelms him, and his grip on your thighs tighten. Within seconds, he's devouring you like a man starved, licking long strips up your cunt before focusing on sucking your clit.

You can't stop the moans and mewls slipping past your lips, and you don't really want to. You want Joel to know how good he's making you feel.

"OhhhfuckJoel," You whine, shooting your hands down to grab his salt and pepper hair. He focuses solely on your bundle of nerves with his tongue, using his fingers to give your desperately empty hole some attention.

When he slides two fingers inside, you effectively fall apart.

Tear prick in the lining of your eyes, your thighs clamp around his head as you cry out his name.

The fact that he's never eaten you out before and he's been this good at it the entire time, felt criminal. You honestly might've been more offended that he waited so long to reveal this talent than when he tried to end things.

"Dontstopdontstopdontstop," You sob, feeling yourself reach that climax you craved.

You come with a loud moan, and Joel lets you ride it out on his tongue and fingers.

When your body goes limp, thats when Joel lets up. He brings his head out from your legs and slips his digits out of your spasming hole.

You mewl at the feeling, looking at him with teary eyes.

"Where the hell did you learn to do that?" You asks, voice quiet and cracked.

"M'fifty-six years old—been around the block, babygirl." He's face is glistening with your juices, and his mouth is wearing that lopsided smile of his. It makes you wanna smile back.

"...Damn. So I'm not the first, huh?" You huff, not upset in the slightest, just wanting to tease him a little.

He chuckles and unzips his pants, letting his cock slap against his stomach. "No sweetheart, you ain't the first." He rasps, effortlessly manhandling you to straddle his lap. "But you are gon be my last."

His hands caress the plush surface of your hips, kneading them like dough while his eyes scan your face.

You're blushing so hard, your face probably looks like a spanked ass.

He really did have a knack for leaving you breathless with those one-liners of his.

You steady yourself by placing your hands on his shoulders, looking back down into his big brown eyes. All you can do is stare, because your brain is too focused on how hard your heart is beating to come up with a response.

"What? Now you ain't got nothin' to say?" He husks, his massive palm venturing down to your grab and squeeze your ass. Your back straightens and your lips part like you want to say something—but you're not quite sure what. "C'mon, use those pretty lips."

An idea pops into your brain.

"I'd rather use these lips," You whisper close to his mouth as you raise your hips up to hover over his member, slowly dipping his tip inside your warm hole.

"Fuck," Joel grunts, exhaling through his nose.

You grin at his reaction, lowering yourself down further with bated breath. You watch as his head lolls back and his grip tightens on your waist.

"What? Now you have nothing to say?" You mock, even though you're equally as breathless as he is.

He flashes you a glare before sliding a hand up to the back of your neck, pulling you in for a searing kiss. His hand doesn't let you break away from his lips, and you don't plan to.

His tongue establishes dominance in your mouth, which you eagerly let happen. It's passionate, deep, bordering on punishing—sometime during, he manages to rip your top off, leaving you completely nude. But sooner or later, you both decide breathing might be a good idea.

You break away, chests heaving, mouths panting.

Eventually, you sink all the way down on him, giggling deliriously when you make eye contact again. You decide to forget your fake little fued, nuzzling your head into his neck.

"Have I ever told you how big your dick is?" You mewl, squirming your hips around a bit but not lifting them up and down. It has Joel reeling.

His hands are holding you so tight, you're sure that it'll leave a bruise. "No," Joel huffs out rather distractedly, his eyes laser-focused on the way your cunt is gushing all over his lap. But you swear you can see the faintest blush on his tan skin.

"Well—your dick is real big." You whisper nearly inaudibly, making Joel snap his gaze back to your face. A lazy smile curls at your lips before you begin dragging you tight cunt up and down on his violently erect cock.

Joel shakes his head in disbelief, as he often does, but is unable to answer becase the feeling of being inside you is rendering him speechless. His hand absent-mindedly dips down to rub your clit—the act has you doubling over onto his shoulder, starting to bounce on him like your life depended on it.

"OhJoel, Iloveitsomuch," You blabble into his ear, noticing how he had taken the reigns at this point. He was manually lifting your hips, bringing them down with intense vigor.

He was stretching you out so good and his tip was so fucking deep—you were having a hard time staying conscious and not going brain dead.

It appears Joel's in the same boat too. "Fuck—you're killin' me." He grunts, bucking his hips up to meet you.

You giggle airily before immediately getting your karma—his dick paired with the position and the way his face looked—your cunt clenches down on him and you cum hard.

Your body jolts as you grab onto him, not expecting him to keep fucking you. But his grip on your hips doesn't falter, and Joel continues to bounce you up and down.

The sensation is unlike anything you've ever felt. Just letting him manhandle your body and do what he wanted was a surprising relief—even if you did just come.

You're reduced to whimpers and moans as you slump into his chest, letting him ground you and fuck your abused cunt.

Finally, slams you down one final time, unloading deep into your warmth. His groans sound like music to yours hears, especially because you know it's you that's making him feel so good.

He's panting in your ear, slowly starting to move his hands up to wrap around your torso.

He's hugging you before you can register it; his big arms securing you tightly to his chest while you both tried to catch your breaths.

Seconds pass...which turn into minutes, and you're wondering if Joel ever plans on letting you go.

He's made no efforts to remove his dick from inside you—it's soft now, but still buried deep nonetheless.

Your pussy will occasionally flutter around him, which'll earn a soft sigh from his lips.

You place a soft kiss on his temple before straightening your back to look at his face. "You tryin' to make sure your seed takes or something'?" You murmur, that teasing lilt in your voice that Joel is all too familiar with.

"Somethin' like that." He mutters into your chest, pulling you down with him to lay on the bed. "Want me to pull out?" He asks after a moment, scanning your face for any traces of displeasure.

You nestle into his chest, hooking your leg over his waist to lodge him deeper inside. "Never."

You and Joel fuck all day, all night and even into the morning. With, of course, breaks in between so Joel can recharge his stamina.

It happens multiple times in your bed, in the shower, on the couch, in the hallway, and even in the kitchen come morning.

Joel was making coffee while you were traipsing around with just his flannel on—humming along to some made-up song. It was like you two were an old married couple; him hovering over the moka pot and you scowering the fridge for some breakfast.

"Blueberry pancakes orrrr...." Joel watches as your head is stuck in the fridge, trying to find ingredients for meals. "Blueberry pancakes."

He snorts. "Surprise me." He huffs sarcastically, knowing he'd be eating a plate of blueberry pancakes.

You grinned and started making the batch, feeling Joel's eyes all over you because of the way his flannel was slipping off your shoulder because it was far too big on you.

His stare was turning you on—so you just bent yourself over the cool surface of the countertop and Joel did the rest.

Eventually, your safari of fun had to stop sometime during lunch. You both had succesfully cleaned yourselves and had started dressing for the day.

"I just told Maria I'd help set up." You murmur distractedly, tying your hair up in the bathroom mirror. Maria was holding a little town party in one of the recreational centers, and asked you, as well as some others to help her with the decorations.

There's a pause before Joel steps into the tiny bathroom, situating himself behind you and sliding his large hand over your stomach. He places a soft kiss to your head before dropping his hands to softly squeeze your hips.

"I'll walk you there."

A beat.

"You will?" He nods in confirmation, which has you turning around to look at him. You smile and tilt your head playfully. "You gonna walk me to first period too?"

Joel immediately rolls his eyes and scoffs, though you swear you can see him smirk.

"Smartass." He huffs out, grabbing your forearms to move you out of the way.

"Kidding." You chime, leaning on your tip toes to kiss his cheek. You weren't sure why you were so surprised by his offer, but you could tell it was a sign of something.

Maybe he wasn't stressed about people finding out about you two anymore. He never said that he was—but you could tell.

And it wasn't like he was embarrassed of you or anything—he's just always been a private person. It wasn't anyone's business who he was falling asleep next to every night.

But you—he'd be willing to change that for you.

When you both are ready, you exit your house, locking the door behind you. You look up to see your neighbor watching as you and Joel descend your porch steps.

You never liked her—gossipy woman who was always sticking her nose in places it didn't belong.

Quickly, your gaze snaps to his face, wanting to see if he was okay or anxious or whatever it may be.

But Joel's just looking right back down at you. "Lead the way, pretty lady." He murmurs lowly, his jaw clenched but his eyes soft.

You smile, and fall into step with him as you both walk down the sidewalk. The birds are chirping, the breeze feels amazing, and Joel is cracking smiles at your jokes.

Life felt good again.

Suddenly, Tommy appears out of nowhere, as he often does, blocking you and Joel's path.

You freeze, trying to keep a neutral face. You still weren't sure how to act around people with Joel, so you were just planning to play if off like you guys were just two buddies walking or whatever.

"Hey," Tommy greets, looking at you and then Joel, his eyebrows pinched together like he was confused at seeing the two of you in the same vicinity.

Oh. He probably knew what happened, or bits and pieces of it.

For some reason, you feel anxious that Joel might be feeling anxious, so you look down at your feet and nervously fidget with your hands.

"What're you two doin'?" Tommy asks, a detective look in his eyes as he shifted on his feet.

Joel clears his throat before looking down and grabbing your hand, intertwining your fingers with his calloused grip. He can't help but glare at Tommy with a stern face, squeezing your hand reassuringly.

Your breath catches.

Tommy's eyes venture down to your joined hands, then you, then Joel.

After a beat, a sharp and knowing grin spreads across his face.

"Well I'll be damned." THE END.

[mssorceressupreme]

Working Late Pt. 2 | F.W

———

Pairing: Fred Weasley x reader

Summary: Your boss does not take lightly to people flirting with his favourite employee, and wants you to know you're his and his only.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, boss/employee, possessive!fred, teasing, jealousy, office sex, fingering, dom!fred, sub!reader, p in v, penetration, coming, overstimulation, praising ———

It was another energetic day at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, and you were in high spirits. The shop was packed, the air buzzing with chatter and laughter as customers marvelled at the shelves bursting with magical novelties.

You’d felt like dressing up today, slipping on a short but tasteful black dress that cinched at your waist and flowed just above your knees. It was modest but cute, perfectly suited for the carefree atmosphere of the shop.

Fred had already complimented you earlier in his usual teasing manner, a smirk tugging at his lips as he’d said, “Trying to steal all my customers with that dress, are you?” You’d rolled your eyes playfully punching him, but your heart had fluttered all the same.

Today was no different than any other day, however that changed when the afternoon took a turn, a familiar voice catching your attention.

“Is that… Y/N?”

You turned to find none other than Oliver Wood standing before you, looking as dashing as ever in a red fitted jacket and his signature confident grin.

“Oliver!” you exclaimed, genuinely pleased to see him. “It’s been ages!”

“It has,” he said, his eyes sweeping over you with unmistakable appreciation. “You’ve… changed. Hogwarts didn’t do you justice.”

A faint blush crept up your neck, and you laughed softly. “Well, I guess we all grow up, don’t we?”

As you chatted, his flirtation became more apparent. He leaned closer when he spoke, his compliments growing bolder. “I always knew you were lovely, but Merlin, you’ve really turned heads now.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Fred watching. He was helping another customer, but his gaze kept shifting back to your interaction with Oliver.

His playful demeanour had vanished, his expression unreadable. He didn’t interrupt, but his gaze lingered, sharp and brooding.

When Oliver finally left with his purchases, you turned to Fred, hoping for a witty remark or a teasing jab, but he was already busying himself with a display. He hadn’t said a word, not even a glance in your direction.

The rest of the day was tense. Fred barely acknowledged you, answering your questions with curt nods or single-word replies. It was as if he’d built an invisible wall between you, and it stung more than you cared to admit.

"Hey Freddie, a customer wanted to inquire about a stock refill. When are the next batch of Puking Pastilles arriving? They're currently all sold out and-" You approached him while the customer you were serving continued browsing, awaiting your answer.

"Next week." Fred said, a little too bluntly before walking away, avoiding your gaze as he did so.

You nodded slowly, approaching the customer with a forced smile though you were a bit hurt by Fred's bluntness, "The next batch will arrive next week, Monday I believe, best come early before they sell out again miss."

"Sounds perfect love, I'll be here first thing next week then!" She chimed before leaving with her two kids.

During a lull in the crowd, you approached George who was stationed behind the cash register. The interaction with Fred still lingered in the back of your mind. “Is Fred… okay?” you asked hesitantly.

George looked up from the register, his usual grin in place. "Fred? Seems fine to me, why'd ya ask?"

"He's just...it's like he's avoiding me. Have I done something wrong?" You tilt your head, looking at the ground trying to recall any mistakes you might have made.

“Nah you're doing alright. He’s probably just being a git, as usual. Don’t let it bother you eh?"

But it did bother you.

Fred’s cold shoulder gnawed at you, and the more he ignored you, the more determined you became to get a reaction.

An opportunity presented itself when you passed by him in one of the narrower aisles.

As you squeezed past, you brushed against him deliberately, letting your skirt graze his thigh and pressing just enough to make it unmistakable. Smirking, you swayed harder against one particular spot in his trousers.

Fred inhaled sharply, his hands reflexively gripping your waist for a brief moment before you stepped away.

You didn’t look back, but you felt the heat of his gaze as you continued to the other side of the shop, humming as you strolled away.

As you returned to the register to finish a sale later, you noticed a folded piece of parchment resting on the counter. Your name was scrawled on it in Fred’s familiar handwriting. You unfolded it, your heartbeat rapidly increasing upon reading the words:

“My office. Now. – F”

The knot in your stomach tightened as you made your way upstairs. Merlin, what did he want now?

You pushed open the door to find Fred sitting behind his desk, a glass of whisky in his hand. His eyes were dark, his usual humour replaced by something colder, more commanding, almost scary but not quite.

“Come here,” he said, his voice low and firm.

You stepped closer after shutting the door, your pulse racing. Standing in front of his desk now, you waited, unsure of what to expect.

“Sit on my lap,” he ordered, leaning back in his chair, his eyes never leaving you, following your every move.

You hesitated for a split second before obeying, perching lightly on his lap. His hands came to rest on your thighs, firm but not rough, as if he was testing the boundaries.

“Who said you could flirt with customers?” he asked, his tone laced with jealousy.

“I wasn’t flirting,” you said quickly, your voice soft. “I was just being polite. Accommodating him.”

Fred’s jaw tightened, and he let out a low hum of disapproval. “Accommodating? Is that what you call it?”

His fingers toyed with the hem of your skirt, brushing lightly against your skin. “You’ve got some nerve, you know,” he murmured. “Walking around in this dress, brushing past me like that…”

Your breath hitched, your cheeks burning. “I didn’t mean to—” A white lie.

He cut you off with a soft chuckle, though it lacked humour. “Didn’t mean to, hmm? Then what was that little stunt earlier? Testing me, were you?”

You didn’t know how to respond, his intensity leaving you flustered and unsure.

Slowly but sensually, Fred began caressing your inner thigh, stroking softly and inching his way up to your clit, but not quite touching it. Though only a simple gesture, you felt a rush to your core, finding yourself throbbing and wanting more of his touch.

"You shouldn't have started something you can't finish love." He cooed into your ear.

You bit your lip, "I can finish it.." confident in your head, but a whisper came out, you felt weak under his touch like this.

"Oh really?" Fred raised a brow, "and how do you plan on doing that?" He was amused by your counter, a smug smirk appearing on that devilishly handsome face of his.

You sat there silently, avoiding eye contact him, unsure of how to respond. To be honest, you were inexperienced, you hadn't been this close to a man, in well, forever.

He chuckled lowly, one hand creeping up your skirt again, his fingertips tracing the hem of your panties causing you to involuntarily move forward.

Your body tenses, you held your breath as he continued. His fingers find your clit, circling it through the fabric of your now soaking panties. You let out a whimper in response to his touch.

Fred then finds the sweet sensitive spot on your neck, attaching his lips and sucking. His free hand reaches up and massages your tits sensually while the other hand continues with your clit.

"Let me show you love, let me take care of you..." He nips at your neck a few times before continuing, "By the time I'm done, the whole store will know my name and that you're mine."

You let out a soft moan as Fred uses two fingers to slide your panties down, the cold air hitting the exposed skin under your skirt.

His pants were now wet, both from you, and his precum. You felt a bit embarrassed that you soaked his pants but he was alright with it, in fact, he loved it.

"I don't want to see anymore flirting in my store, especially not with you." Fred's voice was deep, hoarse and almost possessive.

He presses two fingers inside of you, stretching you before flexing his fingers. You whined in response to his long slender fingers, panting heavily as he begins to work them faster inside of you, stretching you more.

Fred works on your cunt and you feel yourself growing hotter, more desperate for him. You arch your back, one arm is wrapped around his nape and the other gripping the table for support.

You fidget slightly, occasionally twitching due to the pleasure, "Fred...I'm getting close..." You whine.

The tight feeling in your core continues to build up, begging for a release soon. You get louder and louder as Fred continues fingering you, slightly faster now. "Fred!" You moan, you're getting extremely close.

Your back arches again, toes curling, and your left fingers practically are digging into his desk.

"Fred...I'm gonna....I'm gonna cu-" Your orgasm burns, erupting in your cunt and your mind explodes with ecstasy, sending a wave of pleasure over you but Fred doesn't stop, he continues.

"Fred please-" You whine, feeling overstimulated, your breathless and feeling another orgasm coming up.

"Merlin, you're so perfect love." He praises, watching you at his mercy, breathless on his lap.

Hearing him praise you like that, made another orgasm come round the corner. He really knew how to push your buttons, in the all the right ways possible.

"I can't take it! I'm getting close again...Fred! Please-" You whimper, as he picks up the pace again.

"Go on, come for me love. I want to hear your pretty moans, love it when my name slips from that pretty mouth of yours." He praised again, and you let loose.

Your walls throbbed, pulsing incredible fast, another pleasurable wave rushed over your body. "Oh God! Fred!" You moaned, before your head fall against his shoulder weakly.

He planted a sweet kiss on your forehead, before carrying you bridal style, getting up from his seat and placing you on his desk.

You sat up straight, facing him, your knees on both sides of his hips and he stood between them.

"You did amazing love." Fred praises, his hands sliding on your thighs, parting them and keeping your legs open for what's to come. His shirt was half unbuttoned, pants soaking, and fluffy hair slightly tousled.

"Please Fred...I want you inside me." You plead, glancing up at him with doe eyes.

He groaned softly upon seeing you in front of him, half naked on the table, and he was about to fuck you. He wanted you so bad, he needed you.

"Alright darling." He hums, unbuttoning his belt, letting his cock spring free.

Your eyes grew wide, you'd always assume he was big, but Merlin, he was packing. You felt yourself grow excited upon seeing him, biting your lip unconsciously.

He wraps a hand around his cock, guiding it to your entrance before pressing into you. The tip of his swollen head easily slides against your wetness, sliding with ease into your eager body.

At the intrusion, you tighten, "Merlin, Fred!" You moan, whimpering as he slides out then presses his hips against yours as he slips his cock all the way inside you, deeper than before.

"Mhm you feel so good around me love, so tight for me." He hums, moving faster, leaning forward to give you a kiss. You kiss him passionately but sweetly, sliding your tongue against his bottom lip while he keeps the same pace thrusting into you.

Your arms rest on the table for support, you tilt your head back whimpering at the pleasure of your hips colliding and feeling Fred inside you.

He keeps his hands planted on your hips, "Fuck, you feel so good Y/N, you're perfect you know that." Fred moans.

"I'm yours Fred..." You wince, "all yours..."

"And I'm yours, no one is going to change that." Fred responds, leaning in for another kiss. "Shit- I'm getting close..." He thrusts harder and faster, his climax quickly building up.

"Gonna release on your stomach love, that all good?" He breathlessly asks, to which you nod as a reply, unable to speak as you feel yourself reaching your climax too.

You don't last any longer, your body tensing as an orgasm erupts through you. You try to speak but only a whine escapes, throwing your head back, you lay on the desk, bare, exposed and breathing heavily.

Fred's hips rock harshly a few more times before slipping out, releasing on your tummy, every last drop coming onto your tummy. "Merlin..." He groans, throwing his head back, his broad shoulders rising and falling.

He removes his hands from your waist, proceeding to help clean you up and adjusting your dress properly. Picking you up, he carries you bridal style and lays you on the long leather couch in his office.

"You can take the rest of the day off if you want love." He leans down, planting a soft kiss on your forehead.

"I don't mind working..." You remark, "get to flirt with more people..." Your tone was teasing, smirking to get a reaction out of him.

"Flirt with them and I'll take you right then and there in front of them." He retorted, playfully.

You stand up, walking towards Fred, who was getting changed into something...cleaner and more decent, "So territorial." you spoke, helping him with his tie.

Fred tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his eyes. “Can't have them thinking they have a chance.”

“Please I might as well wear a shirt that says 'Taken by Fred Weasley'...” you joked.

"Not a bad idea..." He hummed, looking down at you while you finished off with his tie.

You rolled your eyes, biting back a smile, "You know I only have eyes for you Fred Weasley, no one comes close."

“That's my girl,” he said, his tone softer now but still edged with authority. He leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that was as possessive as it was tender, leaving you breathless. "My perfect girl."

When he finally pulled back, his eyes held a glint of satisfaction. “Now, get back to work,” he said, a teasing smirk returning to his lips. “There’s more where that came from.”

As you reached the door, you glanced back to find him watching you, his gaze warm now but still with a flicker of desire.

"I'll join you downstairs shortly." He winked, and you felt your cheeks heat again as you shut the door behind you, your heart raced as you returned to the shop floor, acting as though nothing had happened upstairs.

___

"Bloody hell, where were you two?!" George, finishing a sale, waved a customer goodbye before turning to you and Fred.

"We had some business to take care of." Fred answered for you guys, placing his hand on your lower back.

George scoffed, a knowing look flashed in his eyes, darting back and forth between you, "Yeah alright sure, business."

"Well I'm off on a date with Angelina, can you two handle the shop for the few hours?" George continued.

"What do you take me for? A slacker?" Fred replied, "Pft of course we can handle it, now go have fun." He ushered his twin away, and George, confused, grabbed his belongings and waved us goodbye, turning back occasionally to make sure the store didn't crash down under Fred's control.

"Round 2?" Fred whispered, a teasing undertone once George was out of sight.

You playfully hit him, chuckling, "We have a shop to run Weasley!"

He laughed softly, giving you a quick peck on the cheek before getting back to work.

[iris-qt]

𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚒𝚘𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚒𝚘

🫧 ᴛʜᴇᴏᴅᴏʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛᴛ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

🫧 ʙɢ ᴍᴜꜱɪᴄ: ᴄʟɪᴄᴋ!

🫧 ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ

🫧 ᴀ/ɴ: ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴀ ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰɪᴄ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴏɴ ᴍʏ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ᴏɴᴇ. ɪ ᴀᴅᴏʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ɢᴜʏꜱ’ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴇɴᴛꜱ ꜱᴏ ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ʙᴇ ᴀꜰʀᴀɪᴅ ᴛᴏ ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ ᴏɴᴇ!

🫧 ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ: ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ꜰɪɴᴀʟʟʏ ᴜɴᴡɪɴᴅɪɴɢ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴀʟʟ ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜱᴛʀᴇꜱꜱ ᴏꜰ ꜱᴄʜᴏᴏʟ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ɢᴏʀɢᴇᴏᴜꜱ ᴠᴀᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ɪɴ ɪᴛᴀʟʏ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇʀᴇɴ’ᴛ ᴀᴡᴀʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ’ᴅ ʀᴜɴ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴀɴᴇ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴇxɪꜱᴛᴇɴᴄᴇ: ᴛʜᴇᴏᴅᴏʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛᴛ

Azure blue skies and endless summer breeze tails you through the rolling green countryside of San Gimignano, Italy. This was true, pure bliss. A flow of relaxation that you haven’t felt since…Merlin knows when. The stress of endless exams and finals, everlasting prefect duties, and bickering with your horrid nemesis really left a mark; as represented by your unrelenting dark circles and deep forehead lines.

But at least all of that was giving way to the Italian atmosphere and it left behind a happy girl that would donate a kidney to spend her entire summer here. Unfortunately you were only visiting for a week before school began once more; your final year. This brought a sense of dread to your heart as you would miss the enchanting castle. Your second home.

You pushed that aside as you zoomed through the countryside of this ravishing country on your cute little teal Vespa. Truth be told you’d never driven a muggle vehicle before, but there’s always a first time for everything.

And so your lack of experience with muggle vehicles was the cause of you not being aware that gas has to be filled. You thought the meter getting closer to 0 represented the dissipation of your happy mood as you were, per usual, plaguing yourself with paranoid and pessimistic thoughts. The sudden shuddering of the Vespa made you lose balance and you began veering off track, you and your precious vehicle zooming down a hill with the sheer force of gravity. You screamed for dear life, and, at last, landed in a shallow pond with an enormous splash.

You bobbed up, gasping for air, and scrambled out of the lake quite ungracefully, summer outfit ruined and soaking wet. And suddenly, you heard a scarily familiar, devilish chuckle that just so happened to find your tragic predicament amusing: your mood as drenched as your clothes.

As you slowly glanced up trembling, not knowing if your shaking was from the water, shock, pure rage, or all three, you made direct eye contact with a certain boy musing at your tragedy. His eyes were overflowing with humor as he was leaning against a tree, his tanned legs crossed over each other. He seemed to be reading a book which he put down as he had found something better worth his attention. He gracefully stands up, a complete contrast from how you scrambled out of the pond, much to your annoyance.

“Did it hurt when you fell from heaven, angioletto mio?” He smirks.

“Nott,” you scoffed. “Small world…or cruel fate,” you stand there, dripping wet, arms spread out like a martyr.

Of course you knew the insufferable Theodore Nott was Italian and often visited family here, but you didn’t think you’d be subjected to his presence in such a big country, especially in the less populated countryside. It was truly just cruel fate that brought this spawn of satan before your eyes.

“I didn’t know you were that desperate to see me,” Theodore cocks his head to the side, quite enjoying this arrangement. “Risking your life on a muggle vehicle zooming to my town.”

You roll your eyes, and if you were in a cartoon universe, trust that there would be steam coming out of your ears.

“Trust me Nott. I had no intention to run into a walking headache on my vacation.”

The insufferable git kept smiling, moving closer now, standing right in front of you so you could smell the usual dizzying scent of sandalwood and pine. Summer edition Theo had a hint of citrus mingled in with his intoxicatingly annoying scent.

“I already got you soaking wet, now you just have to get naked,” he laughed with the most disgustingly smug look on his face that you almost slapped off.

“Are you done?” You glared at him, ready to storm off and free yourself from the torment of his presence.

He shrugged, looking you over.

“Need help drying off?”

“I need help out of this conversation.”

“Oh stop, y/n, you can do better than that,” he grinned

You sigh very well aware you had no other option. You hold out your arms and shut your eyes waiting for his casting of the Hot Air Charm. Since you had resolved to live the simple muggle life for this vacation, your wand was locked in a vault at your hotel room.

Theo laughs, “Are you waiting for a kiss, principessa?”

You open your eyes, confused. “No, I’m waiting for you to dry me off like you said, idiot.”

He laughs again shrugging and says, “I don’t carry my wand around my domain, there’s no need.”

“Then, pray do tell me, Nott, what was your plan in helping me?”

He gives you the most shit-eating grin and grabs your hand, scaring you a bit, then begins pulling you up another grassy, verdant hill: one that isn’t hiding a body of water behind it. You have the urge to resist, but just give in. The drop from your adrenaline-rush you’d been maintaining for the past 3 days had collapsed, causing you to come down with an attitude of resolve. He dragged you up the hill, your wet sandals making squelching sounds, each one demeaning you more and more. You hated this shift in power where the perfect git was overshadowing you. You hated it. You hated him. I think.

“So why were you in the countryside? Other than wanting to see me so badly, of course.” He looks behind him and shoots his watercolor poison into your soul as he makes that unblinking eye contact. Another thing on the meter-long list of things you despise about him.

“I was in a self-deprecating mood and decided to ruin my record streak of relaxation by finding you,” you deadpanned as you rolled your eyes for extra affect.

“Y/N relaxing? You must be lying.”

He chuckled a bit as you two stopped at the top of the vast hill, looking down to a meadow of wildflowers. They glowed like colorful jewels in the blinding, comforting summer sun.

“What’re you gonna do, push me off?” You smirked, half wishing he’d do so. Maybe this was all a nightmare. A beautiful, lush, tinged with the familiar scent of Theo nightmare.

What you didn’t expect, however, was him saying:

“Precisely.”

And with a surprisingly gentle tug, he pulled you down on the top of the hill, pushed you back in a laying position before you could protest, and quite literally pushed you down the hill. You screamed as you, for the second time that day, gave all free will up to gravity, rolling down the hill at a crazy speed. You knew Nott was your unproclaimed but painfully obvious nemesis but you never thought he’d attempt murder. You finally stopped and lay there, sprawled on your back, heaving from the rush. It was kind of…fun?

Theo rolled down right next to you, laughing, as he sat upright. There was grass in his curly, brunette hair that you couldn’t help but reach out to pluck. He looked away quite shyly. Did your eyes deceive you, or did he just blush? You must have heat stroke. Good thing you had your wet clothes to keep you cool: they were significantly drier now.

You stand up and Theo starts laughing in a way you’ve never heard him laugh before. It was almost…endearing?

You put your hands on your hips teasingly and ask, “What? Do I have something on my face?”

He chuckles affectionately. “Mio angioletto, you have something…everywhere.” He bursts into laughter again. “Beware grass woman rising from the Italian hills,” he gasps through his fits of laughter.

You couldn’t help but smile so wide; his happiness was almost as contagious as his teasing.

You look down and realize the grass was sticking all over your outfit, covering you in verdant greeness. There was an itching sensation bubbling to your skin, but you ignored it. You couldn’t help but join in with his laughter as you could imagine you looked like green Chewbacca.

“Is this your sick way of tar and feathering me, Nott?”

He recovers from his laughter and stands up with you, peeling a wet blade of grass from your cheek.

“Alas, you have uncovered my motives,” he teases, grinning.

“Well, your actual motives didn’t work. I’m still sopping wet.” You wringe out the side of your shirt for dramatic affect as it produces a downpour of water.

“There’s more to my motives, mio angioletto. If at first you don’t succeed, try try again.” He grasps your hand again with a beautiful look on his glowing face and pulls you up to do it all over again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

Until the sun is caressing the distant hills, getting ready for its nightly departure. The sky is painted shades of teal and purple; still bright but just so. The breeze is still gentle, and so is Theo’s hold on your hand, as he guides you back to his tree by the wretched pond.

Don’t ask yourself what you and him were at the moment. Don’t ask yourself how years of rivalry and pranks. Of stress related to the both of your never-relenting efforts to beat the other. Don’t ask how that all faded away, as you sat in the setting sun.

Unfortunately, it isn’t in your nature to just ignore logic. And Theo knew it. So he distanced himself from you in light of the passing moment of rolling down flower dotted hills, letting go of your hand. It was as if an igniting flame in your heart had been stifled. He sat across from you by the tree. A silence falling between you two.

The slight itching you had felt earlier had been slowly increasing, and as the fun fell away, it began grabbing your attention. The feeling was in your throat now…something wasn’t right. And that’s when you remembered something that Theo’s warm presence had melted away from your mind. As if your brain had tricked itself to forget about this important fact to permit you and Theo’s fun. You were allergic to wildflowers. If exposed to them for a long time? Horribly allergic.

You started coughing and then choking, pointing to your neck to alert Theo to the problem. His eyes widened as he realized what was happening…he had noticed your uncharacteristically red skin, but he had dismissed it by thinking it was the sun’s doing. How could he overlook this?

Your choking grew louder as you fell onto the grass, Theo scrambled around crazily not knowing what to do in his initial panic.

But then he remembered

He pulled out his wand and cast a healing spell which would diminish every affect of an allergic reaction. You started being able to breathe again and your throat cleared, along with your skin returning to its original color and texture. You were gasping in shock, slightly embarrassed that you had been in such pathetic situations in front of Theodore twice today. You were both holding each others’ arms and breathing deeply. You recovered slightly, attempting to lighten the tense mood.

“Well, if your true motive was to kill me, Nott, I’d say you almost succeeded.” You let out a weak, unconvincing laugh.

“I..I am so sorry, y/n, I genuinely didn’t know..” he looked crestfallen. More shaken than you in fact. Wait a minute…

“Hold on,” you raised an eyebrow, your shock of almost dying completely gone and replaced with a new shock. “I thought you said you didn’t have your wand?”

Theo’s eyes widened sheepishly and he grinned, looking as guilty as ever.

“Ok listen before you throw a fit-“

“I don’t throw fits, I diplomatically argue.”

“Before you throw a tantrum, let me explain.” Theo runs his fingers through his hair looking nervous, and, for the first time, failing to make eye contact.

“I just…I knew you’d leave if I just dried you off. You only stayed because you needed help and, well…” he sighs.

“Well?”

“Well, I’ve been thinking about you all summer, y/n. I lay awake all night and I day dream all day. I swear I even saw you in the stars..” he gives a nervous, strained laugh.

“You never leave my thoughts, but I was sure it was just because I had to prove myself. To beat you. But you didn’t even leave my brain after school ended. You haunt me every day. When I saw you I thought I was hallucinating, like, genuinely.” He runs his hand through his hair, looking the most vulnerable he’s ever looked.

You look at him, eyes blazing with emotions you had denied yourself. Emotions that fought to be seen but you always pushed them back. You couldn’t fight back anymore. What were you even fighting against? God, you had some serious issues.

“And so you lied to make me stay?”

Theo nodded, looking to the side, up at the darkening sky.

“Maybe it was the universe that brought me here, because what are the fucking odds?”

You both laughed at that, eyes shining despite the escaping light around you.

“Theo, in my last 3 days I’ve been in your beautiful home country, I’ve visited so many places. The Trevi Fountain, the Pantheon, the Uffizi Galleries. So many amazing places, and I’ve experienced the most inspiring ordeals. But today was, by far, my favorite day.”

Theo regains his composure after hearing that, playfully judging her with his shoulder .

“Because of me, hm?”

You roll your eyes, looking away.

“Say it, principessa..” he prompted, gently holding your face and focusing it towards him.

You dramatically sigh and admit, “Yes, Theodore Nott. Because of you.”

He smiled the most breathtaking smile. If only you could capture a picture of it, but unfortunately your camera went down with the Vespa. You lay your head on his shoulder and squeeze your eyes shut, so that his bright smile could be engraved into your mind. Definitely a core memory.

After many moments of comfortable silence, Theo perks up.

“Oh! By the way, dolcezza, I realized I said the pickup line wrong when you struggled out of the swamp.”

You rolled your eyes at his impertinence and said, “First of all, it’s a pond, Theo. And second of all I did NOT struggle. I emerged like Aphrodite in a shell.”

“Ok my little swamp monster,” he annoyingly nuzzled his nose into your hair as you fought to hold back a giggle.

“Okok let me say the line.”

“Go ahead, Theo.”

“Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?”

You cocked an eyebrow at him.

“Because you have the face of un angelo.”

He grinned his shit-eating grin as you pretended to retch at the line. Jumping up with the fireflies around you, you tagged Theo, reigniting that competitive streak you both so closely shared. You both laughed like maniacs as you raced up the hill again, fireflies dancing around you in a waltz.

[ahqkas]

♯ TEMPI DIFFICILI ; theodore nott

PAIRING! theodore nott x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS! theo comes to your rescue in the foreign world of english and self-centered gits (based on this req.!!)

WARNINGS AND TAGS! italian reader, translation of foreign language, fluff, mutual pinning

WORD COUNT! 1.3k

NOTES! part one !

HARRY POTTER MASTERLIST!

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

MOVING OUT OF AMERICA WAS THE CHANGE YOU DIDN'T KNOW YOU NEEDED IN YOUR LIFE. Once you left and didn't look back, the energy in your surroundings seemed to change, shifting from the dull depressions of your previous life to a lively atmosphere. The decision to leave had been haunting you for the first nights at Hogwarts, often ending in you lying face flat against the pillows as you overthought the past few days. To put it simply, the last few days were an absolute hell.

The stone hallways of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry always seemed to be packed with students and stray pets. The ghost made their appearances as well. And the passageways could be pretty confusing, too. Long corridors you could and would get lost in if you weren't in the presence of your new trustful friends or paying enough attention haunted you in your scariest nightmares after you managed to get late to your herbology class. The frown of the professor and the curious stares of your new classmates still appeared in your vision even behind closed eyelids.

The people here were the worst, you decided. Some of them were really friendly and helpful. The majority, however, seemed to carry a veneer of politeness that quickly shifted into judgement. You had been hopeful when you first arrived, thinking that the cultural exchange would be enchanting, that you'd meet more friends and learn about their world. But reality had other plans.

In your DADA class, you struggled to follow Professor Snape's instructions, his voice a low, disdainful drawl that only heightened the level of your anxiety. His critical gaze seemed to linger on you longer than anyone else, making you fumble with your words more frequently. The other students glanced at you with a mix of pity and amusement.

During meals in the Great Hall, you found a quiet seat for you to sit on, your plate filled with unfamiliar dishes. The food was decent, but you missed the flavors of home. Conversations around you flowed with topics you couldn't quite grasp, from Quidditch matches to obscure magical theories. You tried to join in, but your attempts were often met with puzzled looks or polite nods, the conversations quickly moving on without you.

Theodore Nott befriended you when no one noticed your lonely presence. He had been protective of you. He admired your resilience, moving from sunny Italy to rainy England, where everything seemed different — from the weather to the culture and especially the language. Hogwarts was a maze of new experiences, and despite your best efforts, the British slang and unfamiliar dialects sometimes made you feel like an outsider.

One dreary afternoon, you found yourself alone in the courtyard, your nose buried in a book as you tried to acclimate to your new surroundings. A group of students, Gryffindors from the look of their crimson and gold ties, approached you with their looks full of curiosity and amusement. At first, they seemed friendly enough, their smiles warm and inviting as they asked casual questions about your home and how you were settling in. But the conversation quickly took a darker turn.

"Come on, say something in English," one of the boys jeered, his tone mocking now. "Or is it too hard for you?"

You flushed, a mix of embarrassment and anger coiling in your chest like a fierce snake. You felt your heart rate quicken as your mind scrambled for the right words. "I . . . I can speak English," you stammered, your accent thick and your voice shaking as your anxiety skyrocketed.

Another boy snickered. Cruel. "Barely. It's like listening to a baby."

The laughter that followed after felt like a knife twisting in your gut. Your hands trembled and you fought the urge to turn around and run. The words you wanted to get out got tangled, making it impossible to form a coherent sentence. Your cheeks burned crimson.

"What's the matter, witch? Cat got your tongue?"

But before you could respond, you heard a familiar voice cut through the air.

"What the hell are you doing?" Theodore's voice was sharp, his eyes blazing as he approached the group.

The Gryffindors turned, their expressions shifting from the cruel amusement to frightened caution. The Slytherin stepped between you and the boys, his posture rigid and protective.

"Mind your own business, Nott," one of the boys muttered, but the confidence in his voice wavered as Theodore Nottingham towered over them menacingly, his dead eyes low and casting a glare one wouldn't wish to receive.

"Theo," you whispered, tugging at his sleeve, but he ignored you, his focus locked on the boys.

"Non ho intenzione di lasciare che vi prendiate gioco di lei," the boy snapped, his voice quiet and dangerous as the anger flowed through him. ("I'm not going to let you make fun of her.")

"What's he saying?" one of the boys asked, looking uneasy.

Theo switched to English, his words cold and precise. "I'm saying you need to back off. Now."

The Gryffindors exchanged glances, the bravado seeping out of them. "Fine," one of them grumbled, "we're leaving."

They shuffled away, casting nervous glances over their shoulders. As they disappeared from sight, Theo turned to you, his expression softening instantly. He reached out, gently intertwining your fingers with his.

"Stai bene?" he asked, his voice filled with concern. ("Are you okay?")

"Grazie, Theo," you gave him a gentle smile. ("Thank you, Theo.")

"Non devi ringraziarmi, bella," he said softly, pulling you into a comforting embrace. ("You don't have to thank me, beautiful.")

You clung to him, the safety of his arms easing the hurt from the Gryffindors' taunts. Theo stroked your hair, his touch gentle and reassuring.

"Non permetterò mai a nessuno di trattarti così," he murmured, his lips brushing your forehead. ("I will never let anyone treat you like that.")

Standing there, wrapped in his embrace, you felt the weight of your struggles lift, if only for a moment. Theo had always been your protector, your anchor in this foreign world, and his fierce loyalty made you feel seen and valued in ways words couldn't express. The lingering scent of his cologne mixed with the faint aroma of the Hogwarts hallways, creating a comforting cocoon around you.

As the moments stretched, you found solace in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, a reminder that you weren't alone in this daunting new chapter of your life. The initial rush of anxiety and embarrassment began to ebb away, replaced by a profound sense of gratitude and warmth.

Theo gently pulled back, his hands still resting on your shoulders as he looked into your eyes. The intensity of his gaze made you feel as though he could see right through to your soul, understanding every unspoken fear and insecurity.

He smiled, a small but genuine curve of his lips that made your heart swell. "Andiamo," he said softly, taking your hand in his. "Lasciamo che questo posto sia un po' meno freddo." ("Let's go. Let's make this place a little less cold.")

Walking hand in hand through the corridors, you felt a renewed sense of hope. The cold, intimidating walls of Hogwarts seemed a little less daunting with Theo by your side. Each step forward felt lighter, the path ahead brighter.

As you reached your next class, Theo squeezed your hand one last time before letting go. "Ci vediamo più tardi," he said, his eyes lingering on yours for a moment longer than necessary. ("I'll see you later.")

"Ci vediamo," you replied, a soft smile playing on your lips as you watched him walk away. ("See you.")

Entering the classroom, you felt a surge of confidence, bolstered by Theo's unwavering support. No matter how challenging things might get, you knew you had someone who believed in you, someone who would always be there to stand by your side.

And as you took your seat, ready to face whatever came next, you realized that maybe, just maybe, this foreign land could start to feel like home.

[imogen-fae]

Wild Rivers - Thinking 'Bout Love (Official Video)

Just thinkin 'bout luv....hope yall are having a luvvy dovey sweetest day weekend. Remember to ❤️ yourself first and the rest will follow.

Have a listen to Wild Rivers before you go. They will git you into the rushy flow of kissy face feelz.

[msookyspooky]

🥀 Severen's Valentine 🫀

Fluff ♡ Old Couple Kinda Flirting ♡ GN!Reader x Severen Van Sickle ♡ Not Proofread ♡ 1k Words:

"Ta-Da." He grinned and held out the red roses to you as your eyes lit up. The fragrant petals wafting towards you like a heedy perfume as you gently took them from your lover. He smirked that signature cocky grin of his and added, "Did ya really think I'd forget my baby on such a mushy disgustin' ass day?"

Your heart melted as you took them gingerly from him like they were the most precious thing. It wasn't every day Severen showed this more romantic side. He was all about action and lewd banter rather than traditional romance.

"Oh Sevy, you shouldn't hav- Ouch." You hissed slightly as a thorn got you.

"Sorry 'bout that darlin'. Those roses are as prickly as me." He sheepishly joked while running a hand behind his head to rub his neck.

"As pretty too."

He chuckled at that, "To think I almost got ya some guys bloody heart and put it in a box."

You shook your hand a bit to rid the slight sting and cringed, "Mmm...I'll take the flowers."

"Damn right." He drew out nodding his head in approval before gesturing his hand outstretched towards you, "C'mere." He took the hand that had been pricked by the roses thorn. He held it up in the dim light and saw the pindrop of crimson on your finger. Almost reverent as he eyed it before bringing it to his lips.

Closing his eyes to kiss the tiny injury with a deep inhale and a low, short moan while planting a firm wet kiss. You eyed him while butterflies pooled in your belly and your chest heated as his tongue darted out. One of the few parts still warm on him in contrast to the rest of him from the chill air and supernatural flesh. He lolled his tongue almost seductively over the mark. Savoring the metalic taste that was his whole existence and yet yours was both the Devil's fruit; fighting to not give into the temptation to just chomp down and drink gluttonously and also a gift that was special just from you that he cherished dearly.

Sucking the skin like it was the sweetest taste on his tongue and you could do nothing in his iron grip so powerful it could break your hand yet so gentle it was like he was holding a delicate flower.

"Baby..." He groaned low as he finally released, his lips making a sloppy plop as he stopped sucking all the blood flow from your index finger. Blue eyes fluttering open to gaze at you. Head bent and lust and love and mischief in his stare. "Swear ya do this shit to me on purpose."

You tried to regain some dignity and huffed, "More like you did that on purpose." Wiggling your finger for emphasis.

"Maybe." He smirked as he gave your digit one last kiss then stood up fully with a grin. "Don't act all huffy like ya don't get a lil hot a bothered by ol' Severen kissin it better, now." He teased while tilting your chin up. "Got you all weak in the knees. Don't deny it, suga."

You didn't have a retort for that. He made you feel things no human man ever could and he knew it. Acting like some cocky dog with his tail up and chest out preening from knowing he could get away with a lot of shit. And sadly, you'd probably let him if he kept making you so damn flustered.

However, your eyes lingered on how cut up his hands were. The calloused masculine skin scrapped and still had some dried blood on them. "Hey..." You gently reached out to cup his hands. Your warmth evading his chilled flesh and making him sigh contently. "What happened? Looks like these flowers gave you Hell." You mumbled as you sat the flowers down on a table nearby.

"Oh quit." He chided with a wry smirk, "That's fuckin' insultin' babying a no good bastard like me over a few cuts. Ya just saw me hurled through a wall last week."

"Yeah and I didn't like it." You grumbled in reply.

He sighed in mock exasperation at you, "Go on and git those damn flowers in water before they wither. Don't let my battle scars be in vain." He sarcastically joked but you just eased him to sit nearby in a motel chair.

"I will just let me clean your hands up a bit." Slipping a few of his rings off and pocketing them to clean a bit in the bathroom.

He didn't even argue with you even if he groaned and rolled his neck like this was an awful chore to appease you while you went to the small bathroom. Just flopped down in that chair, his spurs jangling and jacket rustling as he shifted. Ruefully smirking at your insistence on mother henning him even when his cuts were almost completely healed. Skin knitting together as fast as days of healing for a regular human.

You reckoned he secretly adored you fretting over him. In fact, you knew he'd milk out his injuries just so you'd kiss him and sympathize and the relic of a vampire just sat that eating the babying right up even if he'd never admit it and he most definitely got into it with the others when they caught on and started poking fun at his expense.

You took a warm wet cloth of soap and water soothingly over the cuts. He hissed slightly and you smirked, "You ate a bullet in the stomach and laughed bout it last month."

"Tsk, shit. Ya caught me." He gave that devilishly charming lopsided grin at you. "Is it a crime to want some extra lovin'? A lil pampering? A bit of frettin' from my sweetheart?"

You couldn't hide the smile or warm chuckle in your throat if you wanted to. After getting the dried blood and dirt off his hands, you finally asked. "So where did the roses with thorns and dirt come from?"

He scoffed lightly but relented pretty easily, "...Found em." He sniffed in gruff indifference.

"Where?"

"Some old bitty's yard."

You gasped in faux outrage, "Severen-"

"Oh don't 'Oh Severen!' me." He mocked your voice, "She ain't gonna miss em! She probably don't even know she had em. She looked old as dust."

"YOU are old as dust."

"Watch it." He growled with no heat under it and pulled you close to be in his lap. His inhuman strength and enduring muscles under his skin made him able to carry just about anything or anyone. "Ya want me to put em back or somethin'?"

"Pft no." You snorted at the idea of even attempting it and trying to make it look normal.

"Then stop bustin' my balls then." He playfully huffed as he held you close with a mock glare that always made you simultaneously roll your eyes yet want to kiss him hard.

"Alright, alright!" You tsked but a warm smile crept up your lips. "Thank you."

His gaze softened to reveal how he really felt. A tiny gesture reserved only for you in the protective embrace and solitude together. "Anything for you, baby." However, a more devious smirk etched on his face as he gave a low whisper, "Although..."

You cut him off with a chaste kiss and smiled against his lips. "Already planning to. Think I'm leaving you in a cold motel bed on Valentines day?"

"Better not." He teased and kissed you back.

You pulled away with a grunt, "Oh the flowers-" All before gasping as he scooped you up effortlessly no matter your size with strength that could bend a metal pole in half.

"Fuck them flowers. I got my own flower to tend to right here. Right now." He gave in that silky voice that made most people swoon as he tossed you gently on the bed and crawled over top of you. "Gonna be a long sweet night jus' you an' me, darlin'."

[theliterarywolf]

I didn't watch the Oscars but you KNOW I'm out here celebrating Flow winning Best Animated Film.

Not just because 'Lol, Disney, git gud' but just as a fuck you to all the Hollywood Executives who swear up, down, and sideways 'Nooo~! You can't have movies about animals where they don't talk~! People will get bored~!'

[robron-til-the-end-of-time]

I REALLY want one canon mention of how much better in bed Robert is than J*** so, that's where this sort of drabble came from. Setting is a random stag night in a few weeks time or something. ___

It only came out because of the amount of drink that was flowing. Robert wasn't involved in the stag night, he was just having a quiet drink in the corner with the newspaper, revelling in his new found freedom. Contrary to popular belief, he didn't follow Aaron around everywhere.

The stag party were getting louder and ruder, and Robert was wondering if this was the point he should bow out and drink at home. He only stayed because Aaron left for the loo, and he thought it'd look suspicious if they both left at the same time.

"You know Aaron, he's just so quiet in bed," John slurred, way too much whisky having been drunk. Mack's eyes went to Robert instantly who grinned smugly to himself. Robert had a lot of adjectives to describe Aaron in bed. Quiet didn't make the top ten. Or twenty. It was at that unfortunate moment John noticed Robert.

"Just don't!" he said loudly.

"I didn't say anything," Robert said over the top of his paper, eyebrows raised. He was trying very hard not to laugh.

"I could hear you thinking it from all the way over here," John said. "Smug git."

"It's not smug if it's true," Robert said. John tried to get near Robert to hit him, but the alcohol and Mack held him back right when Aaron came in.

"What's going on?" Aaron said.

"Hubby there just told the whole bar how quiet you are in bed," Robert said, unable to help himself. Aaron's eyes slid to John's in horror as Robert left the pub. He wasn't the one airing dirty laundry in public after all.

Robert was surprised to see Aaron join him after only a minute, sitting opposite him at the benches. "I didn't start anything," Robert said.

"I know," Aaron said. "He's drunk."

"So, quiet eh?" Robert said, needing to push him.

"Just... don't."

"Quiet's not how I remember it," Robert said. "You were... oh so vocal with me."

"That's not helping," Aaron said, uncomfortable, but not enough to walk away. Robert was almost hypnotising in that sense.

"You know that there's no one who can make you feel the way I can," Robert said, voice soft and hushed. "Not hubby, not anyone else. Only me. I bet one touch with me is more erotic than your honeymoon was." Robert touched the tip of Aaron's finger, resting on the table, then walked away. Aaron hated that he was right.

[kurishiri]

03 ┊ A match of life and death, the art of self-protection

꒰ ִ ֺ ⊹ @ notice ⊹ ֺ ִ ꒱ this translation may not be 100% accurate or contain creative liberties due to characterization or narrative flow purposes. if you enjoy, please consider reblogging, but don’t repost these or claim these as your own!

— jude⌛'s past records, record #3. i'm so, so sorry for taking so long on this ,, orz

— cw: brief mention of human trafficking in the end.

Jude: I’ll give ya more in return. So give that medicine to me.

Going so low as to threaten him with a shattered bottle, it resembled what had been done to us by our father and brother.

God knows how long we glared at each other.

But the one who opened his mouth first was the doctor.

Oswald: ...Listen up, lad. An investment is lending out funds with the expectation of future gains.

O: Only an ignorant and selfish child would think he could receive funds just like that.

(...!)

(Hate to admit it, but this damn doctor’s got a point.)

I could shout and yell out all until I gave out, but in the end I was only saying bratty, spoiled nonsense.

Unable to say anything back, the doctor handed me a thick medical book.

Jude: What’s this for?

Oswald: By the time I come around next time, have this entire book memorized.

O: If you can demonstrate your abilities, I promise I will administer the medicine.

The book he gave me was so thick, it could probably kill a person if they got hit with it.

And the doctor came around here once a week.

——All that to say.

(He’s thinks I don’t got it in me from the start so he’s givin’ me this tall order.)

Jude: Ha, bloody hell... all of ya lookin’ down on me, aren’t’cha.

(But it’s this or nothin’ for us.)

(I’ll weave from a single straw if I hafta.)

To get more out of this than if I were to steal and sell it for a likely-high price,

I was grateful to my mother, who had taught me how to read.

Jude: Couldn’t ask for nothin’ more. I’m in.

——is what I said, but memorizing everything was far from an easy feat.

Jude: Ether has been used as a narcotic in treatments...

J: Tch, there’s way too many fancy words in ‘ere.

I felt like my heart was going to get crushed countless times.

But, if that happened, that would really be the end for us.

I absorbed myself to the point I neglected sleeping and eating——

And then, one week later, I memorized everything.

The damn doctor would point to a page, and when I recited its contents, he let out a satisfied laugh.

Oswald: Haha, to think you really went and memorized everything. That was quite a feat even for myself.

Jude: The hell? Weren’t ya the one who told me to memorize this entire thing?

Oswald: Indeed. It’s my defeat.

O: As promised, I will treat you guys.

Jude: As ya should, ya git.

Jude’s little sister: ...Hey, mister doctor.

Oswald: Hm? What is it, kiddo?

Jude’s little sister: Will... will ya really fulfill your promise?

Jude’s little sister: ‘Cause even if my brother makes a promise, all the adults go ‘round breakin’ ‘em.

Jude: ......... (O_O)

Oswald: I could say anything with this mouth, so I was intending to show it with my actions...

O: But I will not break the promise. ——And that is absolute.

And so, the damn doctor, as promised, periodically administered the medicine to us.

My sister and I then slowly recovered.

While under the treatment, the damn doctor didn’t utter a word. Nor did he show us any pity.

He simply treated us as another human being, on equal footing——and while I hated to admit it, that made me happy.

So that may have been why my mouth ended up slipping.

Jude: They would’ve wanted us dead. Which was why I did everythin’ I could not to.

Dammit, I had thought then——but the damn doctor responded with a dispassionate voice, all the while continuing the treatment.

Oswald: If you died because others had wished for you to die, that would be the most uninteresting thing.

O: So, if that’s the case, why not live a stubborn life? That is the ultimate revenge.

In an act of amusement, he would tell me about lots of things.

And I would come to absorb more and more of that knowledge.

But, such a peaceful time would end and fade away in an instant.

Jude: The hell? ...Ya sold her?

to be continued…

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[harrysmmm]

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚ ᴍᴀɢɪᴄᴀʟʟʏ ᴀɴɴᴏʏɪɴɢ - ᴅ.ᴍ

Draco Malfoy x Y/N (f!reader)

Setting: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

Summary: where Harry and Draco have a crush on you at the same time and they both ask you to the yule ball.

A/N: should I make a part two? I feel like a little bit of jealous Malfoy after knowing that Harry has a crush on Y/N could make a nice follow-up.

W/C: 1.6K

masterlist here

Annoying. That’s the word you would use to describe that moment. One of the qualities you always acknowledged possessing was empathy. You softened with people that were sensitive; you listened to people that were suffering; you loved people that were lonely. It was in your nature to care for people, to try to understand their motives. But at that specific moment in time, you wanted to slap the shit out of a certain one.

Brat, bugger, git, prat, smart-ass, toff, wanker, yob, the list went on. That’s how you would describe Draco Malfoy. He had it against you and your friends. No - correction: he had it against everyone that was not a damn pureblood slyther-fucking-in. You would turn a corner and there he was casting a spell that would make you slipper like a seven-year-old in a slide. You would enter a classroom and find your table gravitating in the air, with all your notes scattered all over the classroom. You would eat in the Great Hall and a dead tarantula was right in your pumpkin soup. Since first year, he had been mocking you and your closest friends, Harry, Ron and Hermione. And even if the most well-known rivalry was the one he had with Harry, yours was more personal.

That cloudy day of October he decided to throw bird notes at you in Transfiguration class that distracted you from paying attention. Some of the messages followed as:

“Hey Y/L/N, I bumped into the kitchen elves this morning, they were wondering why the dishes were not done. I told them you were probably busy eating all the leftovers.” “Hey Gryffindork, saw Longbottom is still free for the yule ball, maybe you can both live your pathetic little Gryffindor tale together. P.S. You could also ask Hagrid. Bet he’s free for you.”

Private. That’s the way you would describe Harry Potter in one word. You two were close, although not as close as he was with Ron, or as close as you were with Hermione. The fact that he was always bearing the prophecy of being the chosen one was something that would set you apart – mostly because you weren’t living it and he didn’t like to further explain. It was in third year that you surprised yourself with your body’s reaction to his presence. How you started to care about the way your laugh went out during a joke; you started to care about how your hair would fall when you were sitting at the library. You developed a crush on the boy. You never made a move; he never seemed to notice, nor reciprocate it, so you eventually desisted and focused your attention on other matters.

Those were the only two boys you would mostly communicate with, for better or worse. You didn’t particularly consider yourself an introvert, but you surely counted your acquaintances on a low number, especially when it came to boys. You also bared the weight of Hermione’s influence, who was surely not into boys’ talk, or boys in general. When you were with her, which happened to be most of the time, you followed her flow and ended up not particularly wondering about dating, or romantic feelings for the matter.

However, due to the debut of the Triwizard Tournament, there was a ball that was going to take place on the 25th of December. A ball that you needed a date for. Date that, after a week of having been announced, you still didn’t have. You hadn’t been worrying until Hermione had told you that she already had a date, with no other than Viktor Krum, the hottie of the year. And if even Hermione had already managed to find a partner, that meant that you were way behind.

“You have a date?!” asked Ron, very surprised.

“Yes Ronald, why that tone?” Hermione replied.

“Bloody hell, who are you going with?” he continued, still shocked.

“I’m not telling you, but I have one,” she pretentiously replied.

“’m sure you’re bluffing,” he insisted, grinning.

“I am not! Ask Y/N!”

“She’s not,” you simply replied.

“Just because you still don’t have a date, doesn’t mean I don’t get to have one,” she said. You noticed Ron’s reaction really got to her.

“I don’t have a date because I don’t want one just now.”

“Now you are the one who’s bluffing,” commented Harry.

“You gotta help me out here, mate,” Ron whispered to Harry.

“You’re pathetic Ronald Weasley,” added Hermione, furiously closing her notebook. She stood up from her seat, handing her homework to Professor Snape. “See you later, Y/N.” You waved goodbye at her.

“Bloody hell, this woman is so delusional. I bet she made that man up,” Ron continued after Hermione had left the classroom.

 “You’re too hard on her, Ron. Besides, she does really have a date,” you said, defending her.

“I already pity the man then,” he replied, focusing back on his homework.

You rolled your eyes but didn’t answer, also focusing on the task that was on the desk.

“For Merlin’ sake, I can’t focus. I’mma go, I’ll finish it in the dorm.” Ron stood up and exited the classroom.

“You’re probably gonna have to pass it to him,” you said to Harry.

“You bet on that,” he replied, grinning.

You focused back on your homework.

“Y/N,” uttered Harry.

“Yeah?”

“Well, I was wondering… if you want… well, I was just thinking… that if by any chance you… uh… still didn’t have a date… for the ball… you might… perhaps… wanna come… with me?”

You had a surprised grin on your face,

“Well, I mean, I thought you wanted to go with someone special… taking into consideration that you’re one of the champions,” you managed to say.

“Yes… that’s why I’m asking you,” he replied.

The entire scene unnerved you. You had been wanting to be asked out by Harry since third year, and now that he was starting to conceive your dynamic as more than friendship your feelings for the boy had already worn out.

Bloody Potter, always wrong timing.

“Can I give you a proper answer tonight?” you asked, knowing that you had to process things through before saying yes.

“Sure, yeah, no problem,” he replied.

You both smiled at each other and went back to the Potions’ homework.

It was almost time for supper but you were headed to the Great Lake to read for a few moments. Technically, you were forbidden from doing so. You meant technically, because being friends with Hagrid gave you some advantages, like a free pass to visit him and wander around. You also absolutely adored that time of the year, when the leaves were of warm tones and the chill breeze made you wear white turtle neck jumpers or jumpers that had the Gryffindor patch sewn in them.

You were comfortably reading under the shade of a tree when you started hearing boyish sounds. One of the voices you recognized belonged to a particular bleached boy.

“Woo-hoo, look who came to visit her giant boyfriend.” Draco approached you, followed by his sidekicks Crabbe and Goyle.

You didn’t even wait two seconds to get up and start packing your things.

“Leaving so soon? Are we bothering you?” He cockily started approaching you.

“Fuck off, Malfoy,” you replied, closing your bag.

“What do we have here, huh? Let me see,” he asked, referring to the book you were holding.

You held it tightly but he managed to pull it from you.

“The summer I met you, ha,” he snickered. “Romantic heart, wouldn’t have bet so from you Y/L/N.”

“Can I get it back?” you asked, pulling your arm forward.

He smiled at you. “Nah.” He threw the book into the lake.

His friends started woo-hing and laughing.

“You disgusting little rat,” you pulled out your wand and directed it towards him.

He was not laughing anymore, his sidekicks directing their wands toward you too.

“You cast something, we make sure you can’t walk again,” Goyle threatened you.

“It’s alright guys,” Draco said. “Just go.”

The boys seemed confused. “Who are you talking to?”

“You, idiots. Go!” Draco snapped.

The boys didn’t move.

“You heard him. Go!” you insisted.

They pulled back, confused, and eventually left.

Your wand was still on Draco’s neck.

“Easy now, lower you bloody wand,” he calmly said.

“You’re disgusting, Draco. I mean it.” Your blood was boiling. “You treat everyone like shit. I never did anything for you to hate me. I never asked for any of this, nor did anyone.”

“Go to the ball with me,” he said.

Your heart stopped.

What in the actual fuck?

“What?” you replied.

“I want you to go to the ball with me, if you want to,” he repeated. Your wand was still on his throat.

“Why would you want that?” That was the only thing you managed to say.

He placed his right hand on your wand and slowly put it down, without losing eye contact with you.

“Isn’t it obvious, after all this time?” he said.

“I’m lost, Draco. I have no idea what is going on,” you replied, ideas of him feeling the opposite of hate for you coming to your mind.

“You’re that blind, aren’t you?” he continued, placing one hand on your wrist.

You freezed at his contact.

“Why am I blind?” you were only able to ask stupid questions at that point.

He held your face with his left hand.

“So blind…” He got closer to your face, his eyes slowly closing.

You waited for the impact. And there you had it.

His lips slowly brushed yours, still not fully colliding.

“I’m crazy for you, Y/N,” he said with both of your faces glued to each other. “You can’t even fucking imagine.”

“Since when?” you replied.

“Since always.”

Magically annoying. Those are the words you would use to describe that moment.

part two

[lisbeth-kk]

Sherlock fandom

Getting the Numbers Right

I glare at Billy. The empty eye sockets glare back. 

“You’re nothing like John,” I tell him.

Billy stays silent. He often does. Especially after John moved in and I didn’t need him for a sound board anymore.

“No one is like John,” I mutter.

“How long has he been gone? Is she the one who will hold his attention longer than two dates?"

Billy’s mocking tone puts my nerves on edge.

“If I text him now, about a case, he will abandon her without a second thought,” I inform the obnoxious skull.

If Billy was still able to roll his eyes, this would be the moment for it.

“To answer your first question, he’s been gone for one hour and forty-seven minutes.”

“Trust you to know to the second how long he’s been out.”

I roll my eyes because I can, and huff loudly.

“Getting the numbers right is just a way to keep my brain occupied while I’m talking to you. Now, to your second question. This one, Jeanette? Lisa? Sarah? is number six in as many months. John looked exactly the same as he does before every second date he’s been on since he moved in here. My analysis will prove that he’ll end it. Tonight, or by text tomorrow.”

“You seem awfully sure about this. What if this one is the exception.”

It turned out that Billy was right for once.

***

“Alright, I’m off. See you in a week,” John says and hoists his bag over his shoulder. “Don’t forget to eat.”

“Why?” I mumble into the sofa cushion.

“Because I don’t want to come home to a corpse, you git,” John explains.

“Why bother coming home at all if you’re moving in with what’s-her-name anyway,” I protest.

A foreign sensation is starting in my throat. It thickens and something is burning behind my eyelids. 

“Sentiment!”

“Shut up, Billy!” I yell.

“Moving?” John asks incredulously. 

A thump startles me. John has dropped his bag to the floor, and his palm is warming my shoulder.

“Hey, what’s wrong, Sherlock?” John asks, clearly worried.

“Nothing. You’ll miss your train,” I say and curl in on myself, trying to shake off John’s hand without succeeding.

“You’re trembling,” John states and places his other palm on my forehead to check for fever.

“Am not,” I say, but something is wrong with my voice.

It’s hoarse because of my swollen throat. My nose fills with moisture, overflows, and my philtrum is suddenly soaked with snot. Both cheeks are wet with shed tears, which I evidently have an endless amount of. 

“Sherlock? Talk to me,” John pleads. “There’s clearly something bothering you.”

To my utter dismay, the tears keep flowing and my chest has started to ache. A sob is impossible to stifle. It’s a sound I haven’t heard myself produce since I was a child.

Another sound catches my ears. John is tapping on his phone. The absence of his warm hands is unsettling. I feel…bereft. To my relief it doesn’t last long. His strong fingers rake through my hair, and his other hand stroke my upper arm.

“I really wish I didn’t have to go, Sherlock, but this conference is…shit…look. I’m postponing my departure a few hours, and I won’t stay the whole week, just the three days that are inevitable, alright. But I need you to talk to me. Tell me what all this is about. And I swear, if this is just shamming…”

“It’s not,” I croak. “I’ve come to realise…you…John…I can’t…I won’t cope when you move…”

“Shh, now. No one is moving. Didn’t you deduce that I broke it off with Jeanette last month? You must stop talking to Billy. He’s an idiot,” John murmurs.

Strong arms turn me, but I can’t bear to look at John when my face is covered in snot and tears. Instead, I bury it in the crook of his neck, and the familiar scent instantly soothes me. My body goes limp, and the tears stop falling.

***

It’s a totally different experience when John prepares his second departure. He holds my head in his hands, looks me square in the eyes and talks softly.

“Keep busy. Count the days, minutes, seconds until I’m back if you must. Perform safe experiments. Eat. Stay hydrated. Text me if you need to. I won’t always be able to answer right away, but whenever I can, I will. We can talk when I’m finished for the day. Video calls. I’ll want to see you to know that you’re okay.”

He pulls me down and kisses me so tenderly, I’m tempted to start crying again. I hold the back of his head carefully and puts all my love for him into the kiss.

“I love you. I’ll miss you. Come back to me,” I murmur into his hair when we break the kiss and we’re holding each other tight.

“I will, Sherlock. I’ll miss you too. I always miss you when I’m not with you. Love you too. Now, start counting,” you say. 

You stroke my cheek, then leave. I start counting the seconds, minutes and days until we’re reunited.

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[daddysfangirls-dc]

The Ritual (Ch.5)

Damian Wayne x OC!Female

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Damian groaned as he tossed his arm over his eyes, blocking out the sun that slipped through the curtains. No doubt Kato's doing. He was a little shit like that. Lying in bed now, he thought about last night and his sibling's comments on his relationship. Laying in bed at Syn's house wasn't helping those comments.

He groans again as he sits up. They were right. He was currently in a bed that he claimed as his own in her house. Half his stuff was here. The only things missing were his pets. Oh, and to stop asking to come over. Yes, despite all the years together and the fact that he helped renovate and decorate, he still asked for permission to come over or spend the night.

Maybe he should talk to her.

He should talk to her.

-

"Good Morning," Syn said as Damian walked into the kitchen. She had already plated his food. " Kato is making his secret coffee." She put the plate in front of him—an omelette and some diced fruit.

"Thank you." Damian gives her a peck on the lips as he sits down.

"And Coffee," Kato said as he came out of the pantry with two cups of coffee, one for Syn and one "for the prince." He bowed, full 90, as he handed it to him. Damian rolled his eyes but thanked him.

"Thank you, Kato," Syn called, and he waved her off. She laughed. This was a normal occurrence when he came for breakfast. Syn would make it, Kato would make the coffee, and the two of them would eat at the table, and Kato would disappear to wherever.

While Kato was far more casual than Alfred, he still held the same values of servitude: no eating with the master (unless requested), keeping the house presentable, tending to the small things, taking care of the master, and claiming a domain in the manor, such as the garage or kitchen. The last two may not be true to servitude. Maybe it was just their living situation and the master's nightly occupation or upbringing.

He doubted normal bullets and maids spent nights stitching their charge, cleaning their wounds, and wiping their blood.

He doubted regular cooks ruled the kitchen like Alfred. His reign was so heavy and tight that even now, with most of his charges gone from his care, they still adhere to his dietary plans. And those who didn't hand gotten use to his voice of disappointment in their heads. Sometimes, the guilt would be enough to produce a healthy meal.

Kato wasn't normal either his domain was the garage he was incharg of the cars as well as any other gits and gadgets he made in their, such as the hidden coffee machine.

" Do you not like your eggs?" Syn asked. Her eyes narrowed on his food. She was already thinking about what else he could make for him.

"No, no. It's delicious," he proves by taking a few big bites. Nodding to demonstrate his enjoyment.

"Not so much, please. You'll choke." She placed a hand on his arm to slow him. "You appear to be lost in thought. Care to share? Perhaps I could help you find your way out, " she offered. He squeezed the hand on his arm gently, and his heart warmed by the gesture.

"Thoughts. I am lost in many thoughts. I can't seem to focus on one. Flowing between too many."

"Well, can I hear one?" she tilted her head to the side.

"I was comparing Kato and Alfred. They are very different yet similar," he said as he continued eating. He did not lie; it was delicious.

"How so?"

"Kato is more casual and carefree. While Alfred has always had an aura of properness and professionalism."

"Well, we are closer in age." Syn began to explain. " Plus, I encouraged his casualness; this is his home, too. I'd like him to lounge about like this is his too. I want him to be a friend." Truth be told, she simply wanted to be better than her parents with her servants. She wanted to have the same relationship Killua had managed with Canary before it was ruined. She wanted his loyalty to her and not her family.

"Alfred is family. Despite his constant properness, there are moments of familiarity. Not casual but understanding and affectionate. I was thinking about how he controls our diets. Whenever I stray in the slightest, I can hear his disapproval in the back of my head.

Similarly, Kato controls the garage and everything that comes out of it, including the cars."

In truth, Syn barely drove herself between Kato, Damian, and others; she had no need to touch a steering wheel. However, that didn't mean she knew how to drive. She was probably the best driver he knew.

"What brought these thoughts on?"

Putting his utensils down and pushing his plate aside, he folds his hands in front of him. Now was as good a time as ever. Syn sat up straight as she felt the tone shift. This was to be a serious conversation.

"Our relationship has shown significant progress in the last years. Despite how unorthodox it is, at least by Western standards. And I do believe it is time to discuss the next step."

Marriage. That was the first thing that crossed Syn's mind when she spoke of the next step. It was the logical next step, or at least the next step that her family was waiting for. By Western means, wedding planning took up to two years. It's a logical next step.

"Our current living situation."

Or not.

"I'd like to discuss the practicality of us living together. Of me moving in with you, here."

She laughed. She didn't know why, but she felt relieved. Damian, on the other hand, was suddenly feeling very self-conscious. She saw this and moved quickly to correct it.

"You don't have to ask. You have to ask. You're always welcome here."

"Still, we should discuss how this new living arrangement would work."

"Is this not working?" she motioned between them. He looked at her, confused.

" I don't understand. We are well."

"No, I mean this. How we're living now? All you really need to do is bring your pets and possibly some Robin gear. Everything else is already here." Syn said. " Damian, when we originally renovated and decorated the house. I did it hoping you'd be here one day and make it our forever home."

Damian bowed down slightly. "So, you wouldn't mind if I moved in?"

"I'd love it if you'd officially joined me here." She grabbed his hands and kissed them. Damian smiled, leaning across the table. He kissed her.

"Let's go get Titus."

"And Alfred, the cat."

[lulublack90]

Prompt 7 - Imaginary

@wolfstarmicrofic June 7, word count 999

Previous part First part

Remus dusted himself off and handed the envelope to James to read. He kept his head low, not wanting to see the look on Sirius’s face. James opened the envelope and pulled the first clue out.

“I’m majestic, but I tumble. I crash to the ground in a forceful cascade. I bounce from rocks and make a beautiful sound. Behind my wall clue number two calls.” James screwed up his face. “What the hell does that mean?” 

Remus replayed the words in his head again a few times. Cascade was the word that triggered his memory. 

“It’s a waterfall. Is there a waterfall nearby?” He looked at James and Peter, ignoring Sirius. 

“Yes!” Peter cried excitedly. They started walking further into the forest. He stuck to Peters's side as they made their way to wherever the waterfall was. He doubted his dad would come to pick him up, especially after only one day. Perhaps there was room in one of the other cabins? 

“Here we are,” James bounded forward, pushing a low-hanging branch out of the way and revealing a small pool with a little waterfall flowing into it. “Who wants to get it?” 

“I’ll go,” Sirius volunteered. Remus flicked his eyes at him as he spoke and wished he hadn’t. Sirius was pulling off his t-shirt. Remus had to bite his tongue to stop the moan that wanted to escape at the sight of the muscled porcelain torso Sirius revealed. He accidentally met Sirius’s eyes and felt the hot flush spreading across his face and immediately dropped his head, so he was staring at the scuffed toes of his boots. 

Sirius waded across the shallow pool and plunged his hand behind the waterfall. He pulled it back, grasping an envelope in a plastic bag. 

Remus couldn’t help himself. He peeked again and Sirius was waiting for him. He had a soft smile on his face and he winked at him. Remus swallowed and looked away again. 

“Here,” Sirius passed the clue to James while he retrieved his t-shirt. He came to stand beside Remus as he pulled it over his head. He took Remus’s hand but ignored the way he tensed. 

Remus’s mind was spinning at a hundred miles an hour. But he had to block out all his thoughts as James read the second clue. 

“I grow from decay. I don’t need the sun. Fairies use me to make shapes in the grass. I am also popular in arts and crafts. Under my cap is clue number three. At the end, you'll soon be.”

“Gods who wrote these clues, they're terrible.” Sirius rolled his eyes. "It’s clearly a mushroom,” James’s eyes brightened as he figured out where they needed to go. 

“They have those wooden mushrooms over by the bug houses.” He grinned wildly and strode back to the path. 

“Come on then,” Sirius said, “We can talk later, okay?” His soft smile was back and Remus didn’t trust himself to talk, so he nodded and let Sirius lead him away. 

“They did this on purpose. Giving us all the grim places to find clues.” Peter grimaced at the towers of compost, filled with worms, the bee houses and little bug dens. Remus wasn’t a fan of bugs, and it appeared that neither were the others. 

“Sorry, Pete,” Sirius said solemnly.

“For what?” Peter asked, confused.

“This,” Sirius said with a sigh. He dropped Remus’s hand and pushed Peter into the bug-infested area.

“You absolute git!” Peter groused as he stomped over the mushrooms and ripped the envelope from beneath the middle one. “Here,” He thrust the envelope into James’s chest. “You owe me,” He glared at Sirius as he flicked imaginary centipedes from his trousers. 

“Anything you want, Pete,” Sirius agreed, slipping his hand into Remus’s again. 

“I’m grainy and gritty and just a little bit bitty. You use me to make castles. I am walked upon by many camels. You may track time with me, but I do not tick. To win you need to figure this out quick!” James read the final clue. 

“Castles and time?” Sirius was absentmindedly stroking Remus’s wrist again, as they all thought. It wasn’t helping Remus figure out the clue though. 

“Oh, Oh, Oh, I know what it is!” Peter yelped gleefully as he jumped up and down. “It’s sand! As in by the lake!” They took off at a run. 

They were the first ones there. 

“Split up, we can cover more ground that way,” James ordered. Sirius pulled a face and reluctantly released Remus’s hand. They ran along the sand looking for any signs of something that shouldn’t be there. 

Luckily, there wasn’t much accessible sand for them to search. 

“AHHHH!” Peter yelled. They all spun to look in his direction. Peter was sprawled face down in the sand. 

“Peter! What happened?!” James shouted as he rushed across the beach towards his fallen friend. 

“I tripped over something.” Peter groaned as he rolled over and sat up. James brushed the sand aside where Peter had tripped. He looked up grinning. 

“Peter, your clumsiness just won us the treasure hunt.” James brushed more sand away and revealed a small treasure chest. James pulled it from the sand as three other teams came pushing and shoving onto the sand at the edge of the lake. 

“Damn it, Gryffindor won.” One of the boys from the cabin with a snake on it huffed. “Typical,” 

“Congratulations Gryffindor cabin,” McGonagall congratulated, appearing from nowhere. “Please open the chest to claim your reward.” 

James passed the chest to Remus. 

“Go on, it’s your first time here.” Remus gingerly took the chest from James. He looked at Sirius and Peter for their consent. They both nodded at him. 

“Go on,” Sirius said gently to him. He opened it. It was filled with gold coins. He lifted a few and let them drop back into the box. 

“They’re chocolate!” He laughed loudly, picking one up he peeled off the gold-coloured foil and took a bite.

Next part