#bill - brown jumper

[lexithwrites]

Please more sugardaddy moonwater hcs. Pls!!

this might get long sorry (but this is kinda what i wanna write next so pls give me feedback) xoxo

they met through a sugar daddy website that james showed to remus one night (he's on it and is absolutely not telling him that he's met a guy)

remus is so embarrassed at first, he was on tinder like twice and had bad dates because of it so he isn't exactly confident this will work but he does get a lot of attention

he gets messages from kinda old guys, and a few older women, that are either way too pushy with what they want in return for an 'allowance' or just kinda creepy and he almost deletes it

then he gets a message off of someone young, maybe his age, and he's gorgeous

remus is so sure its a scam, no one can look that good and be on an app like this but he messages them anyway when they say hi first, and he asks about them and the guy is regulus arcturus black (he gives his full name, he's a loser) and he's literally just looking for company and someone to spend money on, nothing in return, he doesn't need it

remus is kinda shook because like what?? how is this guy lonely he must have friends but turns out regulus just has rich friends that can buy their own things, he doesn't have anyone to spend time with other than when he goes to family events which he hates

and remus is like okay,,,,maybe drinks first and regulus sends him the location of probably the nicest bar in london and remus is close to passing out because he cannot afford this at all but he said he'd go

he wears his nicest outfit (its a brown jumper and some nice trousers and his converse, he cant afford anything else rn because his cat started a hunger strike against the food he's had for a year and remus had to upgrade, kids eh?)

regulus is already there because he is never a minute late, and checking his rolex thinking he's been stood up but remus runs in like 'hi im so sorry i missed the train hi' and regulus is in love already, just straight up his heart starts hammering in his chest because not only is remus gorgeous in a weird, dorky way but he's just...he's adorable

regulus is calm tho, think levi ackerman levels of expression, he just kinda sits there arms folded and asks remus questions about his life and what he would like as an allowance and remus is just,,,confused?

he asks why regulus wants to spend his money on him and regulus insists he's bored (he's so fucking lonely and wants someone around him to dote on) and just needs a date to events as his parents are giving him shit for being single at 26

remus is unsure but decides fuck it, james can probably throw hands if regulus tried anything, and they agree to attend some gala together for regulus' family and remus says he'll have to get new clothes and regulus then sets up a date the next day to buy him an outfit and its a lil montage of regulus giving remus clothes to try its very cute

and is remus confused and guilt ridden for this man spending money on him? yeah, duh, but also he doesn't have to pay his bills anymore, he has amazing clothes, his stress levels are so fucking low than before, and he likes regulus....he really really likes him

and regulus is getting what he wants, but also he has remus lupin as eye candy and that's an added bonus, and god remus is so adorable and nerdy and he wants to climb him like a tree

also yes remus sees james at the event and he's like what the fuck are you doing here and turns out james is with HIS sugar daddy, aka regulus' brother and its a whole ordeal

and maybe one night regulus invites remus to stay with him for the night because its too late to get the train and he doesn't really want to let remus go and maybe they drink wine and maybe they touch just to see what its like and maybe MAYBE they kiss and make out and fuck slow and deep and then AND THEN—

i might write more if people like this idk,,,,

[ghostofbambifanfiction]

Under the cut: a snippet from another random Jily oneshot I started a while back and have never been arsed to finish.

There are terrible venues at which to stage a first date, and then there's a noodle canteen.

Admittedly, a noodle canteen is not the worst place for a first date—his mate Peter once brought a girl to a family funeral—but it is the worst kind of restaurant.

Reason one of two: James can't even order the fucking noodles that the aforementioned noodle canteen is known for. He is not particularly skilled in the art of using chopsticks, and even on a fork, noodles have a pesky habit of sliding off and spattering sauce everywhere, which is a first date Don't. A first date faux pas. A first date tragedy. James only ever goes to this place for its teriyaki salmon soba, but the risk to his shirt and his dignity is too great.

He orders the spicy miso mackerel instead, which comes with brown rice and is tasty, but decidedly not salmon-esque.

Reason two of two: it's a noodle canteen. He and his date aren't sequestered away at a private table, where any other major mistake on his part might go unnoticed by all but the woman he's with, but jammed right at the end of a busy public bench. To James's left sits a man who could easily be found walking calmly away from an explosion in a major Hollywood blockbuster, manoeuvring chopsticks through his own noodles with silky expertise while he listens to his stunning girlfriend talk about some prick from her work, who sounds like a right sort; not that James is eavesdropping, or at least, he'll deny it if anyone asks.

Point is, he's a little off his game.

All right, he's a lot off his game. He's several miles off his game. He'll need to take the Eurostar if he ever hopes to reach the vicinity of his game, but that would leave him in France, which is the only scenario that could make this evening worse.

At the very least, it's warm here in the restaurant. It's colder than his vegetable crisper outside.

"Is your food good?" he asks Chloë from Hinge.

Chloë from Hinge, who suggested the noodle canteen in the first place, pops a generous forkful of kimchee into her mouth and shrugs. "Yeah, it's alright."

James tries not to be put off by the fact that she's speaking to him through a wide-open mouthful of fermented cabbage. Or that they both promised to wear Christmas jumpers on this date and she turned up in a silver halter dress instead.

He wonders if she's spoken through a wide-open mouthful of fermented cabbage because she wants to put him off.

It's not beyond reason to think it. Chloë's interest in James appears to have waned since she asked him for his astrological sign over their gyoza starters and replied, "Wow, huge red flag" upon learning that he is Aries, and with such blunt distaste that he's still not sure if she was joking, because she did not clarify her position during the awkward silence that followed. Everything has been weird since then, with James feeling forced by circumstance to supply most of the conversation while she's stared at him with glazed-over eyes, has not asked to see a single picture of his cat, and winced when she learned that he shares a flat with his brother.

Is that a bad thing, sharing a flat with one's brother at his age?

James is only twenty-five, which is practically the first flush of youth and not nearly old enough to cross the roommate-having threshold that separates "pushing it" from "downright embarrassing." The downright embarrassing age is forty, which he thought everyone knew.

Besides, Sirius hasn't yet learned to function properly without him. He'd forget to take his vitamins and wouldn't set up standing orders to pay his bills, if he didn't live with James. He wouldn't know to separate whites from darks when he laundered his clothes—or maybe he wouldn't launder his clothes, just purchase more clothes whenever they grew dirty. James has had to learn to handle all of that stuff because he lives with Sirius. In many ways, it has been excellent practice for fatherhood, which should count as a plus in his favour. Chloë's profile says she wants to have kids.

And while James is hard-wired to believe that, when it comes to women, he must be the one to blame when things go wrong… he's starting to think that Chloë might be the problem.

He's really not sure what's happened. She called him fit a bunch of times on Hinge, where they got along quite well.

Now she seems annoyed to be here.

If he could, he'd ask the too-attractive and intelligent-seeming couple next to him for their thoughts on the matter, but they're happily enjoying their cherry blossom lemonades and the woman (who is eating teriyaki salmon soba, an extra rub of salt in the wound) has already slanted one-too-many pitying half-smiles in his direction. So she probably thinks the fault all lies with him.

"It's bloody cold out there, isn't it?" he offers, which is just pathetic, really. The weather was the first topic they touched on when they sat down, but she's not been buying anything else he's selling, so here they are again.

His other option is to explain the work that goes into taking care of the adult toddler he lives with, but he doubts that she'll be interested.

"Freezing," Chloë replies, addressing her cabbage.

"Makes me wish I was on a beach somewhere."

"Yeah. That'd be nice."

"Last time I was on holiday I was with my family in Greece. One day it was so hot my mum said you could fry an egg on the ground, so we tried it—my brother and I—but it barely wound up partially cooked," he starts to ramble. "She was all grouchy when we told her about it, said we shouldn't take her words so literally, but she's a chef, so I personally think she was mad that we'd found a chink in her knowledge."

"Mmm," his date agrees. Then she drops her chopstick on the table with an ungainly clatter. "D'you mind if I go to the toilet?"

Freedom! his mind sings. Whole MINUTES of sweet freedom from this torture! "Go right ahead."

Chloë doesn't need telling twice. She slides off the edge of the bench and unfurls at speed, rising to her high-heeled feet with the slightest wobble and shouldering her purse. James watches her retreating back as she hurries away, thankfully (or tragically) in the direction of the toilets, rather than the exit.

He's not sure how he feels about that.

As humiliating as it would be to get ditched in a noodle canteen, the relief of ending this night early would almost be worth the trouble.

With a laboured sigh, he pushes both hands through his rumpled hair once, then bows his head over the long table in a move reminiscent of a lonely Ken, one elbow on either side of his plate, cradling his forehead with the tips of his fingers.

The sooner he gets out of here…

"Sounds like your mother wound up with egg on her face," quips the beefcake.

James lifts his head from his hands at once.

"Oh god, Kingley," the beefcake's stunningly pretty girlfriend (James can only assume she's his girlfriend, like calls to like and all that) groans, regarding him with disgust. "That was too cheesy to stomach, I'm leaving right now."

The beefcake ignores her and twists in his seat to face James. "You know that your date's not interested, yeah?"

"I'd gleaned that."

"I mean it's been painful to witness. Hasn't it?" The beefcake (Kingsley?) turns back around to solicit his companion's opinion, but she merely (kindly?) rolls her eyes and tosses a lock of red hair behind her shoulder with great delicacy and grace. "Just awkward as arse. I'm almost queasy thinking about it."

[bullet-prooflove]

Worth Waiting For: David Hale x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @hatersaremymotivators @bennykk @kelpies-shed

Companion piece to Graffiti & Crime Wave

David is being stood up, he’s sure of it and so is the waiter who drifts past him for the third time with a sympathetic expression on his features. He’s been sitting in the bistro for almost forty five minutes and you still haven’t showed up. He’s tried to call you but it just goes straight to voicemail. He should have known better. A girl like you and a guy like him…

Yea, it was never going to happen.

You’re fun, bright, vibrant and he’s…

The type of guy that turns up fifteen minutes early because if you’re on time you’re late.

He takes his wallet out of his pocket and puts a few bills underneath his empty soda glass before raising to his feet and heading towards the door. It’s a thirty minute drive back to Charming and he’s not looking forward to being alone with his thoughts.

It’s when he gets out onto the street that you run into him literally. You’re wearing a beige, cable knit jumper over black, high waisted trousers. Your hair is pulled back into a messy bun, loose tendrils fall around your features. His breath hitches because  truly you are the most striking woman he’s ever laid eyes on.

The brown, leather portfolio slips from underneath your arm, spilling paper out across the street. You curse loudly and he can’t help but smile because you’ve always had a little spitfire in you. He crouches down to help you gather them up, noticing as a pink flush creeps across your cheeks.

“Sorry, I’m such a mess today.” You say as you try to gather up the paperwork. “My professor wanted to talk to me after class, by the time I got out my piece of shit phone battery had died. I’m surprised you’re still here…”

“I thought you stood me up.” He admits as he tries to sort the documentation into some sort of order.

“No,” You say shaking your head as you raise to your feet trying to jam the paperwork back into your portfolio. “I was really looking forward to tonight. I’m sorry I know I fucked it up, we won’t make the movie…”

You’re spinning out a little, he can see it. He thinks the conversation with your professor has knocked you off kilter. He has some idea of what you discussed, he guesses it’s to do with the brochure for the San Franisco Art Institute he’s currently holding in his hand.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks you, handing the brochure back to you. “Over dinner with me?”

Your eyes flicker up to meet his and in that moment you realise what he’s giving you. A safe space to work through your feelings, to talk through the opportunity you’ve been presented with. You’ve never had that with a man before, you’ve never wanted it but David, he’s not like those boys you’ve run around with in the past. He gets you in a way that no one else has. He actually wants to listen to you, to understand you.

“I know it can be overwhelming, suddenly having options.” He says as he guides you back towards the bistro. “Options you may have thought were previously out of your reach.”

His palm comes to rest on your lower back as he holds open the door for you. The scent of your perfume floods his senses, dark cherry with a warm amber undertone. It’s a sensual aroma, one that makes him think of summer.

You pause before you head inside, raising up on tiptoes before you press your mouth to his. The kiss is soft, tender. David has never felt something so sweet.

“Thank you.” You say softly, your fingertips ghosting over his cheek. “For waiting for me.”

He smiles as he clasps your hand to his face, his lips brushing over the pulse point of your wrist as he looks into your eyes and says.

“I have a feeling you’re worth waiting for.”

Love David? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[tomjamesavery]

Some Harry Potter Characters I made with AI based on the description and prompt from @breaniebree for her story ASC

They are far from perfect, some better, some worse, but it was a try lol

The first two are Remus Lupin with the prompt:

"A 35 year old nice looking man called Remus lupin looking like Andrew Garfield with scars and a bit of stubble, whiskey coloured eyes and light brown short hair in a brown vintage suit looking like a professor

Then then the third and fourth are Sirius Black with the prompt:

"A 35 year old cool looking man called Sirius Black looking like Joe Manganiello with dark stubble, grey eyes and perfect long black hair pulled back in a tank top"

With those two I am not too satisfied.

Then then the fifth and sixth are Nymphadora Lupin Tonks with the prompt:

"A 25 year old cool looking woman called Nymphadora Tonks looking like Keira Knightley with grey eyes and short pink hair"

Also not too sure about those

Then then the seventh and eighth are Ron Weasley with the prompt:

"A 20 year old happy looking man called Ron Weasley looking like Matt Milne with blue eyes and short orange-red hair in red jumper"

I also tried Abraxas Malfoy (Lucius' father) with the prompt:

"A 50 year old evil man looking like Sebastian Roché called Malfoy with a sharp pointed face with a perfectly coiffed short beard and long silver hair pulled back in dark robes, dark gloomy,"

I also tried Bill Weasley but those I am not really too fond of as well:

"A 25 year old man called Bill Weasley looking like Johnny Harrington with a beard, blue eyes and long orange-red hair pulled back"

And just for fun I made Tom Riddle as well, one young and one old before his first demise:

Young: "A 25 year old evil man called Tom Riddle with a sharp pointed face and short dark hair, dark eyes, dark robes, dark, gloomy"

Old: "A 60 year old evil man called Tom Riddle with a sharp pointed sunken face and with short salt and pepper hair, dark eyes, dark robes, dark, gloomy"

All Credit for the Character Info goes to @breaniebree

Check out her stories ASC and TFTA where these Characters are in:

ASC: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12924292/1/A-Second-Chance

TFTA: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/14061727/1/The-First-Time-Around

[the-fiction-witch]

Lil Lady

Media - Godless (Netflix) Character - Whitey Winn (Teenager) Couple - Whitey X Reader Reader - Y/n (Teenager) Rating - Smut Word Count - 2396

(Underage 17 Year Olds! Warning!! This was requested! and I did look it up New Mexico which is where Laballe is in 1888 the AOC was 16 but still I added a warning!)

I grabbed my jacket from the hook beside the door, slipping the brown leather over myself, I grabbed my hat, pushed back my hair and sat it on my head, giving my upper lip a slight stroke to keep the hair presentable.

“Alright… night Sheriff,” I told him,

“Night whitey, careful in your walk home,” Bill told me from his desk,

“I'll be fine,” I answered as I pulled open the door headed out the sheriff's office, and began making my way down the porch, little did he know. I ain't going home.

I snuck my way across town doing my best not to be spotted by anyone who might rat me out before I arrived at the stables, I fixed my gun belts, my shirt and my face giving my breath a check before I snuck inside. I walked the hay and straw-covered floor passing the few horses in for the night, giving my horse Ted a rub on the nose as I passed him. Before I walked to the last stable merely used for storage and that's where I saw her.

Y/n stood fixing some of the hay into a make shift-cosy corner in her usual boots, stockings, little purple dress, her Y/H/C hair in a sweet updo, her little skin glimmering in the light of the lantern hung above, she hummed to herself a little as she worked.

I let my smirk grow and tipped my hat a little up my head before leaning my arm on the stable doorway, I parted my lips and wolf-whistled at her.

"Phhuuwwweeeeet-Phheeew!"

She stood and turned to face me her hand on her hip, "Evening,"

"Evenin' Y/n" I smirked back,

"What are you doing here Deputy Winn?" she teased,

"Humm, well just lookin' after Labelle lil lady," I teased her back, "Why? what are you doin' here?"

"Nothing much," she shrugged, "Just wonderin' if I may get a visit from a handsome deputy boy tonight?"

"Well that depends, don't it? Your daddy know you're out?"

"No," she cooed coming closer,

"Humm, You let anyone see ya on the way?"

"No," she came even closer,

"Hummm... Ya fancy a roll in the hay with the deputy?"

"Mhm," she now stood within my reach,

"Well then, one last question lil lady," I smirked wrapping my arms around her waist,

"Yes, whitey?" she giggled wrapping her arms around my neck,

"Ya think ya can be quiet?" I smirked rubbing the tip of my nose on hers,

"Never." she shook her head,

"That's my girl," I smirked pulling her into a hot and heavy kiss, "Ummm I've missed ya, lil lady," I kissed her passionately stroking my hands over that perfect body, she kissed me harder and clawed her nails at the back of my jumper, I eagerly pulled back lifting her up under her thighs and laying her down in the hay with me sitting over her with my legs either side of her, I smirked and began slipping my jumper off, before unbuttoning every button of the shirt but keeping it on just in case we got disturbed, quickly returning to her lips holding her face in my hand as we kissed. She stroked her hand down to my belt "Impaient tonight lil lady," I cooed,

"I've missed you," she pouted squirming her little hips against the hay,

"Have ya now? Humm well your daddy has kept my lil lady locked up in that big old house without me to take care of her. Not surprised you're a little... desperate for me Y/n," I smirked as I pulled off my belts, she took no time to grab my hands and moved them to the hem of her dress, I reconnected our lips and slowly pulled up her dress pushing higher and higher to her waist, as our tounges began to explore one another's mouths my hands trailed down luckily feeling her stockings where only thigh highs so I didn't need to tug them down, I grabbed her thighs giving them a good squeeze which made her gasp, I had to admit I stopped and admired her lower body. I kissed her neck and kissed down her chest squeezing her breast through her dress, "fuck ya feel so good!" I groaned but forced me back to her lips by my hair and grabbed me by the hem of my trousers forcing the gap between us to close.

"Ummmm ya really have missed me lil lady." I growled quickly, undoing them and pulling out my hard shaft, stroking her hand across myself tenderly so I knew I was at my best for her, "uhhhh!" I gasped my head throwing back a little, she smirked and opened her legs wide stroking her pussy almost invitingly and I sure as hell didn't need to be told twice, I held the base of my shaft to guide myself expecting some difficulty given I hadn't used my hands or my mouth for her but she was soaked! I slipped in so easily you'd think I'd have been eating her out for three hours! But she felt so good! Everything I have ever wanted to feel around me! Uhh, I admit I think I went a bit crazy "Ughhh! Y/n! lil lady! Ummmm! Ya so wet... Ummmm ya must have been beggin' for me," I groaned, I wasted no time to absolutely fucking destroy her! we both tried to be quiet but often let small groans and moans slip often kissing just to keep quiet, which only made me want to be harder and more intense, I knew I was close ... "Y/n... Lil lady, please... Uhhhh! I need ya!" I whined kissing her neck and leaving her with a few hard hickeys

"a little longer whitey... please," she gripped my arms and started to dig her nails into my skin,

"umm yeah? ya close ya need me lil lady, we both know ya need me as bad as I need ya, come on... just a lil scream for me? Maybe your daddy might hear ya and see his cute little daughter getting fuckin' raw dogged by the town deputy" I growled making sure to keep going I knew I was so desperate biting my lip and squeezing my eye shut trying to do hard not to cum just yet but I didn't have to wait long as she tightened around me and squirting down onto the hay squealing in my ear not loud enough to be heard outside the stable but that nose was enough to take me over the edge, "uuuuuuuhhh-uuughhhh!" I buried myself as deep inside her as possible my hips jerking in odd angles beyond my control "fuck -" I gasped, "I love ya, Y/n..."

"I love you too whitey," she giggled a little we both laughed and shared a sweet kiss before we cuddled up in the pile of hay.

I sat at my desk fiddling with an old dented bullet I found lying around, tossing and rolling it between my fingers without much of a thought as Bill sat at his own desk doing ... I don't know, I didn't ask.

Suddenly the office door flew open and immediately I knew something was up, it was Y/n's father he marched in and glanced around the office until he saw me.

“You little bastard.” He yelled before he grabbed me by the jumper and forced me from my seat lifting me like I was nothing and tossing me onto the hard dusty dirt outside, of course, I yelled and everyone began to crowd around. “You really think you are gonna get away with this. You dirty little bastard. After what you did to my daughter!” He yelled as he began kicking me hard in the stomach so much so that I coughed blood, without even a chance to get to my gunbelt.

“Daddy stop please!” Y/n begged him as he forced him away from me, “Please Daddy it wasn't his fault.”

“No! Not his fault he knocked you up!”

“I what!” I coughed,

“You knocked my baby girl up! She's seventeen you pervert!”

“So am I!” I choked out not sure why I thought that would help me but my head was spinning and I was very much in pain,

“You little fucker I'll kill you!” He yelled grabbing one of my guns and pointing it at me,

“No! Daddy please!” Y/n screamed,

“Drop the weapon!” Bill demanded pointing his shotgun at her father's head,

“Are you okay whitey?!” she came to comfort me holding my head in her hands,

“Just peachy lil lady” I groaned as she slowly helped me to sit up,

“Thanks for waitin' till after I got the shit kicked out of me,” I complained,

“You knocked her up whitey I ain't stopping her daddy kicking your head in,” Bill said,

“That's fair.” I sighed,

“drop it, sir.”

“He knocked up my daughter I'm blowing his brains out” her father yelled,

“Whitey may be a very very stupid boy and believe me you are well within your rights to kick the shit out of him however. That is my deputy and you pull that trigger, I'm pulling this one we clear?”

He groaned but dropped my gun,

“Look… I know I fucked up, but I promise ya I never meant to get Y/n in trouble. And … I know we're young but I'm more than happy to marry her. Help her through all this. Raise our little one together” I cooed holding her hand,

“You mean it whitey?”

“Course I do, I love ya lil lady, and I love our lil baby too,” I told her I tried to kiss her but he grabbed her by her hair and dragged her away, "Y/n!" I screamed in panic grabbing my gun from the ground, "Let her go." I demanded,

"How I discipline my slut of a daughter is no concern of yours," he told me,

"Whitey put it down," Bill demanded,

"Yeah... problem is, you just told me she's pregnant. means you're manhandling the mother of my child and the baby inside her! let her go, or I will blow your fucking brains out."

"You don't have the nerve," her father smirked,

I pulled the hammer back on my gun aiming it squarely in the centre of his forehead, "Try me."

He let her go so I lowered my gun,

"You are not to see my daughter again,"

"But I-"

"I don't care! You are not to see my daughter ever again!" He demanded, "You are not to see her, look at her, think about her,"

"She's pregnant, let me do the right thing and marry her. I promise I'll take care of her."

"You've done enough!"

"Then what about the baby, My child! You expect me to never look at them?"

"Trust me, they won't be staying here not near you." He said, "Y/n come on. Home."

"Daddy please I-" she began,

"Now!" he demanded,

"I- I'm sorry whitey," she said between her tears,

"Y/n... Lil lady please..." I begged her, but she followed her father.

I did my best not to be discovered as I stood around the side of the house, I held my breath watching as the door slammed shut and her father headed down the porch and towards the Labelle saloon, as soon as he was gone I smirked and climbed up the wall into the window. Where she was sitting in bed in her cute little white maternity dress with her little baby bump, she sat on her bed knitting and I almost wanted to cry.

"Awww Lil lady, ya look so adorable!" I cooed,

"Hi whitey," she giggled,

"Come here," I cooed sitting on her bed and peppering her face with kisses, "and come here you," I cooed kissing her bump, "aww hello lil one, I know I know daddy missed ya too," I whined,

"he's been kicking all day missing his daddy,"

"I know, I know I'm sorry. I wish your father went out more often. I feel like I've barely seen ya,"

"I know, I keep trying to make him go out,"

"I wish I could come cuddle ya every day, I miss our little one so much."

"I do too," she smiled, "I know you'd want your head glued to my belly Whitey,"

"Course I do, I wanna hear and feel every inch our lil one moves," I cooed peppering her tummy with kisses, "Last time I was here he was half this size,"

"I know, he's getting bigger every day,"

"He'll be arriving soon," I cooed, "Y/n..."

"Yes, whitey?"

"I know we have both been tryin' to talk to your father..." I sighed, "And neither of us is gettin' anywhere with him we've tried everythin' we can. And ya know the moment the baby comes, he'll pack ya up and send ya off east with your aunt." I told her holding her bump and looking into her beautiful Y/e/C eyes,

"I know..." she said sadly stroking her bump,

"But I have an idea,"

"An idea?"

"Pack ya stuff, lil lady." I cooed,

"What?!"

"Pack up, take everythin' we need, load Ted up and head off west, buy ourselves a bit of land with our savin's and raise our baby together. I couldn't be happier, a little place with my lil lady, my lil baby." I cooed, "We can start our life together as soon as the baby comes, just come with me. And I'll marry ya first chapel we find on the road!"

"Whitey do... do you mean it?"

"I mean it!" I kissed her forehead, "Just come with me,"

"...yes." She gasped,

"You- Ya will!"

"I will, help me pack up things for baby and we'll be gone before he gets home."

"Let's do this lil lady," I cooed kissing her sweet lips,

We packed up her room with all her little dresses, her trinkets and all the little things for the baby. I packed myself up and we loaded up our bags onto Ted, I helped Y/n up onto the horse and I climbed on behind her my hands taking the reins and sitting on her thighs, often stroking her baby bump,

"Ya need to stop just tell me?"

"I will," she nodded,

"You ready lil lady?"

"I'm ready," she cooed, "Let's go,"

"Let's go." I nodded, "I love ya, Y/n,"

"I love you too Whitey,"

We shared a gentle kiss and I gave Ted a gentle kick and we started off on a slow walk out of Labelle and away to a whole new future together.

[pollenallergie]

Hello!! Can I request for a Billy Knight smut please? One where he has struggled to show affection and now that he's getting better he wants to touch you all the time. You'd let him, and one day when you're out of the shower and watching TV he randomly says that he wants to explore every part of you and you happily oblige because you love him. Please and thank you

of course!! thank you so much for this request!! sorry it's taken me so long to reply to it, but, well... i may have gone a lil overboard with my response. oopsies. also, i took quite a few creative liberties with this one, but i hope you still like it!!! <3

thank you so, so much to @hahahafucku and @punk-in-docs for beta-reading this!!! you're the best!!! <3

CW: pretty much just fluffy smut and some swearing, female ejaculation (squirting), billy gives the reader a massage (idk if anyone would find that triggering, but i'll include it just in case), the reader's gender is not specified but they do have stereotypically-female anatomy (boobs and a vagina…. dw i don’t call them that in the fic).

Word Count: about 8.8k

18+ only!!

side note: this is my first time writing smut in a longggg time, so pls be gentle lol

The evening starts like any other. You’re huddled up on the sofa, still in your work clothes, watching a nature documentary, images of seal pups adorably paddling about in the arctic waters flashing on the telly. At the same time, your boyfriend, Billy, is in the other room, changing into comfy clothes, having just gotten out of the shower mere moments ago. You figure you should probably have a shower as well now that he’s done, but you find it hard to leave your cosy spot on the sofa. It’s one of those nights where departing from the warm, cushiony furniture seems to be the most challenging feat known to man. 

Just as you’ve begun to summon the motivation to leave your comfy seat and fascinating documentary behind, your partner suddenly emerges from your shared bedroom wearing his favourite jumper and a pair of joggers. Billy wastes no time joining you on the sofa, immediately plopping down next to you and snuggling close. He curls his limbs round you like a vine as he clings to you and nuzzles his head into the juncture of your neck and shoulder. The feeling of his cold, wettish hair against your otherwise warm skin sends a shiver up your spine. Still, you can’t find it in yourself to complain, not when he’s so openly showering you with affection, something he struggled to do early on in your relationship.

“Hey, Kill Bill,” you say, fondly giggling at his antics. Billy snorts at the eccentric moniker. 

“Hi, lovey,” he greets you in return. 

“You alright?” You ask, amusement evident in your tone, as he clings onto you tightly and nuzzles into you, clearly needing to be impossibly closer to you.

“Missed you today,” he whines petulantly, pouting as if you haven’t been home for hours now. He even goes so far as to briefly remove his face from its hiding spot to flash you an adorable pout. 

“I missed you too, handsome,” You admit, your tone tinted with amusement as you rake a hand through his soft, damp hair. The feeling of your fingers toying with his strands causes him to purr as he leans down to rest his head on your chest. 

“How was work?” Billy asks as he idly toys with the buttons on your blouse, always needing something to do with his hands. 

You heave out a massive, dramatic sigh, your chest deflating with the force of it, as you fix him with a pout of your own and pitifully reply, “Was absolutely exhausting, bub.”

“Yeah?” He asks, looking up at you with his big, brown doe eyes. Maybe your mind is playing tricks on you after such a long day, but you think you can spot a little hopeful gleam in his gaze. 

“Yeah, my neck and shoulders are killing me from being hunched over at my desk all day,” you complain, shamelessly fishing for your boyfriend’s sympathetic affection. 

He offers a mere hum of acknowledgment as he nudges the collar of your blouse to the side so that he can place a warm, chaste kiss on the spot where your neck slopes down into your shoulder. “Think I know what could help with that,” Billy confesses softly, his tone hushed but, surprisingly, not the least bit bashful. 

“Yeah?” You ask, your breath catching in your throat as he trails kisses up towards your jaw, each kiss sloppier than the last. “What might that be?”

“Y’could let me touch you,” he huskily replies whilst continuing to smatter kisses across your flesh, “let me take care of you,” he adds finally, whispering the words into your ear before nuzzling his face back into the juncture of your neck and shoulder. 

As incredibly enticing as that sounds, you’re a bit insecure about letting him pamper you in this state; still slightly sweaty from your walk home and completely knackered from a long day at work. You sigh and reluctantly tell him, “I can’t, babe, not right now. I’ve gotta shower.” 

Billy, however, seems entirely undeterred, continuing to lavish your neck with passionate kisses as he hoarsely replies, “Y’smell alright to me,” he then loudly, and a bit dramatically, sniffs you, as if proving his point, which causes you to let out an amused huff. 

Billy then pulls away to face you, fixing you with the softest, sweetest smile and the most adoring gaze you’ve ever seen. He places a chaste kiss on the tip of your nose and murmurs, “I’ll help you shower when we’re done. Please, let me make you feel good, baby. Want to touch every part of my pretty petal.” 

The way he says that, with more than a hint of yearning, makes it seem like he intends to explore you, and the way his hands begin to roam your body seems to confirm your assumption. And, just like that, he’s won you over completely. You find yourself easily, willingly giving into your mutual desires once again. Though, you never really stood much of a chance at actually refusing him; you love and trust him too much to do anything but spoil him, especially since he has a habit of spoiling you too. 

You rake your hands through his damp hair again, gently scratching his scalp in a way that never fails to make him melt, inadvertently encouraging his amorous, wandering touches whilst you blissfully sigh, “Promise?”

Billy pulls away from your neck and meets your gaze, smiling softly, and nods his head in confirmation. He then stands abruptly, catching you off guard, before holding his hands out and smiling warmly at you, “C’mon, petal. Let me take care of you.” 

You look up at him with a playful pout and sigh, “I have to get up?” 

He nods, his soft smile widening into an amused grin, before leaning down to kiss your cheek and whisper into your ear, “I’ll make it worth your while.” You feel a shiver up your spine at that honest promise and, not trusting your own voice, you opt for simply reaching out to gently grasp his outstretched hands with your own in response.

Mere moments later, you find yourself sprawled out on your bed, lying on your back, completely naked, with your head resting in your boyfriend’s lap. Whether it was out of solidarity or simply to tease you, Billy has stripped off his clothes as well, enabling you to feel his stiffening cock pressing against the back of your head. Though, he makes no move to relieve himself, simply content with massaging your scalp as he looks down at you lovingly. 

“Close your eyes, darling,” he requests softly, as he moves his hands down to gently rub your temples, relieving the dull ache that’s formed there as a result of you unintentionally clenching your jaw throughout the workday. You sigh blissfully as you oblige, your eyes effortlessly fluttering shut. You feel your weight sink further into the plush mattress as Billy begins to massage your sore masseter muscles, relaxing you even further. 

“Feels good, love?” He asks, his tone soft and sweet. You opt for simply nodding wordlessly, too blissed out to respond verbally, making him chuckle breathily. 

Once your overworked cheek muscles have gone pliant and relaxed, Billy reaches for the massage oil, applying some to his hands. The massage oil took you by surprise when he first pulled it out of the top drawer in his nightstand, as you were previously unaware that he’d purchased it. The unbroken seal told you it was likely a recent purchase. The emboldened text reading ‘100% edible’ on the label revealed that his thoughts might not have been all that innocent when he bought it. Upon seeing the suggestive text, your mind began to conjure up lewd images of him licking the thin oil off various parts of your body, sending a rush of slick desire between your folds. That wetness now smears along the inside of your thighs as you clench them together, desperate for some relief. 

The massage oil smells vaguely earthy in a way that only enhances your relaxation as he moves his hands down to gently work the muscles in your neck and shoulders, eliciting another sigh from you, this one bordering on a moan and making his cock twitch beneath you. It’s oddly comforting to know that your suffering is mutual, that he’s just as desperate for you as you are for him. 

Although, he seems relatively content to prolong your shared suffering as he moves on from your loosened neck and shoulder muscles, reaching down to gently grasp your dominant hand in both of his as he begins massaging the strained muscles there. You sigh in a way that betrays your mounting frustration, causing him to emit another breathy chuckle. 

“Be patient, petal,” he chides you gently, his tone a perfect mixture of amusement and fondness. 

“You said you wanted to touch me,” you huff. 

“I am touching you,” he softly replies whilst releasing one hand to massage the other. His response has you opening your eyes briefly to fix him with a half-hearted glare. 

“Let me take my time with you, please,” he pleads, as if he’s not the one in control here. 

“Alright,” you readily concede as he releases your other hand. 

Billy then begins to massage your arms, with his nimble hands working the muscles in each of them, starting at your wrists and gradually working up to your shoulders. You sigh contentedly as he effortlessly moves his oil-slick hands down to your chest; however, your tone soon gains a slightly exasperated edge when he pauses to sweetly ask, “May I touch you here, love?”

You usually appreciate that Billy always takes the time to ask you for your permission, that he constantly checks in with you to make sure you’re alright. However, right now, your impatient and incessant yearning makes it hard not to get annoyed with his constant pausing. 

“Billy, please,” you whine desperately, “you can touch me anywhere, everywhere; just please touch me.” 

Billy gulps around the lump forming in his throat due to your beautiful begging and swiftly succumbs to your pleading, gently grasping and kneading your breasts, finally offering you some relief. You moan softly when he briefly pauses his ministrations to toy with the stiff peaks of your nipples. As if they have a mind of their own, your thighs relax and fall apart as your hips buck upwards, desperately seeking friction. The cool air hitting your slick-covered folds makes you shiver. The subtle movement only makes the sight before Billy more enticing for him. He can’t help but let out a guttural groan at the sight of you all spread out and desperate for him, your hips bucking up needily, exposing more of yourself to him. Your eyes flutter open once more at the sweet sound, and you look up to find him staring at your sex, transfixed by the way your wetness glimmers in the dim light of the lamps on your nightstands. 

“Billy,” you call out softly. He looks down at you with wide eyes, his pupils blown out by lust, almost entirely overtaking his rich, chocolate-coloured irises. “Kiss me,” you plead, and, with urgency, he shifts slightly to a more comfortable position before leaning down to press his lips to yours. The kiss starts simple and sweet but soon devolves into something much more sloppy and desperate, with you both moaning into it softly. Despite getting readily swept up in the passion of the kiss, Billy doesn’t let it distract from his ultimate goal of making you feel good, continuing to knead the pliant fat of your tits all the while. 

“Please,” you whisper in between kisses. 

Although it’s only a single word, Billy knows precisely what you’re asking for and finds himself unable to deny you any further, not that he was ever really trying to in the first place. His hands slowly slip down your abdomen toward where you need his touch most. You shiver with delight as he rubs his hands down the length of your pussy before slowly dragging them back up, kneading the puffy lips that surround your folds and gently pushing them together, putting subtle, indirect pressure on your clit as he glides his hands upwards to your mound whilst maintaining his kneading strokes. 

The whine you let out in response is purely sinful, and the sound of it has him yearning to completely give in to you. Billy can only content himself to massage your sex for so long before he becomes powerless to stop himself from giving you what you desire most. You both blissfully sigh as he runs the tips of his right hand’s two middle fingers up your slit, collecting the wetness there. Billy then spreads your slick around your clit as he uses those same fingertips to rub tight circles on your tumescent bud, finally providing you with the stimulation you’ve been craving ever since he began trailing kisses on your neck whilst the two of you were cuddled up on the sofa. The swirling pressure on your clit has your hips jerking as you briefly break the kiss to let out a wanton moan. 

“Fuck, Billy,” you whimper needily as you roll your hips, grinding up into his gentle but firm touch. 

“You’re so good to me, love,” he whines breathlessly. The statement itself is sort of paradoxical, given that he’s the one pleasuring you; however, in your current blissed-out state, you fail to note the irony. 

As you roll and swivel your hips slowly, increasing the pressure on your clit, your pleasure suddenly increases tenfold when Billy begins using his free hand to lavish your tits with attention, alternating between kneading the fat and toying with the nipples of each one. 

“Love you, Billy,” you moan softly as you shift your gaze to look up at him in awe, finding him already gazing down at you with a look of profound adoration, the perfect mixture of reverence and affection. In Billy’s eyes, you are — and always have been — as close to a deity as a person can get, your grace rivaling that of even the most revered saints, prophets, and shamans, the compassion you show him outweighing that of anyone he’s ever known, even on your worst days. However, at this moment, with the way you’re calling out to him and baring yourself so vulnerably, your divinity becomes even more evident than before. And, if the sparkle in your eyes is any indication, Billy suspects that his adoration is amply reciprocated; the mere idea of that has a rosy blush spreading across the tips of his ears and the apples of his cheeks. 

“I love you too, baby, so much,” he softly replies whilst smoothing the hand that was previously teasing your breasts — his left hand — back down your torso, using the pads of his fingers to tease your folds once his hand reaches its desired destination. Meanwhile, the two middle fingers of his right hand pick up their pace, their pads swirling round your clit more swiftly than before. However, the pressure they’re applying to the engorged bud never wanes. 

Your moans grow louder and higher in pitch, conveying your neediness. Billy knows you need more, and he’s more than happy to give it to you. He teases your entrance with the tips of his left hand’s fingers before easing the middle one inside, causing you to mewl wantonly as your hips lift off the bed, forcing his thick finger deeper inside your wet heat. You reach up and grip his thighs, sure to leave behind the indents of your nails as you desperately cling to him, though Billy doesn’t really mind. The sharp pain of your nails digging into his pale skin provides him with a much stronger sensation than the pressure of your head still resting gently on his stiffening cock, allowing him to focus on that more intense sensation rather than the heavenly one in his lap. Billy then eases his ring finger in as well, curling both fingers just slightly so he can reach that magical place inside you — that special spot that never fails to make you cry out in pleasure �� whilst he begins to thrust his fingers. At first, Billy sets a slow pace, wanting to ease you into your release, but his carnal desire to see you completely unravel soon takes over, leading him to work up to a pace that matches how he rubs your clit; fast and hard. 

Feeling the tips of his fingers stimulating your two most sensitive points, the internal and the external, has the coil in the pit of your belly wound tight, nearly ready to snap, and you couldn’t be more grateful for it. You opt to show your appreciation by turning your head to the side to press warm, wet kisses to the inside of one of Billy’s thighs, making his breath hitch in turn. 

“Love you so much, Billy. ‘M so close,” you babble mindlessly in between kisses. 

“I know, baby. Can feel you squeezing me,” he moans softly, the sound bordering on a whine, as he leans forward to press sweet kisses to your forehead and cheeks, “doing so good, love. Just need you to let go, baby. Please? Need you to cum f’me, yeah?”

You can only manage to nod in response, no longer able to get the words out as your pleasure mounts to impossible heights. Your whole body thrums with pleasure, muscles spasming and legs shaking as your climax nears. The sounds you’re making are truly divine, so melodic and alluring that they have poor Billy nearing his own release. He’s moments away from cumming in your pretty hair just from the sounds you’re making and the gentle pressure of your head resting on his crotch. Wanting to make you cum before he does, he begins to fuck his fingers into you with increased fervour, all whilst trying desperately to refrain from grinding his stubborn, needy cock against the back of your head. 

“Let go, petal. Cum for me,” Billy says, attempting to encourage you, though his voice can barely be heard over your loud, lewd moaning. His encouragement seems to work, nevertheless, as your back arches off the bed and the coil in your belly finally succumbs to the pressure and snaps, a rush of slick oozing out of your weeping hole when you cum. Billy works you through your orgasm deftly, prolonging your pleasure until you finally go limp, whimpering from overstimulation. 

As you descend from what seem to be clouds, from how high you felt, Billy continues to pamper and take care of you. He eases out from under you, gently placing a pillow under your head to compensate for the absence of his lap before moving down to slot himself between your legs. Billy applies some more massage oil to his hands before carefully grabbing one of your legs — still shaking and twitching from your forceful release — and lifting it to rest on his shoulder. He then begins to skillfully massage the overworked muscles of your calf, still sore from your walk home hours ago. The sensation of him gently kneading the knots out of your muscles has you moaning softly, and Billy melts at the sound. He deftly eases his slick hands up to your thigh, massaging the muscles there until they go lax under his touch, then moving down to rub the achy sole of your foot. The moan you let out at the feeling of his thumbs gently but firmly digging into the arch of your foot is nothing short of sinful. It has Billy’s stubborn cock throbbing, yearning for friction, for release. However, he refuses to succumb to temptation, too determined to see this through, to completely and properly care for his overworked, fatigued darling. If you were in your right mind, you might admire Billy’s surprisingly strong willpower, but you’re too far gone to notice anything other than the feeling of his hands on your skin and the loving look in his eyes. 

Gently, Billy returns your leg to its resting position, swapping it out for the other one so he can also knead the strained muscles there. Once again, he begins at your calf, easing the aches, before moving on to your quivering thigh muscles. Finally, he massages the sole of your other foot, firmly working out the knots there. Once your muscles have relaxed completely, he presses a chaste, warm kiss to both the arch of your foot and the spot underneath your ankle bone before gently setting your leg back down onto the mattress. 

“You alright, love?” He asks softly as he leans forward to smatter kisses across your chest, occasionally pausing to lap at your oil-slicked breasts. 

“Mhm,” you hum, “Yeah, ’m alright,” you reassure him with a blissful sigh whilst you reach down to toy with his slightly damp locks. 

“Was that good?” He questions somewhat bashfully. 

You hum your confirmation before responding verbally, “Was wonderful. You did so well, angel, made me feel so good.”

“Think you can roll over for me so I can get your back?” Billy inquires whilst pausing his ministrations to look up at you adoringly. 

“Billy, you don’t have to,” you trail off, feeling slightly guilty about how much he’s doting on you. 

“I know,” he replies simply as he presses a chaste kiss to your cheek, “Just want to.” 

“You’re far too good to me, baby,” you sigh dreamily. 

“Nah, ’m not. You deserve the whole world, dove. ‘M just giving you what I can,” he says sweetly whilst flashing you a kind smile that spreads a delightful warmth throughout your chest.

“Now quit stalling and roll over,” he says teasingly as he peers down at you with a faux annoyed glare. 

You huff, feigning exasperation. As you heed his request, the swell of your bum inadvertently brushes against Billy’s stiff cock, causing him to reflexively buck his hips, chasing the heavenly friction. He groans out hoarsely as he wills his hips to still. 

“That’s not fair,” he grumbles out gruffly as he shifts to straddle your hips, giving him ample access to the expanse of your back. You giggle at his pouty remark as you settle into your new position, your arms interlocked atop your pillow as you rest your head on them. Once you both have fully settled, Billy applies just a bit more massage oil to ensure his hands will easily glide along your skin. Then, he gets to work on massaging the sore muscles of your back. He starts with your neck and shoulders, alternating between kneading out the knots with the pads of his thumbs and his knuckles, depending on their severity. Billy then glides his hands down to your upper back, just past your shoulders, and begins to work out the kinks in the muscles there. If it weren’t for the feeling of his stubborn hard-on resting warmly on your bum and the way he subtly ruts into you occasionally, the experience would likely be purely wholesome. However, even with his attentive doting, his neediness bleeds through as much as your own, once again tainting the otherwise innocent endeavour with a hint of sensuality. 

By the time he reaches the lowest point of your back, you’ve both begun to emit soft moans and blissful sighs, the sweet, melodic sounds serving as relaxing background music. Once he’s finally finished kneading your back muscles into submission, you’re confident that Billy will finally give in to temptation and fuck you. When he nudges your legs apart and shifts downward to slot between them, you’re sure your partner is right where you want him, unable to resist you any longer. However, Billy surprises you when, rather than lining his cock up with your entrance, he simply lays down between your legs, propping himself up on his elbows as he begins to massage the backs of your thighs. You look back at him over your shoulder quizzically, making him giggle and smile impishly. 

“Told you I wanted to take my time with you, love,” he murmurs teasingly before leaning forward to trail kisses along the inside of your left thigh. Meanwhile, he glides his hands up to the plump fat of your arse. He starts kneading the flesh there, alternating between coasting his hands up, in an outward motion — spreading your round cheeks and exposing the most intimate parts of you to himself — and rubbing in a downwards motion, inadvertently pushing the globes of your arse back together as he squeezes the plush fat and sore muscles there. Billy would be entirely content to just lay there, watching in awe as the smooth skin of your rear, now shiny from the oil on his hands, submits to his firm touch. He’s always found it hard to pick his favourite part of you, given how wonderful every single part of you is. Still, if he was forced to choose, he’s sure his first instinct would be to choose your bum simply because of how voluptuous and lovely it is. It’s certainly not the plumpest he’s ever seen; the man did spend years looking at porn daily just to have something to do. Still, it’s his favourite, not just because it’s yours, though that certainly does sweeten the deal. It’s his favourite because of how beautiful it is, with its various dimples and stretch marks. He especially loves the lone freckle that resides on one of the plump globes, constantly calling out to him to place a kiss atop it. Once again, he finds himself powerless to refuse its call, leaning over with pursed lips to cover it in a warm smooch, making you giggle. Not to mention, the first time he had the pleasure of fucking you, he’d had to take you from behind due to the inconvenient location; a small guest bathroom in a mutual friend’s modest London flat. As a result, your arse has gained this sort of sentimental value in his eyes because whenever he sees it, it reminds him of the first time you’d met, the first time you’d had sex together, and, subsequently, the first time in all the twenty-six years of his life that his cock had felt the warm embrace of something other than his own hand. 

You’re well aware of his quirky fondness for your behind. Honestly, it has you worried that perhaps he might neglect to give either of you any lasting relief tonight, instead opting to lavish your bum with an inordinate amount of attention. It sounds silly, sure, but you wouldn’t put it past him to do precisely that. Of course, he wouldn’t do it out of malicious intent; instead, Billy would simply get so caught up with the absolute treasure that is your bum that he’d completely forget anything and everything else he was doing. 

Fortunately for you, however, Billy notices your anguish, fully aware of how your hips have begun to rut into the mattress, seeking relief in the form of friction, and decides to end your torment. So, he leans forward to lick a long strip across your slit, starting at your mound and ending at the tiny expanse of skin that separates your two holes, parting your folds with his tongue as he does so. The caress of his wet muscle has you reeling whilst you grip the pillow beneath you tightly and moan a wordless plea, begging for more. Ever the people pleaser, Billy happily obliges as he uses his hands to spread the globes of your arse apart, indirectly pulling your folds apart as well, diving in to lap eagerly at your sopping wet cunt. He starts off slow, lapping up your wetness gingerly, moaning as the heady flavour he loves so much dances across his taste buds. 

“Taste so good, love,” he moans wantonly, the sound muffled by your flesh, “so warm and wet and sweet. Pussy’s so sweet f’me, baby.” 

Billy’s babbling; he knows he is. Still, he can’t find it in himself to be embarrassed, not when your scent and taste overwhelm his senses, making him dizzy with lust. Yearning for more of your flavour, he eases his tongue inside your entrance, thrusting it in deeply as he curls it to lap at your walls, his wet muscle fighting against the strength of your clenching hole. He lets out the most sinfully saccharine moan you’ve ever heard whilst he devours you. 

“’S good, baby? Am I making you feel good?” Billy asks; he’s yearning for your approval, for your praise. 

“God- fuck- Billy, you’re so good. Making me feel so good,” you mewl as you ride his tongue, your hips bucking of their own accord. Your salacious praise has him whimpering into your snatch; the knowledge that he is the one making you feel like this, that he’s the one pleasing you, causes a prideful heat to bloom in his chest, rise through his throat, and spread all across his head, dusting his cheeks and the tips of his ears in a rosy pink colour.

He removes his tongue, easing it out of your hole and swiftly replacing it with one of his thick fingers before you can even begin to complain about your newfound emptiness. With his tongue now freed, he murmurs, “Want you to cum again, love. Need to make you cum like this before I fuck you,” before latching onto your clit and fervently suckling at the engorged nub, bringing you more pleasure than any one of those fancy, rose-shaped clitoral stimulators ever could. Billy’s bold words have you mewling and whining pathetically, but, much like him, you can’t find it in you to be embarrassed. 

He adds another thick finger to your greedy hole, curling them both just slightly, just as you taught him to, and thrusting them deep. Unbeknownst to you, Billy’s become determined to make you unravel in a rare, special way; he wants you to soak him. If there’s one thing you’ve learned about your boyfriend over these past several months, it’s that he can be surprisingly tenacious when given the proper motivation. It just so happens that your ability to squirt, when given ample stimulation, is his new favourite motivator. 

With his free hand, he grasps your hip, encouraging you to continue rutting against his face. “That’s it, petal, there you go,” he praises you between the flicks and strokes of his tongue on your clit, “grind on my face ’til you cum.” 

His newfound confidence, along with the combined sensations of him lapping at your clit and fingering your cunt, has the coil in your belly again winding tight. Though, this time, it feels different in a way you can’t quite describe with words. Simply put, it feels more, more intense, more captivating, and undoubtedly more significant. You don’t often feel this all-consuming sensation, so it doesn’t take long to identify what it alludes to. Once you realise what’s happening, your eyes widen in shock, and your jaw drops to let out a moan so loud and lascivious that it nearly makes Billy cum all on its own. Luckily, he manages to stave off his premature release by rising to his knees, sitting on his haunches with his face still buried in your cunt as he lifts his hips off the mattress, robbing his needy cock of any friction. 

“Billy, fuck, fuck,” you gasp and pant breathlessly whilst your legs shake, the meat of your thighs jiggling with the motion, providing Billy with a stunning view in his peripherals. 

“Christ, Billy, please,” you whine as you look back at him over your shoulder, your eyes meeting his in a lustful gaze. “Can’t- gonna make a mess,” you whimper pathetically.

He groans lowly at your words and the implication behind them. You meant them more as a warning, urging your lover to ease up before you soil the sheets with your release. However, Billy takes them as more of a promise, an incentive to keep going. 

“Make a mess of me, petal. Need you to soak me,” he encourages you, though his lilting tone makes it sound more like begging. Once again, you find yourself compelled to give in to Billy. How could you possibly deny the man you love something he desires so ardently? 

You moan wantonly whilst clutching your pillow so tightly that the skin of your knuckles goes three shades lighter than usual. “So close, baby,” you promise him, “gonna cum for you. Just need more.” 

You don’t specify what you need more of, yet Billy gets the point anyways. He latches onto your clit once more, swirling his tongue round it in tight circles as he sucks on it. Occasionally, his teeth scrape against your nub so gently that it only heightens your pleasure. However, the actual source of your unraveling comes in the form of him finally giving in to his innermost desires and gently nipping at your sensitive bud, sending shockwaves of pleasure, with a deliciously minimal hint of pain, coursing through you. 

The profound sensation has a rush of fluid squirting out of your cunt, soaking the sheets beneath you as you practically scream out of pleasure. Meanwhile, Billy watches in awe whilst he works you through your powerful release. This is only the second time he’s made you squirt in the entire history of your relationship. The sight of it has a mixture of pride and wonderment swelling in his chest, especially since he didn’t need the aid of a toy to make it happen this time. He doesn’t let up, doesn’t stop ravishing your spasming sex, until you finally reach down and gently push him away, the constant stimulation becoming too much for you to bear. 

You both pant feverishly, finally able to catch your breath in the stillness afforded by your brief refractory period. Billy massages the backs of your thighs, easing the tension there as he sits back on his haunches and looks down in awe at the mess he’s made of you and, consequently, of your bed. 

“I love you,” He murmurs whilst leaning forward to trail warm kisses up your back, following the barely pronounced ridges of your spine. 

“Love you too, Billygoat,” you slur out dopily, drunk on the pleasure he’s given you. Billy giggles, truly giggles, both at your silly nickname for him and at the blissed-out tone in which you utter it. 

“D’you want to be done for the night? Or d’you think you can handle some more?” He asks you, sweetly checking in with you like he always does. 

You look at him like he’s grown a second head and reply, “Are you joking? ‘Course, I want more.” Your bewildered tone has him giggling all over again. You can’t help but marvel at the way the slight pudge of his tummy adorably quivers as he laughs. There was a time when that little bit of chub didn’t exist, back when he wasn’t eating well, back when you’d first met him, and though you’d loved him all the same without it, you can’t help but prefer this new, fuller form of his. He looks healthy like this — well fed and cared for — and, in the most perverted-yet-still-somewhat-wholesome way possible, it drives you mad. 

“Billy,” you softly call out to him, causing his giggles to wane. 

“Yeah, baby?”

“Wanna try something I read about,” you confess somewhat shyly. 

He leans over to kiss your cheek before nuzzling into the space between your shoulder blades. “What’s that, lovey?” He murmurs.

“Put a pillow under my pelvis? Please?” You ask in an adorably polite tone. 

Billy grins impishly, knowing precisely what you’re after, having seen that trick in some of the pornos he used to watch. He wordlessly heeds your request, grabbing one of the plush pillows from his side of the bed, gently lifting your hips, and surprising you with such a casual display of strength as he slots the pillow under your pelvis, causing your hips to angle upwards just slightly. 

Billy breathes a dreamy sigh at the sight of you, all spread out and waiting for him. In times like this, he can hardly believe you’re real, that you’re actually here with him, that you actually want him. However, the way you’re gazing at him right now, peering at him over your shoulder with a look of tender adoration, quickly assuages his doubts. You’re real, you truly are here with Billy, you love him just as much as he loves you, and you want this just as much as he does; all he has to do is take it, take you. 

Billy smooths his palms along the soft flesh of your hips as he softly asks, “condom or no condom?” 

It’s a reasonable question to ask. The two of you have only made love without a condom a couple of times before, once on his birthday, once on yours. Of course, both of you would like to forgo condoms indefinitely. However, you’ve been known to forget to take your pill occasionally. So, since neither of you really wants a kid right now, you two continue to use them regularly, just to be safe. But you’ve been exceedingly good lately, not forgetting to take your pill at all these last two months, and you can’t help but think you deserve a reward for all your effort. 

“No condom. Wanna feel you, Billy,” you reply in a whiny, pleading tone that has Billy’s eyes rolling back. Who is he to refuse such a good, pretty little thing like yourself? 

He gently rubs his tip along your slit, briefly bumping into your hypersensitive clit, causing you to mewl and squirm needily. Billy’s quick to oblige your wordless pleas, gently easing the head of his cock inside your entrance; it slides in almost effortlessly, thanks to your previous orgasms. The sigh Billy lets out as he slowly slides into you, feeling your warm, wet walls welcome him in, is shaky and breathless. He smooths an oil-slicked hand up the length of your spine as he gradually bottoms out, leisurely giving you inch-by-inch of his shaft as if he’s simply content to continue taking his precious time with you.

Really, though, Billy’s fighting the urge to fill you up all at once with one quick snap of his hips; to take what he needs from you. The muscles of hips and thighs twitch as he restrains himself, using every ounce of willpower to keep himself from fucking you brutishly, pile-driving you into the mattress. He wants to take things slow, needs to take things slow, or else this will all be over far too soon, and all that build-up will amount to minimal payoff. Billy can’t have that; he refuses to give you anything less than his best. This is his opportunity to take care of you, to provide you with what you need, and he won’t take it for granted, not after all you’ve done to care for him. 

When Billy finally bottoms out inside your slick, still-spasming cunt, the two of you let out synchronous moans, both so high-pitched and needy that they could almost be considered whimpers. The feeling of your pulsing, silky walls gripping him so tightly is nearly enough to send him over the edge. So, to make this last, Billy has to hold himself back once again; he has to give himself time to acclimate to the overwhelming feeling. He leans forward, his chest presses against your back, whilst he presses warm, sloppy kisses to every part of you that lies within his reach: your cheek, your jaw, your neck, your shoulder, all of it. Meanwhile, he murmurs soft, sweet praises to you. 

“Feels good, love. You always feel so good.”

“God, I can - fuck - I can feel you, feel your pussy fluttering round my cock.”

“You look so beautiful, baby. My pretty petal always looks so lovely f’me.”

Each one has you whimpering softly, has butterflies fluttering in your tummy, and has your walls clenching around him greedily. Billy’s only digging his own grave, making you grip him like that. It’s nearly enough to make him cum, but, fuck, he can’t stop; you deserve to know how good you are and to be worshipped like this. 

“Billy, please,” you mewl desperately, rocking your hips slightly to encourage him to move. 

“I know, baby,” he coos reassuringly, his thumb caressing the soft skin of your cheek whilst he rests his forehead gently against your temple. “I’ve got you, love,” Billy promises as he slowly begins to roll his hips, thrusting his cock inside your wet heat, “‘M gonna make it so good for you, petal, I promise.” 

“’S already good, angel, ’s already so good,” you mewl, equal parts desire and reassurance. 

The feeling of his shaft dragging along your walls with each thrust, of his tip hitting that spongy spot inside you that makes your toes curl, of his heavy balls colliding with your tumescent, tingling clit, is enough to send you into overdrive. Yet it’s still, somehow, not enough; you need more. 

“Billy,” you whine pathetically whilst looking back at him with an adorable pout, the kind that you know he can’t resist. As always, the petulant expression has him caving instantly as he leans forward, capturing your lips with his own in a passionate kiss; however, it’s a bit sloppy due to the awkward angle. 

“What d’you need from me, love?” Billy murmurs against your lips, his soft, low tone making you melt. 

“Need you to fuck me harder, Billy,” you plead pitifully.

Whatever Billy was expecting you to say, it certainly wasn’t that. Your boldness catches him off guard, has him throwing his head back with a loud, lewd moan. As much as he wants to take things slow, to memorize the feeling of your walls gripping him whilst he makes love to you, he’s powerless to deny you. You’ve bewitched him, beguiled him to the point where he’ll give you anything, do anything for you; all you need to do is ask. You have Billy wrapped around your finger; he’s utterly devoted to you and irrevocably yours. He even tells you as much as he pulls away, sitting up on his knees and firmly grasping your hips, pulling you back on his cock as he begins to pound into you just the way you want him to. 

“Love you so much. God- fuck- I love you so much, petal,” he rasps. 

The force of his thrusts swiftly turns those melodic, lilting moans you love so much into the deep, somewhat raspy grunts that never fail to drive you mad. The sound of skin slapping against skin as his pelvis repeatedly collides with the globes of your arse fills the room, along with the wet, smacking noises made by his cock driving into your slick heat and the dull thump of your headboard hitting the wall. It’s a chorus of sweet, blissful depravity that only increases Billy’s newfound fervour. 

“Fuck, baby,” Billy groans deeply whilst reaching round one of your hips to play with your sensitive little bud, swirling the tips of his fingers on it in tight, fast circles, “Wanna live inside this pretty little pussy. ’S always so warm ‘n wet for me.” 

You simply mewl in response, too far gone, too fucked out to form any coherent response. Billy’s usually vocal in bed, unable to stifle his loud moans and whines, but he’s rarely so brazenly talkative. He’s usually more unsure, constantly checking in and making sure he’s doing a good job. So, it’s always a treat when he gets like this; confident, daring, and maybe even a little cocky. 

When you look back at him over your shoulder, you spot his tongue curled up against his upper lip, a telltale sign of the effort he’s putting into fucking you hard. Were it anyone else, you might giggle at the way their tongue can’t seem to stay in their mouth, but with him, coupled with the sweaty glaze he’s coated in and the way his muscles flex as he drives his cock into you, it seems to only add to the appeal. Billy’s brutish grunts fill the room as he fucks you, and you find that you love the uncharacteristically deep, raspy sounds emitting from him just as much as his dulcet moans.

“God, Billy,” you mewl pitifully. 

“’S good? You like it when I fuck you hard, petal?” Billy asks as he leans forward to press a sloppy kiss to your shoulder. 

Your mouth falls open with a loud, lascivious moan as you nod meekly. At the same time, your legs begin to shake as the coil in your stomach winds tightly for the last time tonight; your climax approaching swiftly. Billy can tell, can feel how close you are in the way your tight heat clenches around him, like your walls are trying to milk his cock. Your pussy has his thick cock locked in a vice grip, one that he has to fight against the force of as he continues to pump into you, and the feeling of it sends him hurtling toward his own peak. 

“‘M so close, dove,” Billy warns you, his grunts morphing back into his desperate, lilting moans as his pleasure mounts.

He leans forward to lavish your neck with kisses, moaning wantonly in your ear whilst continuing to fuck you like his life depends on it; like the only thing he needs in this world is to feel your greedy sex pulsing around his cock. 

“You gonna cum with me, baby? Need you to cum with me, love,” Billy pleads, fucking into you fervently as he groans lowly. 

You whimper as you look back at him and nod. He offers you a soft, encouraging smile that doesn’t quite match the lechery of this moment but warms your heart all the same. The warmth blooming in your chest seems to grow more prominent when Billy presses a tender kiss to your shoulder and another to the crown of your head. 

“Doing so good f’me, love. Taking my cock so well. ’S like it was made f’you, made to fill your- fuck- your sweet pussy,” Billy praises you in between his wanton moaning. 

“It was,” you whimper pathetically, “it’s mine. ’S just for me.” 

Your possessiveness never fails to make Billy melt. However, it is a bit unnecessary; Billy’s been yours, solely yours, ever since you first spoke to him. You’d found him cowering in a corner at a mutual friend’s party, the same one he’d fucked you at later on in the night, and made it your mission to get him to open up to you, to get him to have some fun. If the nearly ten months you’ve been together are anything to show for it, your unspoken mission was obviously a smashing success. 

“That's right, baby. ’S just for you, only for you,” he cuts himself off with a needy groan, “It’s yours, love. I’m yours.” 

“I love you, Billy,” you moan weakly. It’s the only warning you give before you cum, the coil in your belly finally snapping as wave after wave of pleasure rolls over you, making your muscles twitch whilst a loud, lewd wail of pleasure tumble past your parted lips. The incessant clenching of your walls has the fluids of your release gushing forcefully out of your sex, coating you and Billy’s thighs in a warm, glossy sheen. That same clenching of your sex is also what leads to his own unraveling. 

Billy’s head rests between your shoulder blades whilst he lets out a series of wet moans and pornographic whimpers, his orgasm hitting him abruptly and intensely. His hips stutter as he pumps his throbbing cock inside you, shooting rope after rope of cum into your fluttering cunt; however, they finally still when the sensation becomes too much for him. Billy collapses on top of you, careful not to put too much weight on you, as he lets your spasming walls milk him dry, painting them with the last of his release as he fills you to the brim. 

The two of you remain like that, still tangled up in each other and unmoving, whilst coming down from your mutual highs, both of you fighting to catch your breaths. It isn’t until Billy begins smattering needy kisses along your neck and shoulders that you start to stir, wanting to roll over so you can kiss his handsome face. He takes the hint, removing the pillow from under your pelvis and easing his softening cock out of your cunt. The sudden movement makes you both hiss, each far too sensitive for such stimulation, but it’s over soon. Of course, even with your hypersensitivity, you whine at the loss of Billy’s cock, missing the feeling of fullness that only he can provide. Your petulance makes Billy chuckle whilst he helps you roll over, knowing you’re too worn out to manage that feat on your own. 

You sigh blissfully once you’re face-to-face with Billy again. His beautiful brown eyes, not unlike those of a young calf, gaze down at you adoringly, making you beam up at him happily. 

“Hi, handsome,” you greet him softly as you reach up to run your fingers through his light brown hair, still tinted with strawberry blonde highlights from the summer sun, though it’s been months since anyone around here saw that flighty sun. 

Billy giggles at your hazy silliness whilst he replies, “Hi, petal.” 

“Kiss me?” You ask simply, your tone soft and sugary sweet. 

“I’d be honoured,” he murmurs teasingly before leaning down to capture your lips in a languid embrace. The kiss is so tender and saccharine that you both moan softly into it. You part your lips for Billy, letting him deepen the kiss as you wrap your arms and legs round him, encouraging him to fully rest his weight on you. He’s like your own personal weighted blanket. Interestingly, you’d previously never really understood the appeal of weighted blankets, believing them to be suffocating and restrictive, at least not until you cuddled with Billy for the first time and realized how delightful it can be to have such a warm, soft weight pressing against you, holding you down and keeping you safe from the outside world. 

Unfortunately, the feeling of the soaked sheets clinging to your skin soon pulls you out of your blissful state. You groan as you reluctantly break away from Billy’s kiss. 

“We gotta get up and change these sheets, Billygoat; feels icky,” you inform him with your face pulled into a tight grimace, clearly conveying your discomfort. 

“Yeah,” Billy groans in agreement as he pulls away from you, rising up to sit back on his haunches as he peers down at you with a wry smile. 

“We’ve gotta get you in the shower, too,” he reminds you whilst he climbs out of bed, coming to stand on his slightly unsteady legs. He then turns to face the bed again, looking down at you. 

“I lied to you earlier,” Billy says, continuing his previous line of thought, “You reek, babe.”

The gasp you let out in response to his remark is wholly indignant, aptly conveying your faux offense as you launch a stray pillow at him. It thwacks Billy in the chest, making him drop his deadpan façade as he bursts into giggles. 

You climb out of bed on your own shaky legs as you playfully threaten, “You’re gonna be so sorry for that, Billy Knight!” 

“Dove, I was kidding!” Billy shrieks giddily whilst making a break for it, running out of the room with you not far behind him, still giggling as he attempts to evade whatever playful punishment you have in store for him. He manages to put some distance between the two of you when he wisely fakes you out, making it look like he’s going to turn into the bathroom before running off in the opposite direction, towards the kitchen. 

“You’re lucky I love you, Billiam!” You huff out, doing your best to stifle your own giggles. Billy’s laughing increases tenfold at the sound of the odd little nickname you’ve given him. 

Billy’s giggles subside as he suddenly pokes his head round the corner and into the hall, fixing you with a genuinely fond smile, catching you off guard. 

You halt in place as Billy softly says, “I love you too, petal.” 

God, he is unreasonably adorable. 

<3

<3

putting symbols at the end so hopefully tumblr won't cut off the last paragraph!!

<3

<3

[the-al-chemist]

The Prodigal Son

For Day 3 of @thethreebroomsticksfic’s Weasley Week, I present a little Percy angst.

Warnings: mentions of Christmas, when right now it’s only October.

December 1995

It was Christmas Eve, and in the Ministry of Magic Headquarters, work was slowly grinding to a halt. From the window of his office on the uppermost floor, Percy had a clear view of the festive memos that left a trail of glitter in their wake as they flew back and forth across the atrium. Far below, colleagues were bidding one another glad tidings, and the fireplaces flashed green as staff clocked off and went home to the families impatiently waiting for them to return.

Now that day was growing late, Percy must have been one of the only people left working. He was certainly the only person left on his floor; even the Minister for Magic himself had gone home to the bottle of brandy that he said was calling his name. As he left, he had praised Percy for his commitment to his work.

Percy was committed to his work. If it were not for his conscientiousness, he would never have secured such a prestigious job role at such a young age. He was living proof that diligence and determination could get a person far in life.

In truth, however, it was not his excellent work ethic that kept him at his desk this Christmas Eve. It was more of a case of him having nowhere better to be.

Still, as the lights in yet more office windows deluminated, and the crowds down in the atrium dwindled further, Percy had to admit that he longer wished to remain where he was. He may have only had a tiny, empty, and extortionately expensive flat to return to, but being there alone couldn’t be worse than being alone at work. He could hardly spend the night before Christmas sleeping at his desk, after all.

He passed no one in the corridor on his way to the elevator, but as its doors opened on the second level, he was joined by a tall and familiar-looking wizard a few years older than him. The wizard had dark brown hair and fine lines around eyes, and a stack of books floated in the air beside him.

“Evening, Weasley,” he said. “Merry Christmas.”

Percy’s Christmas was unlikely to be merry, but he forced a smile and replied stiffly, “And to you, Davies.”

“I heard about your dad’s accident. He’s out of St Mungo’s now, isn’t he?”

In response to Chester Davies’ question, Percy gave a curt nod and made a humming noise. He had not visited his father during his stay in hospital. He felt guilty about not doing so, but given the way the two of them had argued the last time they spoke, he imagined that his presence would not have been particularly conducive to a speedy recovery. Percy had not yet entirely forgiven his father for the things he had said during their argument; he could only presume that the lingering resentment was mutual.

“Your family must be relieved to have him home for Christmas,” Chester continued. “I suppose that there’ll be a lot of you at your parents’ house this year.”

The way he spoke made it sound like another question, and Percy felt compelled to answer.

“I’m not certain,” he said. “I’m not spending Christmas with them this year. Too busy with work.”

Chester looked almost disappointed, but he quickly recovered himself as the elevator came to a halt and opened out into the atrium.

“Well, when you see your dad, give him my best. And your mum and Bill, too.”

Percy couldn’t bring himself to tell Chester that he would not be seeing his family to give them anything. Not that he hadn’t been sent anything from them. Just that morning a soft parcel had been delivered to his flat with a label written in his mother’s hand. He knew without having opened it what would be inside. Every year since he could remember his mother had knitted him and each of his siblings a jumper. It was a tradition, just as much as the turkey on the table, the gnome on top of the tree, and stockings opened beside the roaring fire.

Without warning, Percy was struck with a sudden pang of homesickness, one that he couldn’t ignore. He wished profoundly that he had never argued with his father, that he had never left the Burrow, that he could be there now enjoying Christmas with his family.

But, he thought, perhaps he could. He had assumed that he would be unwelcome, but if his mother had sent him a jumper, then maybe she would have left a place at the table for him as well. The more he considered it, the more Percy was certain that this was the case. The jumper was more than just a gift, it was an olive branch. It was his mother’s way of saying that he was still loved, that he still belonged. Surely, he would still be welcomed with open arms. After all, what was Christmas if not a time for forgiveness?

His mind made up, Percy stopped in a Muggle shop in the London street above the Ministry of Magic and bought a large bottle of sherry, the most expensive in the shop. He tucked it under his arm and ducked into an alleyway so that he could Disapparate without being seen.

He thought longingly of the Burrow, of home, of the ramshackle house with its drafts and mess and the wailing ghoul in the attic. He thought of the piles of shoes in the porch and numerous odd socks in the washing and the chickens that pecked in the yard. He thought of the warm woollen blankets, the smell of his mother’s cooking, and the cosy golden glow of the lights that shone through the windows during the darkest nights. He took a deep breath and smiled as he Apparated to the front garden, where he found the house…

Empty.

The place was silent. The lights were all off. No one was home. It was Christmas Eve, and the Weasleys were elsewhere. Percy didn’t know where exactly, because no one had bothered to invite him. Clearly, no one missed him that much.

Percy was half-helplessness, half-bitterness. He felt like a small child, lost and alone. He felt like an old man, aching and world-weary. More than anything, he felt angry. His anger only increased when he returned to his flat to see the still-unopened gift his mother had sent him resting on the table.

Jaw clenched and fingers trembling, he picked up the parcel and carried across the room to the window, where his owl Hermes was resting on his favourite perch.

“Take it back,” he told Hermes, who blinked at him and let owl a low and doleful-sounding hoot in response. “Just take it back.”

His voice was louder than he’d intended it to be, and his eyes began to sting. Hermes ruffled his feathers, but he took the strings of the parcel in his talons. Percy exhaled.

“Thank you,” he said, gentler this time. He stroked the feathers on the top of Hermes’ head with the back of one finger. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

As he opened the window to let the bird out, a chill entered. Percy steeled himself against it, welcoming the feeling of physical discomfort, appreciating the way it distracted him from the pain he felt in his heart. And as the last friend he had left in the world disappeared into the midwinter night sky, carrying the last piece he had left of his family, the clock struck midnight.

It was Christmas, and Percy was all alone.

[soullessfawn]

Witness

Grian wasn’t a good person.

He helps at the bird shelter, throws dollar bills into hats for street performers, is a shoulder to cry on for his friends, tutors teenagers in the art of sculpture and inner expression at the local high school, but that didn’t make Grian a good person.

A good person would speak up about the things that go bump in the night, wouldn’t let it stand, yet he was too afraid to, knowing that for some reason his quiet mouth was the only reason he hasn’t been one of the taken.

Grian lives in an old house at the edge of town, passed down through his mothers bloodline, but because his parents never had a girl before there… Turns out he was the only relative that could take the house, and so he became its prisoner.

When the sun meets the horizon, all of Grian’s window shutters would pop up, no matter what he did they’d stay open until the sunrise the next morning. Bolting them, gorilla glue, staples, prayers, nothing worked to keep the things closed.

Grian was just thankful that the windows themselves listened to him. Once all the light from the sun is shadowed, the night actually begins.

Grian could always tell when the sun had fully set, even if he was in the bathroom, which had no windows. The feeling of eyes on his back turned its ugly head, the prickling up his neck telling him that he was being watched would crawl up his spine, settling between his shoulder blades and reminding him what he was about to witness.

No matter how hard he tried to keep his eyes away from the dark spots in his house, it only took a passing glance to see them.

They didn’t have a physical form, more like a mental one, Grian if he had to describe them would say they looked like the biblical description of angels, but slightly off. With eyes, wings and body parts twisted and wrong, the darkness would show him the creatures from his nightmares.

Grian started calling them Watchers after a month into owning the house.

The Watchers loved it when he spotted them, seeming to get more rowdy and productive if he caught their eyes. The lights flickered when the night started and so Grian started using candles to light up the place, he kept himself either in his room or in the study, making mad dashes to the bathroom if needed.

The Watchers weren’t the worst part, it was what they did that's disturbing. Grian would glance out his bedroom window, eyes drawn to the darkness of his street, a moth to a burning flame, you could say.

The street had terrible lighting, and maybe that’s why no one else ever saw anything, but the reason never mattered, because soon enough a man would be walking towards the house, luggage behind him in a red suitcase, charms attached to the zippers.

Grian would watch as a Watcher peeks out from behind a tall lamp poll, its eyes strictly on the man who’s walking down the street. Grian would get up, move closer towards the window, because this was his punishment for never speaking up, for never banging on the window, his punishment was watching, witnessing, the man.

The man wore a red jumper, jeers and had light brown borderline blonde hair, like his own. The man would get about halfway before looking up, freezing at the sight of Grian in the window, not noticing the eyes and wings creeping up behind him.

Grian forced himself to stay silent as his eyes met with his own, watched as the other him went through confusion, then fear.

The Watchers struck then, jumping out of the shadows as an ear piercing scream filled the air, cries and pleads for help ringing in his ears. Grian would place a single hand on the window, the other him being dragged blood and screaming into the darkness towards his house.

Grian’s front door would slam open and shut in quick succession, the screaming continuing through his house until his basement door was opened and the screaming descended the stairs.

One time Grian didn’t go upstairs in time, and was forced to sit in the kitchen as the other him was dragged down the hallway by what first seemed to be an invisible force. Grian, the other one, reached out to him, despite the fact they shared the same face. “Help me!” The other one screamed. “Please!”

Grian had only blinked, hand clutching his hot chocolate in fear, as the other him was thrown down the stairs and the door was shut, sealing in his screams.

The silence was more unsettling, because Grian knew the other wasn’t done calling for help, yet he couldn’t hear a thing.

Grian would go to sleep after that, and magically any blood that was left would be gone, leaving him as the only witness to his own murder.

So Grian was a bad person, horrible, to watch himself die over and over again every night, but the fear of being the one to go next always stops him from asking for help. Grian knows he was singled out from the beginning, having walked that same street in the middle of the night when he moved in the first night.

Grian had seen himself in the window that night, all those months ago, banging on the glass, screaming at him to turn and run, Grian watched as the Watchers descended on the other him in the window, all because the other tried to warn him.

Grian wouldn’t make the mistake of being a hero.

[littlefluffbutt]

SALE POST

Our oven died and we have some upcoming bills looming so I’m selling some things I’ve made; I take paypal and am located in the US. I will ship internationally but keep shipping costs in mind.

All crocheted yarn items are made with 100% acrylic yarn and stuffed with polyfill.

Dinosaurs approx 6″ tall or long. Stegosaurus and Triceratops (the ones on either end) are $15 each  the rest are $12 each. Take all six for $75

Mermaid with fish friend $20 The fish is separate; I’ve just tied it to her hand so it won’t get lost lol. Her face is done with embroidery floss. Top is not removable.

Variegated sea creature bag $55 comes with octopus, crab, fish, lobster and bait bag to carry them in. most are around 5-6″.

sea creature bag $55 comes with octopus, crab, fish, lobster and bait bag to carry them in. most are around 5-6″.

Lobsters! Large ones are $12 and have bead eyes; small ones have embroidered eyes and are $10. I have small red and large red, blue and camo ones ATM but I can do them in other colors too.

LeisureArts 268 outfits (from L-R)

top row purple and pink dresses with hats and purses $35 each; wedding dress and veil $30, purple variegated dress and hat $35 (blue dress not for sale)

Bottom row: blue coat with hat and brown coat $15 each; jacket and skirt set $20, red PJs $25 with doll, $20 without (doll has bangs cut), 4 piece poncho outfit $20, blue top and shorts $8 (doesn’t fit anyone well), green jumper $8 (fits 80′s Skipper) ballet outfit $8 (fits early Skipper)

Doll house items from The Attic pamphlet $150 for the set OR

Wedding dress and mannequin, veil, and bouquet $50. Dress can NOT be removed from mannequin. Back of dress had to be widened to fit the mannequin.

Couch/bench with two gold throw pillows, trunk and yellow rug: $30

Checkered quilt or pinwheel quilt $20 each

Baby dolls $15 each

Teddy $10

Hat box set with hats (red bowler and yellow sunhat) $20

corset : (not made to fit anyone) $10

If you have any questions/requests message me:) Thank you!

[starssaroundmyscarssblog]

𝐋𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐀𝐙𝐄, chapter two GENTLE TIES

pairing: percy weasley x fem!oc (olympia slughorn)

word count: 1.67k

warnings: none

series masterlist OR previous part

percy weasley hated the yearly chaos of platform nine and three quarters, more-so when he had an owl perched on the end of his scratch-littered trunk. he wormed his way through families saying goodbye until christmas, found a relatively quiet area of the platform to haul his possessions onto the train before hopping off again, setting off in earnest to find the rest of his family he'd momentarily left behind.

they were all clustered around each-other in a group, heads leant close together as they spoke about the boy, harry potter, they'd helped get onto the platform. ginny was hanging off her mother's arm asking to go and see him, percy had to make a hurried grab for the back of her purple cardigan to stop her from leaping onto the train to get a glimpse of the famous boy.

"thank you, percy." she said to him, wished him a good term and congratulated him once more on becoming a prefect. he held his head high as he walked away back to the carriage he'd stowed his trunk, drowning out the complaining of his sister, the nagging of his mother, fred and george conspiring about blowing up toilet seats and ron trying to wriggle away from a tissue heading directly for a smudge of soot from the train that had glued itself to his nose.

there was a first year a few groups of people away with frizzy hair, chatting at her parents about everything she was going to learn, hoped that the few spells she'd taught herself would suffice for her first few lessons regarding what she assumed to be about the basics, told them she had a smaller, separate bag she'd folded her new uniform into the change into at the first availability. percy smiled fondly. he remembered doing the exact same thing, the three spells he'd tried not working exactly as he'd intended because he was stuck with using bill's old wand.

progressing further along the platform was lee jordan, sandwiched between fred and george who'd materialised out of nowhere, oliver wood waving enthusiastically at him and holding up his brand new sparkling quidditch captain badge, the malfoy family who sneered at percy as he bypassed them completely to get to the end of the train where he'd left his trunk. he could see a battered corner of his trunk through the windows of the train, and percy pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose after bumping shoulders with another girl stalking past him.

hands tucked into the deep pockets of his corduroy trousers and brown shoes glinting in the bright sunlight, he hopped up onto the train to take his robes out of the top of his trunk and carefully removed his prefects badge from the beige wool of his jumper. the silk of his tie ran smoothly through his fingers as he dropped it accidentally, not noticing it on the floor by his feet as he stood up to move further down the train.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

olympia slughorn glared up at her great uncle in distain as they walked out of the kings cross underground station, sweat glistening on her forehead and trunk hefted behind her up the stairs. "why would you have ever wanted to travel with the masses on a scale such as that?" she questioned him as they beelined through daily commuters on the muggle platforms, lunging head first into the ticket machine on the wall of platform nine and three quarters when the surroundings were clear enough.

"my old students often spoke of the 'tube'," around this he made an awkward pair of air quotes with his fingers, "and i decided it was high time i tried it for myself. although," horace ran a finger against the collar of his shirt in effort to get some cool air to the skin of his neck at olympia's ever persistent stare, "it could do with some improvement."

"yeah. a whole lot of it."

with a half-hearted, upwards quirk of his lips, horace slughorn produced his wand from the pocket of his tweed jacket he'd transfigured back to his robes after their foray into muggle london, and levitated the trunk into storage on the train. another flick, and olympia's own coat had turned into her school robes, complete with a green prefect badge and hour-glass shaped tie pin. "i think i'll be apparating home." he said, patted her on the shoulder from a distance only to be brought closer as olympia's arms tentatively encircled his body, resting her cheek on the harsh fibres of his waistcoat lightly.

once she drew away, smiled up at his and nodded, olympia backed away as the whistle of the train pierced though the chatter on the platform and parents or guardians began to bundle their children onto any available space on the train as fast as they could. she'd barely made it onto the carriage herself when a porter came along to check the doors were all firmly shut, waving bright green sparks from their wands as the train began to pull away from the platform. olympia slid open the window of the door she was peering out of, yelled "wish me luck!" at her great uncle before watching him disappear with a wave and a call of "good luck" back to her.

content. for once, on the first of september, she was content.

"oi oi, sluggy."

she sighed, felt a smile work its way onto her face at the bright, northern accent of terrence higgs. he grinned loudly, barged through the crowd of students keeping the pair apart with his large arms, muscular body attaching to her in greeting. "terry!" she greeted back, south meeting north. the pair split at the voices of adrian pucey and marcus flint announcing their presence, the lithe body of cleo zambini poking out of a compartment she was refusing to relent to others. she waved them over frantically, and the four slytherins gathered in the thin corridor trooped over to her.

olympia caught a flash of maroon and gold out of the corner of her eye, picked up the offendor from where it had caught below a pile of trunks as high as the roof of the train carriage. it was a gryffindor's, no doubt about it. but who it belonged to was the question . . . ah. in the glow of the lamps she could see pin-prick sized holes over the stripes, the creaseless material a dead give away.

she put it in her pocket, checked over her shoulder that he wasn't coming marching down the corridor in search for it.

olympia crossed the threshold of the compartment and was just about to sit down when she was hauled up again by the dips in her elbows by higgs. "what are you doing?" she questioned, rubbing the patch of skin on her arm once he'd let go. terrence only stared back, already exhausted, slapped his hands to his face. "you, me, prefects meeting."

"oh, right. yeah. i forgot about that, we should probably get going."

cleo laughed. "see you two later."

the new pair of prefects stepped out of the compartment and into the corridor of the train, where there was a significantly smaller stream of people passing by them in either direction. they made to walk towards the end of the train, not far from where the rest of their friends were sat. terrence broached a question as they gained distance on penelope clearwater and brendan truman, ravenclaw prefects, who were both in olympia's transfiguration class. "you didn't seem too consistent with answering my letters over the summer."

"i was busy." they bypassed truman, thanked him for keeping the door held open for her and terrence and they sat down in the two nearest chairs. the door was just about to shut again when two new people walked in, one of them being percy weasley, who was patting down the pockets of his robes and looking around him in earnest for something around his ankles.

olympia traced the shape of his tie still in her pocket and smirked.

next to her was the only available seat, and she spoke under her breath to terrence as gordon macmillan and the head girl annabelle crosley ( who happened to be his girlfriend ) told them of their duties as newly appointed, or current, prefects. "i wasn't lending much time to things that weren't ingredients or cauldrons."

terrence nodded in understanding, and eyed weasley sat near him. "why are you worried? you've been top of the student rankings for the past four years. weasley hasn't got anything on you."

"i'm not taking any chances." she muttered back, exaggerating as she turned her head to the right and gasped loudly. "where's your tie, weasley? that's hardly a good impression, is it?" everyone in the carriage turned to look at percy, sure enough not wearing a tie around his neck. penny clearwater looked as if she was trying her hardest not to laugh, wanting to stay on his good side in hopes he would continue to help her with her ancient runes homework as they were progressing into their owl year.

"settle down, settle down." gordon attempted to quieten the group down, and eventually a tired hush befell the students. annabelle passed around a sheet of parchment upon which a timetable was drawn up. slowly but surely people began to stand up and pair with the person written next to their name, introducing themselves if they weren't too familiar with each other.

olympia and percy looked over the parchment together, faces falling as they scanned over the timetable. she didn't notice percy's tie slip out of the pocket of her robes and curl into a circle at the foot of his chair. someone noticed and tried to hand it back to him, failed in gaining an acknowledgement when he simply rocked side to side at a nudge on his shoulder.

tuesdays and thursdays : olympia slughorn ( s ) and percy weasley ( g ) to patrol the seventh floor

next part here

🪩⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊🪶

[blackcurlsgreeneyes]

Like Fire & Powder // Closed RP

@brothershardy​

Harry woke up with a start, his chest heaving for air and sweat clinging to his skin from the intense, dark dream that he’d torn out of because of a hand shaking his shoulder. He had one hand up to his face, fingers pressing on his scar instinctively, even though it never helped ease it when it hurt like this. This was deeper, magical pain--cursed pain--and medicine and ice packs and temple massages did nothing.

Fumbling for his glasses, he found the source of the shaking hand. “Hermione?”

His friend was staring at him, her brown eyes huge and worried, thick curls pulled back in a thick ponytail compared to their usual free flow. “Yes--sorry--Mrs. Weasley sent me to make sure you three were up, but you were twitching and muttering, was it a nightmare?”

Looking around, Harry nodded as he took in the faint, misty orange light that was filtering through the curtains from the dawn outside the window, illuminating his roommates--Ron, in his own bed by the window, and Joe, in a second camp cot that had been brought up for his and Harry’s stay. Sirius was in Bill and Charlie’s abandoned room down the hall.

Harry tried to recall what he had been dreaming about---it had seemed so real. Two people he knew, and one he didn’t.... The dim picture of a darkened room came to him. There had been a snake on a hearth rug...Wormtail...and a cold, high voice. The voice of Lord Voldemort. Harry shuddered. “Yeah. Just a bad dream, don’t worry. Are we running late?”

“No more than Ron ever is,” she grinned, going over to shake the redhead next. “She sent me up sooner than necessary. Oh, hush,” she laughed, when Ron woke, and gasped as if scandalized to find a girl above him. “Joe, you too! Mrs. Weasley said breakfast is nearly ready, and then Mr. Weasley’s taking us to meet another family at the Portkey.”

She left them to change, and Harry yawned as he hunted down his jeans, and a comfortable sweater and his jacket. “Do we know who we’re meeting?” he asked curiously. “I’ve never taken a Portkey before.”

“I think Dad said Amos at one point, so I reckon that’s the Diggorys,” Ron replied, taking his sweet time to actually leave his warm bed. “You know the son, he’s Hufflepuff’s Seeker. Joe, can you throw me that jumper on the chair?”

[vini-monteiro]

★★★★☆

In "Fight Club", David Fincher didn't just cement his status as one of the most groundbreaking directors of his time, he also dropped a cinematic bomb that's still exploding. Adapting Chuck Palahniuk's novel with Jim Uhls' razor-sharp script and Jeff Cronenweth's stunning visuals, Fincher created a masterpiece that keeps us hooked.

The film centers around the Narrator, a high-powered executive trapped in a life of chronic insomnia and profound unhappiness. Seeking solace in a support group for the terminally ill, he encounters the equally troubled Marla Singer. His life is irrevocably altered when he meets Tyler Durden, a charismatic soap salesman with a penchant for anarchy. Together, they establish a secret fight club, a haven for men to unleash their repressed anger and find a sense of purpose through violence. As the club evolves into a subversive movement challenging societal norms, the Narrator finds himself losing grip on reality. The lines between himself and Tyler begin to blur, ultimately revealing a shocking truth about his own identity.

David Fincher's directorial career hit a major turning point with the release of "Fight Club". A meeting with Fox executives Laura Ziskin and Bill Mechanic, and the discovery of Chuck Palahniuk's novel, marked the beginning of a new era in his filmmaking. While "Se7en" had already breathed new life into the psychological thriller genre, "Fight Club" cemented Fincher's reputation as a visionary director. Initially met with resistance, the film became a cultural sensation and a milestone in cinematic history.

Jim Uhls (Jumper) crafted a meticulously precise adaptation of Chuck Palahniuk's "Fight Club", with input from "Se7en" screenwriter Andrew Kevin Walker and the film's leads, Brad Pitt and Edward Norton. The script's non-linear structure mirrors the Narrator's fractured mind, a device intensified by David Fincher's rapid cuts and other cinematic techniques, creating a disorienting yet immersive experience. While the non-linear narrative, with its time jumps and surreal elements, can be confusing, I believe these elements could have been handled more clearly or used more sparingly.

Edward Norton's portrayal of the Narrator is a masterclass in nervous energy and vacant-eyed despair. He expertly conveys the character's desperate longing for change, delivering a performance that is both compelling and nuanced.

Helena Bonham Carter shines as the enigmatic Marla Singer. Her portrayal of this uninhibited and vulnerable woman is both captivating and complex. She shares a palpable chemistry with Edward Norton, and her character serves as a powerful catalyst for the protagonist's transformation.

Brad Pitt's Tyler Durden is a magnetic and enigmatic figure. The actor perfectly captures the character's duality, balancing his charisma with a sinister undercurrent. Tyler Durden is undoubtedly one of Pitt's most iconic roles.

David Fincher and cinematographer Jeff Cronenweth crafted a brutal visual style characterized by muted, saturated colors and stark contrasts, predominantly in shades of gray and brown. This aesthetic mirrors the characters' alienation and discontent. The camera's intimate perspective follows the protagonists, delving into their claustrophobic environments and capturing the raw intensity of their violent confrontations. The often low-key, high-contrast lighting underscores the characters' duality and the film's tense atmosphere.

Rather than relying heavily on visual effects, "Fight Club" opts for a more grounded, gritty aesthetic to reflect the psychological turmoil of its characters. The elaborate fight makeup, emphasizing blood and brutality, heightens the sense of chaos and violence. Moreover, subtle image manipulation, including the insertion of subliminal elements, contributes to the film's unsettling atmosphere and its deliberate blurring of the lines between the film and the audience.

The brutally realistic fight scenes are punctuated by surreal, hallucinogenic sequences that blur the lines between fantasy and reality. The claustrophobic, decaying sets amplify the feelings of isolation and despair.

The soundtrack, by The Dust Brothers and others, perfectly captures the film's atmosphere of angst and rebellion. The music, ranging from alternative rock to electronic, creates a frenetic and intense soundscape.

The combination of David Fincher's direction, Jim Uhls' clever script, and standout performances by Edward Norton, Brad Pitt, and Helena Bonham Carter, coupled with a striking visual style, results in a truly unique and unsettling cinematic experience. "Fight Club" non-linear narrative, graphic violence, and exploration of the male psyche make it a complex and thought-provoking film. In our increasingly individualistic and alienated world, the questions posed by this film remain pertinent, challenging us to find our own way and create a more just and compassionate society.

This text is translated with artificial intelligence, for better understanding, check the original language of the text in Portuguese.

[kaijukyru]

Snippet of the BobaDin Twister AU

Yeah...I've been writing bits and pieces here and there because it just will not leave my mind! So...this is the first page and a half. So let me know if you guys wanna see more.

Also, for more information about this Au, click here.

White, fluffy clouds stood out in the sea of blue above a gray 1979 Ford Bronco. It was modified, turning into an open-bed pickup truck that had once held probes and weather instruments. Within the cab, Din Djarin shifted gears as he drove, his hand never leaving the shifter. He simply stared ahead at the road in front of him, not even glancing at the wide-open fields that encased the road from both sides. 

A small hand suddenly patted the back of his, making him glance over to the passenger seat where two, dark brown eyes stared at him, a toothy grin accompanying them. He felt the corner of his lips twitch slightly before lifting up the hand and ruffled the 9-year old's light brown hair.

“Are you excited?” Din asked the boy, who nodded, the grin growing wider. 

“I bet they’ll be super excited to see you.”

He turned his head forward again and he could see a familiar group of cars parked in a field that sat at the end of a short driveway. It was obvious that they were getting things in order and setting things up for data from a nearby storm that was rolling in the distance.��

He pulled up, parking the care and turning the truck off before unbuckling the boy and picking him up. He opened the door and got out before putting the kid on the ground.

He didn’t even make it two feet away from his truck when he heard his son give a happy squeak and, when he glanced over, saw that Drash had scooped the boy up and was pretty much gushing over him. The corner of his lips twitched upward before noting Skad walking over to him.

“Hey man!” Skad grinned as he and Din collapsed hand before Skad pulled him into a hug. “How have you been?”

“I’ve been doing good.” Din smiled before they pulled a part.

“Are you still working in the stormy field?”

“Of course I am. Just behind the desk.”

“Sounds boring.” Skad snorted.

“It pays the bills and I don’t have other’s breathing down my neck about bringing Grogu with us on chases.” Din paused for a beat. “Hey, where’s Boba?”

Skad seemed like he was waiting for that question and nodded over to their right. “Over by the Doppler. It broke down again.”

“Broke down?”

“Yeah…we’re running out of funds.”

Din frowned before looking over. His eyes were drawn to A dark dark brown bus that was obviously converted. It had a platform  on top that was stabilized to the roof and on the platform was the doppler dish, sturdy as ever. Standing just next to it was a bald man in a white muscle shirt and a dark green jumper with the top half of it wrapped around the waist. 

He felt his nerves acting up at the sight of the other, which made him slightly angry at himself. This wasn’t something to be nervous about. It’s just signing over half of their shared ownership over their team. Nothing more, nothing less.

[carewyncromwell]

Ginny 🤝 Carewyn

1994 was an incredibly eventful year in the Wizarding World. Although yes, one could've surmised as much in response to the terrifying Death Eater attack after the Quidditch World Cup Final between Bulgaria and Ireland, no one outside of the Ministry really knew just how much was planned for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry until the term started. One hint, however, could be found in the students' list of necessary school supplies for the year ahead -- new to the list this year were a proper set of dress robes, appropriate to a formal event. And upon receiving her list of school supplies, Ginny Weasley was delighted to learn from her mother that her oldest and favorite brother Bill's best friend, Carewyn Cromwell, had volunteered to help her shop for some dress robes.

"Now, Carewyn said she might not be able to buy you whatever you want," Mrs. Weasley said bracingly. "You know she doesn't earn any more than your father...and while renting a flat in London, no less! But she thought that some new robes, even on clearance, might be a nice belated birthday gift..."

Ginny wasn't the least bit unhappy by this. Not only had she assumed she'd have to wear something of her mum or aunt's, but the thought of going out shopping with Carewyn was enough to make the thirteen-year-old bounce with glee. She always liked it whenever Carewyn visited the Burrow as it was, but being able to spend some private "girl's time" with Bill's best friend was beyond exciting.

And so a few days before term started, the youngest Weasley dressed in her favorite dress, jumper, tights, and boots, and then thundered downstairs to the fire. She even ended up running into Ron and Harry on the stairs, and -- after biting back her blush as best she could -- she darted away toward the kitchen before Ron could make too much fun of her for it. Once it was 10 o'clock, Mrs. Weasley walked Ginny over to the fireplace so she could send her on her way to the Leaky Cauldron, where Carewyn would be meeting her. Bill and Charlie were both there to see her off too.

"Tell Carey we said hi," Bill told his sister with a smile.

"Better yet, force her to come back to the Burrow with you when you're done," Charlie added more forcefully.

"Oh, Charlie," Mrs. Weasley scolded, lightly batting him on the arm. Once she had, though, she said as an aside to Ginny, "Do try to invite Carewyn back over for a visit, though, Ginny dear -- while your brothers are still here..."

Ginny couldn't help but grin. "Okay."

And with this, she grabbed some Floo Powder, tossed it at her feet, very clearly shouted, "DIAGON ALLEY!", and disappeared with a flash of green flame and smoke.

When Ginny climbed out of the Leaky Cauldron's Floo grate a few seconds later, she immediately found Carewyn standing there waiting on the other side of the grate. The ginger-haired lawyer was as pretty as always with her trademark bright red lipstick, dressed in a crisp, white collared shirt, thigh-length black skirt and a tailored black waistcoat.

At the sight of Carewyn, Ginny's brown eyes lit up like miniature suns.

"CAREY!"

Carewyn had to open her arms quickly so as to catch the smaller girl as she threw her arms around her, squeezing tight.

"Hi, Ginny," Carewyn couldn't bite back a full, amused smile.

Ginny looked up at Carewyn, unable to keep the huge, giddy grin off her flushed, sooty, freckled face.

"Bill, Charlie, and Mum say hi," she said at once.

Carewyn's blue eyes sparkled knowingly. "Is that all they said?"

"Well, Charlie also told me to force you to come back with me to the Burrow," Ginny said through her giggles. "Mum wants you there too."

Carewyn rolled her eyes up toward the ceiling as she sighed. "I'm sure she does...for very different reasons than Charlie, I'm quite sure..."

She took out a handkerchief and set about wiping the soot from Ginny's face.

"Yeah..." Ginny laughed a bit uncomfortably, "Mum just hasn't gotten it through her head that Charlie's not into dating. But well, it wouldn't be so bad if you and Bill dated, right? You're already best friends! And if you marry Bill, then he could come home and take a desk job at Gringotts, and you could both live in London together!"

Carewyn tried to smile instead of cringe, but the effect was weakened by just how much she avoided Ginny's eyes. "Ginny, I love Bill only as a friend...and the feeling is more than mutual on his end. I have little interest in marrying anyone as it is. And even if I didn't, Bill and I couldn't be more different, in what we'd want in a romantic relationship."

Giving birth to a lot of kids, for one -- talk about the last thing I'd want to do...

Ginny deflated, clearly a bit disappointed.

"If you say so. ...I still think you'd make a brilliant Weasley, though," she said with a grin.

Carewyn smiled wryly. "Well, fortunately, your brothers have treated me like one for quite a while now."

Tucking her handkerchief back into the inside of her jacket, she then turned on her heel, glancing back over her shoulder at Ginny.

"Well, come on, then," she said stridently. "I thought Madame Malkin's would be the best place to start. Twilfitt and Tatting's supply is very pretty, but we're less likely to get as much for our money there. And remember, we can always modify what we find, if it's not a perfect fit...I'm sure your mother would be happy to help with that..."

Ginny eagerly followed along after Carewyn out of the pub and into the rest of Diagon Alley.

The two gingers headed to the famous robe shop, where they immediately moved to the clearance racks at the back of the room. Ginny was actually really happy to see just how much Carewyn and she were able to pick out from that rack that they both liked and Carewyn could afford -- even those ensembles that were three times the amount of Ginny's second-hand school robes weren't out of reach, which made it so that Ginny ended up having a stack of eighteen pretty, affordable dresses in her size that she could try on. Some of them didn't suit Ginny -- the flashy, patterned purple, gold, and green one overpowered her small frame, while the cream-colored one completely washed her out. Others were made of uncomfortable materials, were too revealing, or required a larger bust size to look right.

Eventually, though, Carewyn helped Ginny pick out a golden yellow dress with wide bell-shaped sleeves and navy-blue and burgundy panels on the skirt. Carewyn had originally thought to go for something more delicate, but upon seeing how easy it was for Ginny to move in it and how happy she was twirling the skirt around, Carewyn decided it ultimately was the best choice.

"Do you think it'll do?" Ginny asked a bit more self consciously, as she looked at Carewyn's reflection in the mirror.

"Of course it will," Carewyn said gently, as she took a mint-green dress with pastel pink details she hadn't liked very much out of the stack and returned it to the rack. "Even if it's cotton instead of velvet or silk, it's cut flowingly, and the colors are much brighter than standard robes."

Ginny held the skirt out, sweeping it back and forth as she considered her reflection. Noticing the younger girl's hesitation, Carewyn came back over to stand behind her, smiling at her in the mirror as she talked to her.

"Most importantly, you're comfortable in it," she said with a small smile. "We always look our most beautiful when we're comfortable and having fun...and in dress robes this comfortable, I would think dancing the night away would be very easy to do."

Ginny looked up at Carewyn's reflection, startled.

"Did you say dance -- ?"

"I suppose Bill didn't mention the time he stopped by briefly to the Celestial Ball, in my fourth year," Carewyn said airily. "A shame -- he did quite a nice job fixing up his own dress robes, for that party..."

Ginny's face was flushed with excitement as Carewyn gave her shoulder a light squeeze.

"Dress robes are only worn for formal events, Ginny, I haven't said anything that shocking," she said in a rather droll voice. "It's only sensible to presume that an event of that nature would involve dancing."

Despite saying this, her blue eyes twinkled with amusement. It made Ginny grin from ear to ear.

"Suuuure," she said sarcastically, before bursting into giggles. Carewyn herself only smiled more wryly.

"Well, then, have you decided on those?"

"Yeah!" said Ginny.

"Good -- let's get them bought and paid for. Then I can buy you some ice cream before sending you home."

Ginny had gone behind the curtain to change -- when she'd pulled the robes up and over her head and could peek around the curtain properly, she looked a bit disappointed.

"So you're not coming back home with me?" she asked.

Carewyn offered Ginny a sad, sympathetic smile. "I'm sorry, Ginny, I have work in less than an hour. The Minister has requested my professional opinion on the validity of possible libel charges against Rita Skeeter..."

"Libel charges?" Ginny frowned.

"Put simply, Fudge didn't like Rita Skeeter trash-talking the Ministry's response to the attack at the World Cup and wants to know if there's any way he can make her shut up," Carewyn said very coolly.

Ginny couldn't help but scoff around her smile as she went back behind the curtain. "I bet Dad wishes she would too, after all the fuss she made. Reckon there's any chance Fudge could do it?"

"No -- her words in that article are protected under current law, given that she framed the more sensational comments as rumors or speculation from unnamed witnesses. Not to mention that Fudge going after Rita Skeeter would only give her and her writing more attention in the press, not less."

Ginny gave another low scoff from behind the screen. "I guess it's like Dad says: bullies love playing the victim -- then they can act like all their rotten actions are justified..."

The youngest Weasley came back out from behind the curtain, holding her new robes under her left arm and taking hold of Carewyn's arm with her free right hand.

"Well, you'd better write a proper apology to Bill and Charlie for not coming back with me," Ginny said pointedly. "I know Charlie will be mighty disappointed. Mum too."

"I will try very hard to get together with both Bill and Charlie before they leave Britain," Carewyn said levelly. "After all, I've missed them too."

Ginny grinned again, clearly pleased by this. Once Carewyn took the robes from Ginny and paid for them at the desk, she handed the bag holding the robes back to Ginny and the two gingers headed out of the shop.

"Carey?"

"Yes?"

Ginny gave Carewyn the biggest side-hug she could muster with only one arm completely free.

"Thank you," she said, beaming. "Shopping with you was so much fun. And my robes...you were right before, they are perfect! I can't wait to dance in them! Maybe I'll even get to dance with...well...somebody cool..."

She blushed a bit, clearly a bit self-conscious at this thought. Carewyn's eyes softened as she brought the smaller girl up against her side affectionately.

"I'm glad you like them," she said gently.

Ginny gave Carewyn another squeeze as she grinned up at her through her ruby red blush.

"...Say, Carey, did you and Bill dance at that Ball? The one you mentioned earlier?"

Carewyn cocked her eyebrows. "No, we did not. My date for that Ball was Andre Egwu, actually."

Ginny's mouth dropped open in disbelief. "The Keeper for Pride of Portree? But -- but I thought he liked blokes -- "

"Primarily," Carewyn said with a dry smile. "And I primarily like my independence -- hence why we didn't last."

Bringing a hand down onto Ginny's shoulder, Carewyn then started off down the street, coaxing her along behind.

"Now come on -- I said I'd get you some ice cream, and I only have a half hour before I'm supposed to clock in."

Friendship Drabble Prompt!

[ghoulsister1]

🎃SpookTober 31 Days Prompts🎃:

Day 8: Leaves🍂

Dante Sparda x GN!Reader. Fluff. Cosy Autumn Vibes. Raking up the leaves. Leaf pile. Sweet moments with Dante. SpookTober Prompt: Leaves🍂

●☆●☆●☆●☆●☆●☆●☆●☆●☆●☆●☆●☆●☆●☆●☆●

☆●~War Of The Leaves~●☆

It's Fall at Devil May Cry and as you are raking up the leaves, Dante decides to have some fun with the neatly piled leaf pile!

October was here! Fall in full bloom and the leaves were falling from the trees in colours of red, yellow and brown in every shade. You loved the leaves and their beautiful Fall colours, the perfect palette for the season.

You saw some of the leaves out on your lawn and decided it's time to rake some of them up. You grabbed your rake and headed out to begin your chore.

Dante called you as your were busy raking. He was at Devil May Cry, keeping an ear out for jobs with Vergil and Nero.

"Hey babe! How are you? Where are you?" Asked Dante, leaning back in his comfy chair at his desk. You chuckled and rolled your eyes playfully.

"I'm at home silly, raking up the leaves" You Replied giggling.

"Raking up the leaves? Why? Come over and I'll order pizza!" Suggested Dante grinning.

"Dante, that money is for the bills" You heard Vergil say in the background through the phone, making you chuckle.

"Vergil, the bills are fine! They can wait!" Groaned Dante with a sigh. You smiled to yourself as you heard the two Sparda brothers go back and forth.

"Tell you what Dante, how about you come over and help me rake the leaves, then we'll order pizza this evening? Sound good?" You Suggested.

"I'll be right over!" Cried Dante with joy.

"But Dante, the phone..." Vergil Began.

"Vergil you're in charge for today!" Declared Dante as you heard movement through the phone.

"Dante!..." Shouted Vergil.

"Nero make sure your Dad doesn't scare off any customer!" Shouted Dante before the call ended. You laughed to yourself at how goofy your scruffy half-demon could be and returned to raking the leaves, waiting for the arrival of your boyfriend.

It wasn't long till you heard the sound of a motorbike tearing up your street and you looked up to see Dante arriving on his motorbike, parking it outside and sauntering over to you as you smirked at him.

"Hey Dante!" You Greeted your scruffy Devil hunter as he made his way over to you. Dante smiled warmly at you.

"Hey babe!" Greeted Dante as he wrapped you in his arms and hugged you. You hugged him back and it was then you noticed his clothing. He was wearing his usual red leather jacket but instead of a shirt, he it was a black turtleneck jumper he wore. It smelled of fabric comforter and you nuzzled your face into his clothed chest.

"Nice jumper" You Remarked and Dante looked at you with a chuckle and the two of you broke away to look at each other.

"Got it yesterday. Thought why not?" Shrugged Dante smiling. You returned the smile and handed him the second rake.

"Well then, let's get to work!" You Smiled and Dante took the rake from your hand.

The two of you raked the leaves together, raking them up into a neat pile in the corner of the lawn. Dante groaned a bit at the chore, making you laugh as he protested at any chance he got.

"Why rake the leaves? Just leave them, the wind will blow them away anyway. Besides, more leaves will fall onto the lawn again!" Groaned Dante as he raked a couple of leaves into the pile. You laughed.

"Come on Dante, I asked you if you wanted to rake the leaves with me and you said yes! So here we are, raking the leaves" You Stated.

"I know I know!" Groaned Dante, stopping to look at the big leaf pile that had formed.

"Hey babe, wanna have some fun?" Asked Dante.

"What kind of fun?" You Asked, raking.

"This" Replied Dante and without warning he just spread his arms out wide and he jumped into the neat leaf pile, sending leaves up in the air and scattering.

"Dante! We just raked those leaves!" You Cried but Dante got up from the pile and grinned.

"Come on, live on the wild side!" Cried Dante and he threw a bunch of leaves at you.

"Dante!" You Cried.

"Aw, what are you gonna do about it?" Teased Dante. You narrowed your eyes and dropped your rake.

"Are you challenging me?" You Asked, smirking.

Dante smirked back.

"Maybe, if you have the guts!" Teased Dante.

You smirked and picked up a bunch of leaves. Then you threw them at Dante, some were wet and stuck to his face.

"Yuck!" Cried Dante and you laughed. Dante and you then engaged in an all out leaf fight. Leaves were thrown here and there, Dante at one point started play fighting with you and you tackled each other with tickles and leaves, eventually both of you landed in the leaf pile with laughter.

"Got you!" Cried Dante, tickling you in the leaf pile.

"No I got you!" You Cried, tickling him back.

"Okay! Okay! Let's call it a draw!" Cried Dante, laughing.

"Alright deal! Deal!" You Cried with laughter.

You both stopped your tickling and you lay together, laughing and panting softly covered in leaves and wet with some damp off the leaves.

"Okay, that was a fun idea Dante" You Spoke, out of breath and smiling. Dante chuckled.

"Told you so" Dante Replied, out of breath but still laughing softly.

Dante looked at the scattered leaves all strewn across the lawn.

"Wanna rake these up?" Asked Dante.

You looked around at all the leaves, but smiled.

"Nah, let's head inside and order that pizza" You Suggested, smiling. Dante's eyes lit up at the mention of "pizza" and grinned.

"For real?" Asked Dante.

"Yeah!" You Answered and the two of you helped each other up outta the leaves and headed back indoors to warm up.

You ordered some pizza and changed into comfy lounge wear and made some delicious orange hot chocolate as you and Dante waited for the pizza to arrive to your door, snuggling up together on the couch and rewatching episodes of Family Guy on the TV.

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[sonnet-of-anarchy]

Awh, thanks for the tag @ginevralinton <3

Favourite colour and why? Dark blue or green I’d say. Green because pretty much every shade is beautiful & it reminds me of wood walks, nature, and pretty eyes. Blue has always been my favourite, not really sure why - suppose my middle name sort-of links (Jay, like the bird) but also my Uni is down south so I’m lucky enough to see the sea quite a bit :)

Five comfort movies: Bunny & the Bull, Shaun of the Dead, Bill, The World’s End & Slaughterhouse Rulez

Favourite season and why? Gotta be Autumn. I like crunchy leaves and the colours. It’s the perfect temperature mostly without being freezing or boiling - I can wear my favourite clothes &, honestly, still love Spooky Season :)

Favourite book(s): Dracula by Bram Stoker, Lanny by Max Porter, Carmilla by J.Sheridan LeFanu (to name a few)

favourite aesthetic(s)and why? I believe it’s called ‘fairy grunge’ or the sort of grung-y/ whimsical vibes that cross over whimsigoth and ‘hippie’ - I just like the grounded/nonchalant aesthetic I suppose - suits my lifestyle the most :)

Favourite genre and why? Gotta be horror-comedy, I get a gore fix without the fear of media taking itself too seriously haha. Must admit it’s very hit and miss though - there’s always the fear of ‘shock value’ substituting a good script/ loosening production value with the facade of a ‘it’s supposed to be bad’. THAT BEING SAID there have been a lot of gems that’ve come from this genre.

Favourite clothes style: as above really, any green/brown/grey/black earthy tones. I enjoy cardigans and jumpers, flow-y skirts or baggy jeans - depends where the gender meter is sitting, I suppose. Either way lots of jewellery, crystals, badges, hair product and big boots.

Favourite music genres: suppose it’s ‘indie’ in its vaguest terms, but honestly I switch from the most explicit, rowdy punk to Glen Miller and Frank Sinatra, so

Favourite artists: Gorillaz, Dazey & the Scouts, Madness, The Cure, X-Ray Spex, Siouxsie and the Banshees, The Beatles, The Specials, Pavement (etc)

Favourite song(s): Dancing in the Moonlight by Toploader, Iris by the Goo Goo Dolls & Looking Out for You by Joy Again.

Favourite fandoms: BBC Ghosts ofc <3

Hobbies: Writing, what we’ll loosely call drawing, baking, guitar, scrapbooking & photography

Care language you give: honesty it depends, people I’m close with physical touch - but mostly words of affirmation/ acts of service - I spend so long choosing gifts. Like, I might not know the protocol to comfort you but best believe if your sad I’ll write you a fancy letter in the post with trinkets and a wax stamp haha.

Care language you like to receive: Touch. 1000%. Suck at hugs but I’ll gladly walk into you until I’m adequately encapsulated.

Are you an introvert/extrovert/ambivert: introvert, the ‘take up space in the corner because the floor is suddenly the most fascinating thing in the world also I need my headphones now because your voices are punching my brain’ sort. (Potentially also known as neurodiverse).

Morning or night person? My brain’s on a permanent night shift - which isn’t too handy for 9 AM’s, but I can appreciate moonlit walks and herbal tea in bed <3

City, country or suburbs and why? I think suburbs, best of both worlds then.

Favourite time of day and why? Probably 7-8, just enjoy that time of evening :)

Do you have any religious beliefs(don’t have to answer if not comfortable): nah.

What does your ideal family look like to you? It’s me, my boyfriend and whoever else we may meet down the line. Also cats, lots of cats.

Dream future: I’ve finished uni & so has Tommy, I’m recovered and have all the tattoos, piercings, crystals I’ve wanted to get. We live down the south in an Italian-style country house on a hill away from the main village with all our partners & pets. It’s covered in ivy, fairy lights and colours and a huge porch that we can all sit on together with a campfire. We’ve got a garden too full of veg and flowers and herbs.

Dream place to visit: my mate James always fancied Iceland so that’s got me thinking I want to go too!

Favourite type of nature: great orange/brown crunchy woods with little streams & bridges.

Favourite habitat (eg jungle, desert, tundra etc): Forests!

How would you describe yourself in 4 words: Anxious, peaceable, affectionate & imaginative (not to, like, blow my own trumpet haha)

If you could be another thing on earth what would it be: the Trevi Fountain in Rome. I’d have people chucking money at me left, right, and centre!

Favourite type of weather: 15 degrees. Or if we’re being less specific the type of rain I can watch from the window & listen to.

If you could travel anywhere right now where would it be: Brighton. Haven’t been there in a while & I miss it!

Do you have any fears (serious or otherwise): jellyfish, dogs, the sea life centre (specifically the creepy fish in tanks at eye level), failure, abandonment, any form of flying thing be it tennis balls or wasps & colds.

Dream job: if all goes well screenwriting for TV/Film or directing - also teaching, but it would have to be A level or higher so I wouldn’t have to deal with kids who hate the subject. If that fails however I shall take up the position of ‘regional trinket’ anarchic grandpa with a van that looks like something straight out of tank girl.

Would you be a pirate/vampire/cowboy/astronaut/werewolf/wizard/witch/knight/cryptid and why? Guess I’d be a vampire so it’s slightly more socially acceptable to bite things.

(Cheers to anyone who read all of these rambles incidentally)

Tagging @the-boosh-is-loose & anyone else who fancies!! <3