#even if he is an arsehole a lot of the time

[ayeforscotland]

Do you think uk farmers are overreacting about inheritence tax? I genuinely don't know enough about it to confidently give my opinion, but on the surface it seems like it would affect farm OWNERS right, who are usually rich people passing their fortune on to their rich kids? But idk maybe I'm biased, growing up in Wales there was always a very 'YFC exclusive club of nepotism babies who already have business connections by the time they hit high school' vibe when it came to farmer's kids. My worst HS teacher was a farm owner, and she literally hosted boris j on her farm in Wales when he was PM, to my utter disgust. I guess I'm having a hard time seeing past my personal bias so I'd love to hear other opinions

As the saying goes, “You never meet a poor farmer.”

I’m not against it, but I think farmers have also had a really shit deal due to Brexit and there’s probably not been any support for them in the aftermath, so imagine that a lot of them feel like they’re getting both barrels (even if a good handful voted for Brexit)

Who I have no sympathy for is arseholes like Jeremy Clarkson and James Dyson. Dyson in particular has infamously used farmland as a tax dodge for years.

[phantom-of-the-501st]

"Not 'til tonight. 'Til I saw you look at him... the way you once looked at me."

-Ross Poldark, 3x8

Look, Ross may be a pillock some of (a lot of) the time, but this line still hurts, okay!

[pseudowho]

The Stacks

(Higuruma art by @milanvaan on X)

Stuck together on an all-night study session at the University library, you and your rival Higuruma Hiromi find you may have more in common than you thought...

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, rivals/enemies to lovers, breaking point smut, mild brat-taming/retribution, 'missionary so we can continue fighting'

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The twilight crept in-- but, while your fellow students were heading out for a night of drinks and debauchery, you walked under the evening-dappled willows, to the entrance of the library. You already knew it would be as quiet as the grave.

In the morning was your final, decisive Law exam; this was it. The culmination of years of effort. The final hurdle before the start of a glorious, prolific career. The recognition of yourself as the best Lawyer that your University had ever produced. And, with a curious, melancholy twinge of anger, the last time you would ever have to share a classroom with--

"You." Two voices rang out through the library entrance corridor; one disgusted, the other surprised. Higuruma Hiromi's hooked nose wrinkled at you, beetle-black eyes glinting as he straightened under a straining bag of books, to full height.

A taut moment of silence. Something in Hiromi's jaw clenched and unclenched rapidly, his foot tapping, and he looked aside. Looking back at you, his fury a thin veneer over a flicker of curiosity, he tensed to feel you sweep past him.

"I'm taking the Law section. You can grab some books, and fuck off to study somewhere else, Higuruma."

"Hey-- hey-- you can get fucked if you think you're taking over the place, sunshine--"

Hiromi prickled, rushing to catch up with you. You raced him, his long spidery legs easily putting him in front of you. Two sets of frantic footsteps running up the staircases, crashing and jostling-- "don't touch me!" "--stop it, you're a fucking menace--" "--not sitting with an arsehole like you all night--"

Hiromi and you approached the Law section at speed, a single plush sofa hidden away within circular stacked shelves, tables running between them like the spokes of a wheel. Hiromi shunted you aside at the last moment, slamming his bag on the couch with a satisfied hoot of success, turning to you with a grin and a twinkle in his eyes.

"Bastard!" You snapped, your hackles raised, and the twinkle in Hiromi's eyes dulled, replaced by tired disappointment as he looked away again, jaw twitching under your hateful gaze. Hiromi huffed, moving to empty his bag of textbooks and scattily-organised notebooks.

"Not like I'm going to stop you from studying here," Hiromi clipped, tense, "Lots of room. Didn't anyone ever teach you to share?" He teased, offering another wan smile. You rejected it categorically.

"I don't share with rats," you snapped, grabbing your bag and slamming it onto a nearby table. Hiromi was silent, tapping his fingers against his thigh, mouth puckering up into a bitter snipe.

"Yeah, well...let me know if you want to borrow my paper from the Spring term," Hiromi offered sarcastically, his anger burning low, "I know you didnt do so well on that one--"

"Shut up! My paper was perfect, it was--"

"--second best in the class?" Hiromi hissed air through his teeth, his crossed legs bouncing and jittery as he started to sort through notes, "Yeah, it's okay, I suppose...always room for improvement though, right?"

"Yeah, well..." You retaliated, stumbling over your words, "...you know where you can find a decent essay on Commercial Law, I know you struggle with it."

Hiromi ignored you, relaxed and not taking the bait. It pissed you off how effortless he found all of this, how he didn't have a competitive bone in his body...and all the while, you had toiled away blood, sweat and tears to get to the position you were.

You sat in stony silence for an hour, studying quietly. Any time you relaxed in his presence, you mentally snapped at yourself, not willing to concede one inch to such a snake--

A cup of coffee from the vending machine was dropped in front of you by one long-fingered, elegant hand. You looked up to see Hiromi loping away, warm and lackadaisical in his slim black jeans and Law school sweatshirt. You bristled. Hiromi sat on the sofa again, rolling his eyes as you pushed the coffee away from you with a huff, his own coffee hiding the hint of a smile on his lips and coal-ember eyes.

You tried to hide a yawn behind your hand. Between studying, and part-time bar work to pay your way, sleep was a rare resource. You knew no light in your life other than that from the candle you burned at both ends. Rubbing your eyes, your elbow slipped when you moved to rest it on the table. Your impeccably written flashcards hit the floor, scattering as you swore, kneeling to pick them up.

A few slow footsteps, and those long-fingered hands appeared in your vision again, helping to collect your flashcards with meticulous care. Your shoulders bunched up, and you snatched the pile of cards from Hiromi's hands when he offered them to you.

"Thank you," you begrudged. Hiromi remained on his haunches, hands clasped in front of him.

"Nice flashcards," he offered, and you bristled again, looking for insult, "want me to quiz you?"

"I can do it by myself," you snapped, turning to sit on your chair again, your back to him. You weren't sure if you heard Hiromi sigh.

"Suit yourself, misery guts." Hiromi moved back to the couch, not partaking in the bitter little competition he had never entered. As the clock ticked onwards, approaching midnight, the sky beyond the windows now an inky black, your brain began to fog. You caught yourself reading the same sentence again, and again, and again--

You heard a persistent little tapping. Hiromi had not looked up from his notes, but patted the spot on the sofa beside him in invitation.

"Come on," he pressed, soft and unyielding, "bring your flashcards over, and I'll quiz you. If we're here all night, we might as well be useful to each other."

Your resolve crumbled, despite your prickles of disgust towards Hiromi, and you picked up your lukewarm coffee and your flashcards to sit beside him. You hadn't realised how cold you were, until you felt the warmth of his thickly muscled thigh against yours. You shivered. Hiromi's gaze flicked up and down your body, his hangdog eyes impassively reading you.

He took off his sweatshirt in one fluid movement, holding it out to you. You pretended to ignore him, turning your face away with a pout. Hiromi scoffed. Momentarily, you squealed in indignation to feel his sweatshirt being pulled over your head, your arms being pushed through the sleeves like you were a child.

"Do as you're told," Hiromi chastised without venom, "and wear my fucking sweatshirt. You're cold." You swallowed, rendered speechless by his warmth, the soft notes of his shampoo, and, to your surprise, cologne.

"Did mummy buy you some nice perfume?" You jabbed, and you blushed as Hiromi surprised you with a laugh, deep, rich and genuine. Hiromi leaned across you, his face skirting so close to yours, on his way to reach for your flash cards. He moved his face even closer, his voice conspiratorial as you felt his warm, coffee'd breath over your lips.

"Mummy still thinks I'm some little boy."

You felt a shiver down your spine, feeling heat pool in your belly and pussy, before mentally shaking yourself. Higuruma Hiromi? You berated yourself internally, don't be so fucking ridiculous.

You had felt your eyes wander to him, early in your first year, his quiet confidence so magnetic. You had almost been pulled into his gravity. Then, he bested you in test, after test, after test, never seeming to break a sweat, being lauded as a prodigy, touted as the youngest Judge the Law school would ever see instated. It hadn't taken long for you to see him as the nuisance he was.

Then, he had done something unforgivably dirty, becoming a filthy little sellout, and your conviction in your opinion of him was solidified with brutal finality.

Your train of thought was interrupted by your coffee being pressed into your hands.

"Drink up," Hiromi urged, his tone broaching no argument, a wonky smile on his face which made your stomach somersault, "and get ready. I won't go easy on you."

And, he didn't. He grilled you mercilessly, becoming more and more thrilled as you snapped back each time with devastating precision and accuracy. The flashcards soon became secondary, and eventually discarded in favour of a soulful debate. The back and forth roared through you both like wildfire. You bounced off Hiromi's challenge with ease, his natural foil, and he took it all with a sultry delight that intoxicated you.

Your legs were entangled, now, facing each other on the sofa, and ribbing each other for all you were worth. You hadn't noticed how low your guard had dropped, until you saw how Hiromi looked at you, your wide sparkling smile, your twinkling eyes, your dimples. His square jaw leaned on one hand, his slim fingers stretching from chin to temple, one finger between his teeth, eyes dipped low and burning through you as he smiled. You gulped, feeling the fire warm you from head to foot.

"I'm, uhm..." you trembled, pushing your glasses up your nose as he raised his eyebrows, otherwise still as a panther in the rainforest, "...uhm...just going to get a snack...want anything?"

"...sure," Hiromi eventually answered, watching with mischief as you untangled your legs from his, "anything." You skittered past Hiromi, and it took everything in his power not to pull you to straddle his lap and see just how much he could steam up your glasses.

Turning the corner to the vending machine, you finally released the breath you had been holding. You fanned your face, pressing buttons, selecting a random assortment of snacks, and tapping your card to the card reader. Three little bleeps-- declined.

You felt a thread of panic. You checked your bank account with your heart in your throat...pennies. Literal pennies left to your name, until payday before the weekend. You now burned with shame, considering just leaving your books and bag and turning tail back to your apartment. Instead, with a furious blush over your cheeks, you headed back to the sofa, Hiromi looking at you curiously as you pulled a book onto your lap, empty-handed.

"Nothing decent," you lied, "sorry." Hiromi was silent; his gaze rendered you transparent in a way that was so unwelcome to you now. You felt a wash of relief as he stood up and walked away.

A few minutes later, Hiromi returned, gently placing a bag of crisps and a bar of chocolate down on the book on your lap. Tears of shame prickled in your eyes.

"You like these, right? I've seen you eat them before," Hiromi mused, gentle and casual. You pressed your eyes and lips shut, tears threatening to overspill.

"You didn't have to," you urged, your voice tight. Hiromi hummed to himself, taking a bite of his chocolate, and raising your chocolate bar to boop you softly on the nose.

"Big day tomorrow...today. You won't do well if you're hungry." A pause. "You work hard. It happens." You flooded with a sickening rush of gratitude, Hiromi's easy empathy almost washing away the shame.

"...thank-- thank you," you mumbled, fingers closing round his, your little heart thumping for him, as you accepted the chocolate bar. "I get paid on Friday, I'll pay you back--"

Hiromi scoffed, playful, "Don't worry about it. Just...buy the second round of drinks." You felt your stomach flip, your fingertips pressed over your mouthful of chocolate as you blushed. He was so casual about it. You couldn't see how his heart pounded in anticipation, awaiting certain rejection.

"...I...uhm...yeah. That sounds...that sounds...nice." Hiromi released the breath he'd been holding in a shaky, quiet whoosh. He felt the bridge of his aquiline nose redden. He tried to look surreptitious as he scooted closer to you on the sofa, pretending to choose a textbook.

The exam in the morning was now the furthest thing from Hiromi's mind. You shivered to feel the heat of his thigh against you again, and your fingers itched to reach out and feel the hot corded muscle of them. Hiromi wanted nothing more than to turn, pull your mouth to his, and share the taste of chocolate on each others' tongues. He was torn by indecision.

Shifting your legs, your textbook tumbled off to the side of you. You leaned back, reaching down to the floor, at the same time as Hiromi leaned over your body, his fingers stretching out, too. You found yourself suddenly bracketed by his lithe, long body, his arms either side of your head and his lap pressed to yours.

You stared up at Hiromi, like a little bunny rabbit, trapped. You reached one hand up to brush the black commas of hair off Hiromi's forehead and he shuddered, feeling his cock throb and fatten behind the zipper of his jeans. He leaned down towards you, pupils dilated, a pit of possessive thrill just above his aching length as he spoke, millimetres away from your lips.

"How long has this been almost happening for?" Hiromi pondered aloud, his cock thickening even faster as you squeaked, little hands gripping his biceps.

"Never," you challenged weakly, "it was never going to happen--"

"Yeah, right," he whispered, low and sarcastic, one hand looping behind your neck in preparation for fucking into your mouth with his tongue, "always the same shit with you--"

"-- it might have happened sooner if-- if you didn't sell yourself to that filthy company to become their corporate lawyer lapdog--"

Hiromi stiffened instantly, pulling away from you, your lips chasing his briefly in confusion. You blinked up at him, feeling so small as his face twisted in fury above you, his eyes incandescent with rage.

"I'm sorry-- what?" He snarled, climbing off of you and leaving you cold, confused, blinking.

"--you--you were scouted by that nasty finance company, right? And you accepted. Everybody said--"

Hiromi laughed, humourless, both of his hands cupping his nose and lower face as he leaned back into the sofa, staring at the ceiling, "Yeah? Everybody says, do they? You listen to everybody, do you?"

You felt a thread of dread run through you, the adrenaline of having almost been taken by Hiromi, now replaced with the adrenaline of confrontation. You felt a ruffle of indignation through you.

"I always thought you'd go that way," you asserted, doubling-down, rendered stupid by the need to win, "some little corporate rat for pay."

Hiromi's teeth clenched so hard, you heard the crunch, and you felt exactly how seriously you had fucked up. You gulped. You stood, brisk. You crammed books and flashcards into your bag, before moving to make a swift exit.

"--a--anyway. Good luck in the morning. Have a nice life."

You hurried away, towards the tightly packed bookshelves, at first hearing silence behind you, before the sudden rush of heavy footsteps chasing you and your heart in your mouth and--

You squealed, forcibly spun by one strong hand, your back slammed against the bookshelves. Books slipped and fell around your head, but none of them hit you; Hiromi barely winced as he craned over you, books tumbling off his head and shoulders while his arms blocked your exit. His hips pressing against your belly trapped you further, and you felt the erection you had left him with, straining against his jeans.

"You're smart, but you're such a fucking know it all," Hiromi spat, urging you to answer for your crimes by forcing eye-contact. You swallowed, heart fluttering between your legs, speechless.

"Oh, what? Now you shut up, huh?" Hiromi tsked, a wonky smile on his face, still twisted in anger as he laughed, humourless, into his shoulder.

"What the fuck did I ever do wrong?" Hiromi demanded, leaning down so the side of his hooked nose pressed against yours, your lips almost touching, "What did I do to make you hate me? So fucking competitive, you act like a total brat to the one guy who's good enough to keep up with you."

"Higuruma, I-- I'm sorry, I didn't mean--"

"Oh, no no no," Hiromi whispered, nose still pressed to yours, his cock rigid and twitching against your belly, "Hiromi, please. Enemies are just as intimate as lovers, after all." You shuddered, and Hiromi felt a drip of pre-cum soak his boxers, to see you finally yielding beneath him, and in his sweatshirt no less.

"...I did accept a job, obviously," Hiromi sniped, watching the colour drain from your face as he told you, "...at the Public Defence Office...you gullible little tart."

"...but if you think I'm such a bad person, how about I fuck you like one, hmm?" Hiromi drank down your squeak with a nose-crinkling grin, before crashing his lips to yours, moaning with relief into your gasping, warm mouth. The tension snapped in you, brittle under Hiromi's righteous rage, and you tangled your arms around his neck, pressing your body flat against his, in a kiss that was three years in the making.

"--oh, fuck yes-- fucking pain in my ass-- hate me all you like, still better than being ignored by you--" Hiromi nipped your bottom lip between his teeth, before sucking it between his, soothing the sting. You could feel how he shook with restraint, wanting retribution for years of ill-treatment. In a fleeting moment of shame-faced acceptance, as Hiromi laid claim to your neck, you realised you absolutely deserved it.

Hiromi marked your neck, sucking with his teeth and lips, raking the neckline of his sweatshirt down to do the same to your collarbones with a sandy moan. He scooped his arms under your thighs, lifting you against him, carrying you back to the sofa where he fell back, forcing you to straddle him. The sudden jolt of your clothed aching pussy against his cock made you both moan, and Hiromi bucked his cock up against you instinctively.

Feeling Hiromi's gaze burning into you again, you blushed, looking aside and sheepish. He reached up, tangling one hand roughly into your hair, tilting your head to the side, examining the lovebites down your neck with a shudder.

"You-- you're such a dickhead-- always came so fucking easy to you--" You whined at Hiromi, blushing as he laughed, his hand snaking under the sweatshirt to cup your breast with a groan of satisfaction.

"Fuck off," Hiromi scoffed, "fucking easy-- you treat me like scum, and you think I'm going to let you see me struggle? Please. Been fighting me for three years when you should have been fucking me instead."

Hiromi scooped your tank top and bra down beneath the sweatshirt, doing the same with his other hand, taking both of your breasts between his long, kneading fingers as he rutted his aching cock up into you.

"So go on then, if you're so clever...fuck me with your clothes on." You whimpered above him, feeling both of your nipples rolled insistently between his thumbs and forefingers. Your skirt had rucked up around your hips, and Hiromi swore under his breath to feel your arousal soak through his jeans, onto his cock.

He bucked up against your pussy again, and you mewled as shockwaves ran through your clit. Hiromi's fingers dug into your breasts, squeezing them with barely-contained need. You did as you were told, and hooked your panties aside, your pussy now flush against Hiromi's concealed length, and began to ride the underside of his weeping cock.

Hiromi threw his head back with a hiss, "Good girl-- not such a brat, now you're doing as you're told..." Hiromi bit his lip, moaning unashamedly to feel you hump yourself to orgasm against him. Despite his punishment of you, he already longed for you to fight back. He bucked his hips into you in challenge, thrilled when you planted your hands on his belly, your breasts squeezed together in his hands beneath the sweatshirt.

"--bet you're-- bet you're really fucking pleased with yourself--" You blushed, tears glittering bitterly in your eyes, moaning into Hiromi's mouth as he laughed again, kissing the pout off your face.

"I am, actually," he gasped, tweaking your nipples hard enough to make you whimper, "--gonna cum on my jeans, huh? Shit...don't know-- you never knew-- so fucking beautiful when you're being mean to me--'

Your thighs burned with the effort of rubbing your pussy against Hiromi, but you felt your orgasm building with the rough friction of Hiromi's trapped, twitching cock. Hiromi helped you, rutting up into you, staring at where your lap joined his, his face twisted into a feral snarl.

"--cum on me-- cum on me...shit, I need it, need to see your face when you finish...come on sweetheart--"

Hiromi's insistent growls send you tumbling over the edge, and you came with the sweetest cries Hiromi had ever heard. He watched you convulse and twist above him, his fingers still rolling over your sore nipples, his pupils blown with lust, teeth clenched with the effort of not spilling in his boxers. Hiromi rutted slowly into you, guiding through the haze of your pleasure until you came back to him, glassy-eyed and supple.

Hiromi released your breasts, flipping you over so your arse was on the edge of the sofa, with you on your back. Kneeling, Hiromi positioned himself between your thighs, one hand squeezing the plush of them, while his other pushed the sweatshirt up, his tongue drawing circles on your belly. You tangled your fingers into his hair, tugging until he moaned into your skin. His mouth travelled downwards, dipping beneath your skirt.

"Want to taste you," Hiromi insisted, yanking your panties down your legs, balling them up and shoving them into his back pocket. You opened your mouth to object, suddenly self-conscious. Hiromi growled at you, squeezing your nipple again until you keened at him, high and whimpering.

"Just shut up, and let me taste you," he growled, nuzzling his nose between your folds in an instant, rubbing it harshly from side to side over your sore, abused clit. You clapped a hand over your mouth to hold back the scream. Hiromi reached up, tugging your hand away and gripping them both together on your belly, "and hear you."

Hiromi swore into your cunt, lost in the taste of you, licking quick little flicks over your clit, in a way that filled your head with stars. Your thighs trembled, and you babbled Hiromi's name, watching with fascination as Hiromi unzipped himself, pulling his fat, heavy cock into his hand. He began to stroke himself with wet little plap plap plaps, soaking your pussy with his spit in preparation for sinking himself between your folds.

"Hiromi I-- right there god yes keep going with your nose I love it-- so good, I-- gonna cum, Hiromi--"

The last syllable of his name was dragged out in a sobbing cry. Hearing you whimpering and begging him as his nose and tongue fucked you through the waves of bliss, was worth all these years of your miserable torture, Hiromi thought lightly.

You blushed deeply as Hiromi came up for air, his gleeful face glistening with your cum. He grabbed you by the hips, yanking you so they almost fell off the sofa at an angle you knew would have you twisting against him.

Hiromi grasped his red tipped cock, and you drank it in hungrily; its pretty upward curve, three thick veins running down its length, the thick jet-black hair trailing down his belly. You felt your mouth water, and Hiromi was hyperfocused, sliding his cockhead up and down your folds with hooded eyes, sloppy and pussy-drunk.

"...fuck...I can't wait-- sorry, I--" Hiromi sheathed his length inside your slippy cunt in one slick thrust, whimpering and gripping you to him with dimpled fingerprints, "-- I can't wait any-- ahhh shit, so tight...squeeze my cock, c'mon--"

You didn't need to be told, clenching involuntarily as Hiromi completely impaled you on his cock. Hiromi gasped and cursed, yanking his t-shirt up and gripping it between his teeth, so he could stare down at where his cock sunk into you unhindered.

He fucked into you, slow and smooth, eyes flitting between your fucked-out face, your hands clawing at the sofa, and his cock pushing through your tight walls, its sweet upward curve dragging harshly against your spongy sensitive spot, nudging into your cervix and belly. Hiromi rolled his thumb around your clit, pinching the fatty flesh around it, gently pleasuring you to feel the way your walls fluttered and gripped him.

You locked your ankles around Hiromi's lower back, dragging an animalistic growl out of him. Hiromi stood bringing your hips with him, holding you by the thighs as he planted one hand on the sofa above your head, and upped his pace, fucking into you with messy abandon.

Watching your glasses bounce in time with your tits as he rammed into you, stoked a competitive urge in Hiromi, and he cursed, spitting venom as he upped his pace again. You arched involuntarily, feeling him fill you with such ragged fucks, that you forget where you were, clenching and whining around him.

You felt a fire, deep in the pit of your belly, watching Hiromi with absolute awe as he chased his orgasm, using your body as a cock sleeve with total reverence. Every muscle in his body twitched with effort, and you felt his cock twitching within you as he moaned and cursed. You clenched your pussy deliberately around his length, and Hiromi almost fell apart, his fingernails leaving crescents in the smooth leather of the sofa, his face twisted in anguished ecstasy.

"--so long waited so long-- shhhhit, ugh, s-so tight-- wet, fffuck...squeeze me agai-- oh fuck yes, cumming, I-- I--"

Hiromi broke off into strangled, desperate strings of moans, spurting hot, thick glugs of cum against your cervix. Hiromi continued to pinch and roll around your clit, and you felt yourself judder weakly as you came again, Hiromi gasping as your wet, velvety walls sucked the last spurts of seed from him.

Hiromi dropped to his knees, weak, still plugged inside you, gasping. He dropped his head onto your belly, grinning at the feel of your fingers sinking into his hair, holding him to you. A few sweet moments of companionable silence.

"...still gonna beat you in the morning, though."

Hiromi laughed into your plush belly, biting the soft skin there until you squealed, hearing him mumble against his sweatshirt.

"You wish."

[ynscrazylife]

seekers get stitches (poly!marauders x slytherin!seeker!reader)

In your opinion, the Marauders are arseholes. They were tolerable as first years, even as second years, but was they grew up, they only got more annoying as their pranks got bigger and bigger. It doesn’t help that they seem to hate all Slytherins, which is the house you belong to. You understand that yes, many of the students have given the house a bad name, but it’s not all of you! Yet somehow, you frequently ended up on the unfortunate end of many of their pranks.

Now, you’ve had the chance to stand up to them, being the Seeker for the Slytherin Quidditch Team this season. James is the Seeker for the Gryffindor Quidditch Team, giving the Marauders even more of a reason to dislike you. James and Sirius even go as far as to hang around during your team’s practice time, booing you or making jokes at your expense from the stands.

Well, it’s the semi-finals. Gryffindor vs. Slytherin. Whoever wins this will go up against Ravenclaw for this year’s Quidditch Cup. Everyone is talking about this game — Remus even put his book down to pay attention. Both teams’ chasers have been scouring points, but the crowd’s eyes are locked onto you and James. You can feel hundreds of stares lasered on your back as you race around the pitch. When you finally spot the golden blur of the snitch, you don’t think twice before racing towards it. James follows you and soon, you’re quite literally neck and neck.

“Just give up now, Y/LN! You’re not gonna catch it,” James yells over the wind.

His words vaguely register in your mind, but you don’t pay attention. Everything is riding on this. You’ll either return to the common room as your house’s hero to pat on the back or their villain to torment.

“What, no comeback?” James prods.

You grunt, stretching your hands out. The snitch’s wings flutter against your fingertips. You lean forward as far as possible, one shaky hand remaining on the broom, you’re so close.

But so is James. His hand joins yours. Curse his tall stature, you think. It’s just not fair!

You swear you’re about to have it in your hand when—a bludger beams your shoulder, knocking you sideways and directly into James. The snitch flies away as the both of you fall, tumbling straight towards the ground. Lights out.

//

When you open your eyes, you find the faces of a couple friends staring back down at you. They tell you that you’re in the hospital wing after a Quidditch accident, with a dislocated shoulder, a concussion, and a broken ankle. Madame Pomfrey used a spell to set your shoulder, but you still need to stay in bed and take potions for your injuries, requiring a longer stay here.

“Who caught the snitch?” You ask, the memories hazy.

“I did.”

You turn your head, only to see James Potter lying in the bed next to you. Sirius Black and Remus Lupin are sitting by him and they wave. James’ nose, arm, and leg are all bandaged up.

“Caught it right before you knocked into me,” James elaborates.

Your stomach churns, realizing why only your friends are here and not your team. You lost the game for them, they must be disappointed.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, unsure of what you’re supposed to say to that.

“Don’t be, it’s the bludger’s fault. James is just being difficult,” Remus says, waving his hand. Out of the three of them, he’s definitely the nicest.

//

As the days go on, Sirius and Remus are there every day. Your friends aren’t. They visit a couple more times, then they stop. They’re busy, they have classes, you understand. At least, that’s what you tell yourself. Oftentimes, you end up accidentally listening to the Marauders’ conversations. James gives Sirius and Remus his plans for pranks, the other two update them on what’s going on around the castle.

They visit a lot.

One afternoon, you wake up from a nap to find them visiting again, though, and talking about you.

“Isn’t it weird that her friends barely visit her?”

“Haven’t seen her team around either. Thought Slytherins cared about their own.”

“Must suck for her.”

“Yeah.”

Your nap wasn’t particularly good, with the uncomfortable mattress and scratchy sheets. You open your eyes, frowning at the trio, in a bad mood. “You know, I don’t need your pity,” you say.

Three heads snap towards you, all looking like deer in headlights (you have no clue that for James, it’s truer than you think).

“It’s not - we’re not pitying you. It’s, uh, empathy,” Sirius rushes to cover them.

You roll your eyes. “Uh-huh,” you say, not believing him. You shake your head, tired of lying in this bed and being in pain and having the three of them sit next to you day after day after day. You decide you’re done here, your arm’s in a sling, your ankle’s almost 100% healed, it’s fine.

You throw the blanket aside, standing up, only to stumble. It’s not your ankle, it’s your head. Damn concussion.

“Woah, woah,” Remus says, both him and Sirius getting up to approach you. “You should sit back down.”

“I’m fine,” you say stubbornly, taking a couple more unbalanced steps only for Sirius to grasp at your arm.

“Come on, don’t make us tell Pomfrey on you, it’d really hurt my reputation,” Sirius says, smiling.

You snatch your arm away, anger flaring up. “Like I give a bloody hell about your reputation!” You exclaim.

“Hey, what’s the problem?” Sirius asks, putting his hands up.

“My problem? You guys are the ones who have a problem with me! You’re always asses to me, then you talk about me behind my back . . . I don’t even see why you care where I go or what I do. I’m a Slytherin, remember?” You say.

That quiets the Marauders. They’re not sure how to respond because, well, you’re right. Slytherins are easy to hate, so they hate them.

“Y/L/N, back in bed.”

Crap. It’s Pomfrey. You sigh and do what he says. The Marauders don’t say anything else.

//

After a couple more days, James is out of the hospital wing, managing to talk Pomfrey into releasing him. You’re still stuck there, as the concussion’s giving you trouble.

It’s lonely without their chatter. As much as they annoy you, you miss it. You miss them. Just a little bit. When they’re not hating on Slytherins, they’re . . . Nice. Fun.

It’s just your luck that they come around again, to visit you.

“Hey,” James says, Remus and Sirius behind you.

You huff. “Hi,” you say, making a tight line with your lips. What are they doing here? They don’t care.

“We wanted to see how you were doing and, uh, talk, if we can?” Remus says, politely smiling at you.

“If it’s more bullshit on pitying me—” you start.

“It’s not. We don’t like Slytherins, okay?” Sirius says, pulling up a chair and sitting down next to you. James and Remus follow.

You take a breath and stare, waiting for the explanation.

“A lot of them believe in all the Death Eater shit,” James says.

“But not all,” you point out.

James nods. “Not all. But we’re pranksters. We prank Slytherins because it’s easy. We also prank other houses but you’re right, we like to target Slytherins. There’s no reason for that other than that we can. It’s-it’s easy to not like them. To convince ourselves that they deserve it. For you, it was easy to . . . To not like you, either. Quidditch rivalry, right? But you have a point. We shouldn’t . . . We shouldn’t be so, ah, mean to all of them. The ones who aren’t into the Death Eater shit,” he explains.

You’re a bit surprised, a bit suspicious. Is this really the truth?

“Not so easy to convince yourself anymore, is it?” You ask.

“No, it’s not,” Sirius affirms.

“We brought cards,” Remus offers, taking a deck out of his pockets. “Figured you were pretty bored in here.”

“Prove it to me that you’re being honest, then I’ll think about playing cards with you,” you say, putting on a brave face. You have no clue that if they’ll actually do it or not.

But they agree to your terms. They start being real, not targeting random Slytherins. They stop being mean.

Eventually, you do agree to play cards with them. You’re almost out of the hospital wing, too. In fact, it’s your last night there, you’ve just beat them all in the game, when you decide to ask them why. What compelled them to come seek you out after James got out of the hospital wing, if not just feeling bad?

“Isn’t it obvious?” Sirius asks, grinning. “We’ve all fallen for you, love.”

That sparks the start of something new for the four of you.

[feelingbat-ty]

This is inspired by @aflamboyanceofflamingos post about Tim choosing to publicly hate Robin as Tim Drake, cause to love or hate someone is the best way to hide a secret identity.

I started thinking about Tim coming into contact with his teammates as a civilian and Tim using this as an opportunity to take out all the grievances he has for his team in a way, that 1) Won't cause tension and fights. And 2) let him get away with being a petty arsehole, cause it's not like superheros can just go and beat up random civilians.

And well... my hand slipped.

--- You Can't Spell Spite Without Timothy Jackson Drake ---

The amount of times YJ comes across Tim Drake in the wild would be concerning if Tim didn't stalk them as often as his busy schedule allows (which turns out to be quite often). The Beta tube in the Batcave and another secret Beta tube in the bowls of Wayne enterprise's Francisco building allows Tim easy and direct access whenever he so desires.

And well, Tim never did grow out of his stalking phase.

It would be comical - if it wasn't maddening - how often they don't realise he's there. Most of the time he's stalking trailing a member of the team he's not trying to hide his presence, it wouldn't make sense for him to, not as Tim Drake.

The team have a tally board that sits in the common room, it's at 85.

85.

His team's situational awareness is absolutely appalling. 85, they've noticed him only 85 of the hundreds of times he's followed them around?

He complains to Dick about it, a lot. He's hoping Dick will give him some tips on how to beat situational awareness into his teammates thick skulls. He was the leader of the Titans, so he has to have something!

Dick - like the asshole he secretly is - just laughs at him.

He asks Cassie about it once. Why they don't find it concerning that they encounter Tim Drake: famous for being the civilian who 'beat Robin in a fight' every other week?

"I mean, You're usually right about these sorts of things, Rob. If you don't think Drakes an issue, then we trust you."

Tim can't figure out whether to feel warm and giddy at the fact that they apparently trust him, or to be annoyed at the fact that they follow after him like sheep. Not even doing their own research and recon (Cassie probably did. Kon and Bart? Yeah, hell would have a better chance at freezing over).

The first time was a coincidence. Tim had needed some space (from Bruce. From his deadlines. From his own mind...) and ended up wondering the streets of San Francisco with no real destination in mind.

An impulse turn led him onto the boardwalk and from there right to Superboy.

It was a bright and sunny day in Fran and Kon was glowing. Literally, because of the sun and figuratively from pride after he stopped a would-be pick pocket-er from pick pocketing an elderly lady.

He shouldn't. He knows he shouldn't, not when the team know of Tim Drake, know his face and all about how he hates Robin and makes it his whole personality. Not when the only thing that stops them putting Tim Drake on Baby Super villain watch is Tims general blasé attitude about, well... himself.

But is it oh, so tempting.

Especially because the month before, Kon had accidentally smashed Tim's favourite coffee mug in a series of event's (involving a yoga ball, shearing scissors, laser vision and a will from God himself) so convoluted that Tim was convinced it had been orchestrated for a solid week.

Was it a cheap mug from Kmart? Yes, but it's the principle of the matter!

As Tim’s left shoe impacts the side of Superboys face, a sense of manic glee overtakes him. Tim takes special care to seer this memory of Superboy getting hit in the head with Tim's shoe and the stupid face he makes as the ratty converse collides with his cheek, into his brain.

It's not much, but it's justice all the same for his once beloved mug.

Tim... might just be a tad sleep-deprived.

Superboy startles and lets out a frantic “Shit!” Assuming he’s being attacked by a surprise enemy (the kind that isn’t just civilians throwing shoes) he looks around, taking stock of his surroundings and looking for any immediate threats before glancing down at the shoe and visibly doing a double take.

His face is blank as he stares - undoubtably confused - at the shoe. A second later he's lifting his gaze, following the direction the show came from and staring right at Tim.

Tim, who (like an idiot) is still, for some reason, positioned how he was when he threw the shoe - arm outstretched and leg back to brace himself.

There is absolutely no way he wasn't the one who threw the shoe. If the stance didn't give it away, then him having one shoe (that shoe being a near identical ratty rad converse) probably did.

“What?” Superboy asks. He looks befuddled. A little amused, but mostly just confused. He's got a small, polite smile on his face that just reeks of Clark Kent's influence. Kon is obviously trying to model himself off of Superman - specifically Superman's polite and approachable "Grandma pinching worthy" vibe and not his fashion choices, since he's still got the leather jacket and sunglasses.

Tim makes a mental note to tell Kon that he has a really expressive face. Tim is literally reading all his emotions in 4K. They should probably work on that, it could be a liability in the field.

Tim briefly considers playing dumb and acting like it wasn’t him that threw the shoe, before dismissing that idea, Kon can be clueless at times, but he’s not a complete idiot.

So instead, he says, “that was a very open-ended question.”

And well, it was.

At the look Superboy gives him, he elaborates, “What, when said in that context, could mean literally anything! Like, ‘what was the purpose of that?’ ‘What’s your name, so I can in-prison you’ ‘What shoe size was that?’ Seriously, dude, be more specific!”

Superboy’s befuddlement takes a sudden nosedive to incredulity. “Okay, fine. Why did you throw a shoe at me?”

“Cause you work with Robin.” He says simply. He'd say 'justice' but then he'd sound like batman and like, thanks but no thanks.

“Cause I- what? You physically assaulted me with a shoe because I work on the same team as Robin?”

Tim, personally, thinks assault is a strong word to use for this situation, but he’s glad that at least some of his lessons on the proper terms and vocabulary are paying off.

He nods, cause that is indeed what he just did, he crosses his arms across his chest, and stares Superboy down.

Superboy who, looks like he’s regretting everything that led him to this moment. Tim relishes in that for just a little too long to be healthy. Probably.

Tim doesn’t really care. He told Kon (as Robin) that he’d regret breaking Tim’s favourite mug (accident or not, he's still not over it.) yeah, this might not be how either of them envisioned it, but Tim thinks this might just be better than beating Kon up as Robin in their next team training session. What better way to get someone back than to publicly humiliate them in front of all their peers? Shame he can't do that anymore.

Eh, who is he kidding? He’s still going to do that anyway.

“You’re only gonna throw one?” Superboy has a look on his face that’s similar to the one Bruce gets when he’s decided to give up and play along with the crazy. The one where he'll smile and nod, slowly inching out of the room, as Duke and Damian (There has truly never been a more terrifying duo) explain to him in vivid detail how they're going to use psychological warfare to make a shitty teacher at their school resign.

“Yes.” Why’d he throw both his shoes? He’d have no shoes!

“… Right. Why did you throw this one?”

All these questions!

“I like that one the least,” he shrugs, and it's true, the converse on his right foot has a little bi flag that Steph sewed into it back when they were dating. A throw pillow was the closest thing in reach at the time, so he sewed a little pan flag on it for her (he later did one on the breast pocket of one of her denim jackets).

“You are so freakin’ weird, dude! You throw a shoe at me! Because I work with Robin!”

Uh, yeah, we've already established that.

“How did you even get it off that fast!”

To be Honest, Tim is also surprised at how fast he was able to get his shoe off. One second he’s looking at Superboy the next he’s lobbing a shoe at his thick head.

Instead of saying any of that, Tim channels his inner Janet Drake, sticking his nose into the air and scoffing like Kon is the literal gum stuck on the sole of his shoe.

Kon, - because he’s no longer Superboy, he’s too fired up to hold onto the mask - shakes his head. It’s mocking, when he says, “You must be really shitty at throwing a punch if you had to resort to throwing shoes.”

Tim shrugs, “Well, I woulda thrown a fist, but you’re not worth a fist.”

Kon is silent and doing an amazing impression of a blobfish.

Tim turns and struts away before Kon has the chance to come up with a rebuttal, or just decides to punch him in the face.

He’ll grab his shoe later, after Kon leaves.

The basted incinerated his shoe.

[virgoilluminati]

Hospitality at its Finest

a Jude Bellingham oneshot

Inspo: Basically i have the shittiest job ever, and the only thing that got me through it was thinking about how jude would comfort me at the end of a long shift. I feel like a lot of you gurlies can relate so enjoy ☺️

You had had the worst day.

Probably the worst day you'd had in years

And the only person you could blame was your boss.

He was an A grade arsehole. He only cared about how much money your restaurant made. How it made him look in front of the restaurant owners.

He didn't care about your feelings, how crying had become a normal part of the shift or how every time he walked in, your stomach tied in knots.

Today was an exemplar of it.

At the beginning of the shift, everything was fairly normal. You were supposed to start at 12pm, but you had come in early, caring for your colleagues and knowing that they would need the extra staff for the new delivery. As you mentally prepared yourself for the shift, you started putting away the new stock and organizing the kitchen.

Quickly looking at your phone one last time, you clocked into work before admiring your lock screen with Jude. After all, all of this was for your future.

As you made your way to the shop floor, it was dead silent. So silent that you knew the second you opened the door in the backroom, you'd be greeted with a mess. But you didn't expect what you were greeted with. Stacks of dishes towered precariously, remnants of ingredients sprawled across counters, and an unmistakable odor of burnt food lingered heavily in the air.

Your closest colleague Haley was on the ground, covered by stock boxes. When she see's you walk in, she smiles, but the exhaustion in her eyes betrays her forced cheerfulness. Without wasting a moment, you rush to help her up, setting the boxes aside.

"Wha-"

"Don't ask. It's Jamie. He overestimated our multitasking skills again. We could use all the help we can get right now."

You nod, taking in the chaotic scene. Rolling up your sleeves, you dive into the mess, prioritizing tasks in your head.

The second the doors to your restaurant opened, a wave of eager customers flooded in, adding to the already hefty workload. You had only just made your way out of the heavy stock room before you were serving your first customer, your manager already shaking his head.

You grabbed a notepad, scribbling down order after order with precision. As you do such, you realise that no one has set up back of house, and whilst everyone was dealing with the stock, you'd be doing both positions, already.

Oh gawd it was going to be a long day.

The next issues happened just after the lunchtime peak. Your manager—ever the perfectionist—decided to go out and back home to get changed. He didn’t tell any of you, just putting your colleague Hetty in charge.

Now, for all of the reasons you loved Hetty, she was a terrible team leader. She spent half of the time bossing everyone around, whilst the other half chatting and gossiping about the managers. So when you realized that she was in charge, you knew it was going to turn sideways.

What made it even worse was halfway through the shift you suddenly got cramps. It could only mean one thing: your period.

You knew better than to miss your orders, so you managed to deal with the cramps and act normal. But as soon as anyone’s order was mentioned, you gritted your teeth. Deep down, you could feel your cramps churning up. But you managed to keep your cool. Or at least until Hetty began barking orders at you, telling you that while you were making a cheesecake, you also needed to clean the station, get the ice cream ready for service, and get the lunch menu ready that was just coming out.

Needless to say, you didn’t really listen to her orders, instead focusing on the four cheesecakes you needed to bake, twenty lusty turkeys, and the rest of your workload that’s coming in. You’d maybe gotten halfway done with the orders when suddenly your stomach muscles tightened and spasmed at the same time. It hurt to breathe in, so you tried to breathe in as slowly as possible, praying to God that the next person who insulted you would take it back as soon as they said it.

Now, you’re screwed, because between the pain in your stomach and the pressure from the customers, it was overwhelming. To make matters even worse, your restaurant owner Jiah, a certified misogynist, stood next to you as you prepared each of the dishes. Every mistake you made, or anything you said to Hetty, was being monitored. At first, it was fine—still stressful, but you were so preoccupied that you didn’t care. Until you accidentally spilled three of your cheesecakes on the ground.

Every time someone shouted at you, it felt like someone was digging into your sides. Your vision blurred slightly as you bent down to clean up the mess. As you rose, you saw Jiah’s disapproving glare. You braced yourself, knowing a reprimand was imminent.

“Do you even know how much those cheesecakes cost?” Jiah hissed, his face reddening.

"Sorry-"

You nodded, biting your tongue to keep from snapping back. Losing your temper wouldn’t help anything, especially not with Jiah watching your every move. Taking a deep breath, you focused on the tasks at hand, prioritizing the most urgent ones. Hetty’s voice cut through the noise of the kitchen, but you tuned her out as best you could. There was no time to waste arguing with her or explaining why you couldn’t drop everything to clean the station right this second.

The cramps were relentless, and you clutched your stomach briefly, willing the pain to subside. A few of your colleagues noticed and offered sympathetic looks, but they were just as swamped as you were. It was clear that everyone was feeling the strain of the lunchtime rush.

You managed to get the cheesecakes into the oven and started on the turkeys. The repetitive motions of seasoning and prepping gave you a momentary distraction from the pain. But it wasn’t long before Hetty was back, barking orders again.

“You still haven’t cleaned the station! And where’s the ice cream?” she demanded.

“Working on it,” you muttered, trying to keep your voice steady. But the frustration was building, and you could feel tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. You blinked them back, determined not to let anyone see you break down.

Finally, a small reprieve: the cheesecakes were done, and you could focus on plating the desserts and getting them out to the customers. But just as you thought you might be able to catch your breath, Jiah appeared again. He didn’t say anything, but his disapproving glare spoke volumes.

You could feel his eyes on you, watching your every move. When you accidentally spilled three of your cheesecakes on the ground, Jiah’s look was withering. He didn’t need to say a word; his expression made it clear he was counting this as yet another mark against you.

“Get it together,” you heard him mutter under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear. You nodded, biting your tongue to keep from snapping back. Losing your temper wouldn’t help anything, especially not with Jiah watching your every move.

Taking a deep breath, you focused on the tasks at hand, prioritizing the most urgent ones. Hetty’s voice cut through the noise of the kitchen, but you tuned her out as best you could. There was no time to waste arguing with her or explaining why you couldn’t drop everything to clean the station right this second.

Just as it began to calm down again, Jiah's glare disappearing from notion, Hetty came over to apologize for being stressy.

"Sorry for earlier," she said, her tone uncharacteristically soft. "I know I was a bit much."

You accepted her apology with a nod. "It's okay. We were all under a lot of pressure. I was just about to go to the toilet."

Before you could make your way to the restroom, a call came through the kitchen, telling everyone to gather in the staff room. You tried to hold yourself together, though you could feel tears threatening to flow. The cramps were still gnawing at your insides, and the stress of the day had worn you thin.

As you and the rest of the staff assembled in the cramped room, the air was thick with apprehension. Jamie, another manager, stormed in, his face a mask of fury. He didn't waste a second before launching into a tirade.

"I just got a bollocking from the owner! What the hell happened here?" he bellowed. "This is so embarrassing! We've had multiple complaints from customers, dishes sent back, and unacceptable delays. This is not the standard we uphold here!"

His words were like blows, each one landing heavily. You stood there, silent and still, trying to absorb it all without breaking down. The cramps were relentless, making it hard to concentrate on anything other than the pain.

For about forty minutes, Jamie continued his verbal assault, highlighting every mistake and misstep. You could feel the tension in the room, everyone too afraid to speak or move. As he yelled, you just stood there, taking it in, feeling smaller and more defeated with every passing second.

"This has to stop now," Jamie continued, his voice growing louder. "I expect better from all of you. No more excuses. The owner is furious, and honestly, I can't blame him. Today was a disaster!"

With that, he stormed out, leaving the staff in stunned silence. You could feel the tears threatening to spill over, but you fought to keep them at bay. The pain in your stomach and the weight of Jamie's words were almost too much to bear.

Hetty gave you a sympathetic look but didn't say anything. Everyone slowly dispersed, heading back to their stations or taking a moment to collect themselves. You made a beeline for the restroom, finally letting the tears flow once you were safely behind the closed door.

Just as you began to take a couple of minutes to calm down, Jamie pulled you over.

"Hey, I need to ask you something," he said, his tone softer but still urgent. "Are you willing to leave early today?"

You had already had to cut a shift recently, and your hours were pretty low. "I really need the hours, Jamie. I'd prefer to stay."

He frowned. "I need to get rid of some staff because there's too many on right now."

You tried to politely refuse again, but before you could finish, he called out, "Hayley! Do you want to leave early?"

"Sure," Hayley replied without hesitation.

"See, it's not personal," Jamie said, turning back to you. Feeling completely deflated, you turned to get your stuff and clock out.

As you gathered your things, Jamie turned to you one more time. "By the way, you sat down too much today."

You were gobsmacked. "I didn't sit down at all."

"No, you were," he insisted. "And that's not acceptable."

You went to protest again, but he cut you off. "No, you were, and that's not acceptable."

Feeling a mix of frustration, exhaustion, and defeat, you bit back any further response. As you clocked out and walked out of the restaurant, you felt the tears begin to well up again.

By the time you got on the bus, the tears were streaming down your face. You found a seat at the back, hoping no one would notice as you buried your face in your hands and sobbed. The day's events replayed in your mind: the stress, the pain, the unfairness of it all. It felt like the weight of the world was pressing down on you, and you couldn't hold it in any longer.

As the bus moved through the city streets, you cried, letting out all the frustration and sorrow. You knew you had to face another day tomorrow, but for now, all you could do was let yourself feel the pain and hope that somehow, things would get better.

When you arrived home, you tried to wipe away your tears, determined to put on a brave face for Jude Bellingham, who had just returned from football camp. You were emotionally drained but wanted to be supportive and positive for him.

As you walked through the door, Jude was in the kitchen, looking relaxed and cheerful. He noticed your subdued demeanor but decided to wait before saying anything.

"Hey, how was work?" he asked, trying to keep his tone light.

"It was... busy," you replied, forcing a smile. "But let’s not focus on that. How was camp?"

Jude’s face lit up as he started recounting his experiences. "Camp was fantastic! We had some intense training sessions and a lot of fun. You won’t believe the prank Trent and I pulled on the new guys. We got them to believe they had to complete this ridiculous obstacle course to join the team."

He continued with animated enthusiasm, "And then there was the friendly match against a local team. Trent and I were trying out these new moves, and it was amazing to see the crowd’s reaction. We felt like rock stars!"

You nodded and smiled at the right moments, trying to engage with his excitement, but your mind kept drifting back to the stress of the day. Despite your efforts to seem interested, you felt a growing sense of overwhelm.

Jude’s stories flowed effortlessly. "Oh, and the camp mascot incident was hilarious. Trent and I ended up in the costume, and we had this impromptu dance-off with the kids. It was one of those moments where you just can’t stop laughing."

As he chatted, you found yourself struggling to keep up the façade. Your responses became more mechanical, and you occasionally glanced at the clock, feeling the weight of your exhausting day pressing down on you.

Jude seemed to sense something was off but kept going. "You know, I was telling Trent about how you and I used to go to that little café downtown. He said he’s been there before and loved it. We should go sometime."

You forced a laugh and nodded. "That sounds great."

As dinner preparation continued, you made an effort to stay present, but the stress from earlier was starting to take its toll. You kept insisting you were fine, even though you felt increasingly overwhelmed.

In the midst of this, you were preoccupied with trying to balance cooking and maintaining a cheerful demeanor. As you pulled a dish out of the oven, you accidentally brushed against the hot rack. The sudden sharp pain in your hand was like a jolt that broke through your emotional walls.

You cried out and rushed to the sink, holding your burned hand under the cold tap, your composure finally shattering. Tears streamed down your face as the pain seemed to trigger a flood of emotions from the stressful day.

Jude, who had been in the living room, heard your cry and the sound of your sobbing. He rushed into the kitchen and saw you with your hand under the tap, tears flowing freely.

"Hey, what happened?" Jude asked urgently, moving quickly to your side.

"I—I burned myself," you managed to say through sobs. "I’m so sorry... I tried to keep it together, but I couldn’t."

Jude gently took your hand from under the tap and inspected the burn. His concern deepened as he carefully wrapped your hand in a clean towel.

“Hey, hey, hey. Don’t cry, m’love. It’s okay—speak to me,” Jude said, his voice filled with concern as he moved to your side.

“What do you mean? I’m okay, I just burned myself,” you tried to explain, though your voice was trembling.

“Y/N, do you think I was born yesterday? I know my girlfriend, and I know when she’s upset. What happened?” Jude asked, his tone gentle but firm.

His insistence broke through your remaining resolve. You burst into tears, the emotional strain of the day combining with the pain of the burn. “I—I had such a terrible day. Jamie was so harsh, and everything seemed to go wrong. I was trying so hard to keep it together, but I just couldn’t anymore.”

Jude’s expression softened, filled with empathy and concern. “No, don’t say that. You’re not stupid. You’re my Y/N. You’ve been through so much, and you’ve handled it with so much strength and grace.”

He gently took your hand from under the tap and wrapped it in a clean towel. Pulling you into a comforting embrace, he continued, “Your a trooper you know.”

You clung to him, the warmth of his embrace providing a much-needed sense of security. Jude held you close, his arms wrapping around you with tenderness. He stroked your hair softly and whispered in your ear, “You’re amazing, you know that? You’re allowed to have bad days and to feel overwhelmed. I’m here to help you through it, no matter what.”

You buried your face in his shoulder, letting the tears flow freely as he continued to hold you. Jude’s soothing presence and gentle touch helped ease the burden of the day. He spoke softly, his voice full of love and reassurance. “You’ve been so strong, but it’s okay to let go and lean on me. I’m here to support you, to lift you up when you need it.”

Jude carefully wrapped your burned hand in a clean towel, his touch gentle but deliberate. He then pulled you into a comforting embrace. “Why don’t you head to the living room and take a breather? I’ll sort out dinner. And try not to make any more of the place look like a disaster zone, yeah?”

You managed a weak smile as you headed to the living room, still sniffling. The sounds of Jude bustling around in the kitchen—pots clattering, the hum of the stove—provided a bit of distraction as you settled onto the couch.

A few minutes later, Jude walked into the living room with his phone in hand and plopped down beside you. He placed his phone on the coffee table and began gently wiping away the tears from your cheeks.

“I don’t want anyone treating you like that,” Jude said firmly, but with a soft edge. “I’ve had a word with the higher-ups about Jamie. It’s not on.”

You looked at him, surprised. “You did? How’d you manage that?”

Jude grinned. “Let’s just say I’m good at sorting things out when it comes to my people."

You chuckled despite yourself. “Well, thanks. I didn’t think you’d go this far.”

Jude gave a cheeky wink. “I was gonna sort it anyway, oh, also, um well now seemed like the perfect time.”

"Jude-"

He pulled out his phone and showed you the screen. “I’ve had a chat with my agent. "

"What?!!"

"Got you a photography gig lined up. It’s something you’ve always wanted to do. Figured now’s as good a time as any.”

You were stunned, your eyes widening. “What-? How-When? How did you even know I wanted this now?”

Jude’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “I’ve been paying attention, love. You think i haven't notice your Pinterest boards? Or your amazon wish list?”

You laughed, a genuine smile spreading across your face. “I don’t even know what to say. This is amazing.”

Jude squeezed your hand gently. “You don’t have to say a thing. Just remember, you’re brilliant, and you deserve all the good things. And if you ever leave me for a glamorous photographer life, just make sure to give me a shout-out in your interviews.”

You playfully nudged him. “Oh, so you’re worried I’ll become too famous for you?”

Jude grinned. "If that means sharing a bit of the limelight, so be it.”

You leaned into him, feeling a mix of relief and affection. “I can’t believe how lucky I am to have you.”

Jude wrapped his arms around you. “I’m the lucky one. Seeing you happy is what matters to me. Now let’s enjoy the rest of the night. And if dinner turns into a burnt mess, at least we’ll have a laugh about it.”

Jude’s comforting presence and playful banter started to lift the weight of the day, bringing a renewed sense of hope and connection. His support and Brummie humor made the evening feel a lot brighter and more manageable.

[changenameno]

The Thief (One-Shot)

(Complete)

Summary: You’ve always been quite the troublemaker. And pickpocketing was your favourite pastime. However you hadn’t noticed the bearded man watching you, until it was too late. Whatever will he do with you?

 

Paring: Walter Marshall x Fem. Reader

Warnings: MDNI, 18+, reader is a thief, being caught, cursing, degrading words, abuse of authority, but reader is enthusiastic about it, enthusiastic consent given, rough sex, p in v

Word count: 2.9K

 

A/N: That scenario has been stuck in my head for some time, so I thought I’d put it into writing. As always any mistakes are my own. Reblogs and comments are much appreciated! Thank you and enjoy!❤️✨

 

 !Neither Walter Marshall nor Nomis are my creation!

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Your fingers felt like they would fall off any second now. It was freezing and still, you had purposefully neglected to wear gloves. Why?

Simple, you were lighter fingered when your hands weren’t encased in any sort of fabric. Though right now you wondered if it had been a mistake, since the feeling in your hands had been gone for about an hour.

 

 

You had underestimated the cold front the weather guy had talked about, especially because it was only October.

 

 

Standing to side of the crowd, you watched possible targets go about their day, buying things on the farmers market. Completely unaware of your eagle eyes, keeping track of, where they put their wallets.

 

 

You knew, it was a bit risky pickpocketing right here, because the police had doubled their efforts, since an awful lot of civilians had reported their stolen money or missing wallets in the past few month. So to placid them, they had promised to update the security in the area.

 

 

Though you hadn’t seen said ‘updated security’, you were aware of the possibility of undercover cops. But that did next to nothing to dissuade you from your weekly shopping spree. Normally you didn’t keep watch that long, but you had hoped maybe the cop would show themselves. Hence the delay.

 

Though they didn’t reveal themselves.

 

 

And you didn’t want to wait much longer to relive someone, of the awful burden of carrying so much money around, because your fingers would truly fall off soon. That’s why your eyes were set on your final target.

 

 

A middle aged woman, whose attire looked so expensive and out of place, you were convinced she had some money to spare.

 

 

Before reconsidering and risk being exposed to the cold any longer, you made your move. Diving into the crowd, carefully trailing the woman with the red handbag, in which you knew her matching red wallet was uncaringly stuffed into, after her last purchase.

 

 

It was nearly too easy, as she stopped again, leaning forward to inspect the goods more closely, making her bag move backwards and an even simpler target for you. She didn’t even notice, how close you’d gotten, let alone when your hand had slipped into her bag, swiftly removing her wallet. As quickly as you could you opened it and removed the money, stuffing it into your coat’s pocket, before putting her wallet back into the handbag.

 

 

To prevent making anyone suspicious, you too leaned over the goods for a few seconds, as if you were inspecting them as well. Next you politely smiled at the vendor and then moved away, slithering through the mass of people. Escaping. Or so you thought.

 

 

You hadn’t even reached the spot from where you had kept watch, when someone rather rudely crashed into you from behind, grabbing your arm. Exasperated at their behaviour you tried to twist around, though it was in vain, with the iron clad grip they had on you, so you just struggled, cursing under your breath, “What the fuck…let me go! This instant!”

 

 

Whoever was behind you, only tightened their grip further, chuckling lowly, “Oh I don’t think so, hon.”

 

 

Still struggling in the hold, you slightly panicked because the man really didn’t let go at all, hissing you threatened him, “Let go you arsehole, or I’ll scream! Then you have to explain yourself to the fucking police!!”

 

 

He didn’t have any difficulty keeping his hold on you, despite you trying to wrestle yourself free. Suddenly he was even closer, sturdy body pressed against yours, as his warm breath tickled your ear, “Aww is that an invitation? Because as a matter of fact, I am the police.”

 

 

You ceased your fighting instantly. Shit. Now you really panicked. What would he do? He most certainly had caught you redhandedly. Your body couldn’t decide if it was overheating or ice cold, switching between the two sensations as if your panicked state wasn’t enough to deal with already.

 

 

“Mmmh, not so feisty anymore, are we now, you little thief?”

 

 

Crap his deep voice and mocking manner, made heated waves roll through your body, apparently it had settled on confused arousal, you cursed quietly.

 

 

“What was that? Cursing at a police officer is just as a serious offense as stealing, you know.”

 

 

You didn’t know what to do, you just went slack in his hold, submitting to the muscled man behind you.

 

 

“That’s what I thought,” he taunted you further.

 

 

At last he set into motion, taking you with him, gliding through the crowd and further to a police car parked in an alley. Only once he’d pushed you into the backseat, slamming the door shut, reality hit you again.

 

 

You had been caught. Now sitting in a police car, probably soon on the way to the nearest precinct. You didn’t even know what would happen next. Could they throw you in prison for this? Would there be a hearing? Damn it, you never had to think about the consequences before…

 

 

The front door opened and he entered, distracting you for a second, as your eyes roved over his form. Great, not only did he have an alluring voice, he also had to be extremely attractive. His clear blue eyes met yours, grinning in triumph, “You have any idea, how much trouble you’ve caused us?”

 

 

You didn’t know what made you so bold, as you cheekily replied, “I’m terribly sorry officer, but I just can’t help myself. Always been a trouble maker.”

 

 

He buckled his seat belt, turning to the front again, shaking his head, mumbling, “Bet you are.”

 

 

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As you finally arrived at the precinct, it was dark outside. Apparently he hadn’t driven to the nearest one. He opened the back door of the car once more. Immediately steel grip on you, pinning your arms uncomfortably behind your back, as he manoeuvred you to the door leading into the police station.

 

 

It was eerily quiet inside. You didn’t see anyone, as you turned your head left and right.

 

 

Then another officer came into view.

 

 

“Ah hey there, Marshall! Finally, was just about to leave.”

 

“Bennet, you know you can’t leave, if no one’s here, right?”, Marshall answered, clearly annoyed by that Bennet guy.

 

 

“Yeah, yeah I know. Sooo, whose that?”, Bennet nodded to you.

 

 

“None of your business. Just go home.”

 

 

Bennet quickly shuffled out of the way, as Marshall and you passed him. You two went around a corner, away from the desks through a never ending corridor. Glaringly white light beaming down on you, making your eyes burn after the prolonged darkness in the car.

 

 

The station was bigger than you thought it’d be, as you turned another corner. Though here he finally stopped, in front of a small cell. You heard the jiggling of the keys, then he unlocked the door, letting go of you and pushing you inside as he entered as well.

 

 

You turned around, suppressing a shiver when he crossed his arms, towering over you.

 

 

“Come here.”

 

 

You ignored his command, shaking your head.

 

 

He sighed, approaching you,” Hon, this is standard procedure. I’ve got to pet you down, make sure you’ve got nothing dangerous on you.”

 

 

You froze, when your back hit the wall. You weren’t afraid. Actually quite the opposite, you were exited at the prospect of this gorgeous man petting you down. Letting his big hands glide up and down your body.

But you were determined to not let, him, know that. And you were convinced if he came any closer he’d know.

 

 

But you were trapped. He came to a stop in front of you. Concerned he’d furrowed his dark brows, “May I?”

 

 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

 

 

You’d let him do anything, if he looked at you like that. Not trusting your voice you nodded.

 

 

He squatted down, warm hands settling on your calves, slowly moving up. Your eyes widened when you saw the burning desire you felt, mirrored in his ocean ones.

 

 

Not able to conceal your excitement, you automatically widened you stance, as his hands moved beyond your knees. Thumbs stroking over your inner thighs teasingly, making you pant loudly.

 

 

His amusement was crystal clear with the way he smirked up at you, “Already getting exited, you little thief?”

 

 

You whimpered pathetically as his right hand was now dangerously close to your pulsing centre. Closing your eyes in anticipation, your breath hitched in surprise, when he’d suddenly stood up. Bearded face in front of yours, making your eyes fly open again.

 

 

He cupped your chin, tilting your head back a little, whispering, “Are you sure, you want this?”

 

 

“Yes,” you breathed back.

 

 

“I need you to be absolutely sure you want this just as much as I want this.” Blue eyes serious and flitting between yours.

 

 

You were touched by his gentleness, and quite relieved he made sure, you were on board with this. To wipe any doubts from his mind, you pressed your lips against his. Starting to kiss him fiercely.

 

 

He was a bit taken aback by your initiative, but only for a second, before he moved against your soft lips. His pink tongue begging for entrance, which you immediately granted. Deepening the kiss. When you pulled away, both of you panted, taking in the much needed oxygen.

 

 

He’d leaned his forehand against yours, growling softly when your swift fingers started to unbuckle his belt. Not able to hold back, you let them slide into his boxers, gasping when you felt how big he was. You couldn’t even close your hand around his shaft, though you began pumping him anyway, making his hips buck forward.

 

 

“Fu-uck, you’re really good with your hands aren’t you, hon?”

 

 

“What can I say, if I see something I like, I need to have it, Mr. Marshall.”

 

 

All the while your hand had moved back and forth on his hard rod, freeing him, as you’d pushed his pants and boxers down to his meaty thighs. It made him grunt loudly. His hands curling around your hips, then advancing toward the fly of your jeans, pulling your sipper down.

 

 

“Let’s see how wet you are for me, honey.”

 

 

And sure enough two long fingers dipped into your panties, feeling around your dripping walls, until he found your wet centre and plunged into your pussy.

 

 

Moaning wantonly you nearly let go of his cock, when his perfect fingers curled and pressed into your sweet spot.

 

“Argh, yeah right there.”

 

 

“Thought so, you’re clenching around me like crazy. Can’t wait to feel your tight, little snatch around my cock.”

 

 

You tried to reciprocate, moving your hand up and down, but it was impossible with the way his fingers sped up, carefully scissoring you open.

 

 

But he didn’t seem to care, enjoying how loud he could make you moan for him. As he pulled his fingers out, you mewled, unhappy at the sudden emptiness.

 

 

He cooed,” Aww darling don’t worry you’ll feel full again in a second.”

 

 

With that he pulled down your jeans and panties, only than noticing that he couldn’t remove them completely, because of your boots. Huffing annoyed, he didn’t even wait to pull off the boots. Instead he hauled you onto the small bed in the corner, lifting your legs and pushing your ankles down beside your head.

 

 

The new position had exposed you so entirely that you whimpered in embarrassment. He didn’t care though, burning gaze fixed on our soaking wet pussy, unconsciously liking over his lips, at the mouth-watering sight of you spread out, below him.

 

 

He quickly reached for his painfully throbbing cock, wanting nothing more than to bury it in your tight cavern. He rubbed the head between your sopping folds, collecting your juices to make the entrance smoother.

 

 

“You ready?”

 

 

Your nod was all he needed, as he began pushing against your hole. Slowly spreading you around his fat cockhead, before pushing further and further inside. Your breathing was shallow, as the monstrosity entered you.

 

 

“So biiig…”

 

 

He had the audacity to laugh, “Well hon, you said you needed to have the things you liked. And I’m simply giving them to you, aren’t I?”

 

 

Just then he finally bottomed out, making you whimper and him moan lowly.

His large firm hands rested on your calves, making sure they and you would stay in the position he’d put you in. Panting he smiled down at you, “So pretty for me. Have to start moving, your cunt is to fucking tight.”

 

 

Blazing blue eyes focused on your slit engulfing his cock, as he agonizingly slow moved back. He grunted when he pushed his hips forward, forcing his entire length back inside. Stretching your cunt, filling your body thoroughly once more.

 

 

“Quicker. Please M-Mr. Marshall, need more…”

 

 

He groaned, “Such a needy thing. But I expected nothing less off a little thief.”

 

 

You wanted to curse at him, but all that left you was another mewl, as he continued his slow, slow pace.

 

 

“Maybe if you beg again, honey. But this time, address me as Walter. After all I’m not your boss.”

 

 

Fully sheathed inside you, it was extremely hard to string together any sentence, but you tired your best, as you needed him to pick up his pace.

 

 

“Pl-please Walter… quicker, harder. Fuck me as hard as you can…please.”

 

 

“What a dangerous thing to say, honey. But your wish is my command,” he winked at you.

 

 

Walter finally pulled back, delivering a hard and heavy thrust, making you cry out, at the shocking wave of pleasure wracking your body.

 

 

Your fingers dug into the mattress, holding on for dear life, as he began hammering away. Rutting into you so violently, he smacked against your clit with ever thrust. Pulling a blinding, toe-curling orgasm from you.

 

 

He’d stopped moving for a bit, grinding his hips into yours, prolonging your orgasm. Walter made a low guttural sound, before picking up his pace once more.

 

 

Yelping as he ploughed away at your weeping pussy, he kept your legs pressed against your chest.

 

 

“Not nearly done with you yet, honey,” he panted.

 

 

One moan after the other was pulled from your lungs as your poor cunt didn’t have any time to recover and was just thrown into immediate pleasure again, as his massive cock made its way in and out of your body.

 

 

“Hnnm…pl-please. Wa-alter,” you squeaked.

 

 

 

Walter growled and picked up the pace even more. He pulled out completely, before driving home with every single thrust.

 

 

“Cl-close. I’m so close, honey.”

 

 

He kept slamming into your body, as you egged him on, “Yeah… please fill me up, Walter!!”

 

 

That’s what tipped him over the edge, taking you with him as your second orgasm was pulled from your exhausted body, feeling his seed entering you. Cock pulsing inside you, as a last deep moan left his lips.

 

 

Then he stilled, locking eyes with you, “Fuck… that was amazing, hon.”

 

 

Blinking up at him, you smiled, sighing when he slipped out, warm dripples of his and your residue running down. Walter let go of your legs. Wanting to protest as he pulled your panties and jeans back up, even though you were still dripping his cum.

 

 

He hushed you, “Ah, ah, ah. A little punishment is due don’t you think? Keeping my seed inside till you’re home is the least you could do, when I let you off with a warning, isn’t it, you little thief?”

 

 

You nodded, smirking at his decision, while he buckled his belt.

Then he added,” Though you obviously have to give me the money.”

 

 

Damn it, you had hoped he’d forgotten about that. But his outstretched hand said otherwise, so you pulled the money from your coat pocked and handed it over disgruntledly.

 

 

“That’s a good girl. Thank you,” he teased as he put it into his back pocket.

 

 

He turned around, opening the cell and letting you out, leading you back through the corridor you had come from with his hand touching your lower back.

 

 

When you arrived at the front room of the precinct it was completely deserted. He surprised you with the searing kiss he bestowed upon your lips.

When Walter pulled back, his blue eyes seemed to sparkle, “I really enjoyed that. All of it. Maybe next time, you’ll be here, it’s not because you committed a crime, yeah?”

 

 

“Can’t make any promises, but I’m sure our paths will cross again.”

 

 

Then you slipped out the door, vanishing into the night, but not without releasing a gleeful laugh as your fist closed around the money in victory.

 

Unbeknownst to Walter, you had stolen it right back during the kiss.

 

 

The minute you were gone he had noticed the missing money, roaring, “Fuck! You little minx! Get back here!!” Running out the door himself.

 

 

Walter could have sworn he heard you giggle in the distance, as he set out to chase after you.

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Taglist:

If you’re interested in being on my taglist, please let me know! And if you want to be taken off (my taglist), feel free to tell me!❤️✨

[kimetsu-no-yaiba-writings]

Genya with a s/o who basically the enemy of Sanemi but loves Genya a lot headcanons?

Ngl, this request made me chuckle as it just made me picture genya trying to hold back his s/o from punching sanemi XD

Oh my god! Or the meme with the lady holding the dude while pointing at another dude XD

Thank you so much for requesting! Especially since I've not had many genya requests and its an honest to god crime....

Anyway!

I hope that you enjoy and that i've done your request justice, come back to request whenever you like as your more than welcome to return (^w^. )

Genya Shinazugawa with an S/O who's enemies with Sanemi - [Headcannons]

If Genya got paid every single time you and his brother fought, he'd be rich enough to buy you something fancy and a house - but he didn't so bargaining you away with promises of affection and snack would have to do...

You were so sweet with him - so kind and understanding and patient with him that the first time you'd held his hands he'd almost started sobbing

You just hated Sanemi.....

Like, really hated him - "He's an arsehole Gen!" You'd proclaimed hands vigorously scrubbing away at the dirt on the table after dinner "I hate him and his face!"

It was safe to say that Sanemi didn't really like you either but then again he didn't really like anyone to begin with... - "I hate your partners face Genya, (He/She/They) annoy me and I'd punch 'em at any given opportunity"

Your soft words of love (to Genya) turn to hard acid whenever Sanemi makes an appearance - thinly veiled threats and insults exchanged quickly - and Genya always has to take a step back from the poison you spit, thankful (and slightly amused) that it's never directed towards him

Beautiful Smile shifting into a battle-worn snarl (a flash of canine and a vein prominent in your forehead) as you enter a stance that's very reminiscent of a street brawler

9/10 you two end up brawling

It didn't matter where you two went - to the market, training grounds, a mission or on the way home - you somehow managed to lock on and find Sanemi

"I can just feel his annoying, smug energy and it makes me want to punch him"

Genya quickly finds himself developing a sanemi radar too - especially a radar that works whenever the two of you go out - that out ranks yours, specifically so he can whisk you both away before you spot him and a verbal altercation occurs

On the days where your both acting "nice" to each other (which is very rare) you and sanemi still make poorly concealed jabs at each other

In an effort to get the both of you to get along (even if its only slighty) Genya sometimes made you both wear a "getting along" kimono (much like the getting along t-shirt) so that you both weren't fighting

"If neither of you can be nice to each other for an hour, I'm not gonna speak to either of you for the rest of the day" which is quickly followed by you complaining before trying to get along with the enemy (aka. Sanemi)

Also you know the meme where there's a guy in a armchair and he asks the other dude to look at him before calling dude.2 bitch? yeah, thats you and sanemi when genya's not looking

[yallthemwitches]

Talk to Me

When Lily and her boyfriend have a public breakup, James suspects he is to blame.

Pre-dating Jily angst-ish fluff ft. good guy Sirius for @jilytoberfest Day 9, Prompt: " You Literally Checked your phone 3 seconds ago"

....look at me finding any way possible to NOT write an AU fic.

AO3 Link Here

“Prongs—just give it back.” Sirius leaned on the edge of James’ four poster bed, cigarette dripping ash from his mouth, hand outstretched and grasping. 

“Not yet—she might still–”

“She’d be calling for me remember—or Moony I guess, but c’mon mate. I’m going nutter just watching you.”

James stared up at the canopy of his four-poster bed, hand gripping around the handle of the two way mirror. He flipped it up to his face for what had to have been the hundredth time in an hour, seeing only his reflection glare back. 

“I’ll give it to you if you tell me what happened.” Out of the corner of his eye he watched Sirius snub out his cigarette on the bedpost, hair shrouding any emotion on his face.

“I’ve told you, she didn’t want to get you involved—”

“Bollocks. Apparently I already was involved.” He sat up, leaning on his arms. Sirius glared back at him, two equally stubborn boys at an impasse. 

“They had a row. Sparrow went mental, threw his butterbeer, and Rosmerta kicked him out.”

“I’ve heard.”

“--And I assume they are broken up. At least Moony heard her say something along those lines while I helped Rosmerta and the other Hufflepuffs get him the fuck out.”

“Ok, fine. So then why were they rowing?”

This was the vital piece of information that everyone was withholding. Peter, Remus… even Marlene remained tight lipped, offering a simple shrug as he had cornered her earlier in the main hall. 

“They were rowing about me—weren’t they.”

Sirius snorted, but James could tell it was forced, a weak performance at best. 

“Don’t start being arrogant again.”

“I’m not, I’m just saying what seems to be the only conclusion.”

James flipped the mirror up to his face again. Every flash of his reflection felt more and more grotesque, like the anticipation and confusion was twisting his soul into a tight ball. 

“Can you quit it—I highly doubt she’s gonna call anyways. I just gave her the mirror in case Sparrow decided to do something even more stupid on her way back.”

 James could feel anger rising .“So why didn’t you walk her then.”

“Because she didn’t bloody want me to and she already had one arsehole bloke overstepping his boundaries to deal with, alright? Merlin for fucks sake.”

Sirius threw his arms up, a rare action of exasperation. He kicked some of the records laying on the ground out of his way and threw himself onto his bed face first. 

James softened, sitting up to look at his mate. “Pads, fuck mate I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be taking this out on you—I’m just—if I had just been there and not at bloody quidditch practice—”

“Then it probably would have gone a lot worse.” Sirius’ voice muffled through the fabric of his pillow. 

A sting of pain shot through him.  “What do you mean by that?”

A knock echoed through the dorm, the knob turned and a vibrant green eye peeked through the crack.

“Nobody naked in here? Remus said you’d be–”

She stopped speaking as she caught sight of James. Unintentionally swinging the door wider, he could see she was grasping Sirius’ mirror in her other hand. She had clearly been crying, streaks of salt bleached skin lined her cheeks, eyes red and puffy. 

“Nope, unfortunately fully clothed!” Sirius’ mood made an immediate rebound, hopping off his bed towards her. 

Lily eyed James for a fleeting moment before turning her attention to an approaching Sirius, mirror outstretched. 

“I wanted to give this back—and thank you. I didn’t think Sawyer was capable of–of acting like that.”

Sirius gave her a smile, all frustration completely melted, flashing one of his biggest and most genuine grins. 

“No worries Evans. Sorry your boyfriend–er, ex boyfriend was such a fucking idiot.”

Lily nodded, offering him a weak smile. 

“Right—well have a good night.”

She closed the door behind her and Sirius spoke, not turning to look at him.

“If you go right this second I bet you could catch her before anyone else does.”

It was the confirmation he needed to hear. James bounded towards the door and ripped it open. Lily was only a few steps down, clearly not too enthused to walk back into a room full of people who wanted to hear about the newest scandal. 

“Hey Evans–”

She turned to look up at him, eyes glassy. 

“You alright?”

Lily tried to give a weak smile. “Yeah, peachy.”

He took a calculated step forward. “I heard what happened with Sparrow—it was a real shit thing he did.”

Her eyes wandered around the dim lit stairwell, looking everywhere but at him. 

“Yeah well, I guess he isn’t going to make the cut.”Her eyes glanced up at him. Mouth open, poised for something. He was about to say his goodnight when it tumbled out of her mouth, clear and unwavering.

“It was about you, you know–.” Her eyes were steady on him, even with tears in her eyes, she looked defiant. 

“All I did was mention how we sit together in the library after charms—guess that hit some jealousy nerve I never knew about.”

James could feel his whole body tingling. She continued.

“I kept telling him it was nothing, that you and I were just mates but—he just went raving,” she hesitated, “--anyways, I’m sure you know the rest. Everyone is talking about it.” 

She turned to step back down the stairs, clearly spent from the emotional toll of it all. To James, she had never looked more beautiful, like the most resilient person in the world. 

“Lily wait,” he called down and she turned back to him, eyes glowing from the reflection of the candlelight. 

“You can always talk to me. I’m here for you—you know, if you want me to be.”

It was the first real smile he had seen her give since he saw her. 

“Yeah, I guess I do want that.”

[pratchettquotes]

A Personal Note: Celebrating 4,000 Followers*

Lord Vetinari walked out of the room and back into the main hall, with Vimes trailing behind. "However," he said, "in order to keep the peace, the golem will have to be destroyed."

"No, sir."

"Allow me to repeat my instruction."

"No, sir."

"I'm sure I just gave you an order, Commander. I distinctly felt my lips move."

"No, sir. He's alive, sir."

"He's just made out of clay, Vimes."

"Aren't we all, sir? According to them pamphlets Constable Visit keeps handing out. Anyway, he thinks he's alive, and that's good enough for me."

The Patrician waved a hand towards the stairs and his office full of paper. "Nevertheless, Commander, I've had no less than nine missives from leading religious figures declaring that he is an abomination."

"Yes, sir. I've given that viewpoint a lot of thought, sir, and reached the following conclusion: arseholes to the lot of 'em, sir."

The Patrician's hand covered his mouth for a moment. "Sir Samuel, you are a harsh negotiator. Surely you can give and take?"

"Couldn't say, sir."

Terry Pratchett, Feet of Clay

*A Rare Personal Note: This exchange comes after what may be one of the most famous Discworld moments of all time: the conversation where Vimes and Vetinari first discuss the age old question, "Who watches the Watch?", which becomes one of the central threads of Vimes' character progression. But the end of the conversation, which involves the fate of the newly christened Constable Dorfl, strikes me powerfully today. This marks one of the few times in canon that Vimes explicitly rejects one of Vetinari's commands on moral grounds. It also marks a rare moment when Vimes and Vetinari (who are often complex foils for each other) seem to agree on a fundamental point of morality: that a person must be treated as a person, whatever the cost, even if we do not understand them. On the last day of 2023, this seems more important to me than ever. We 4,000 Pratchett fans who share the quotes that fill this blog likely share very little else: If we met on the street we would not agree about politics, religion, the weather, or the correct storage of Battle Bread. But I think that Sir Terry would perhaps want us to remember that, even when we are at our most opposed, we are all made out of clay -- and that is something worth protecting. Happy New Year, my friends. May we all continue to learn what must be given, and what can never be taken.

[starstruckmoony]

enchanted.

masterlist

pairing - theodore nott x reader

summary - a cute guy stumbles into the coffee shop you work at and it alters your brain chemistry.

trope/tags - coffee shop!au, modern!au, college!au, muggle!au, out of pocket headcanons

word count - 6.5k

warnings - language, smoking, mentions of sex, light smut-ish (not really)

"get a job at a coffee shop", they said.

"i'll be fun", they said.

bollocks.

working at a café as busy as the three broomsticks certainly had its perks, if you could say so yourself, but it definitely had some godawful cons in the bunch and was terribly annoying in itself. the shop was located in one of the most bustling parts of london, not very far away from a university campus, which meant that one could easily make out the atmosphere inside of it without having to step through the door. it was always filled to the brim with students who all relied on caffeine for survival, many of which you would usually avoid even glancing at during lessons. so between your utterly unendurable acquaintances, occasional out-of-control children, and middle-aged ladies who criticized your every move and complained about their lattes being zero point four degrees too hot, you weren't sure which one irked you more.

your job was barely tolerable, but it wasn't like you had many other options laid out in the first place. you needed the money and you swore to do whatever it takes to pay for your tuition and heaps of other costs that came in the package with it. you went into it with very little enthusiasm, but nevertheless settled for working as a barista, as much as you were dreading the thought of it.

your shift started of normally that day. you were busy serving one of your least favorite friendly customers in world, draco bloody malfoy, and fighting a tempting urge to dunk the drink in your hand all over him. the two of you went way back, there was lots of resentment, some unresolved negative feelings and grudges about situations you could barely remember clearly. primary school, the darkest years of your lives. neither of you bothered much to fix your shitshow of a relationship. you were schoolmates who were sort of friends who didn't like each other very much. he was nice to you when he didn't have a stick up his arse, but he always had stick up his arse. pansy (who was also your coworker) declared you frenemies, and she was sort of onto something.

despite all that dirt, finding him in the shop wasn't an unusual occurrence, and you never got used to his annoying presence or the way your skin literally crawled just seeing him walk through the door. although, you had to admit that you were pretty grateful when he brought his hot beautiful handsome please snog me sir friend with him for some coffee that sunny friday.

"good morning." draco greeted his friend absentmindedly and gave him a short-lived glance before continuing the deadly staredown you two were having. keeping things professional with that little arsehole was a tough challenge. pansy nudged you behind the counter, and then very subtly motioned over to the handsome bloke next your nemesis when you finally gave her some attention.

"did you not order for me?" the guy questioned in disappointment, seeing that only a single cup of coffee was sitting on the counter. one good look at him was all it took for you to realise why pansy was so eager to get you to heed her observations. you sucked in a breath, focus.

"no? do i look like a maid to you?" draco spat, taking a loud, annoying slurp of his freshly-made cappuccino. he scowled in disgust, making your eyes roll backwards into your brain. the man always managed to find something wrong with his order. this time, the stupid drink of his didn't have enough sweetener. his friend coughed to cover up a chuckle.

"i will be filing a complaint." he declared, sitting back and crossing his arms.

"shove it up your arse, hm?" you offered him the fakest, most poisonous smile you could muster, turning to his attractive friend who's order you had to take. he gave draco a rather aggressive shove before he was able to open his mouth again, and then smiled at you sympathetically.

"i admire your patience." he was speaking to you, but even the most oblivious of people would realise that he took a subtle jab at draco. he looked a bit offended, "what the fuck, theo?" just like that, you got his name without even having to ask for it. today must have been your lucky day.

"tell me about it. if throwing drinks into people's faces wasn't listed as strictly forbidden in my job description, i'd be thriving." you responded without thinking, regretting it the moment you spoke. you could only hope that he would take your awful joke well because receiving a judgemental stare and no response at all was the last thing you'd have asked for that morning. but your thoughtlessness did pull something that sounded like a laugh out of theo, and he appeared to be pretty satisfied.

you suddenly felt hot. a handsome guy just laughed at your joke made at his best friend's expense? it made your heart flutter a little bit, kind of like everything else about him. you sighed inwardly, it was totally unfair that somebody as insufferable as draco got his eyes blessed by that man's presence every day.

"am i allowed to order or will you threaten to throw coffee in my face, too?" theo snapped you back to reality. you heard pansy snicker at your awkward stance before she continued talking to draco who got bored of tolerating your abuses and resorted to flirting with her instead. the pretty boy bit back a laugh once he noticed the way your cheeks turned pink. you wished for the earth to swallow you whole.

"yes, of course! sorry, uh, what would you like?" you put on a professional smile, yet you felt like he saw right through you. he was doing things to you by just simply being there. you already knew pansy was going to have a jolly good time teasing you about this.

"uh," his eyes trailed over to the menu on the wall. he looked completely and utterly clueless, but after a moment of silence, he made up his mind, "one black coffee..." he responded a bit uncertainly, as if he was afraid that you were gonna judge his choice of beverage.

"see why i don't order for you?" draco threw a crumpled up receipt into theo's face. you wondered how he managed to be so unphased by it.

"one black coffee?" you queried just to confirm his order, pretending not to notice pansy who's mischievous eyes were set on you. that, and the constant comments she was making about how cute you and theo would look together. you were surprised when draco didn't disagree like the snobby little hipster he was and then call her batshit crazy. maybe magic was real.

"yes." theo cleared his throat, slumping down onto a barstool three seats away from draco. next level damage control. when he found a smoking allowed sign on the wall, he immediately lit a cigarette.

"oh, thank god." you mumbled in relief. theo stared you in amusement, with a tiny smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. if you hadn't met in the middle of a crowded café, you would have kissed him then there. these days, people tend to forget that plain coffee is, in fact, a thing. that in itself isn't so bad, no, but it's pretty horrible for a coffee shop worker who has to balance time spent on making a drink while also satisfying everybody else at the tables. maintaining your sanity was another thing you had to dedicate yourself to, especially with having draco coming in every day.

you quickly got to work, hyperfocusing on the task at hand for the first time in a while - all that in a poor attempt to ignore the way that blush kept creeping up your cheeks. that wasn't the first time you had laid your eyes on a handsome guy at work. many good looking blokes had set their foot into the café, but you rarely ever let it get to you. they would come and go, simple as that. but there was something about the way theo was looking at you that made you feel unbearably giddy, and you were having a hard time keeping your thoughts from going places.

you were too busy preparing his coffee and trying to remain calm to see the way he shyly kept stealing glances at you. he was enthralled, to say the least, and he could not fathom the fact that you were that person draco always complained about. it was impossible. not only did you make him laugh literally ten seconds after he spoke to you for the first time, but your strange relationship with his friend was quite intriguing. and pretty hilarious, if he could say so himself. something was pushing him to find out more about you. he could not keep his eyes off of you, and he was deeply regretting all those times he shut draco down when he suggested they got coffee together. he'd even offer to pay each time, which theo only found more off-putting. the concept of being so nice and inviting was usually unfamiliar to the blonde, but theo eventually guessed that he had his own reasons and motivations for showing up everyday.

you whipped up his coffee in no time, shooting pansy with a death glare because of the way she wiggled her eyebrows at you. you placed the cup in front of him and were thankfully spared of any additional awkwardness when theo grabbed the drink and took a sip. you watched him with burning anticipation in your eyes as he blinked in confusion, "what the fuck are you complaining for?" he turned to a scowling draco who was making sure that everybody knew that he was rather discontented by the way his cappucino was made.

"i have tastebuds." he explained, shooting theo with an aggravated glare. pansy covered her mouth to silence a laugh.

"are they dead?" theo deadpanned.

"are they dead?" draco mocked, and then began sulking like a little child when pansy had to take the order of another customer. 

theo turned to you again, "ignore him," he offered you a comforting smile, "this is the best coffee i've had in a while." he took another large sip of the hot drink. a satisfied smirk appeared on your face. draco flipped you both off. 

"it's probably the beans," you trailed off, "although, brewing it does require some talent." it was true. pansy herself admitted that you made better coffee than her, multiple times, but that was probably because she proudly half-assed all of her work knowing that it won't cost her much. it helped you out tremendously when you had nothing else to brag about.

thoughtlessly, you continued speaking to theo, completely forgetting that your shift had not yet come to an end, and that you had well over two hours of work left. theo possessed the power to snap you back to reality, but was even more skillfull at pulling you out of it. your mind fully dismissed where you were. you learned a few things about him; he lived with draco, enzo and mattheo, who you got to meet after blaise and pansy dragged you to a random nightclub not so long ago. he had a persian cat who he named 'cat' because he wasn't creative enough to come up with anything that hit the spot and lorenzo made a pledge to make fun of him for it till the day they both die. he liked black coffee only, and no it was not a metaphore for the colour of his soul or some out of pocket bullshit that you heard way too often for comfort, he was just that basic. insane too, as he didn't put any sugar in it. you missed the basic, though, and it was a nice breather from all the ridiculousness you had to deal with on a day to day basis. he also happened to have seen your favourite movie, and that opened the door to about ten other conversation topics that you could go on about for hours upon hours. you were so immersed in the discussion that neither of you realised draco left, with pansy's number (which he finally acquired after three months of asking for it) written down somewhere in his notebook.

the sound of a stranger's throat clearing stopped you mid sentence, and you were rudely reminded that you were still at work, with lots of drinks to prepare, and many more customers to serve. curse them, whoever they were. they were practically forcing you to get theo's contact information, which would have been totally fine if it wasn't for the thought of rejection that was tearing your insides up into pieces.

you and theo offered some empty words of apology to the older man who pulled you out of your own little world and returned you to the misery that was present day. you sighed, exchanging a longing glance with the boy in front of you as if you hadn't just talked to him casually for twenty whole mintues, all while the line was gradually growing. not to mention that you both had places to be.

"here," theodore stuffed a hand into the pocket of his coat, pulling out what looked like twenty quid and sliding in front of you. you opened the cash register to fish out the amount of money you were supposed to give back to him, but he shook his head. there was no way in hell he was leaving that big of a tip. or maybe he was. you not only spent almost half an hour making his day better, but he liked your coffee so much you had to make him three, one being on the house.

you let out a laugh of surprise at the serious expression on his face, silently wishing for him to walk out and retrieve the money like any sane person would. at that point, just simply being graced by his presence was more than enough. you didn't even want the damn tip. your thoughts caused an onset of panic to flow through you. you weren't thinking straight at all.

"thank you." you spoke finally, contemplating whether you should ask him for his number or not. pansy's look of anticipation seemed to be heading in the exact direction you were most terrified of. thank god theo was being a wuss too.

"i'll see you around." he smiled as he made his way over to the exit, and you nodded enthusiastically, giving him a small wave as he stepped through the door and out into the streets.

you sighed when he finally disappeared out of your line of sight, failing to notice the way a few of the customers waiting in line were holding back their giggles after having witnessed the whole commotion. you weren't sure if you wanted to fly around like happy little fairy or burst into a million pieces and disappear off the face of the earth, but you knew that you were very spontaneously falling for theo and there was no going back.

***

a few weeks had gone by since theodore first came into the three broomsticks. and many things changed, one being that you began looking forward to coming into that hellhole which was a 'goal' rotting away somewhere in the far bottom of your bucket list. you'd never been more happy having to wake up at seven in the bloody morning to grind coffee beans and serve annoying londoners. it was laughable how you jumped from hating your job to getting excited by the thought of showing up to work. life was indeed full of surprises.

theo made sure to come in every morning (or afternoon, depending when you had your shift), and would always stay much longer than he intended, or so he told himself. he was awful at balancing university and personal life, but he was willing to make some sacrifices for you, even if it meant that he had to endure some never-ending teasing from his friends. blaise came in from time to time to enjoy the show live, mattheo called him a softie, enzo thought the whole thing was too hilarious to be real, and draco was giving him the cold shoulder (lovingly).

"oi!" pansy nudged you with her elbow. you were just about to brush her off as you were busy with the ice dispenser, but when she motioned with her head towards the door, your breath hitched.

theodore stepped through the entrance, and he somehow looked even prettier than he was when you saw him yesterday. you swiftly whipped up the order that you were working on and bid the customer goodbye when they confirmed that their to-go macchiato was perfectly made.

he smiled at you as he took a seat at his usual spot, and you grinned back in response before returning to work. it was awfully difficult not to lose focus when he was sitting there looking like a god sent gift, and you were getting frustrated with yourself. you could see pansy smirking at you in the corner of your eye, and you groaned quietly as you began working on another drink.

you were starting to get very impatient while you were busy with the other customers, but after making several cappuccinos and dealing with an angry man who's twelve espresso shot latte was too bitter, you finally got to speak to theo.

"hello." a greeting. a bloody greeting was all it took to make you blush furiously. you mentally applauded yourself with some heavy sarcasm. you were doing a great job at not being obvious.

"hi." you responded breathlessly, making him chuckle at your rather dishevelled state. pansy was having a very difficult time trying to stifle her laughter, but she remained professional and continued helping her costumer.

"so, i've been thinking...today." he cleared his throat, wiping the sweat on his palms on his black jeans.

"okay," you chuckled, "i'm listening." you tilted your head to the side slightly, curious to see what he had to offer. you hoped it's what you thought it was, but you didn't want to get excited too early. for all you know, he could be asking you for a favour or help to sort him a working spot at the café itself.

"right," he looked a bit uncertain. he gulped, hesitating before letting his words form decently, "my roommates are having a movie night and i'm not exactly sure what they have in mind, but that's besides the point," he rambled, letting out a displeased huff. something was definitely wrong with him today. when he went over this with mattheo, it seemed incredibly easy, but now that he was going through with it, he felt as if his downfall was inevitable, "i was wondering if you wanted to join us." he forced a smile, the internal prayer of please say yes was becoming so loud his thoughts became clouded. it's not like he couldn't handle rejection. frankly, he was fairly good at it and rarely ever let it touch his ego, but not in situations like these. not when he was actually falling in love and able to picture his life with somebody.

you weren't sure if it was possible for your cheeks to get any more red than they already were, but you quickly learned the harsh truth when you heard draco snort rather loudly.

you weren't that shocked by theo's suggestion, no, but it seemed to good to be true. so good that you had to pinch your arm behind the counter where he couldn't see it to make sure you weren't dreaming. he silently panicked for a moment, but when he saw the lovestruck expression on your face, he turned red himself. he sort of bid farewell to his intimidating, mysterious persona the moment he first met you, too enthralled to try and keep it up, and this was barely what was left of it. it was long gone. draco wished he had brought a camera with him.

"of course, i'd love to." you responded, without a sign of doubt in your voice. he smiled, breathing out a sigh of relief. he scrunched his face thinking how desperate he must've looked, but nevertheless continued the conversation. the speed with which you accepted his offer made him feel a strong surge of confidence, "when does your shift end?" he questioned as you began preparing his coffee.

"seven, remus is letting us off an hour earlier tonight. he said he had somewhere to be." you looked over at pansy who was giving you a not very subtle thumbs up. you rolled your eyes at her with a stupid grin on your face.

theo felt on top of the world. his eyes never left you, he watched you work, and only got snapped back to reality when pansy addressed him and asked him to close his mouth before he starts drooling all over the counter. he blushed profusely, and you tried not to laugh at him, but failed miserabley when you turned around and handed him his drink.

he groaned and covered his face with his hands, having no other option but to laugh along with you. "you should've seen her face when you came in," pansy winked at you with a mischievous smirk. you kicked her from behind the counter for that comment, and she blew a kiss your way before handing draco his coffee, "you know, nott," she started, pretending like she was thinking about what to say next, you should put that mouth of yours to use soon so she finally shuts up about–" you scrambled to cover her mouth before she could finish that.

"how's your coffee?" you changed the subject, turning to him innocently.

"perfect." he gave you a brief nod, not daring to spare draco or your friend another glance. you yanked your own hand away when pansy licked it, muttering a few curse words as you reached over to the sink to wash her spit off.

you turned to theo with an apologetic smile, making a mental note to murder pansy after your shift, and the two of you held eye contact for what felt like a goddamn hour to all the people impatiently waiting to get served. you simply could not get enough of those beautiful green eyes. they were so, very distracting.

"can you two eye-fuck after i get my overpriced tea?" lorenzo decided to make a surprise (dramatic) appearance. fair point he had there. you scratched the back of your neck awkwardly, and theo only rolled his eyes, wordlessly reaching for a cigarette. that was his one way of dealing with lorenzo.

"are you gonna bring your entire friend group in here or what?" pansy exclaimed in disbelief, thinking she would spot mattheo sitting at a table somewhere in the corner.

"i'm not bringing them here, they're following me around like annoying fucking flies." draco jumped to defend himself. the poor guy was never able to escape the countless of false accusations thrown his way. you were loving every bit of it.

"that should tell you something." lorenzo sat himself next to draco. "huh?"

"you smell." he purposefully leaned in too close for comfort, successfully avoiding the harsh shove the blonde was preparing to give him.

"what the fuck, are you five?" draco stared at him with obvious judgement. theo shortly glanced at the pair, and then shifted his full attention back to you. as funny as watching them bicker was, he found you a lot more captivating. and besides, his day was going quite alright (minus pansy's comment about him drooling all over the counter), so he wasn't looking to ruin it by getting involved in playfighting with his idiot friends.

the boys took about an hour to leave, and when they did, they made sure to let you know that theo was going to make you very happy, emphasis on the what's in his pants part. well, lorenzo did, at least, draco wished to leave the moment his friend opened his mouth and started listing all of the reasons why one should date theodore nott.

"and also, he will very much– hey, i'm not done!" theo ignored lorenzo's protests, and proceeded to push him towards the exit with draco on their tail. they all waved you goodbye, although enzo did it quite reluctantly, he wasn't ready to leave yet. theo offered you one last smile before stepping out the door, and you mouthed a quick goodbye, your face redder than ever.

"do you think he's good in bed?" pansy suddenly quipped while she was cleaning up the coffee spilled around the espresso machine. "who?" you shot her with a perplexed glare. you were not about to have this conversation with her.

"draco." she said it as if it was the most obvious thing ever.

"good god," you mumbled to yourself. at least she wasn't trying to get you to talk about theodore, "i don't know and i don't want to know."

"hm," she stared at nothing while she spoke, "i wonder if that's how he gets all his anger out." she said thoughtfully before shrugging it off like she didn't just make you picture the most atrocious thing known to man. you never wished for theo to be there more so he could save you from whatever grotesque form of nightmare that was, and you certainly hoped that pansy wasn't going to attempt to test out her little theory tonight, as draco had invited her over in the meantime, too.

***

patienece was something you heavily managed to work on while working at three broomsticks, and you could say that you had successfully mastered the art of it in your four months spent there. you could also say that meeting theo was the biggest fuck you to all of the progress you had made.

the remaining two hours of your shift ended up turning into what felt like an eternity of torture. pansy had to keep a careful eye on you, a bit mortified that you might just strike an innocent customer. if looks could kill, yours definitely would. you best believe she told draco about that.

it wasn't all so sullen, though. your misery did not last forever. at last, the clock struck seven. but there was one thing you did not consider when you thoughtlessly agreed to show up at theo's place at eight, and that was that you'd have a little over thirty minutes to make yourself look presentable. the moment your shift ended, you sprinted to the staff room to collect your things, gave pansy a clumsy hug, and left the shop light speed.

you always felt incredibly lucky that your dormitory facility was very close to your workplace, but today that feeling was extraordinarily more intense. you made it there in less than five minutes, cursing the out of order elevator and swiftly climbing up the stairs to third floor where you were situated.

you burst through the door, out of breath, immediately ridding of your clothes and disappearing inside your tiny bathroom. you couldn't recall the last time you took a shower so quickly. not even ten minutes later, you were back inside of your room, rummaging through your dresser in search of something cute to wear. it was rather sad that you just then noticed that hermione, your trusted roommate, was not there. she stuck a post it note to her headboard, explaining that ron's parents invited her over for dinner and that she'll be spending the night at his place. just when you needed her, she wasn't there.

"fuck." you cursed, continuing to ransack the drawers of your small commode. trousers were out the window. the best pair you owned was in the wash, the other three were an immediate no. you weren't sure what the dress code for a movie night was, exactly, but wearing your over-the-top fake leather trousers did seem like a bit much. maybe that should have been your sign to get some new ones.

you yanked the bottom drawer open and managed to dig up some clean socks and a large jumper (one that you weren't even certain was yours), and when you couldn't find your favourite sweatpants, you snatched a pair of jeans from hermione's closet. you could only hope that they would keep you comfortable for however long that little movie marathon was going to last.

you shuffled the clothes on, you didn't have enough time to try on anything else, and quickly did your make up just so you looked a bit more presentable. bless pansy and her patience when she was helping you step up your eyeliner game. you took a few improvised mirror selfies to send to her, emotional support and all that, grabbed your coat, slid your old low docs on, and bolted out the door.

it had begun to get dark before you even stepped outside, and with the sun disappearing behind the horizon, it got colder, too. you were very happy that the boys' flat wasn't located too far away from your dormitories, and you could make it there in about ten minutes if you tried hard enough. good thing you knew the address, as you had the displeasure of having to visit draco a couple of times when you got assigned to work on a project together. he always made sure that his friends were out whenever you showed up there. you were hoping that your experience would be a little better this time, but you didn't worry much. you were going there for theo, so how bad could that really go?

you didn't even want to think of it as you stepped in front of the entrance of their flat, and pressed your finger to the doorbell to alert them that you'd made it. mattheo opened the door for you and grinned like an idiot, very obviously trying his hardest to fight away his inner demons that were pushing him to crack some stupid joke on your and theo's account.

"do not." you threatened, and he raised his hands up in defeat, moving out of the way and letting you walk through the door. he waited for you to kick your shoes off, and then politely led you further inside, no unnecessary comments made.

you didn't expect the boys to make it all look so comfortable, but you had to admit that you had underestimated them. they brought out some extra pillows so that whoever sits on the floor doesn't leave with sore buttocks, fluffy blankets with star wars patterns, an old beanbag, lots of different food to choose from, and a crate of beer shoved under the table. huh, you could definitely see yourself enjoying that.

draco, unsurprisingly, didn't say hello when you stepped into the living room, but lorenzo offered you a different kind of greating.

"theo, your girlfriend's here!" he announced, loud enough for the neighbours on the fifth floor to hear.

"piss off, enzo!" theo yelled from what you assumed was his bedroom, and then stepped out a few seconds later, flipping lorenzo off when he wiggled his eyebrows. what a child. he grabbed a hold of theo's wrist and kissed the offending finger.

"good evening to you too." you gave him a pointed look, letting out a noise of surprise when theo took a gentle hold of your hand and led you to the couch. he mumbled something along the lines of, "you look pretty", and you offered him a smile in response, not willing to attract any more attention. draco had already claimed the spot sofa, explaining that he and nobody else is allowed there, so the two of you settled on the floor without a fight, sitting so close your shoulders were touching.

pansy showed up not very long after you, and lorenzo was more than happy to have the long awaited movie marathon finally start. it didn't go down without bickering, obviously, and after twenty excruciating minutes of arguing if you should watch notting hill, poltergeist or fight club, pansy grabbed the remote and put on 10 things i hate about you. nobody really complained.

you and theo managed to avoid the hand accidentally touches hand part of sharing a bowl of popcorn, but then your legs somehow tangled under the blankets and neither of you bothered to move or apologise.

in the meantime, lorenzo shifted from his chair to the beanbag mattheo was in, and had the other cuddle him against his own will. not like he actually minded. it was a miracle that thing was big enough, one wrong move and they'd both be on the floor along with their bags of funny-flavoured crisps.

the beloved rom-com felt like it came to an end sooner than it started, and you were all already arguing on what to watch next. mattheo took the advantage to grab the remote when draco reached over to hit lorenzo, and clicked on dirty dancing without asking for a second opinion. two romance movies in a row. somebody was out to get you. draco groaned in protest, but pansy gave him a kick to shut him up. yes, he let her sit on the couch with him, but her, and her only.

halfway through, you felt theo shift next to you, and not long after, he threw an arm around your shoulders, nervously holding you before relaxing when you didn't move away. you smiled to yourself and shuffled closer, the warmth radiating from his body was addicting. you could get used to it. the thought of pulling away seemed ludicrously dreadful and the concept of time became unfamiliar.

you only realised how long you had been squashed together when it hit you that the second movie was coming to an end, too. there were barely twenty minutes left, and you felt your eyes beginning to flutter shut. not because you were bored, you were just simply exhausted. theo quickly noticed, and he let you lay your head on his shoulder, but falling asleep was the last thing you wanted to do.

"god, i could really use a coffee right now." you groaned and you rubbed at your eyes, covering your mouth as you yawned. you needed a little something to keep you awake, and your trusted caffeine would surely do the job.

"come on, i'll make you some." theo stood, helping you up and not letting go of your hand as you made your way towards the kitchen. mattheo questioned where you were going, and nodded skeptically after receiving a short response. the other three didn't care, either too immersed into the movie or occupied with other things.

you took a seat on the counter next to theo where he opened the cupboards, his eyes searching for whichever form of caffeine they had left in there. he pulled out a half empty jar of instant coffee, and looked at you unsurely, unknowing whether you'd want to drink it or not.

"just make me whatever, it's fine." you waved a dismissive hand, and he gave you a quick nod before getting to work. not that it took much effort.

it was almost done in an instant, hence the name. you didn't mind, though, coffee was coffee, and coffee could never be bad. although, you weren't really paying attention to what he was doing, a little too busy staring at his face to notice anything else.

"tell me if it's horrible." he said as he handed you the hot drink. you hopped off the counter and thanked him before you pressed the mug to your lips and took a tiny sip. you tried not to grimace, and politely took another one. it was not good.

"it's good." you choked out, holding back a cough and forcing a supportive smile. theo didn't look very convinced, you doubted he was, and he took a step closer, like he was about to confront you about your little white lie.

"be honest." he sighed, yet there was a sort of menace behind the disappointed look on his face.

"it's terrible." you failed to hold back a snicker, feeling a little sorry that his coffee tasted just that bad. he was lucky you had some tips up your sleeve, "it's so bad, what did you–" to say that you were absolutely flabbergasted when he kissed you would be an understatement. you didn't push him away, nor did you resist, you were simply too shocked to react.

you laughed in surprise when he pulled back, your jaw hanging open slightly. then he leaned in again, but you had enough time to react this time, so you kissed him back, despite feeling a bit lightheaded by it all. it was one of the strangest situations you had found yourself in in a long time, but were enjoying every little bit of it.

"i literally just criticized your–" he quickly hushed you, going in for another kiss. you giggled against his lips and set the cofee mug aside, wrapping your arms around his neck and letting your hand tangle his locks. theo could fucking collapse. there was something about the way you grabbed his hair, something that made him see colours he didn't even know existed. you weren't oblivious enough to miss the way he reacted, pressing his body closer to yours and tightening his grip around you, so you did it again, smirking in satisfaction when it drew a pleasant sound of approval from him.

his tongue brushed over your bottom lip, and you let out a tiny noise of surprise, feeling your knees buckle. without dwelling on it, you opened your mouth, and when his tongue touched your own, you gasped, maybe even whimpered, accidentally pulling on his hair a bit too harshly. theo didn't seem to mind. he grunted in response, you were making him forget that there was nothing but a wall separating you from your friends.

"you just missed the best– oh, fuck, my bad, continue please, sorry!" mattheo disappeared as fast as he appeared, his footsteps followed by laughter and the end credits of dirty dancing which got increasingly louder. courtesy of draco turning it up to drown out any unholy noises he suspected might come from the kitchen after seeing the look mattheo's face.

you pulled away from each other, too flustered to even laugh, your lips swollen and cheeks pink. theo's grip on your waist loosened, and you relaxed your arms, but still didn't pull them away from where they were wrapped around his neck. he leaned his forehead against yours, uneven breaths fanning over your lips.

"uh," you started, as speechless as he was, "have i mentioned that my dorm was empty for the night?"

[treason-and-plot]

“Of course you can rely on me,” says Roy, her words causing the lump in his stomach to turn into a cold, heavy stone. “I’ll always be there for you. I love you, for Christ’s sake. You’re the most important person in my life. And I’m really sorry if I made you doubt that last night-”

“There was no ‘if’, Roy,” says Anya. “You absolutely gave me a lot of doubts. And they’re still there.”

Jesus, thinks Roy, why the fuck am I the bad guy? He takes another deep swig of his beer while he considers his position. But the rational part of his brain seems not to be working properly today. It’s been compromised by genuine fear that he could lose Anya if he doesn’t quickly get a handle on the situation. He also realises that he wasn’t lying when he told her she was the most important person in his life. And he understands for the first time what people mean when they say that they don’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“Baby, I’m sorry. No ifs. I’m sorry for making you feel that way. I’m a selfish, insensitive arsehole. And I’m going to do my best to try and explain why I was distant last night,” he says. “I’m not defending my behaviour, I’m just trying to provide you with some context, okay?”

“Okay,” she says quietly.

“Well, first off, I was angry and upset even before you told me about your Dad because Sonia had told me she wasn’t going to let us see the kids on Friday night,” he says. “So, yeah. There was that. And okay, I know now that it wasn’t that much of a huge deal compared to what Michael did, but it still really affected me.”

Anya says nothing, her eyes scanning his face as he talks.

“And I felt like I couldn’t share my feelings with you because you were so distraught, and I guess that kind of made me resentful and caused me to withdraw,” he continues, warming to his story. “It was childish of me, and pathetic, and I have no excuses for not putting your needs before mine. You’re right. I let you down. And I really hope that…that you can forgive me. And believe me when I say that I’ll do everything I can to try and make it up to you.”

“Thank you,” she says in the same quiet voice.

“Are we… good, then?” he says.

“Why did you question whether he was cheating?” she says.

“What?”

“You asked if going to a prostitute was cheating. Your exact words were: “Is it technically cheating, though?” Why did you say that? How could you say that? Are you saying that you think that it’s okay for married men to visit prostitutes, Roy? I’m just really confused. And concerned that we have different viewpoints about what constitutes cheating. I mean, do you honestly think it would be morally okay for you to visit a prostitute? I really need to know!”

[pseudowho]

Hiromi Higuruma Relationship HCs

(help me find the Higuruma artist in the banner, for crediting and thanks/permission!)

For our other favourite tuckered-out hardworking man of JJK...

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

- First of all, this man knows he's intense. Whether he's tired of life, or fighting for someone's life, he worries he's just going to cause a partner stress, so he generally avoids relationships. -Not that he doesn't want a relationship, he does; but he knows he wants someone smart, someone who can see the dark comedy of life, and someone who can argue. - Because let's face it - Hiromi Higuruma will argue with anyone about anything He needs someone to share his burning passion; it doesn't have to be about the same thing. - He feels like his standards are unrealistically high, and he won't make these demands of someone, he needs it to happen organically.

✨ and then Hiromi Higuruma finds you ✨

- You're in front of him in the line at the bar, having a fight with the guy in front of you, who was rude to the girl on the tills - And you just roast this guy - Hiromi's having the time of his life, he only wanted a beer but now he's getting a whole show - This guy crawls off, having been used to mop the floor, and you just shake it off, leaning over the bar to apologise to the girl on the tills, and order your drink - Higuruma leans past you; "I'll get hers" - You look at him, and he holds his hands up placatingly; "With no expectation," he says, "nice work with that arsehole. Have one on me." - So obviously, you talk all night - The bar staff come over in the small hours and hoik you out, because you're still talking; Higuruma is smitten- you're witty, dry, bright and immediately happy to talk about bigger things, and he feels so alive - You go out, and it's freezing, and Hiromi feels awkward and guilty for keeping you out so late - Gives you his jacket to keep you warm while he gets you home safely - Sad to leave you at your door, doesn't think to ask you for your number, because he just doesn't see someone seeing him that way until--

- "All that, and you don't even ask me for my number?"

- He stutters - No Higuruma left, brain gone walkies - You tap your number into his phone, doing the drop-call in case Higuruma doesn't

✨ You fall first, but Higuruma falls harder

- To save himself from disappointment, Higuruma insists to himself through so many coffee dates and dinners, trips to museums and galleries, and long walks in the park, that you're just friends - He's so used to crushing disappointment at work, he can't take it from you too - Until one day as you're raging against the machine to him, the love hits him like a bus - You're just waiting for the train to arrive together - And he leans in and kisses you, so softly but so convicted - The train whooshes into the station, rushing you both with warm air, but you're so lost in each other, one of his hands on your waist now to bring you closer while yours tangles in his hair to pull his lips harder to yours, because - Finally - You thought he'd never make a move

✨ After this, you're inseparable; as far as Higuruma is concerned, the hardest part (working out if you're in love) is done. He's absolutely decided you're the one, so that's settled, the man knows his own damn mind

- And he treats you like a man who knows what he wants - He's totally committed, but not showy - This man absolutely has your back, through thick and thin - Will fight your fights for you, but knows he doesn't have to - You read together, a lot. He massages your feet on his lap while you counsel him through the difficulties of another tricky case. You take long baths, working through at least one bottle of wine together, and his foot creeps past you to turn the hot tap on again because he's not ready to get out yet. - Higuruma takes it as a personal insult when you're sad, or upset, or have had a bad day, and curses the cruel world you live in for upsetting you...while throwing blankets over you, making you tea, making sure the house is tidy - Making you happy is his pride and duty - But if you do argue, it absolutely must be resolved. This man will not tolerate silent treatments or going to bed unhappy with each other, anything that can be talked through will be talked through - Absolutely loves quietly ragging on strangers with you, this man gets life from the absurd comedy of people-watching bad or stupid people - Always the first to put the kettle on if you have tea to spill - His bad days are bad, and sometimes his anger at the world seems so great, he must surely be angry at you too - But you stay patient, reassuring, a lighthouse in his darkness and God does he adore you for it - Once this man has decided to commit to you, there is no changing his mind, you've got to ride this one your whole life now

✨ NSFW ✨

- Fairly tall, slim, average guy build. The kind of soft abs of a guy who works like a racehorse - Secretly packing - His big dick energy in Court translates across - His breakdown in his 30s makes him pretty unashamed to tell you what he wants and give you what you want in the bedroom - Views it as an absolute personal failing if he doesn't make you cum at least twice - I mean come on, there's enough injustice in the world without bad sex - Loves it when you ride him after a long day at work, but he'll get mean if he thinks you're slacking - "*sigh* I know you fuck as well as you fight, so is that what you want? A fight?" - Full of praise when you bounce that pussy up and down his cock, stroking your hips and clit, determined you should share your pleasure - Also, sneak into his office at the courts, I dare you - Mother Justice looking down on you with her scales as you take his beautiful cock into your mouth while Higuruma moans without shame; or, the Newton's Cradle on his desk clattering as Higuruma bends you over, absolutely railing you with a wild look in his eyes, holding his black hair out of his eyes with one hand while he squeezes your arse with another, secretly hoping his colleagues are drinking in your squeaks and whimpers outside the door

(they are and they're so pleased) (Higuruma has looked stressed out lately) (maybe a good fuck will cheer him up)

- When he has had a very bad day prepare to be outrageously overstimulated by him, his lips and tongue and that nose working on your clit over and over while you cry and reach out for purchase on anything while you cum over and over, tears dripping back into your hair - "Can't do it? Nonsense. Hold onto the headboard. I won't be done for a while."

Overall, 10/10, husband material if you can weather those storms.

[intothedysphoria]

Going from a social outcast to seemingly universally desired was a change that Billy found himself sorely lacking the capacity to deal with.

It felt like barely a year ago he was just the fat kid with the asshole dad. The kid who was more comfortable speaking Irish than English. The weird kid who couldn’t sit still in class and had “outbursts” that would leave a classroom completely overturned.

Now he’d lost weight (not by choice), had to speak English if he didn’t want to be uprooted for a third time and was supposedly taking his adderall post ADHD diagnosis. Neil was still an asshole but that would never change.

He was desirable now. A hot commodity. Had the approval of everyone apart from his own fucking dad.

In short, Billy was absolutely miserable.

He missed California a lot. He missed Belfast even more. He missed being fat. He missed his mam and grandad. He missed everything.

Showing any signs of weakness was how it started though. So Billy did what he always did. He adapted.

Harrington was weird. Taking the crown from him was almost too easy. For all the talk he’d been fed about King Steve, what Billy got was a teenager who couldn’t make eye contact, spent an hour reading two pages of a textbook and walked like a penguin when nobody was watching.

Good thing Billy didn’t mind weird.

The usual taunts didn’t really work. All it really achieved was getting Harrington flat on his back on the gym floor and that got Billy thinking about sex which wasn’t helpful.

Harrington just stared up at him with these big startled eyes. Like a damn deer. The pointed star he wore around his neck swayed as Billy let him up. Jewish maybe. Billy felt his hand unconsciously drift down towards his own pendant, the one his granny had given him.

The one that would help him find his way back home.

They fought within a week. Arsehole had Max holed up in a strangers house. It made Billy’s skin crawl just thinking about it. Especially after having to flirt with Karen Wheeler just to get any answers, All he could remember was that he was winning then the world started going black.

When he woke up there was a dead something in the fridge. He probably hadn’t woken up at all then. His body took that hint as a sign to collapse again.

He woke up again. A small woman with mousy brown hair and a nervous tic was cooking. Billy could hear The Clash drifting from another room. Christmas lights were scattered across the wall. It was the first place in Hawkins that had actually felt like home.

The woman’s name was Joyce. The house he’d found Harrington and Max and the nightmare in had been her house. She was dressed practically and smelled like paint and reminded him so much of his own mam that his heart hurt.

She was a good cook. The soup wasn’t like anything he’d ate before, probably Polish but it was fantastic. She asked if he wanted to stay the night. He said no.

Neil would be waiting. He always was.

Neil had burned the damn book. The one Billy had wrote when he was seven, colouring all the words in orange and white and green. It hurt more than any punch every could have.

He was under house arrest again. Only let out when Max needed a fucking taxi to a Christmas dance. Harrington was a couple of cars away, fussing over a boy of about thirteen who could have been his younger brother.

They weren’t biologically brothers. But Henderson was his cousin. So they were in spirit. Those were some of the things Billy learned from a few strained sentences of conversation.

He apologised in a way so Billy reluctantly returned one. Apparently he hadn’t realised how fucking dodgy he’d looked with Max.

Billy was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.

Neil kicked him out of the house on Christmas Day for hanging an Irish flag on his door. Billy went to the Byers. Joyce’s family didn’t exactly celebrate Christmas but she still gave him a present.

She gave him gorgeous Polish cakes which were fucking delicious and some of Jonathan’s old vinyls which he didn’t listen to anymore.

That day Billy discovered The Specials and tucked the vinyl under his weed stash in the Camaro boot. Somewhere Neil would never think to look.

Harrington was tolerable after Christmas break. Tolerable in an infuriating way because Billy still wanted to fuck him. The queerness wasn’t something he’d told anyone about though apart from Patrick McKinney so he kept those thoughts to himself.

He spent more time at the Byers, learned what Shabbat was, came out to Joyce in a flood of tears, kissed Harrington, wrote a letter back to Ireland for the first time in two years and made a plan to get the hell out of Hawkins Indiana.

Harrington managed to pass high school with a lot of bribery and tutoring and kissing at his place. Jesus but Harringtons house was a bloody mansion. Billy had spent his first eight years in a terraced shared accommodation where his entire extended family had lived. Harrington had five bathrooms and his own television. Not even in black and white.

Billy got his predicted mix of A’s and B’s so he was happy and spent most of the weekend post graduation floating on his back in the Harrington pool, beer in hand. He couldn’t afford to slack off completely though. So he got a summer job.

Working at the community pool was fine. As long as Billy didn’t think about the middle aged women staring at him like a piece of meat. Fucking perverts. Heather was fun though. Funny. The only lesbian he’d met in Hawkins apart from Buckley.

Neil had started acting even weirder than usual after a night Billy had slept over at his boyfriends. He’d taken to ice baths and Billy swore he’d seen the man drinking bleach. Ugh.

Max was pretty obviously freaked out though so Billy slowly phased her into spending most nights at the Byers or the Sinclairs or Steve’s. Susan wouldn’t budge. Something in Billy’s chest felt a bit sick about that.

The Fourth of July they were in the mall, the one Steve worked at. Something even more hellish than the thing in the fridge stood above them. And Neil just stood by with blank, hateful eyes and let it happen.

He died. Billy killed him. Stabbed him in the chest then the monster went away.

Steve was gripping his shoulders as he stood there, Neil’s blood on his jacket and he cried.

Susan left.

Social services took Max. Billy cried a lot that day. She was living with some family in Michigan. They promised to keep in touch.

Billy went to therapy twice a week. A guy from County Mayo who Billy trusted immediately.

There was no point really in Joyce adopting him as he was over eighteen. Besides she didn’t need to. Billy knew who his family were.

A letter came back from Belfast. Inviting both him and Steve back to his grandparents house. Steve had never left the US, had never really left the Midwest actually. Billy wanted to show him everything.

The years went by and Billy regained weight. He stopped speaking English as much and was determined to teach Steve Irish. He still sometimes forgot to take his adderall and had awful nightmares but Steve was there to make it better.

He was alive. And life was pretty ok.

[aphroditesmoon]

Hi! I’m not sure if u do smut or not but I was wondering if u could do a Legolas smut with fem!human!reader, like a enemies to lovers kind of thing. Maybe hate sex? <3

too close

legolas greenleaf x reader

summary: legolas has his doubts about who you really are, but is that really why he can never meet your eyes with anything else but anger in himself.

warning: afab reader, nswf, smut 18+, etl, legolas being a jerk, probably bad description of mirkwood

a/n: soo sorry i took ages, I've been taking new meds, also i havent written smut for a while so im a bit dusty, hope u like it<3

○○○○○○

Summer is barely a real season under the protective courts of Mirkwood, you could barely feel the heat or see the sun through giantic starfall tree and at night, the chill through the strong winds gives a hint of winter in its air.

You loved it. Training at night feels easier when your not already sweating through your tits ten minutes in warm ups. And the quiet around you, save the crickets and owls hooting, gave you the solace you seeked for each existing day you lived through.

But despite finding everything well with want you asked for, the universe seems relentless with making sure you'll always be keeping your guard up and your annoyance up higher, with the ever consistent appearance of Prince Legolas Greenleaf.

He stands by the corner near an entrance to the castle, watchful of you while thinking he's quiet. His lack of trust in you makes him believe that you somehow lack in the specialties of elf abilities, like for example, your keen hearing.

"I could hear you for a mile away, prince." You also caught onto his snort, before his footsteps sounds louder. "How did you lnow it was me then?" He asks, less snobby than usual.

He must be drunk, you tell yourself.

"You have that pompous, all knowing kind of stride, it has its own beat when you walk." You expected him to roll his eyes like he usually do, belittling you like a child being reprimanded. But suprisingly he laughs. "That sounds a lot like you're projecting, after all, only pompous, all knowing arseholes are the ones who isolate themselves and train alone."

Ah, there it is. He's sobered up then.

"And what humble, kind enough of an elf, would waste his time stalking other people just to throw insults like a 7 year old?" You snapped.

If he had found your irritants amusing before, now his smile fades altogether,  and he looks the same as when he's about to pull an arrow on an orc.

"The kind of an elf who's trying to protect his kingdom and father." You laughed honestly yet mockingly before dropping your sword altogether to look at him. "You think your doing the king a favor? His majesty has his own mind, he trusts me, so I'd suggest you drop your savior facade and trust him." He shook his head and looks away for a second, as if deep in thought. "My father doesn't trust anyone, let alone random rogue elves who comes out of nowhere."

You raised you brow at his bravery in speech. 'This random rogue elf is the reason your father is alive, if I had even a glimpse of malice in me, I wouldn't have done nothing but serve him well for the last 10 months." You say matter of factly.

And before he could argue again, you wave your hand at him annoyed, and turn your back at the prince. "I practise better when im alone, and now you've ruined my peace, if you don't have anything new or smart to say-"

"You are a witch." He speaks. You actually freezed for a moment, forehead frowned in confusion. "Excuse me?"He repeated his impossible words. 

"Im a witch...because i saved your father's lives?" You ask him, slowly. He looks more frustrated then ever, as if you're the one patronizing him.

"No, you are a witch, because you have bewitched him." You could laugh if you didn't want to punch him. "And how have I bewitched him?" You almost yell. "I don't fucking know!" He yells first.

"My father has never trusted anyone, except for me, yet i see he'd put his life in your hands if he has to. And you know that, you know what you are doing. How you win his praise and trust when you fight, and when you put yourself over him, over the other shooters, martyring yourself."

Your mouth was wide open, your brows furowing, but no words escape you as he continues, inching closer with every word, untik you're both a step away from eachother.

"And you know exactly what you do to me." He was hovering over you, with a glare so intense you've never seen from the mirkwood prince. "I've done nothi-" He cuts you off when you've just gained enough control to speak. "You've bewitched me."

His breath was steady even in such anger, fanning your face gently as he inhales and exhales.  "I don't trust you, and i shouldn't care too much of another fighter in our army, another stranger i shan't waste my time on. Yet one glimpse of you, and you're stuck in my head, like a memory i can't seem to forget."

he was silent after the last confession ends, and you have the stubborn urge to answer to him. "That sounds like a you problem, not mine." He gives a short bitter laugh, looking up to the sky for a second, as if praying to the stars for guidance. "What have you done to me, cruel enchantress."

The rage seemed to lessen in the glare he still holds at you, but something more hungry lays in his gaze. "I've done nothing. Im no witch." You answer, so over all of this cat and mouse game. "And if I was, I wouldn't waste my time on someone so frustrating like you, and your stupid perfect nose, going around acting like you're-" He cuts you off, closing the small space between the two of you with his lips.

It was persistent, the way his mouth pushed over yours, like a strong wave crashing over sands, forcing it to feel the same surge it's being held againts.

When your hands finally found its strength, you place them againts his chest, pushing him off, he startles and moves a step, eyes locking with yours.

His hands that were once on each sides of your face, falls down to his side, fingers flexing as if too empty now. "I hate you." He says. His eyes saying the opposite. Your mind repeats over and over of what he had done and you tell yourself that it can't get any worse or better than this, so you took a move yourself forward, standing on the ground he was on a second ago.

"Then why don't you show me how much."

You don't hesitate to pull his face towards yours, recreating the similar scene as before. His hands move to wrap around your waist, while yours tangle themselves in his untied long white hair.

You gasp when his tongue licks over your bottom lip, giving him what he wanted, your tongues clashes as you two continue kissing eachother like you're out of air. You don't flinch when he backs you up until your back meets the flat of a wall.  His right hand starts to fliddle with the laces tying your leather top on. You help him take it off before your own fingers helps him take his breeches of while he moves his lips to your neck.

"I like you better with your hair down." You manage to gasp out while he's sucking on your neck. "And I like you better with your mouth shut."  Legolas replies before his hands easily turns you around your face meets with the wall.

You barely hold on to the wall when his grip on your hips tighten, your own training tights pulled down before you felt him againts your back.  You squirm and let yourself grind againts his hardness when one of his hands move to your front to squeeze your breasts, flicking your nipple, gently moving lower then from your chest to yoir stomach, grazing your scar filled abs until it gets lower to where you want him the most.

He's still squeezing your left hip while rubbing his hard cock againts your ass.

Finally as he sinks into you without notice,  receiving  a loud whimper from you, his hand over your hips move to grabs a fistful of your hair, pulling your head back againts his chest. His right wandering fingers were still againts your front, rubbing circles on your thighs.

You're too speechless, feeling yourself filled up to the brim by him. He doesn't move at first, head laying low by your neck, hot breathing againts your cheek. You almost cry when he slowly pulls out, until he pushes himself in again, harder tham the first thrust.

He doesn't stop them, pushing into your hole repeatedly, his hands moving up from your thighs to your clit, rubbing over it with a pace that wanted to make you scream.

Legolas finally regains enough strength to start biting and sucking on your neck, marking you, while he doesn't stop pounding into your wet cunt.

The fullness of his cock and pressure of his fingers makes your cunt tighten againts him, he lets out a growl you've never heard if the elf prince before he bites down your sweet spot harshly, making you scream out his name. "Fucking hell." He groans out, fucking out all his pent up anger and tension over you.

.Your hands feels slippery againts the wall, gripping againts nothing while he takes you like a ragdoll, manhandling you take his cock over and over, watching you turn into a crying and moaning mess.

"Legolas, please- uh." You mewl out to him He hears you, pleased he is as he lets out a grin againts your neck. "Please what, my love?" He asks huskily.  Love, thats a new one.

"Need to come-" You beg out to him.  And Legolas, for all his false pretense of hostility before, could never say no to you.

He pushes your face againts the wall again,  both of his palms now back to each side of your hip, tightening againts them as he plunges himself harder inside of you as you scream out his name, shameless of who could've heard them. Your nipples grazes againts the hard bumpy walls, oversensitive to everything now,  you clench againts him so tightly that you could hear him curse out in elvish as he holds on to your bruised sides.

You feel tears brimming in your eyes as he continues fucking you while you explode all over him, your orgasm leaking out of your cunt, all over his leg. "Argh- im going to-" He doesn't finish his words as he finally cums after you, his hot cum leaking into your hole and then lower lines on your arse.

His head leans on your back, his breathing rapid and sweat glistens you both.

Legolas pulls you back by your breast, letting you rest on hus chest while the two of you try to regain some air. His fingers grazing the valley of your tits, head stuck on the side of your forehead. Once you've calmed down from your high, you tilt your head towards him, relishing his warm arms around you.

He leans forward, letting your forehead meets. You let out a small smile.  "Now what?" Your voice gentler then expected. "Now-" He answers, voice hard. "-I'll take you to my chambers, and I'm fucking you again."

[sspookyspoonss]

I know nothing about Doctor Who except what friends occasionally excitedly tell me. I am also bored. Here is an undoubtably factual explanation of each of the ‘new?’ Doctors:

Doctor…. Who??????:

I know nothing about this guy. Nobody I know talks about Christopher Eccleston nor have I caught wind of any internet discussion. My conclusion is there is a conspiracy to not talk about him for no reason other than the fandom got bored and thought it would be funny. I think this Doctor would like to go to football matches and would get very upset if the team he likes doesn’t win. You would probably randomly meet him at a pub and would have a nice chat with him, however, he’d take you back to the Tardis and you would most likely die via Dalek plunger (a thing I am informed they can kill you with). I also think he would like watching reality TV, he gives of that vibe.

Tumblr Doctor:

The internet likes this guy. David Tennant is cool, so I understand. I think this is ‘wibbly wobbly timey wimey’ guy so I am inclined to think that he also says things like ‘milkys’ and ‘dindins’ to his friends. Even if he is not ‘timey wimey’ guy I still think he still would say ‘milkys’ and the like, gives off that vibe.

He has some angst to do with a woman. I’m not sure why but I’m guessing it’s to do with Thomas Edison. The Doctor knows he stole most of his inventions because he can time travel and saw it happen, not stopping him is one of the Doctor’s greatest failures, however, his lady friend is a victim of the British Education system and thinks otherwise. They break up over it, angst ensues, Thomas Edison has ruined someone else’s life even after he’s dead.

‘I don’t like this guy’ Doctor:

I do not like this Doctor, worst one. Nothing against Matt Smith or his performance, I’m sure it was brilliant, I’ve seen that Van Gough clip and it made me cry 10/10. More importantly than that however, my supposed childhood best friend who was actually just bullying and manipulating me said he was her favourite so I look at him and remember I wasted my childhood with her. He can make it up to me if he time travels and gets child me a better friend. Then he will be the best Doctor.

He or Tumblr Doctor has a wife????? I think???? I’m not sure but which one it is but because of my bias I’m saying it’s this guy. I know it’s dodgy because of time travel so he needs to go to space jail (or as Tumblr Doctor probably calls it, the ‘Naughty Step’). I’m assuming they also have a child, making every reincarnation of the Doctor from here on out a deadbeat who needs to pay A LOT of child support. That is why he regenerated, so he could avoid paying it, ‘Court can’t prove I’m the Dad if I don’t have his face.’ Arsehole.

Screwdriver scandal TM Doctor:

He looks like a nice guy. This Doctor would sit you down and give you a therapy session after you nearly get killed by a Weeping Angel. I would like having a talk with him, it would be nice. I feel like he is the most well adjusted Doctor, although that could just be Peter Capaldi’s immaculate vibes. This Doctor pays his taxes. He doesn’t like Paddington Bear for some reason. Due to his well adjustedness, I am lead to believe the twist in Paddington 3 is that Paddington is The Master (who I think is a villain) and will go on a rampage across London, turning people into Marmalade. It will be up to the Doctor and the family I’ve forgotten the name of, to stop him. This would also provide an explanation for why the Mum’s actor has changed, to fix Paddingtons mess they had to time travel which led to the Dad marrying a different woman.

He threw away the Sonic Screwdriver apparently. Previously mentioned childhood best friend complained to no end about it to me. Knowing fanbases other people were also likely very upset, I’m guessing it felt like it did to me when Luke Skywalker chucked his lightsaber over his shoulder in The Last Jedi. I also think Screwdrivergate is a tragedy because they didn’t take the opportunity to replace the Screwdriver with another, even sillier, Sonic _______. I suggest either a Sonic Scented Candle or a Sonic Keyring. Alas, it was not to be.

‘WOMAN AAAAAAAAAAAAA’ Doctor:

People don’t like her because woman. People also don’t like her because of bad writing. Last time I checked, neither of these are Jodie Whittaker’s fault. I don’t have much to say about her except my new, (actually great this time) friend who likes Doctor Who has an emotional reaction every time she is brought up. Genuine sadness and disappointment in my friends eyes. I suggest that this means this is a fantastic Doctor, to the point it is art. A sign of good art is something that garners a strong emotional reaction. Despair at the state of the franchise and societies misogyny may not have been the intention, but a strong reaction is incurred nonetheless, so success, this is art now.

‘Guess Who’s back!’ Doctor:

Erm, not sure how in canon this works but David Tennant seems to be having a nice time so it’s good. The alternative name for this Doctor is ‘Production Budget Doctor’ because from the ends of episodes I’ve seen (I watch Strictly Come Dancing because ooo pretty dresses and it’s on after) the Tardis looks very fancy and like it’s from a big budget film. Coffee also got spilled on it which is funny because it messed the Tardis up, meaning not even the technology of a near God can withstand dumbass humans with liquids. Hilarious. Also, an apt metaphor for many things.

In conclusion: I’m sorry for any brain damage caused to the good members of the Doctor Who fanbase who read this. Have a nice day.