#pfyt

[dragonlingdreams]

Gift for @alwaysdrowninginfeels by @cimberelly and me for the @knbexchange!

Rating: General Audiences Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Category: M/M Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball Relationships: Aomine Daiki & Kise Ryouta, Aomine Daiki/Kise Ryouta, Aomine Daiki & Momoi Satsuki Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Language of Flowers, Flowers, Fake/Pretend Relationship

Summary:

It’s a sleepy afternoon, slow and uneventful, when a man bursts into the quiet sanctity of Daiki’s flower shop. The man storms past the artfully arranged shelves, straight to the counter Daiki had been dozing behind, slaps down the crummiest 20 dollar bill Daiki has ever seen, and demands, “How do I passive-aggressively say ‘fuck you’ in flower?”

[tarabyte3]

Finally got to read this. Diving back into PFYT always feels like climbing into a cozy reading nook with a cup of tea to read the sweetest filth. 😍 (I mean that as the highest of compliments)

I knew going into this it was going to be good because jealous!Alfred as a concept is already 10/10, but I am sweating and swooning because it ended up being even better than I could have imagined.

First, the handshake and him tapping his cane!! lmao LOVE seeing that man frazzled (side note: her flashing the ring also made my petty heart so happy). Then him switching her seat until he finally breaks and interrupts to ask her to dance. I was rubbing my hands together (just imagine me using that evil Patrick emoji right now) because, for Alfred, that was the equivalent of pulling her into his lap or something 😂 Like, oh damn he's really upset.

And the way she clocks it and pulls him off to have a moment. Ugh my heart! I love how sweet their relationship is. Just all the moments of casual intimacy leading up to them sneaking off. The way she holds his cane for him while he gets them drinks, his reassuring touches, the way he's so focused on her during dinner, and the dancing!! 😍 (I would melt. Insane of that man to think he has any competition. Literally no one else is even competing in his bracket.) Even when it starts getting heated, there's such a tenderness there that's so achingly romantic!

“That’s what you want, right? To send me back out there, full of you?” Alfred wouldn’t ask it of you, you’re sure. Too proper to suggest it, himself… but to have it offered so prettily and openly. But he is only human, after all. You can feel his groan against your lips, the flex of his muscles as he swallows. “Yes.” He rasps.

Please 😭 The way he gives in so quickly because he got so worked up and needs to lay claim her, even if they could get caught. All of it was SO hot. I'm weak!! Especially because your descriptions are always so evocative and tactile. Particularly: "Working it over his aching cock twice - marking himself fully with you, until it’s slick with your need." 😵‍💫 There are so many brilliant little moments that are devastatingly sexy. Especially as he gets more and more possessive.

You’re sure it will leave a mark. High above the strap of your dress. Near impossible to hide, and you find yourself thinking that he did that on purpose.

LOVE that for him. And her.

Jess, I for real had to set my phone down at his, "Tell me you want it." ...and then she pulls out the daddy. No thoughts, head empty. I needed to go walk a few laps around the house 😂

And this right here is where I died.

He comes with you begging for it.

INCREDIBLE as always, Jess. It's always such a pleasure to read your work, and I'm so glad you got to revisit these two. (And not just because we all benefit from it as well lol) 💖

— all I want is you

alfred pennyworth x f!reader

rated e - 4.5k

tags: pfyt request, jealous and possessive!alfred, light angst, copious amts of tooth-rotting fluff, split pov, semi-clothed semi-public sex, return of the daddy kink (light), marking, creampie

a/n: inspired by this lovely thot by @csboz 💖 references part ii and vii of penny for your thoughts but not required to enjoy

When a gala brings you face-to-face with your ex, Alfred realizes that seeing something in a photo is a lot different than seeing it in person.

Alfred had never considered himself a jealous man.

Maybe life had been simpler, then. He had known his place, where he fit in. A perfectly-made mould, sculpted just for him.

Solider. Bodyguard. Lover.

The lines of each were neatly set. Not just drawn in sand, but etched into stone.

Rules and regulations only blurring in the evening, behind closed doors. In the same slow way that evening bleeds into night - red to orange to deep indigo. Only to right itself the next morning, with the clear coming of dawn.

As man of routine, it had been easy to follow. He had never given it much thought, this throbbing ache in his chest. Fingers that itch to reach out, and take. The poison that pulls at his brow - the permanent furrow above narrowed, watchful eyes.

It’s uncomfortably new, and unwelcome.

And now, small part of him wonders if it’s because he never had anything that was really - truly - his.

Not the way that you are.

As much his and he is yours. The band on your finger, that promise, had felt like enough when he had sunk to a knee before you.

Now, he’s resisting the urge to drape you in jewels. To whisk you away. To give you anything you want.

It had been different, seeing that photo. Static, splashed across the screen in black and white.

Another insecurity had dug its claw into his mind then, convincing himself that he wasn’t good enough. Acutely aware of just how undeserving he was.

You had set him straight. It’s a night he still remembers, one he cherishes deeply.

The night you told him, even if it had taken him a while to return those words to you.

He had thought he knew better. That such emotion had no hold over him.

But a photo doesn’t move. A photo doesn’t have roving eyes, doesn’t give a look that he doesn’t much care for.

You looked beautiful, of that he had no doubt.

An hour ago it had been almost all he could think about. The thoughts of the Gala and those he must meet with Bruce severing - splitting down the middle, as you had modeled your dresses for him.

Asking his opinion, twisting and twirling in front of the mirror. Letting him undress you after each one, his lips against your spine as he worked the zipper. Black and bronze and silver, all wrapping around you, until you had picked a favorite.

Wanting to get things right. No longer just the messenger girl, but now seen often at Bruce’s side. Someone that was recognized, that was sought after.

He’s always seen you. Then and now and in the bedroom, tucked away, he had been so proud.

And when you had slipped your arm in his in the Tower, neatly curving your hand into the crook of his arm, he had thought it would be a long night.

Eager to end up right back here, to strip the fabric from you, one final time.

But now… it feels like an eternity.

There’s an uneasy flip in your stomach, when you see him.

It’s lessened over the months since that first meeting. You’ve run into Harvey a few times since the Parliament, though you haven’t stepped foot in the building since. Those days were long behind you, buried deep.

Your path with the newly-elected DA would continue to cross, as long as Bruce was working with him to improve Gotham. It was something you had thought about, had decided to bear. Another thing from the past, that you were convinced would no longer take up a worried residence in your mind.

And it was different, this time.

This time, Alfred is with you.

Not physically with you at the moment, but the comfort still lingers. He had just stepped away - offering to get you a drink while the guests work their way into the banquet hall, after the silent auction.

Leaving you next to the ornate seating chart - trying to pick your name out of the hundreds of small groupings.

And it seemed like Harvey Dent had the same idea.

“Thought I would see you here, doll.” The handshake he offers turns into a hug, his hand pressing against your shoulder. You own giving a half-hearted pat against his back.

“And I figured you would be too. To see Bruce, I mean.” You smile tightly before your eyes are drifting back to the list, “Is Gilda with you?”

His arm brushes yours as he moves to your left, to look for his own name, “Not tonight. She’s getting ready for a show next month.”

His fiancée. The girl he dated after you - the girl he was set to marry, once his position was settled.

There’s no twinge in your stomach this time. No weird, lingering feelings that you hadn’t been able to process.

Just a sense of pity, that he had to come alone. Thinking back - you can’t remember the last event she’s been to.

You never minded going to these things. Half the time it was your job. But it was always better when Alfred came with you.

“What about you? You here with anyone?” He’s asking, nodding towards the cane tucked under your arm - but then you hear your name. The press of a warm hand to the small of your back, as you are gently moved to the side.

“There you are, darling.” Alfred coos, as you grin - making room for him. The flute passed over from where he stands between you and Harvey, before he’s turning.

“Mr. Dent,” His left hand extends, “Pleasure.”

Harvey’s eyes flick down for the briefest of moments. Following the path of the arm that curls around you. To where you lift the glass to drink, the glitter that reflects off one of your fingers.

He smiles, as he takes the offered hand. You miss the way Alfred’s knuckles whiten, for the briefest of moments. The slightest wince in reply, before they’re letting go and Harvey is pivoting to face both of you.

“Heard about the accident. I didn’t think you’d be out and about just yet.”

The reminder almost makes you flinch. It’s been months, but you still have nightmares - racing down endless bleached-white halls, trying to find him. Panic flaring when a siren wails down the street, your eyes automatically leaping to the sky.

“It would take more than an amateur to get rid of me, I’m afraid. Much less Master Bruce.” Alfred’s knuckle graze along your back, soothing. A small smile sent your way, “Besides, I had the finest care you could ask for.”

There’s a presence at your elbow then, the feeling of a heavy shadow.

“Table Twelve.” Bruce tells you in greeting, after a quick glance at the chart - before he’s turning to Harvey, “I heard you’re working on the Nashton case.”

“Not much of one,” Harvey grins, a hand smacking Bruce’s shoulder before he sends you a wink. “Don’t worry, you’re safe with me. I’ll make sure that freak stays in Arkham.”

There's a tightness in Alfred’s jaw, his hand staying firmly in place. A tell-tale tap of annoyance of the cane you’ve handed back, against the marble floor.

You're certain that you're the only one who notices, besides Bruce - the briefest flicker of a look before he's lassoed back into the conversation.

There's a shuffle, when you sit for dinner soon after. Your arrangement differs from what's been noted on the namecards, as Alfred pulls out the seat to his right, instead of left. You take it, without much thought - fitting yourself between him and Bruce.

The conversation from before trickling into dinner, silted by the way Bruce has to lean past both of you - an elbow digging into the table - to talk to Harvey.

Your mind has drifted elsewhere. That unease of seeing him again disappearing completely with Alfred's arrival at your elbow. With his touch now - the hand that slips beneath the tablecloth. The breadth of his palm as it presses down, high above your knee.

Curving the silky fabric of your dress against your thigh. His touch firm enough that you can feel the slow drag of his fingers, circling strokes that press into your skin.

Reminding you of his touch, somewhere else.

Distracting you terribly, thoughts drifting back to the stolen moments as you dressed. Barely able to manage not to squirm in your seat, as the food is served.

He’s attentive as you eat - his voice low and smooth in your ear, as he points out people you should make note of. His gaze always on yours - the grip of his hand tightening each time he leans, sometimes slipping higher for the briefest moment.

A welcome distraction, as the courses are served.

The first of the notes are plucked from the big band on the stage when dinner is cleared - a modern cover played in an old jazz style, the notes drawn out and bright.

Harvey’s arm slings across the back of his chair, as he leans to catch your attention.

“I nearly forgot about them,” He gestures with a smile, a two fingers tipping towards the stage, “Bristol County Club, do you remember?

You did.

It had been before you were together, back when you were just friends - a senior banquet, right before graduation. Month spent on a fundraiser that pulled out all the stops.

Catered food, black-tie, a hired band. Compared to now it felt so small - but back then, it was the most extravagant night you could imagine.

The memory makes you smile, and just as your lips part to answer there’s a touch to your arm - a voice cutting through.

“Would you like to join me, dove?”

Alfred’s hand extends in front of you - waiting, his seat already pushing back. His cane tucked against his chair, to be retrieved after.

“Excuse me,” You manage to tell Harvey - before your hand is pressing into his, and he’s guiding you away.

Winding in between the other tables, joining the couples that spill from their own, onto the dance floor.

“I’ve been looking forward to this all night.” Alfred tells you, as the dance floor slowly fills, “You look beautiful. Have I told you that already?”

It makes your cheeks heat, “Maybe once or twice.”

There’s couples swirling around you, each caught up in the endless flutes of champagne, the energy from the live band on the stage.

You stay close, though. A slow, sway - the movement familiar, even if the details are different this time.

How the hand that should cup yours, now entwines - fingers lacing together.

How the palm that guides you slips lower on your back. Not so far that it’s improper, but you can feel the warmth and pressure on the curve of your ass, inside of your spine.

It sends up a spark that follows the path his lips took earlier. A soft press of his lips as the zipper lowered, each time.

You had wanted him, then. The only thing that kept you in check was knowing how he’d never give in, if it made you both late.

Leaving the memory sizzling under your skin.

Stoked by these slow moments of change. Because you’re starting to put things together now - all those little details perhaps imperceptible to an acquaintance.

But not to you.

It takes you another two songs to figure things out fully. The circling steps taking you into the middle of the floor, and then out to the opposite side. Far away from the shared table.

You haven’t really seen him quite like this before. If you didn’t love him so much, perhaps you’d want to laugh.

And you think that maybe - maybe, you should do something about it.

His fingers slip higher on your back, but it’s only to press you just a little bit closer. Your lips brush against the peppered-grey scruff on his beard, just before you press a kiss against his cheekbone.

Keeping your fingers clasped as you step away, back towards the edge of the dance floor.

“Come with me.” You coax, but you don’t have to.

He follows - would follow - you anywhere, a hand in yours until the dark corners of the room surround you, the music fading as you slip with him down a corridor.

It’s near-deserted - a thick ornate rug running down the hall. Small groupings of those discussing business, paying you no mind as you wind down one more hallway.

Your name is a whispered question as you try the handle - the room you open is not in use, like you knew it would be. Year-old memories of helping Hazel set up in these halls are still fresh in your mind.

Perhaps at one point, it had been set up for meetings, or a small, private party. The wallpaper pretty and patterned, but at least a decade old. Matching furniture pushed around - heavy wooden tables shoved to one side. Stacked rows of chairs in another corner.

A dim and dusty table lamp that you click on, as he shuts the door behind you.

“You look like you could use a minute.” You tell him, with a knowing tilt of your head.

The corner of his lips twitch, “Am I that obvious, dove?”

“Maybe just to me,” You smile, hands finding his, as you walk backward. As he follows, again.

Another glance around the room, before you’re adding, “Feels a little familiar, hm?"

His stern look softens, as he remembers.

Your second meeting, that flurry of feelings. Him, thinking might have changed your mind. Your own anxiety, thinking he wasn't going to call.

Leading his hands to your hips, as you lean against a table that bumps up against the wall. A second, before you’re pushing yourself up, to perch on the edge.

"I think I loved you, even then." Your admission is soft. Cheeks burning in the darkness, even after all this time, "Well, I knew when we danced together in your kitchen. But, I mean... even that early, I knew you would be important to me."

He laughs - a short, rough thing. It startles you, a little frown as your chin tips up.

"I'm sorry, darling. I just-” He sounds almost breathless, in the dim room, “That night... for me, too."

Your smile is bright, blinding. If asked, you’d say it was impossible to love him more, but with his answer comes a surge of affection, a little flip of your heart.

His own lips curve, when you meet them. Hair shorn short and velvet against your fingers as your hand slips against his neck. Sighing into his mouth as he leans into your touch, into the kiss.

Pressing himself snug against the table, as your thighs have to inch wider. Your knees digging into his hips, as his hands find your waist.

Possessive, in the way he grips onto you. Fingers pressing into the fabric, your skin. The smallest tug to bring you forward, closing those last few inches of space.

His confession finally coming in the breaths between your mouths meeting - quiet, in the dark room.

“I don’t like the way he was looking at you,” It’s almost a growl, as your lips press against his cheek, “Like he was reconsidering things.”

You do laugh then, but not at him. The sound low in your throat, bitten back, “You know, it would have to go both ways, right? That I would want to want that, too?”

Before your voice lowers, “You know that you’re the one I’m going home with.”

His eyes seem to darken at that, his voice a low rasp, “I know.”

“Then you realize you’re being silly?” You press, gently.

Alfred does smile, then - a small, rueful thing.

“I’m well aware.” An inhale of breath, then, “I haven’t felt this way before, but then again I’ve never-”

His words break off, as his eyes drag down you for just a moment. Admiring, but it’s more than that. The same feeling that was stirred with his greedy touch, the delicious shiver at the growling rasp his voice.

It does something to you - your pulse quickening, something hungry awakening in your belly.

“Do you need me to show you, again?” You offer sweetly, learning forward to let your lips brush his again.

His answer comes as a ragged sigh, “Just once more, love.”

Expecting words, perhaps another soft press of your mouth, before you return to the party.

Not the way that the soft layers of your skirt gather in a hand, bundled near your hip. How your other catches his palm, guiding his fingers beneath.

Cupping you. Where you’re so warm and where the thin fabric clings to you - worked up from before, and during, and now.

He sucks in a breath as you bite back your own sigh. Your hand still on his wrist as your lips press against his throat, to the hollow under his ear.

A bitten-back groan as your teeth graze his earlobe, just before you croon.

“You could take me in here, you know that?”

The hand on your waist tightens, just as his fingers begin to move. The tips of two fingers crooking against the fabric, slipping up to circle against you.

“That’s what you want, right? To send me back out there, full of you?”

Alfred wouldn’t ask it of you, you’re sure. Too proper to suggest it, himself… but to have it offered so prettily and openly.

But he is only human, after all.

You can feel his groan against your lips, the flex of his muscles as he swallows.

“Yes.” He rasps.

The fingers that circle halt, but only enough so he can slip them beneath your panties. His eyes dark in the dim light of the room, fixed on yours as his touch teases you. Drifting along your slit, before dipping lower.

A rough curse growled out as the tip one fits inside you easily. You’re slick, the fabric damp and sticking to your skin, coating the fingers that presses deep, before he’s working in another.

“Oh fuck,” You sigh, thighs nudging wider. Hands wandering, fingers hooking around his belt and tugging him closer, “Please, Alfred-”

“I will.” He promise, before his mouth is pressing against yours. Fingers working you open, as you tug at his zipper, trying to slip your fingers beneath.

Finding him more than half-hard from your words, thickening with the touch of your hand on bare skin, as you work him free. His other hand rises - cupping the back of your neck, just as his fingers press deep and curl.

His desire thrills you. Not often does he give into your whims when you’re out like this. Preferring to make you wait, make you suffer until he’s got you alone again.

More than once you’ve ridden him in his car, but that was an extension of his space. Fingers have drifted during dances, during long dinners.

A promise for later, but not now.

You’d be worried if he hadn’t already admitted just how self-aware he was.

But he needs this.

You can sense it - the tick in his jaw, the not-so-subtle flex of his hips into your fist. The way his fingers pound, as if trying to rip the orgasm from you.

It has you clenching down hard, whining. Your other hand drifting - across his chest, tugging on his tie to keep him close. Parting your lips with the soft brush of his tongue, so he can taste you as his hand slips free.

Working it over his aching cock twice - marking himself fully with you, until it’s slick with your need.

“Come here.” He reaches for you, his other hand guiding your hips to edge of the table, “I’ll give you what you want dove, but you need to be quiet.”

Nudging your thighs wider with his hip, your legs rising to hook around his waist, opening yourself up more. One of your hands bracing behind you, flattened across the tabletop.

He’s so broad like this. The shadowed light cutting across his features, his strong shoulders. The loosened tie, the clinking belt the only pieces out of place.

The velvet soft length rubs against you, as he steps closer. Your eyes drop to watch the slow twist of his fist as he rubs the tip against your folds.

“As much as I want everyone to hear you’re mine, I’m not too keen on sharing.”

It makes you throb, the edge in his tone. How aware you both are of the unlocked door. The hundreds of people just outside, the muted music that crashes against the walls.

Too far gone to stop, as eyes narrow - letting himself look, now. To where you’re exposed and open - so needy for him that it makes him ache.

He won’t leave you waiting.

With the next roll of his hips, he’s splitting you open. Not with the slow tease of home - fitting just the tip, making you earn every inch. No, this makes you cry out - the feeling of his cock making a home for himself in your warm cunt.

He swallows the sound, his own groan rough in his throat.

“Christ, I missed you.” Alfred rasps, as if it had been weeks instead of hours. Eyes fixed on your own, how they go half-lidded with the drag of his cock, as he begins to move.

“Missed you too,” You whine, as you start to lean back, your dress still fisted around your waist.

Thinking he’d like to watch - see where you stretch around his cock, where he fucks you open. How he gleams with your desire, with each sharp rut of his hips.

Instead, Alfred catches your wrist. Holding it against his chest as he tugs you back up.

“No,” It’s close to an order, except for the way he sighs with need, “Stay close darling, just for a moment. Please.”

Your legs hook around him, instead. Doing as you’re told, as your hands drop your dress - sliding across his shoulders instead, fingers entwining behind his neck.

The “good girl” he murmurs shoots straight to your cunt, a shared look that tells you he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

His thrusts grow harder, deeper. A steady pound that will leave both of you aching tonight, not that either of you mind.

In this moment it’s just you and him, everything else fades into soft shades of nothing. Your focus caught on the spots where you’re connected. Eyes, hands, mouth. His cock, pressed deep - dragging against a spot that sends a rolling wave of pleasure to lap low in your belly.

And when his hand leaves your wrist to drift down, circling against you once again, you feel as if you’re about to break.

His name is garbled, another soft plea. Your hips rocking into the perfect pressure of his touch - further proof of his devotion. Every detail tucked away so carefully, keep safe in a mind that never forgets.

“Oh fuck, don’t stop-” You whine, forgetting about your promise. Each breath short and harsh as your nails sink into fabric, desperate to cling to this moment.

Alfred’s forgotten too, his growl lower than the low murmur of before.

“Never.” He rasps, “Come on, darling. Let me feel you-”

Everything winds tight, your breath held. And then - it snaps, fracturing and splintering. The music fading out to white noise.

You come with him wrapped around you. Caged in - an arm wrapping around, hand pressed between your shoulder blades. The other steady and unmerciful against your clit, drawing your pleasure out. He groans with the tight pulse of your orgasm, pressing himself deep, so he can feel each throb.

“There it is, that’s my girl.” It’s murmured into your sweat-dewed skin, as he mouths at your neck.

This is what he’s been craving. His mind a seismograph - those jittery waves of emotions now slipping flat and smooth. A reminder that he’s the only one that makes you feel this way.

Loose-limbed in his arms. Your grin lazy as you squirm against him, trying to catch the fingers that push you towards too much.

You feel a low laugh against your skin, as bristle of his beard tickles your cheek. Then, against the soft column of your throat. His lips following, as he starts to fuck you again.

Just as teeth scrape and then pinch the curve where shoulder meets neck. A rough groan against your skin, just before his lips close - sucking hard against the same spot.

You’re sure it will leave a mark. High above the strap of your dress. Near impossible to hide, and you find yourself thinking that he did that on purpose.

Tongue trapped between your teeth as you smile, going soft. Letting your hands drift now, smoothing over the soft fabric of his shirt. Slipping beneath his open jacket to hook your fingers into the hem of his pants.

Urging him to a quicker pace, as you tell him what he needs to hear.

“Yours.”

Finger pinch at your hips, angling them so he can drive deeper. You can just barely hear the wet suck with each thrust, again and again and again.

“Mine.” He echos, teeth gritting.

This time when you lean back, he lets you. A heave of his chest as your fingers drift down, until they slowly circle your clit.

Pleasure throbs but your touch is more for show, for him, letting him watch as your fingers split - framing where he sinks into you. That steady thrust starting to stutter, the only unsteady thing about him.

“Tell me you want it.” That harsh, pleading tone is back.

“God, I want it.” Your teeth sinking into your lip, before you sigh sweetly, “Please, daddy.”

It catches him off guard like you knew it would, his eyes darkening. How you offer up a piece of yourself like a tempting piece of fruit - how you would burst so sweetly on his tongue if he were to sink his teeth in.

“Only me, yeah?”

Only him.

He knew it was true. A hushed confession in the late night hour - a warmth in your cheeks as your face rested against his bare chest. Rising and falling with his steady breath, tender feelings betrayed by the flutter of his heart beneath your ear.

“I haven’t called anyone that before. Only you.”

“Only me, hm? Then perhaps you should let me hear it again.”

“Yes, daddy. Always-” One of your hands slips from the table, entwining with his, “I want you to come in me. I want to feel you, too-”

He comes with you begging for it.

A rough grunt paired with the rutting of his hips, until they press flush against you. Little shallow thrusts, keeping himself buried deep as he spills inside you - the last dregs of his jealousy swept along with the sharp burst of pleasure.

Leaving Alfred feeling foolish, a throbbing ache in his chest that matches the galloping of his heart.

You’re always so good to him. Thighs tightening against his hips, keeping him inside until you’re sure he’s been milked dry - until the throbbing twitch of his cock has ebbed.

He pants a breath, fingers still wrapped in yours. Wrinkling the fabric as his hips press flush with yours, keeping himself buried in you for another long moment.

Your mind always runs away with you.

Imagining slipping your panties down your thighs. Thinking how pretty they would look as a pocket-square - or tucked beneath, right against his heart.

Instead, he groans as he slips from you. A slow smile, as his lips brush yours, as you slump back fully against the tabletop.

You’re sure you look debauched - the dim light leaving you glowing, after your orgasm.

The straps of your dress slipping from your shoulders, skirts hiked up to where he has your panties still pushed to the side.

His fingers drifting across where you still gape from him, for just a moment. A look crossing his face that is almost smug, if he could be - before he’s tucking the lacy hem carefully back into place, tugging it snug against your cunt.

“Better?” You ask, breathless. Pushing yourself up, reluctantly starting to out yourself back together.

Relishing in the stolen moment, but knowing the night was not quite over. That it would be a little while longer before you were home - already dreaming about the hands that would wander beneath the warm water of a shared bath.

His fingers press down as he cups you. Grazing against the fabric, where it’s damp with him. Dripping from you and sticking to your skin, now that his cock no longer keeps it inside.

Alfred smiles, as he answers.

“Yes.”

(and then the table was purchased for a sizable donation as part of the “auction” and kept as a beloved souvenir 😌)

thank you so much for reading!! and for giving me an excuse to dive back into them again, it has been missed 💖

[funbearer]

Love it😏

https://oldtimers9.net/pfyt

[writingfortoomanyfandoms]

Penny For Your Thoughts (I)

Pairing: Young!Sirius Black x Reader

Series Summary: Y/N Y/L/N has lived in the Potter household since she was eight years old. Even amongst the Potters, whom she knew loved her, she has never felt truly accepted, never felt like anything other than a burden. Until she went to Hogwarts. For the first time she had friends who weren’t forced to act as such, she had a family who loved her by choice. There, she met Sirius, the first and only person to ever truly understand what she was going through, to listen to her and not judge.

Chapter Warnings: Ummm not sure - maybe swearing? 

Disclaimer: Some of this is directly extracted from Deathly Hallows (the scene where James and Sirius meet Snape), though the vast majority of this is my own work

A/N: It’s finally here!!!!! Lowkey shitting myself over finally putting it out into the world but here it is! The first part of my sirius series! I hope you guys enjoy - please remember to let me know what you think! The taglsit for the series is open so send me an ASK if you want to be added. I’m hoping to update this once a week every Wednesday at the same time (4pm GMT) so stay tuned!

Smoke billowed from the scarlet steam engine. The platform was crowded, packed with students, old and new, standing with their family and friends. It was a busy atmosphere, the bustle of Platform 9¾ unlike anything Y/N had ever experienced before. 

She took in her surroundings, completely awestruck. 

It was finally time. She was going at last.

“You doing alright?” James asked, nudging her arm. His face had been in a stupidly wide grin all morning, just as excited as she was about finally boarding the infamous Hogwarts Express for the first time.

It was all so surreal.

“Yeah,” Y/N breathed, turning around in a circle to better take in her surroundings. 

Owls were squawking, flapping their wings madly in their cages, desperate to be freed. Cats were meowing loudly from their spots in their owners arms and baskets, some were just roaming the platform. There were even a couple of toads, calmly croaking in the final fifteen minutes before the train was due to leave. 

A boy who stood a few metres behind them on the platform had a toad balanced on his shoulder, his grin wide and confident as he spoke with the woman Y/N assumed to be his grandmother. 

“Oh, is that Augusta?” Mrs Potter asked, turning to look in the direction of the boy with the toad, following Y/N’s gaze. 

“Augusta?” Y/N asked James, a little breathlessly, completely enraptured by the amount of magic that surrounded them. 

Her relationship with the Potters meant that she was accustomed to magic, but to see it in such large quantities, with the knowledge that she was on her way to learn how to do it herself, was incredible.

“Longbottom,” Mr Potter answered Y/N, looking down at the girl with a grin. “A pureblood family. I think Augusta was a couple of years below us in school,” he supplied. Y/N nodded in understanding.

“James, you’re going to look after Y/N, right?” Mr Potter asked, a stern edge to his voice. Y/N met James’ eyes and he rolled them but grinned.

“I mean unless she’s sorted into Slytherin- then she’s on her own, I’m afraid.”

“James.” Mrs Potter interrupted sharply, giving her son a disapproving look.

“I don’t think that there’s much risk of that anyway, Euphemia,” Mr Potter pointed out with a fond look at Y/N, who felt embarrassed under his affectionate look. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you’d be joining James in Gryffindor.”

“He’s not in Gryffindor yet,” Mrs Potter reminded the two males, as James cheered in support of the idea.

“If I’m not, then I’m coming straight home,” James declared, shooting a cheeky grin in his mother’s direction, aware of the disapproval his words would cause. 

Y/N tuned out of the rest of the conversation, looking around the platform with wonder in her eyes, unable to believe that it was truly time. The day that she and James had been preparing for, waiting for, for so long, was finally here.

Absently, Y/N wondered how badly lost she would get on her first day trying to get to her lessons. Mr and Mrs Potter regularly enlightened James and herself with tales of their days at Hogwarts, regularly recalling the impressive castle itself and how often people did get lost and having to rely on the portraits for directions. 

James had always cackled at these stories, teasing Y/N relentlessly about how she was almost certainly going to be one of those students.

It was a fair assumption- Y/N knew that her sense of direction was rather sub-par. 

To their left, there was a family- two girls who stood slightly away from their mother and father. Y/N could tell that they were muggles from the way they were staring around at the platform, their familiar expressions of awed disbelief that Y/N knew so well. 

The girls stood closer to the Potters and herself and Y/N couldn’t help but overhear the conversation. They looked as though they were arguing, tears were shining in the eyes of the red-haired girl who looked to be the younger of the two. 

While Y/N could only hear snippets of their conversation, only the odd word spoken at a raised volume, she heard the final thing said by the elder sister.

“Apparently wizards poke their noses everywhere! Freak!” And she turned and stalked away from her sister back to their parents who didn’t seem to have noticed the heated discussion between the sisters.

Y/N saw the hurt on the young girl's face and the slight wobble of her chin. She glanced over at the Potters to find that they were still deep in conversation about the Hogwarts Houses.

Y/N hesitantly approached the girl and tapped her on the shoulder. “Hi,” She said, offering the red-haired girl as much of a comforting smile as she could muster.

“Hello,” the girl said, looking confused. She blinked rapidly, desperately trying to keep her tears at bay.

“I’m Y/N - Y/N Y/L/N,” she introduced, holding her hand out. The girl managed the tiniest smile and took it.

“I’m Lily Evans.” 

“It’s nice to meet you! Are you starting your first year too?” Y/N asked, her head tilting slightly to the side.

“Yeah, I am,” she confirmed, then hesitated for a moment. “Do you know anyone?” Lily questioned, looking around the platform with uncertainty.

“I know James,” Y/N offered, pointing over her shoulder to where the Potter’s stood. Lily looked over Y/N’s shoulder at him. “He’s starting his first year as well.”

“What about that boy he’s talking to?” Lily asked and Y/N’s face scrunched up in confusion, turning to see who Lily was talking about.

Sure enough, James was in conversation with a boy with long dark brown hair, who wore a slight smirk on his face, and practically oozed confidence. The Potters had moved away from their son to talk with the Longbottoms.

Y/N turned back to Lily with a shrug.

“I have no idea who that is,” she confessed.

“I only know one person as well,” Lily informed Y/N, biting on her bottom lip, her brow pinched slightly in concern. 

“Not anymore!” Y/N exclaimed brightly. “You know me as well!” That seemed to break Lily’s nervousness and she laughed a little, nodding her head. 

“I do know you,” she agreed and then hesitated for a moment. “Would it maybe be okay if I were to… sit with you on the train? I just… I’m not sure if the friend I have already has other friends, you know? He’s not... He’s not muggle born,” Lily rambling, her eyes bright with hope.

“Of course you can!” Y/N promised. 

“Y/N, honey! You need to get going,” Mrs Potter called out.

“Come find me,” she told Lily who nodded eagerly, before they both turned back to their respective adults.

“Alright both of you, you need to remember to write to us, yes? Let us know how you’re getting on?” Mrs Potter ordered. Y/N was surprised to see the tears swimming in her eyes. She looked at James- that was more for him to remember than her. 

“Of course I will, Mum,” he promised. It was the gentlest that Y/N had ever heard James sound.

“That goes for you too, Y/N,” Mr Potter interjected, raising his eyebrows at Y/N. “I know you think that we-”

A loud whistle broke off whatever it was that Mr Potter was going to say and Mrs Potter swept forwards to wrap them both into a tight, bone-crushing hug.

“Stay safe, both of you,” she insisted, letting go to allow Mr Potter to hug them both as well.

“We’ve gotta go, Mum,” James laughed as Mrs Potter embraced him again.

“I know, I know. Alright, off you both go.” She dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief that Mr Potter offered her with, giving them both a watery smile.

“Have fun, you two!” Mr Potter called after them. Y/N glanced back over her shoulder to see that he had wrapped his arm around Mrs Potter’s shoulder, who had begun to cry as she waved them off.

“I mean I know I’m pretty great, but I wasn’t expecting them to cry-waving me off,” James commented to Y/N once they boarded the train. Y/N laughed and nudged him with her elbow.

“Whatever, Jamie. You know they love you.”

“Everyone does,” he stated cockily. 

“Hey James! Wanna sit with me?” The same boy James had been talking to on the platform poked his head out of one of the compartments they had just passed.

“Yeah!” James agreed and entered. He looked back in confusion when Y/N didn’t follow him. “You coming?”

“Oh, uh, sure!” 

The boy closed the sliding door to the compartment behind Y/N once she had entered. He smirked at her and held his hand out with the same amused, confident expression she had seen him wear on the platform.

“I’m Sirius.”

“Like the star?” The words blurted out before Y/N could stop herself. Sirius laughed.

“Yeah, like the star,” he agreed, his eyebrows having risen ever-so slightly at her comment.

“Uh, sorry. I’m Y/N,” she struggled to get over her initial embarrassment and took his hand. James had made himself comfortable and sat by the door, completely at ease.

“Are you James’ sister?” He asked, looking between the two in confusion. James snorted at Sirius’ question.

“Do we look similar?” He retorted, grinning at his new friend. He shot Y/N a look, telling her to give the story that she wished people to know. Y/N moved to sit down near the window.

“We grew up together,” Y/N told Sirius simply, and was saved from expanding further when the door sliding open again. Lily stood there, her eyes red and her cheeks slightly blotchy. She ignored James and Sirius, giving Y/N an uncertain smile.

“Can I…?”

“Of course!” Y/N beamed, gesturing for Lily to come in. James and Sirius watched the girl with an air of mild interest, James turning to Y/N for explanation. “This is Lily. Lily that’s James,” Lily nodded, forcing a smile onto her face. “And that’s Sirius,” the other boy raised his hand in a somewhat careless greeting and Lily nodded again. 

The boys quickly lost interest, turning instead to face one another and engaging into a conversation that Y/N didn’t much care to follow, far too concerned about her new friend.

“Are you okay?” She asked and Lily nodded, sniffing a little.

“My sister’s upset with me,” was all she offered as an explanation and Y/N nodded, understanding that she ought not to press the conversation any further. 

Lily lapsed into silence and Y/N debated trying to insert herself into the conversation held by the two boys, but then the door opened once more and a boy with long black hair entered. He paid little attention to James or Sirius, who ignored his entrance in turn. He gave a distracted nod to Y/N when she slid up the bench closer to James to make room for him to sit by the window opposite Lily.

Y/N turned to face James and Sirius, assuming that the black haired boy was the friend that Lily had been referring to, and clearly someone that Lily was currently upset with, judging by the look of distaste that clouded her expression once he had entered into her line of vision.

Just like James, however, her interest was piqued with the words: “You’d better be in Slytherin.”

“Slytherin?” James repeated in disbelief. “Who wants to be in Slytherin?” The words were punctuated with a slight laugh that Y/N was used to hearing from him. “I think I’d leave, wouldn’t you?” James addressed this question to Sirius, whose smile had melted off his face.

“My whole family have been in Slytherin.” The slightest trace of coldness in his voice could be heard as he responded.

James was apparently oblivious to the insensitivity of his house prejudice considering the company they were in as he let out a whistle.

“Blimey, and I thought you seemed all right.”

Y/N wondered if there was some way that she could subtly hit him to make him shut up. To her surprise, however, Sirius grinned.

“Maybe I’ll break the tradition,” he mused.  “Where are you heading? If you’ve got the choice?” 

When James gave his answer, Y/N focused instead on the responses of Lily and her friend. Lily looked a little confused, with all the talk about the Hogwarts house system, while Snape gave a snort of laughter at James’ pride for the house he had yet to be sorted into.

Sirius had his eyebrows raised in amusement as he looked at his new friend arguing with the black-haired boy, jumping in casually to James’ aid when he saw an opportune moment.

Y/N was jolted back to reality when Lily stood up, glaring at James and Sirius.

“Come on, Severus, let's find another compartment,” she ordered icily, stepping past the two boys with the black-haired boy- Severus, as Y/N now knew him to be called- on her heels. James, to Y/N’s annoyance, tried to trip him as he passed and she shot him a withering look.

“That’s mature,” she commented. James wrinkled his nose at her, but grinned nonetheless. 

Lily paused in the doorframe and looked at Y/N with a slightly hopeful smile on her face.

“Do you want to…?”

“Yeah sure!” Y/N said, standing up to join Lily and Severus.

“Alright, don’t mind me!” James called after her. “It’s fine, I don’t mind being ignored,” Y/N faced him with a smirk.

“James, I’ve been ignoring you since I was nine years old.”

Lily, Severus, and Y/N quickly found themselves another, quieter compartment and settled down onto the chairs.

“What about you?” Severus asked Y/N immediately, giving her a harsh look. “You also heading for Gryffindor like your friend back there?” 

“Sev,” Lily sighed scoldingly, but Y/N grinned at him.

“I don’t really know if I’m honest. Don’t think I have the… confidence to be a Gryffindor,” she mused.

“By ‘confidence’, do you mean ‘arrogance’?” Severus countered. Y/N sighed and looked at Lily.

“Don’t judge all Gryffindors by James, he’s exceptionally annoying. His dad’s lovely and he was a Gryffindor,” Y/N informed her and Lily gave her a tiny smile.

“I don’t understand what that means,” she admitted quietly. 

The rest of the train ride to Hogwarts was spent explaining the house system to Lily, who took in all the information she could about her new school eagerly. She was clearly worried about the sorting ceremony, which Y/N had been unable to give her many details on, and that Severus seemed to be equally uninformed.

“You’ll sit with me on the boats, right?” Lily asked, grabbing Y/N’s hand as they dismounted the train. Y/N nodded eagerly, excited that she had made a new friend so quickly into her time at Hogwarts.

Scared whispers were all that could be heard from the group of First Years, as they waited in front of the grand doors to the Great Hall, as they had been instructed to do.

“I hope we’re in the same house,” Lily unexpectedly blurted out, after standing in silence together for what had seemed like an eternity. She offered a nervous smile to Severus as well. “All of us.”

Y/N had to admit, though, she wasn’t overly fond of spending too much time with the black-haired boy. He didn’t seem to want to share Lily’s attention with her, and was not overly fond of Y/N, despite him trying his best to hide it.

“I hope we are too,” Y/N confirmed just as the doors opened and a tall, severe looking woman stepped into view.

“We’re ready for you, students.” She led them through the doors and down between the long house tables.

Y/N looked around her, unable to believe her eyes. The enchanted ceiling sparkled down at them; she could feel the eyes of every attending Hogwarts student watching her and her fellow First Years walk down the strip of floor between the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables.

And there, at the front, was Albus Dumbledore, sitting on his golden, high-backed chair, beaming at all the new students.

Y/N could have sworn that he met her eye and shot her a wink- not that she would admit that to anyone.

There was a lone stool at the front of the room, on which a worn, tattered hat was balanced. Then, much to the surprise of her and many of her fellow students, a rip opened up near the brim and it started to sing.

As the Sorting Hat finished its song, Professor McGonogall stepped forward with a roll of parchment in her hands.

“One by one I’ll call out your name. You’ll step forwards and put on the hat to be sorted into one of the four houses,” she explained. 

McGonogall unrolled the scroll.

“Black, Sirius.”

The boy that James had been sat with on the Hogwarts Express stepped forwards with a confident swagger, but Y/N was sure that she caught a hint of nervousness on his face as he sat down on the chair, McGonogall placing the Sorting Hat onto his head.

It took at most ten seconds before the rip had reopened to shout - “Gryffindor!” 

Cheers erupted from the table at the left hand side of the room and Sirius was grinning widely as he made his way over to it. 

More names were read out. Y/N watched as Lily was sorted into Gryffindor- much to the upset of Severus- who groaned quietly under his breath, his annoyance only seeming to increase as James joined her, along with “Lupin, Remus”, “Pettigrew, Peter” and “Longbottom, Frank”. 

“Y/L/N, Y/N,” McGonogall finally called out. Y/N took a deep breath, trying her hardest to keep her steps steady and not tripping as she made her way over to the stool, taking a seat.

She looked over at the Gryffindor table, meeting James’ eyes who gave her an encouraging smile, the last thing she saw before the hat was placed onto her head and slipped down over her eyes.

“Certainly wouldn’t make a bad Gryffindor but… definitely brainy enough for a Ravenclaw… a difficult decision,” a voice inside her head mused. “But, ah, I see. Great loyalty in your head, a kindness seen only by... Hufflepuff!” The final word was shouted aloud and the hat was removed from Y/N’s head to allow her to see the table beside James’ cheering her over.

Y/N laughed and rushed towards it, joining her housemates to cheers and pats on the back.

The girl sitting next to her grinned, dark skin and beautiful brown eyes, her hair in long braids tied back in a ponytail and held out her hand to her.

“I’m Beatrice!”

The girl opposite Y/N at the table butted in, short, bright scarlet hair and striking blue eyes, a mischievous smile on her face.

“Liane!” A shyer girl next to Liane gave Y/N a sweet, nervous smile, tucking some of her long blonde hair behind her ear. “This is Jessica.”

“I’m her brother - Eric!” The boy beside Jessica said, who also had blonde hair and blue eyes.

“It’s lovely to meet you all!”

“You too!” Beatrice beamed as they were joined by another boy, with jet black hair and a warm smile.

Yes, Y/N thought to herself as she settled into her dorm that night with her new friends already sound asleep on the beds beside hers, Hufflepuff was perfect.

[vermillion-dynamo]

As we all knew would happen as soon as it was announced, the #REDHEADLIVESMATTER posse took to Twitter to voice their displeasure over Halle Bailey being cast as Ariel in the inevitably soulless live action remake of Disney’s The Little Mermaid.

Despite the fact that she and her sister Chloe are about the closest things we have to real life angels with voices to match, the white red-head “community” was more than a bit miffed that the Disney overlords had the audacity to race bend their one and only vehicle for representation in such an unsavory manner.

KEEP READING

[verbophobic]

Update: I know exactly where I started hating this story. 🫣🫣🫣 it will need a full rework to get to a point I’ll want to even move forward with it. Snart lost a LOT of his characterization and Prue feels a bit hollow while still overly made. Like we didn’t get to discover any of her background in a timely fashion I just told it outright. And there’s a lot of conflicting early background and later background info of hers. A full rewrite is needed.

Small break from Zelda today. Not I. The headspace for my beloved fishboi. But I did preorder totk! So I’ll be back to him soon. 21 is partially edited but I could not keep my focus at all so taking a little break.

This one here is Penny for your thoughts. A snart/Oc story. I’ll post the little about alarm in a bit. 

@xye-chan this is for you lol

[glitterdreamsz]

while i’m writing the new chapter i leave you some pics of the new flat that roger and reader will finally move in in chap 6

[frankiemstein]

“PENNY FOR YOUR THOUGHTS”! i’ve had this comic and characters in my brain for a very very veryveryvery long time and i’ve finally started drawing it!!!? i’m trying to figure out the best platform to post it on as i go. i hear the kids use instagram thez dayz, but i’m thinking about webtoon / reddit / idk ples help 

[saradika]

Can I just say that if you ever do write a Charlie fic– I will cease to exist. I am not ashamed of how thirsty I am for Charlie and with how you've already made me completely bonkers for Alfred I know you'd make Charlie just the ultimate dilf 😩 (Movie version though bc he kinda sucks in the books unfortunately 😔)

Ahh Tess!! 💖 Thank you so much & full confession, I - uh - have 2 fics on my AO3 that are Charlie x F!Reader, but they were from Oct 2020 (& my first attempts at writing smut, hopefully I’ve grown a bit since then!)

But I had loose plans to turn it into a series that followed Twilight - like her helping him pick out stuff for Bella’s room before she moves in, staying that night when she leaves after the Baseball scene, stuff like that. Definitely a lot of office-based smut, too. 💕

[pantoneyoongi]

honestly same i had a lot of fun writing this one LOL thank u for reading 😊❤️

penny for your thoughts

title ; penny for your thoughts cast ; yoongi x you, ft. bts, blackpink (sort of not really) 

tags ; bad boy!yoongi, i guess good girl!y/n?, college!au, fluff, mentions of weed but barely, college parties in general,  sororities/fraternities, y/n is a rambly mess but hopefully it’s cute, jungkook’s fear of microwaves is mentioned probably one too many times

preview ; 

point being - you know of yoongi. he’s a common name around parties like these - sharp eyes, intimidating presence, wicked smirk. he scares people with a single look, commands them with hardly a breath. girls line up for a bad boy like yoongi almost as much as they avoid him, whispered warnings passing from ear to ear. except, he doesn’t really look intimidating to you right now, squinting at the microwave like it’s the most baffling thing he’s ever seen. 

Keep reading

[hardskz]

the chan oneshot is taking a back seat and i’m focusing on a seungmin one shot instead which doesn’t need a smut scene but i’m forcing myself to bring one in anyway for the sake of keeping up the smut brand LMAO

[donnamorta]

pfyt on me!!!

send “penny for your thoughts” for me to talk about...

You are just the cutest little thing. However... sometimes I do worry you may be... perhaps... too nice.

Your fashion sense is also killer. Keep up the good work, dear.

[blindedmewithscience]

pfyt on horses

I wondered why you asked me this until I saw my icon next to the answer field.

They are genetically fascinating. The way they are built.. Have you ever watched the documentary where they dissect a horse to show how they are so specifically adapted for what they do? The sheer power of the snap when they slice that tensed tendon.. Incredible.

[pantoneyoongi]

omg two of my fics are on here?? thank u so much 🥺

i’ll also be looking through these to read... 👀

thank you ❤️❤️

naeun's reading update —June 2022

Tags : a - angst, c - crack, d - dark, f - fluff, s - smut, y - yandere ☁️ - fav

a/n: hello! for authors that seen me before, im sorry for tagging yall again as im in a process of renewing(?) my page atm, but i promise this is gonna be the real one. no more take backs :]

Keep reading

[writingfortoomanyfandoms]

Penny For Your Thoughts (II)

Pairing: Young!Sirius Black x Reader

Series Summary: Y/N Y/L/N has lived in the Potter household since she was eight years old. Even amongst the Potters, whom she knew loved her, she has never felt truly accepted, never felt like anything other than a burden. Until she went to Hogwarts. For the first time she had friends who weren’t forced to act as such, she had a family who loved her by choice. There, she met Sirius, the first and only person to ever truly understand what she was going through, to listen to her and not judge.

Chapter Warnings: Ummm not sure - maybe swearing?

A/N: And here’s part two! I hope you enjoy - here you’ll meet some of my OCs created for the series, characters who I genuinely love a lot so I hope you also like them! Please let me know what you think - especially if you’re on the taglist, hearing your comments always inspires me to keep on writing, so please do let me know. If you wish to be added to the taglist send me an ASK, replies to the parts asking to be added onto it won’t be responded to

“I told you - I have the worst sense of direction!” Y/N groaned as herself and Beatrice managed to take another wrong turn on their way to the Great Hall for breakfast.

“I thought you were exaggerating or - or being modest!” Beatrice laughed, nudging into her gently with her elbow. Y/N pulled a face at her.

“That would be rather Hufflepuff of me, wouldn’t it?” 

“Hey - this looks familiar!” Beatrice exclaimed as they turned another corner and Y/N wrinkled her nose, taking in the painting of a fruit bowl that they had stumbled across.

“B?”

“Yeah?”

“We’re back by the kitchens - we’re back where we started.”

“What’re you two doing here?” They turned to face back down the hallway where the Hufflepuff common room was located hidden behind a pile of barrels. Liane, Jessica and Eric were approaching them, grinning at their obviously lost friends.

“Waiting for you?” Y/N suggested.

“Forget the way to the Great Hall?” Eric teased.

“Maybe a little,” Y/N agreed.  The group continued on, led by Jessica who regularly looked over her shoulder as though to check that her newfound friends were still following her, worried that they may disappear.

“It’s a good thing we left so early this morning,” Beatrice commented to Y/N. “Otherwise we might not have made it to breakfast in time.”

“Why did you leave so early?” Liane asked as they entered into the Great Hall, which was already at least half full with students eating their breakfast.

“I was aware I’d get lost - B just came along for the ride.” Beatrice nodded solemnly at those words as they found themselves seats at the Hufflepuff table.

“I was under the impression that she knew what she was doing,” she admitted. “And I’m ashamed to admit that.”

“You’ve known me less than twenty four hours!” Y/N protested. “For all you know, I could have planned all of that.”

“Why would you have planned getting lost on the way to breakfast?” Beatrice asked in bewilderment.

“Oh, yeah, I’ve known you for less than twenty four hours and you expect me to spill my master plan to you,” Y/N scoffed.

Eric was watching the two girls interact, his brow scrunched together in confusion but a twinkle in his eyes that showed he was more amused than anything else.

“You’re both rather strange.” 

“Well that’s just rude,” Beatrice huffed, pouring herself some juice as Y/N picked up the water pitcher. 

“Do you think the professors will be nice?” Jessica blurted out the words, cutting off their conversation. Two spots of pink appeared on her cheeks when all four of them turned to face her. “Sorry,” she muttered, looking down at her plate. 

“You remember what Mum said, Jess,” Eric said calmly. “When she was here she loved all the teachers - she was even taught by McGonagall and Flitwick.”

“Who are they?” Beatrice frowned and quickly added: “my parents didn’t much like talking about Hogwarts,” Y/N thought she saw a hint of embarrassment in her expression and she noted how Beatrice refused to meet any of their eyes.

“McGonagall teaches transfiguration and Flitwick teaches charms,” Liane explained, buttering a piece of toast. “My parents told me that McGonagall’s a complete hard-ass though,” she added and Y/N saw Jessica’s eyes widen.

“Really?” Beatrice asked, staring at Liane.

“Yeah - really strict, apparently,” she confirmed. “Especially if you’re not in her house.”

“That’s not true,” Eric sighed, shaking his head. “The teachers aren’t allowed to favour those in their house,” he insisted but Liane shook her head defiantly.

“None of the teachers stick to that! All the heads of house are lenient towards their own students!”

“So d’ya think Sprout’ll give us a load of house points for like… breathing?” Beatrice asked and she shared an amused look with Y/N.

“Alright - laugh all you want now, we’ll see who’s right,” Liane scoffed, but there was traces of laughter in her voice.

“What do you think we’ll have today?” Jessica asked in her quiet, soft voice, her nerves about their first day seeming to override the shyness that she had shown the previous evening.

“I hope we have Potions,” Liane said eagerly, her voice completely changing from her previous tone of disbelief.

“Do you think you’ll be good at it?” Beatrice asked interestedly.

“My Dad’s fantastic at brewing potions - Mum says that he’s been waiting for me to go to Hogwarts so that he can help me learn how to properly do them myself,” Liane explained through a bite of toast.

“I heard that it was a really hard subject,” Jessica worried.

“I’m sure you’ll be fine,” Y/N mustered up as much of a reassuring smile as she could manage. “What’re you looking forward to?” Jessica didn’t reply immediately, clearly thinking carefully about the question.

 “I think I’ll enjoy herbology,” she decided, nodding her head to confirm her thought. Beside Y/N, Beatrice completely lit up in delight.

“Really? I think I will too - I used to love gardening when I was at home!” She enthused. Jessica brightened at that and it wasn’t long before the two of them were talking excitedly about what they were most looking forward to studying - both of them, apparently, having already read through the text book that had been assigned for their year.

“What about you, then?”

“Care of Magical Creatures,” Y/N’s response to Liane’s question was immediate, the words out her mouth before she had a chance even to think about them.

“But… we can’t study that yet,” Liane pointed out, raising her eyebrows and Y/N let out a sad sigh, nodding her head.

“I know - sucks, doesn’t it?”

“I don’t think I’ll be taking it,” Liane admitted with a slight shiver. Y/N frowned at her, confused, and her new friend offered her an apologetic smile. “I’m not… great with animals. They make me nervous.”

“All animals?” Y/N questioned in disbelief.

“Pretty much - they don’t trust me, I think. And so I also don’t trust them. We’ve got a mutual understanding going on.”

“It’s okay, I’ll change that,” Y/N reassured her with a mischievous smile. “I’ve been told I can be rather persuasive.”

“Why does that sound like a threat?” Y/N ignored Liane’s sigh and looked over at Eric. 

“What about you?” She inquired, but Eric wasn’t listening and was instead looking at his sister and Beatrice with what was almost an expression of concern that Y/N didn’t quite understand. “Eric?”

“What, sorry?” He was snapped back into the present, trying his best to feign attentiveness as he returned to the conversation.

“What subject are you excited for?” Liane repeated, rolling her eyes a little and running a hand through her scarlet hair, pushing it away from her face.

“Well… everyone’s excited for Defence Against the Dark Arts, right?” He pointed out with a ‘duh’ expression. 

Their conversation speculating over their new classes carried them to the end of breakfast, the food disappearing from the platters in front of them, the heads of house descending from the professors table at the front of the hall all carrying piles of parchment. 

Professor Sprout was a squat woman with greying curly hair with a tattered wizards hat perched on top. Her fingernails had dirt underneath and the skin of her hands looked rough to Y/N’s eyes, presumably from the many hours she spent outside in the Greenhouses. Her eyes, despite being tired-looking, were warm and welcoming, smile lines beginning to be etched into the skin around them.

She practically beamed at Y/N and her fellow first years.

“I didn’t get to say it last night - but welcome all of you to Hufflepuff!” Her words caused quiet cheers and giggles from the first years surrounding them. A freckled boy that Y/N didn’t know the name off looked as though he was going to pass out from joy. “For anyone who doesn’t know - I’m Professor Sprout. Your head of House and also your Herbology teacher!” Jessica and Beatrice exchanged yet another excited look.

Sprout handed out the parchment, one to each student, asking each for their name, welcoming them to her house.

“And your name?”

“I’m Y/N, Professor, Y/N Y/L/N,” she smiled. Professor Sprout’s face fell just a little and she nodded, her warm eyes softening even further.

“It’s lovely to meet you - welcome to Hufflepuff,” she said, her voice more gentle than it had been when talking to the other first years.Y/N took her timetable from her, staring down at the little squares labelled with her lessons, not wanting to meet the inquiring gazes of her new friends who Y/N could tell had picked up on Sprout’s change in mood.

“Charms first,” Y/N muttered, reading the writing. “And then Herbology,” she looked at Beatrice who was watching her carefully. “Pretty ideal for you, huh?”

Beatrice cracked a smile and nodded her head.

“Alright - we should probably get going. With Y/N’s complete lack of any sense of direction at all it’ll take us a good fifteen to thirty minutes to find the classroom,” Beatrice declared, standing up and stretching her arms out, smirking at her new friend who rolled her eyes, standing up as well.

“Well Jess has a thestral’s sense of direction so I’m sure we can use her as a guide.”

“I don’t…. understand?” Jessica asked, looking at Y/N with an apprehensive expression.

“It was a compliment,” Y/N assured her as their little group of friends made their way out of the Great Hall, clutching at their timetables. Y/N’s heart was racing with nerves, though she didn’t want to admit it aloud.

They walked together to charms, speculating excitedly about what they thought the lesson could hold for them, what Flitwick had in store to teach them. 

Unsurprisingly, considering how early they had left from breakfast, they were the first ones to find the classroom and lined up outside it, Liane talking animatedly about the different charms that she had already read up about. 

“Who do we have it with, anyway?” Eric asked, leaning against the wall.

Y/N glanced down at the timetable still clutched in her hands and her heart leapt in her chest.

“The Gryffindors,” she relayed, beaming. 

“Why’re you so pleased?” Beatrice asked.

“I already know some of them!”

“You already have other friends?” Beatrice gasped in feigned offence.

“What can I say? People love me.”

“Hey Y/N,” Lily tapped Y/N on her shoulder, who whirled around to grin at her.

“Hi! How are you?” 

“Good thanks,” Lily grinned. “How was your first night?”

“It was fun! Oh!” Y/N turned back to her group of Hufflepuff friends. “This is Beatrice, Eric, Jessica and Liane.” They waved at the Gryffindor girl, whose smile seemed to become shyer with the introduction. “And this is Lily - we met on the platform yesterday and sat together on the train.”

“Nice to meet you,” Lily said, taking Beatrice’s hand.

“Who’re your friends?” Y/N whispered to Lily, looking over at the three other girls dressed in red-hooded robes that had arrived with Lily.

Lily giggled at Y/N’s lowered tone.

“That’s Marlene, next to her is Alice and then that’s Dorcas.” Lily introduced quietly, pointing at each girl in turn. Y/N nodded her head but didn’t get a chance to respond further as James’ booming voice rang out from down the corridor, where he had just turned the corner to the hallway where the charms class was located.

“Y/N! Hufflepuff! Mum called it! Have you written to tell her yet?”

Y/N let out a heavy sigh, removing herself from the company of her friends and walked towards James, who was accompanied by a group of boys - one of whom she recognised from the platform to be Frank Longbottom.

“I haven’t, no - did you write to let them know you’re in Gryffindor?” 

“As if they need the confirmation,” James scoffed. 

“Wait - what do you mean your mum called it?” Y/N’s brows furrowed together as she registered what else James had said. 

“Ages ago! When you first-” James caught himself, “when you first started to ask about the House system. She told me and Dad that she reckoned you’d be a Hufflepuff.”

“She never told me that,” Y/N frowned and James shrugged.

“Well she told me,” Y/N gave him a withering look.

“I figured,” she met Sirius’ eyes over James’ shoulder and he gave her the same cocky smirk that Y/N was beginning to realise was a near-permanent fixture for him.

“Hey,” he nodded at her.

“Gryffindor, huh?” Sirius’ smirk seemed to fall briefly, a slightly worried look on his face as he responded, though he tried to cover it with a poor substitute of his previous confidence.

“My Mum’ll be so proud.” James snickered, glancing at his new friend.

“These are our other dormmates, by the way,” James said, gesturing to the other three boys who had joined in with the conversation held by the other Hufflepuff boys who had turned up shortly after the Gryffindors. “That’s Remus, Peter and - you remember Dad talking about Frank?”

“Your dad was talking about me?” Frank asked, breaking out of the conversation to shoot a confused look at James and Y/N.

“Mine was telling us that he went to school with your Mum,” James explained cheerfully, no hint of the embarrassment that Y/N was feeling having been caught in such an odd conversation. 

“Right…” there was still an air of unsureness in Frank’s voice.

“How was your first night anyway? You doing okay?” James lowered his voice a little, clearly knowing that Y/N wouldn’t want for their classmates to overhear him checking up on her. “You sleep okay?” He added knowingly.

“It was fine, James - I’m fine, I promise,” Y/N said with a smile and gave a half shrug, glancing back to her new friends. “They all seem really lovely.”

“I’m glad,” James smiled, nudging her shoulder with his. “And last night - you didn't…?”

“No - not last night,” she confirmed. Y/N suddenly looked to Sirius, who she realised had been standing with them as they spoke, looking interested. “I snore,” was the first thing she could think of as an explanation. 

Sirius started to laugh and Y/N’s embarrassment washed over her, not that she had time to dwell on it when Beatrice grabbed her arm and tugged her towards the classroom that Professor Flitwick had just entered into.

“You’ll sit with me, right?”

They found a table together in the middle of the classroom, Y/N sliding into the chair nearest the window, Liane and Jessica sitting in the row in front of them, Eric joining a fellow Hufflepuff boy at the table beside them. It was no surprise at all to Y/N that James and his new friends took seats right at the back of the classroom.

“Who was that?” Beatrice whispered to her as Flitwick started his lecture.

“I’m trying to listen,” Y/N returned and Beatrice fell silent.

“No you’re not - you’re doodling!” Beatrice accused, her voice still too low to be heard by anyone other than Y/N.

“Relevant doodling?” Y/N offered and Beatrice gave her a withering look, not bothering to reply further than that. 

“Now it’s over to you to have a go! Remember - swish and flick!” Flitwick announced, clapping his hands cheerfully.

“Any chance you were actually paying proper attention?” Y/N asked Beatrice as Flitwick waved his wand and feathers flew across the room to land one in front of each student.

“The levitating charm,” Lily whispered from the table behind them. Y/N looked over her shoulder at the Gryffindor girl who was smiling. “You know - Wingardium Leviosa.”

“Thanks,” Y/N whispered in return. 

“But who is he?” Beatrice repeated again, the classroom filling with noise as the eager First Years began to cast their first spells. Y/N got her own out of her robes and shrugged nonchalantly.

“Just a guy I grew up with - our parents were friends.”

[missnight0wl]

Like your thoughts on Chiara/Penny. Similar to the interpretations in my head but different in some cases. I thought Divination is an expression of her anxiety for future, but "faith" didn't quite click in my head, makes total sense. I don't think Chiara is physically infirm, she just avoids getting to emotionally attached to people. I feel JC is pretending PfYT don't exist after it was pulled. It's y3, Scarlett was killed "last summer" but y1 Halloween refers to it. [1/2]

I don't know if the dialogue changes depending on your PfYT potion choice, but I am inclinced to believe it is retconned and Penny always remembers Scarlett's death in Halloween. I think MC's public image improving happens in the background and doesn't need directly referring to - Chiara is too new anyway. (Head Kid SQ is key to MC/Chiara imo) I argue they are aware it's odd, and why MC&Ben are concerned about Chiara meeting a strange man. [2/2]

The reference post: here.

Glad you liked it!

As for Chiara being “physically infirm”, my point was rather that that’s kids/characters Chiara makes me think of – not necessarily that she’s like that per se. That being said, I also imagine that monthly transformations have to be really exhausting for your organism. So, while I absolutely agree that the main reason Chiara avoids many activities to not get emotionally attached, I assume that her health could also be a bit of a problem, like during sports. Wasn’t Lupin described as often looking-tired? I don’t know, Chiara just gives me an impression of a rather fragile person, though, of course, it could be her gentle personality for the most part. To be clear, I fully acknowledge that she’s a capable witch (for example, protecting students during the Fanged Frisbees accident at the end of Y5). I just don’t think magical prowess and physical fitness have to be connected.

Now, the issue with “Penny For Your Thoughts” SQ is complicated, to be honest. The first Halloween TLSQ definitely ignores it. As you pointed out, it’s supposed to be happening in Y1, yet, Penny mentions Scarlett’s death already – and as far as I know, she does it no matter what you chose in PFYT. However, there are still mentions of this quest being written in the new content, even after it was pulled out. In Y5Ch5, when Penny wants to take self-made Draught of Peace, MC mentions the situation with the Forgetfulness Potion. It’s similar with other quests no longer available in the game. One of the Weasley twins mentions Charlie gushing over the dragon scale he got from us in the “Egg Hunt” SQ, and the Weird Sisters mentioned recently our concert from their TLSQ. Therefore, I can’t really say that those quests were removed. Jam City doesn’t pretend they didn’t happen, they actually keep them in their minds all the time, even though the writing team probably changed a couple of times since then. I just don’t get why they didn’t bring them back yet.

MC’s public image is another more complicated thing. It’s pretty… inconsistent. In the beginning, MC is really worried about how they’re perceived because of Jacob. It continues in the first years, we’re also getting some rather mean lines during classes where students say that they should stay away from us to not get cursed etc. Then, we also have things like MC being worried they put Hogwarts in danger in the “Flying Solo” TLSQ and the Patronus TLSQ. They wondered whether Penny blamed them for Beatrice in Y5. The problem is, that it was never elaborated properly. In my opinion, it’s a shame because it’d be an opportunity to give more depth to MC’s character. I personally always enjoyed reading about Harry’s situation where on the one hand, he was the Chosen One, but then people were also blaming him for the Chamber of Secrets or suspecting he was the one responsible for putting his own name into the Goblet of Fire. I talked about it in a general sense, not only in the context of Chiara. And even so, we again have a situation of Jam City kind of screwing up because technically, we met her in Y2, and then she’s basically absent until the end of Y5, so…

I think that Ben would be concerned no matter who would be an intruder. The fact that it was Remus Lupin made it just weirder for us as players because of his future connection with Tonks. Also, I was probably still bothered more by the fact that Lupin advised MC to stay with Chiara that night. Like, from all people, he’d know how incredibly irresponsible advice it was, how dangerous Chiara would be without the Wolfsbane Potion. He knew that his friends had to become Animagi because werewolves are not as violent towards other animals as they are towards people. Of course, MC could’ve used his Animagus form as well, but 1) Remus didn’t know about it, so he couldn’t suggest it, 2) not every player is an Animagus. My point was mainly that it was just a poorly written part of the quest for the sake of fanservice.