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nerdygirlramblings · 4 months ago

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Stuck on Reader being someone like Penelope Garcia from Criminal Minds, stationed in the US under Laswell

Off to See the Wizard (1)

eventual poly!141xfem!reader

TW: mentions of canon-typical violence

"You'll find exfil three klicks north, far side of lake," you say. You have the intel about their op open on the monitor to your left; the time in the corner reads 6:30pm. Your stomach grumbles, reminding you you skipped lunch, and you tell yourself you'll eat dinner when the op is done. Your eyes flick back to the time on the monitor in front of you. You can see Task Force 141's helicopter waiting; local time reads 4:00am. It's been a long few days, and you can't imagine how tired they are.

"tch, lass, 's a loch," Sergeant MacTavish whines. Despite sounding a little like a toddler needing a nap, his breathing pattern tells you he's moving quickly, trying to stay quiet.

"Copy that, Sergeant," you chuckle back. "Exfil's north of the loch." You wait a beat before adding, softly, "Get home safe, boys."

Captain Price's voice rumbles in your ear, "Copy that, Oz." He, too, waits a beat and says, "Thanks for the help."

You roll your eyes at the nickname: Oz, like the great and powerful wizard of. When you asked, Sergeant Garrick said it was due to how you seemed to anticipate their needs when you're Watcher. You tried telling them over and over again anyone doing your job would do the same, but they all swore you were Laswell's best. Their best. "You know there's no place like home, luv, and you make sure we get back every time," the Sergeant said. It made your heart flutter to hear it, and you have no idea how much their affection for you grows each time your magic gets them home safely.

You pull yourself out of your musings and focus on the drone feed for the next twenty minutes, needing to see all four heat signatures make it to the helo. As they cross into view, you immediately notice something off. They aren't filing in one at a time like usual. There's one out front and three together behind the first man.

"Bravo-6, what happened? I'm seeing unusual movement at the helo,” you say. You wait several long moments, listening to the crackle of satellite communications. You're about to say more when the Captain sighs.

"Gaz took a bullet," he said calmly. "It's a through and through, and Ghost already put Celox on it."

You try to calm your breathing, but even though you know, you know, these men have dangerous jobs, you can't help your reaction. One of your boys - not yours, not yours - is hurt, and you're an ocean and a half away. "Bravo-6, I'm putting in a forward call to your temporary base," you tell him as you bring up the base's medical building information over the op intel. "They'll be waiting on the tarmac for you." You haven't spoken to them yet, but you will make sure someone is there to take care of Sergeant Garrick.

"See, Oz, always ten steps ahead," the aforementioned soldier chuckles in your ear. Despite the distance, you can hear the strain in his voice.

“Don’t try to sweet talk me, Sergeant,” you scold. “Keep your strength,” you say more softly. “I- we want you back in one piece.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he responds quietly.

Your office is quiet for the next few weeks. Laswell directs most operations to other groups, giving the 141 time to rest and recover, and while you support whomever Laswell tells you, your work is mostly with the 141. You've been their primary point of contact for nearly a year now.

Despite not covering them in the field, you're a bloodhound, following any scrap of gossip about your boys. You know after the bullet tore through his thigh on that last op, Sergeant Garrick - “Gaz, please, Oz. Or Kyle,” he insisted softly when you checked in - had multiple surgeries to repair the wound.

Months back, during an op that had them embedded on a snowy tundra for more than two weeks, you found yourself chatting quietly to whomever was on watch during your shift. You were their anchor to the real world, "Oor very ohn angel on the airwaves," Sergeant MacTavish cooed. One long, quiet night - local time - Lieutenant Riley mentioned some of the things from home they missed. You squirreled the information away, as you did everything you learned about them.

While Kyle was in surgery, you sent a care package to their barracks, timing the delivery with their return to Hereford. You needed to feel like you were doing something to aid in everyone's recovery. You didn't expect to receive a call from Captain Price - "None of this Captain stuff, yeah? Yer not one o' my men. It's Price or John to you, dove." - thanking you for "making the barracks feel a little more like home."

While Kyle recovers, Laswell sends the others out sporadically on short missions. You make sure to be on this side of the monitor when any of them are deployed. It's superstitious, but you fear what will happen if you aren't there to watch their backs. You keep Sergeant MacTavish from walking right into a hostile camp whose heat signatures barely registered on the drone. You'd missed it too, until a blip from what had to be the terror cell's servers made you look closer. Afterwards he says,"Ya watched me clear the place, bon. Ya knoo how ah got mah name. 'S time ya use it, ya ken?"

Another time you're watching John and Lieutenant Riley on a mission to liberate human cargo. The Lieutenant is in his sniper nest, waiting for the buyer, plying you with his dry humor as he's done before, and this time you have a response. "Hey, Lieutenant, why do seagulls fly over the sea?" You give him a moment to think before continuing, "Because if they flew over the bay, they'd be bagels."

He groans and follows with, "If we're trading jokes that bad, Oz, call me Simon. No leftenant in his right mind would chuckle at that rubbish." Unlike the others, he didn't want to give you the choice of using his call sign. He was no Ghost to you.

As each man offers more of himself to you, you fall harder. You are not aware they do it because they are all falling for you too and are trying to break down the walls between you.

Five weeks after Kyle's surgery, he's deemed fit for duty, and Laswell mentions an op that's going to embed the boys in the desert for close to two months at least. She wants someone forward at Hereford, acting under her direct authority, to minimize delays with intel, communications, and decisions. Unbeknownst to you, Price has all but demanded Kate send you.

She comes into your office early, startling you as you read over the details of the 141's new operation. It worries you: eight weeks embedded in Uzbekistan, where intel says there's been an uptick in black market trafficking of both weapons and people. The 141 are being tasked with sorting enemy from friend, identifying their buyers, routing their sources, and cutting off the supply chain. It's a massive undertaking, one you're sure will take longer than predicted. Your heart aches for what your boys will have to do.

Laswell stands in your doorway and says your name, pulling you from dark daydreams. "Yes, ma'am?" you ask.

"You got a go bag?" You don't answer. In theory you know what a go bag is, but you've never needed one in all the years you've worked for her, and she knows it. "I have a forward assignment for you. Three months, maybe more." She reads the confusion in your face and continues. "The 141's new op is bigger than we've done in quite some time. I need eyes and ears I trust over there, able to make smart decisions on the fly, and they need someone whose priority is a successful mission, and that includes getting them home safe." She pauses and lets the information settle. Then she holds your gaze. "That's you, Oz. I know it, and more, the boys know it. Other than me, you're our best chance of pulling this off the way it needs to be done."

You don't even need a moment to think. "What should I bring, and when do I leave?"

Laswell smiles wide.

In short order you're boarding a military transport with two duffle bags and a hard-side case full of your tech. Laswell said you'd be put up in the barracks and be given a secure workspace in one of the base's office buildings.

The flight is uneventful, so you spend the time mentally preparing for finally meeting the 141 in person. You feel like you know them from the little glimpses you've had into their lives, but this will be your first true interaction with them. You hope they aren't disappointed to see the woman behind the curtain.

You're going over your role for the hundredth time when the plane finally lands. You grab your bags and follow other personnel off the back of the bird into a damp, overcast day. Your watch says 11:00, but with the weather, it could be any time really. You want to settle your things down and find the base canteen for lunch before setting up your work space. As much as your heart thrums in your chest about finally meeting your boys, you remind yourself this is a job.

Price stands inside the open hanger door, watching everyone exit the transport. Laswell told him you'd be arriving today, and he wants to be here to greet you. He knows if he said something - if the boys knew you were the intelligence specialist Laswell was sending them - he'd have had to fight them all to stay away. He knows they're all a little in love with you. If he's honest with himself, he is too. Which is why he needs to run interference, or they might scare you off.

He finally sees a woman in civvies with a nondescript duffle bag slung over each shoulder and rolling a shiny silver piece of luggage that screams fancy technology. He walks over, catching your eye as you take in the details of your new surroundings. You don't startle much as he approaches; he likes that you keep your cool. That combined with the look on your face that isn't delight or awe, just a cool calculation, filing information away for later, raises you in his esteem even more. You slow your stride until he's right in front of you.

"Hello," you say cordially. Price is a little surprised. You're usually much warmer than this. But then he realizes he's never seen your picture and only knew it was you because everyone else on the plane was clearly a soldier. Perhaps you don't know who he is. Yet.

"Oz, dove, so glad to have you," he rumbles, holding out a hand. He sees the moment his words hit, your eyes opening a fraction wider, mouth popping open a bit.

"Oh! Captain Price?" You're hesitant but proffer your hand to shake his. You know his voice over comms, but in person, the rich timbre is more rounded and melodic. You'd question it, but he's the only one who's ever called you dove.

"'s me," he replies, warm hand wrapping around yours, "An' I'm not yer Captain, remember?" You feel his callouses against your palm, and you smile widely at him. His moustache twitches, and you see his crows feet crinkle. He seems pleased.

He reaches over and snags one of the duffles from your shoulder before you can muster a protest. He leans down for your equipment, but you hold fast to the handle. "Sorry, sir. Can't let this go 'til I've got it in a secure location." He hums at that, and you swear his smile grows.

"Knew you were who we needed here,' he says quietly. He looks you over again. "You must be tired. Let's get you settled, yeah?"

"That sounds lovely," you tell him. You follow in his wake as he makes his way across the base. He points out various buildings as you pass them: medical (not that you'll need it), gym (not that you'll want it), armoury (not that you're allowed in it), mess (not canteen), and various office buildings. Price stops at this last destination, leading you to the secure room (keypad entry only and you get to set the code) where you drop your equipment. For now, it's enough that it's in a safe place. You can set it up after some food and sleep. The 141 doesn't ship out for this op for another week, so you have time to settle in.

After you lock the door behind you, Price takes you past the training grounds to where the classrooms and barracks are. "This isn't much, but it's ours," he says, a little bashfully, ushering you into a small building on the edge of the training ground. You notice 'TF 141' painted in black over the door of the grey building. "Welcome to your temporary home away from home."

You stand in the entryway and look at Price. Clearly your emotions are all over your face because he huffs out a laugh. "Didn't Laswell tell you we were putting you up in our barracks?"

You splutter, shocked. No, she certainly did not! "She simply told me the barracks. I had no idea I'd be..." You wave your hand around the space. How will you cope with basically living with these men whom you've grown so fond of? You panic. They'll be able to read your feelings a mile away. They're highly trained SAS soldiers.

Price waits you out, silently cataloguing your physical changes. Your eyes dart around, never staying on one thing for long. You're breathing just a hair faster now, and through your mouth as if desperately trying to fill your lungs. There's a bead of sweat forming at your hair line. He can tell you're nervous, but he doesn't realize he's the cause, him and the rest of the 141, so he says, "If it's a problem, Oz, we can find a bunk in the women's quarters with the recruits. Laswell and I jus' thought you might prefer the quiet of personal quarters instead."

You quickly come back to yourself. "No, no, it's fine!" You know your voice is pitched too high, but you can't help it. You're being offered a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to live with these men and you refuse to lose it. "I was just a little surprised," you rush to continue. "I don't mind if you all don't." You look at Price and hope your smile isn't as deranged as it feels.

He chuckles softly, and the sound causes warmth to blossom in your chest. "A'right then. Come see the place, then I'll introduce you to the boys." He points down a short hallway to the left, noting where his and Leftenant (not lieutenant like you've been calling him) Riley's offices are and telling you there's one the Sergeants use that you're welcome to. In front of you are a pair of double doors Price says hide the common room and kitchen area. There's a door to your right he takes you through, and this is the living quarters with a communal bathroom at the far end. Most of the doors are closed, though a few are propped open. "Most task force units have nearly a dozen members, but we only got us four, so there's plenty of extra space. Take any open room ya want, dove." You almost ask where everyone else is to position yourself best, but in the end you take the interior room closest to the bathroom.

Your last stop is the shared space. You aren't sure what to expect from a space shared by a group of men with such very different personalities, but stepping in, it reminds you of the fraternity living spaces you'd been in during college. Two worn but comfortable looking couches and a mixed collection of wingback chairs and recliners are arranged in front of a large television. Wires peek out from an entertainment center under it, and you suspect more than one gaming system is hidden behind the doors. A few bookshelves stand like sentinels along the back wall, covered in various books and movies and games. To the left is a small kitchenette. You see an electric kettle and coffee maker on the counter next to a microwave and hot plate with cabinets beneath. There's a small refrigerator too.

You take in all these details in an instant before settling on the most important thing: the other members of the 141, who have all sat up, conversation forgotten, as Price leads you into the room. You barely have time to consider what they must make of you as Price starts introductions. He starts with his men, pointing first to a man who is the living embodiment of the Tasmanian Devil Looney Tunes character, all compact muscle and startlingly blue eyes with the most ridiculous, and completely against regulation, haircut you've ever seen. "That's Sergeant John MacTavish, but you can call him Soap." Price must not know you've been urged to do just that. He continues around the room to an absolute beast of a man: nearly as broad as he is tall in his seat and covered entirely in black. "Leftenant Riley, goes by Ghost." You blink; that's not at all what he told you, though you realize he never gave you his callsign at all. "And Sergeant Kyle Garrick. We call 'im Gaz." Price is pointing to a brown-skinned man who, if you weren't seeing him with your own eyes, you wouldn't believe really looked that good.

You're about to introduce yourself to the room when you catch a slight smirk on Price's face. He puts a hand on your lower back so gently you think it's an unconscious gesture. With a little pressure, he pushes you further into the space the men inhabit. "Boys, meet Laswell's intelligence agent, Oz, the Great and Powerful."

an: Whelp, this spiraled quickly out of my control. There is absolutely more as I haven't even gotten started.

part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7 part 8 part 9 part 10

#cod #poly!141 #poly!141 x reader #tf 141 #tf 141 x reader #nerdygirl says #john price #simon riley #johnny mactavish #kyle garrick

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dduane · 2 months ago

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Just mentioning again...

...that all the prices on our Ebooks Direct ebook bundles are still holding at Black Friday levels (pretty much 50% off, and in some cases more...), because frankly I think everybody can use a little bit of a break around now.

I invite you to pause the doomscrolling (assuming that's what's been going on), take a few deep breaths, and visit another universe. Or two.

The complete* Young Wizards bundle is here:

Or maybe you want just the feline wizards? Their bundle's here.

And the LGBTQ-centered Middle Kingdoms bundle is here:

And if you're feeling like going utterly ham, here's the Whole Store bundle. At a truly silly price. (Possibly we need our heads felt, but that's an internal issue.**)

As usual: all these bundles are DRM-free and come with our lifetime free replacement guarantee. (Because as non-billionaires, we somehow don't feel any urgent need to make you pay for lost or mislaid ebooks twice.) Lose a loaded device, have a drive crash, or suffer some other local difficulty that results in ebook loss? Mail us with your order number and we'll send you new download links.

That's it! That's the post. Support your local non-AI-using authors!

And thanks, everybody. :)

(I keep forgetting to add this, probably because i hate it: UK friends, please note that we can't sell directly to you any more, because of Brexit. Dammit. But still: sorry.) :/

*Except for Games Wizards Play, which we can't offer due to not holding rights for it.

**As one of us used to be a professional head-feeler, so we can handle such requirements in-house.

#ebooks #science fiction #fantasy #LGBTQ #young adult #Diane Duane #sale #and don't forget #take a moment to unclench your jaw #roll your shoulders a little #go get some hydration #and maybe some tea if you're that way inclined

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sunderwight · 29 days ago

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Random thought but:

Those wide-brimmed pointy hats that witches and wizards are often depicted wearing are for traveling, right? That's what the brim is for, to protect from the sun and other elements. But the pointy part is probably ceremonial -- historically speaking most conical hats are often worn by priests or nobility to signify rank or role.

But sometimes in fantasy settings, wizard hats don't have the brim. But witches almost never lose the brim.

This indicates to me a shared origin between wizards and witches as traveling practitioners of magic. Which makes sense! If you only get a few magical people in a community, either because magical talent is rare or because it takes a lot of study to pick it up or both, then most magically inclined people would probably be in high demand. Which would mean that there was a lot of call for them to travel around and provide their services to place too poor or remote or unlucky to have their own resident magical practitioner.

But gradually, a divide begins to occur. Formally educated magical users are of course most commonly found in cosmopolitan regions (big cities) and can afford to stay in one place for a lot longer. Perhaps even exclusively, if the community is large enough to support them! So as more great cities establish themselves and also establish things like larger and better-funded academic institutions, a class of non-wandering magic user begins to grow. This group, i.e. wizards, signal their greater access to formal education and to wealthy patrons by dropping the brim from their hats. They keep the conical shape and height, to denote status and rank, but they get all bougie about the brim. Other attempts to flaunt success among wizards emphasize the lack of need to travel for work, such as building magnificent magical towers, positioning themselves in the courts of nobility, or building entire academic institutions dedicated to the study of the arcane arts.

Meanwhile rural communities still require the services of magically inclined people, but can no longer afford to entice wizards away from their status-defining sedentary lifestyle. Thus another class of magic user (witches) begins to define itself by their continued existence and work outside of major population centers. Since witches still travel and live in the countryside, their hats keep the brim, because they still need it to protect them from the elements.

This also explains the gender differential. While magical talent probably doesn't operate on the basis of gender, classism sure does. Girls born into wealthier families are often slated for marriage alliances and encouraged to treat formal education as an opportunity for husband-hunting, rather than actually becoming adept in or engaging with the professional use of magic itself. Which doesn't mean that none of them do it anyway, but there's probably a more marked difference between women who become wizards and men who do. Especially as wizards become more preoccupied with social status, and thus more likely to gate off access to certain levels of education, so that only either the extremely wealthy or the extremely talented can get at them. If a girl's family doesn't want to go to all the trouble of paying for a full education or compelling a skilled teacher to take her on, her options for pursuing it on her own are probably quite limited.

Meanwhile out in the sticks, magic users are such rarities that gatekeeping on the basis of gender is frankly too impractical, especially considering the degree of utility magic has for saving lives and livelihoods. It's just not that feasible to give a shit about the gender of the spellcaster who is saving your entire sheep flock from a bad case of bluetongue, or holding up a barrier that's keeping a recent landslide from burying your house, or getting the ghosts out of a local well that you'd really love to be able to actually use.

So over time witches become associated with women, even though it's more that they've got a 50/50 split whereas wizards heavily favor men. In the way of things, this actually become a self-fulfilling prophecy over time, because men who develop magical aptitude see witchery as "women's work" and are more likely to try and save up and move to the city to learn "real" magic, or else try and differentiate themselves from female witches by creating their own distinctions between what they do and what women spellcasters do, carving out particular areas of focus to be the masculine fields of magic.

This would probably create even more distinct classes of magical users -- the male witches who still do the usual magic work in rural regions but don't like to be called witches, and so do something else to distinguish themselves in an equivalent of stamping a No Girls Allowed sign on their door (warlocks?), who probably still keep the wide brim on their hats but perhaps ditch the pointy part in a middle finger to the elitism of wizards (and also to ensure they're less likely to be mistaken for witches), and the magically talented people who make their way from the country to the nearest cities to try and join the wizard class. Though this group is more likely to struggle due to a lack of social or financial clout, and probably has to depend way more on having enough sheer natural talent to draw the eye of a benefactor (sorcerers?). Most of them would be men too, because of increasing social attitudes that men were just better at this "type" of magic would mean that women would have a harder time getting backing, but there would probably be some who were ambitious enough to nevertheless go for it and then end up in a related-but-still-gendered category of their own (sorceresses?).

Because classism, it seems likely that these underdog country-to-city spellcasters (probably also joining in with impoverished but talented locals to the metropolitan areas too) don't get the pointy hats unless they manage to actually succeed in being absorbed by wizard establishments, but also don't keep the brimmed hats because those are associated with being a bumpkin. They're hat-less, or else wear a completely different style. They probably also get a bit of a shady reputation because there are a lot of predatory institutions that scoop up magically talented individuals who don't know how to navigate the relevant social institutions, and then basically embroil them in debt or whatnot in order to exploit whatever magical talent they have for whatever profits are to be gained.

Of course you probably also have the opposite class of people, i.e. formally trained magic users who decide that trying to rub elbows with kings and rich people is stupid, and take their training to go off and save villages from mudslides and such instead. They're basically witches again but with a fancier pedigree, but of course coming from the outside of it they lack the community knowledge to navigate regions as well and also now there's this split from the Boy Witches Who Won't Be Called Witches, and probably what counts as Girl Magic gets very regional, so what jobs you do or how you go about casting spells has an irregular impact on what the locals will call you if you aren't a woman. If you're a woman you can probably take the witch label without as much issue. But since the fellas started as wizards, then, they more likely still call themselves wizards in the face of all this, but the big city wizards do NOT want to be associated with them (unless they do something really impressive that they can share credit for), so there has to be a new category for them (hedge wizards?) to differentiate from proper wizards. Anyway they wear the big brimmed hats again, because that's just practical. Whether they wear tall ones or not probably varies between individual and regional implications about it.

So. Yeah. Magic user hat politics, with bonus gender nonsense.

#long post #witches #wizards #wizard shit #magic #world building #fantasy #sword and sorcery #do warlocks wear cowboy hats?#all those fancy fantasy charts that are like here's how you determine spellcaster class based on how you cast spells #meanwhile I'm out here knocking shit off the table like no you fools it's the hats

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hollowdeath · 1 year ago

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Thank god, another Harry Potter lover! 👓⚡️He really deserves more love! ❤️ That’s why I imagine him and the reader settling in a cottage by the sea or lake (you decide) to heal from the Wizarding War. They find comfort and solace in each other, and yes that includes countless lovemaking. 🥰 It’s just the two of them, so they’re free to express their love whenever and wherever they want. They especially enjoy making love on the shore under the stars after a swim, by the fireplace on a soft blanket, and in the bathtub surrounded by candles. They just need to feel and hold each other to remind themselves that everything’s okay now. You can do whatever you want with this, I just wanted to put it out there. Take care!

thank you so much for this request, i fell in love with it as soon as you sent it! i hope you enjoy!

pairing: harry james potter x fem!reader (18+)

summary: you & harry have moved away from everything & everyone to a remote cottage where the forest meets the sea. all harry wants after everything he's been through is to find peace, & he finds it in you.

c/w: smut!!! oral sex, penetration, rough sex

word count: 7.3k

harry was up early. he was watching the kettle boil on the gas stove in front of him, enjoying the warmth coming off of it, letting himself relax for just a moment. the steam from the water enveloped his face and felt nice. it was so chilly this morning. the windows were fogged over from the fire raving inside the stove, the wind whistling through the walls of the cottage.

the cottage was beautiful, harry couldn't deny it, though he could do with a bit more insulation. the raw, exposed stone walls were charming, and the moss and vines growing on the outside were something out of a fairy tale, but the fire needed to be fed every hour or so most of the day for at least half of the year or else it dropped below freezing inside. however, luckily, harry came to find wood chopping and trimming to be extremely therapeutic. just him, a sharp ax, and acres of woodlands to explore.

that was another thing harry could never deny about this property: the land was worth every penny. it's not often you find such a stunning cottage sitting on the border between a local forest and, what was essentially, a private beach on the north sea. the beach stretched at least a mile, but was obscured by the trees just behind the cottage. the land wasn't cheap, but harry was ready and extremely eager to spend whatever it took to finally get away from everything, live a simple life, and be alone.

alone with you, that is.

you and harry had gone to school together until the war, but eventually ended up reconnecting and began casually dating just over 2 years ago. since then you and harry had found complete solace in each other, both suffering from the negative side effects of witnessing and experiencing the war firsthand and supporting each other through difficult times. you were mostly struggling with paranoia and anxiety, and were actually the first to suggest getting a place together away from everyone else. you thought it would help if you were out of reach, isolated from the world, practically invisible from all danger.

harry, of course, was utterly haunted by the events of the war, and everything leading up to it. he gets angry at the world, has bouts of depression, deals with monumental grief and guilt, and has chronic, clinical sleep issues caused by nightmares. which is, ironically, the exact reason he's awake so early right now.

as he's pouring the boiling water out of the kettle and over a tea bag, harry can feel his eyelids fighting to stay open. he's barely slept this week, and he's starting to feel the effects of it. he's lightheaded, detached, and just wants to rest.

as he's walking to the front porch, mug in hand, harry takes a moment to pause in the doorway of your master bedroom and admire you. sleeping, surrounded by white cotton comforters, drowning in pillows, your hair wildly framing your peaceful face. he just stays there for a while, leaning against the doorframe, watching. he often watches you sleep when he can't himself. it brings him relief knowing you can get the rest you need.

before he heads outside harry slips on his favorite quarter zip. as he's sitting on the stairs outside, he admires the sound of the waves crashing just a few hundred or so yards away from him. he finishes his hot cup of tea, closes his eyes and lets himself sit in the cold waves of the wind. it's nice. like sleeping without the nightmares.

the moment is short lived as he hears the door creak open behind him. he looks back, and is in disbelief at how beautiful you look just waking up. a nightdress that barely covers anything at all draping around your shoulders, messy bed hair, sleepy eyes and a smile as you stand with the door cracked open, admiring harry in return.

"morning," you say simply, your voice still soft and hoarse from sleeping. harry smiles at you with soft and loving eyes. you walk towards him and let the door close behind you as you cuddle up next to harry on the stairs.

you don't seem to mind the chill in the air. your exposed skin is still hot from the fire burning inside. you lean your head on harry's shoulder, reaching for his mug, seeing there's nothing left, and leaving the mug in his hands. harry's chest hums as he chuckles. "would you like some? kettle's still warm," he asks.

you shake your head. you want to stay right here with harry in this moment.

the sea is so beautiful at this time of the morning. the sun was up, but only just barely above the horizon. no clouds, no birds, just the waves and the wind carrying their breeze.

speaking of breeze, you begin to shiver the longer you're out there in only a sleep dress. you still want to stay with harry, enjoying the view with him, but he notices you shaking.

"darling, let's get you inside,"

harry sits you in front of the stove and opens the small latch, letting the door stay open as you attempt to warm your hands. harry feeds the fire and rearranges the coals to make it burn hotter for you. after a minute or so, he also slips off his quarter zip and pulls it over your torso, smiling to himself at just how big it looks on you.

you find yourself finally starting to warm up, your toes burying themselves into the fur rug you're sitting on. after harry pours you a cup of tea, he joins you next to the fire. "thank you," you tell him with a smile, eagerly taking a sip of the warm drink.

harry's arm wraps around you and he watches the fire as you continue to sip your tea, enjoying the feeling of it warming you up from the inside.

you relish this moment with harry. since moving here barely a month ago, you've grown so fond of these smaller moments throughout the day with him. watching the scenery, watching the fire, sitting in comfortable silence, sharing a kettle of tea in the morning and afternoon, simply enjoying each other's company and the peace you've created for yourselves. it was one of your favorite parts about settling into this little slice of life.

and, of course, there was all the alone time.

while living with harry at grimmauld place was lovely, there was never truly a moment alone with him there. you had your own room with locked doors, but could hear someone walking, talking, cooking, always something in the background.

here, you were completely alone. a lot of people might find this situation to be even more terrifying, being so far away from everything, but you both agreed the isolation made you feel safer. safe from death eaters, safe from drama, safe from other people.

the safety from being so alone out here also meant that you and harry could be vulnerable with each other 24/7. you never had to put on a face or pretend things were okay if they weren't. if harry had nightmares, he could make some tea and enjoy a moment outside alone without anyone trying to psychoanalyze him. if you wanted to lay in bed until it was dark out again, harry wasn't going to judge you for it.

that vulnerability spread into other parts of your life as well.

you set your mug down next to the fire and turned towards harry who's already watching you as you admire his blue eyes, bloodshot from barely sleeping last night, or the night before. you take his face in your hands and just hold him for a moment, feeling him lean into your touch as his eyes flutter close. "i love you, harry," you say just above a whisper, breaking the comfortable silence.

harry looks up at you, but his eyes are now full of lust. you barely have a moment to process what's going on before harry leans in for a gentle, wanting kiss.

harry's always so soft with you despite his clearly strong desire. you've never been with someone who wanted you so bad no matter how many times you've been with them. everything with harry was like the first time all over again; the same desperation and desire to please that just never left.

the kiss quickly gets heated as harry pulls his quarter zip off of you, making you both giggle at the fact that he just put it on you only a few minutes prior. your lips reconnect in a haste, not wanting even a single second away from each other.

harry lays you down on the rug beneath you as his hands make their way to your exposed legs, feeling the heat from the fire on your thighs. his shirt quickly comes off as well from you tugging at it. a moan escapes your lips just watching his body as he pulls the shirt over his head.

harry's suffered from many injuries in these last few years that have left him littered in scars. and while you obviously hate to think about harry in pain, something about his scars drove you crazy with lust. a brave boy who faced death and came back, now healing far away from the cruel world with you as his lover. it was just another reminder that you were safe, that he was finally safe.

harry smiles as he goes in to kiss you again, his hands going right back to your thighs as he pushes your nightdress above your panties. you're holding his face lovingly but harry pulls away from the kiss to look at you. he watches your expression intently as he starts sliding his fingers over your panties, earning a sigh of relief from you. harry's eyes grow darker the longer he teases you. he sits up to use his other hand to hold down your bucking hips, causing you to whine in frustration.

"patience," harry commands from you in a stern voice. you look up at him, jaw lax, breathing uneven, and simply give him a nod.

you love this side of harry. of course you fell in love with the soft, gentle, careful parts of him first, but over time you saw more and more of his angry, controlling, dominant side during sex that you were completely weak for.

living at hogwarts and then grimmauld place right after, most of your intimate moments with harry were kept quiet to avoid being heard. soft whispering, quiet moans, slow movements, and breathless orgasms under a heavy blanket with the lights dimmed. once you moved here, away from everything and everyone, things were different.

of course, you were both still a bit quiet and shy at first, not used to having a place all to your own where no one can hear you for miles. but, slowly, you and harry learned to break old habits and started experimenting together. a lot.

it seemed like neither of you could ever get enough of each other since coming here. you'd always been really attracted to each other, maybe more than the average couple, but something about being alone together in this corner of the world where the forest meets the ocean made you feel so connected, so in tune, and completely and utterly obsessed with each other.

it started with long, drawn-out, foreplay-heavy love making in your new bed to "break it in", sometimes spending hours each day just entangled together on top of the sheets, admiring the other's body and exploring every part. then it would slowly move over to the bath, naturally, after spending so much time sweating together in bed. after a while the sessions would get shorter as you would both be completely exhausted afterwards. instead, they increased in frequency.

either you or harry would find little opportunities to sneak in a quick fuck throughout the day between chores, or would give the other person head as they made dinner in the kitchen. it was thrilling. neither of you had ever been sexual outside of the bedroom/bathroom before, but you found it completely erotic.

you had yet to have sex in front of the fire, oddly enough, but you had thought about it quite a few times before. the warmth of the stove, the soft rug beneath you, the light on harry's skin, the sweat dripping off of him…

"[y/n]," harry said, snapping you out of your daze. "are you even listening to me?" he asks with a smirk.

you blush immediately, so lost in your thoughts about the sex you were just about to have that you couldn't even focus on what was currently happening…

"s-sorry…" you mumble. "you just drive me crazy," you admit shyly.

harry's hand pushes further into your hips, a groan crawling out of his throat as he glares at you. "don't make me cum already, darling," he growls, his voice deep and rumbling in his chest.

you whimper under his pressure, your back arching as your body attempts to find some kind of release from the growing tension inside of you.

"so fucking desperate already," harry says, clearly enjoying watching you struggle under his control. "if i could resist you even a little bit i would sit here and watch you struggle all day," he tells you as he leans into your neck, his teeth sinking into your skin. you wince and squeal, your heart racing from the pain.

harry smirks at your reaction. he sits up and releases the pressure on your hips, causing them to buck upwards instinctively. a pathetic "please," is all you're able to muster as you attempt to catch your breath.

normally harry wants to hear you do a lot more begging than that, but he's just as desperate as you are at this point and he can't resist you much longer.

harry props your legs up for him after helping you take off your panties, throwing them to the side as he lays between your thighs. you prop yourself up on your elbows to look down at harry who's hungrily looking between your eyes and your pussy. your breathing is rapid and shallow as your heart continues to thump in your chest. even after all these years and all the times you've seen harry between your legs you just never get used to the sight. he still gives you butterflies like a nervous girl with a crush.

your head rolls in pleasure as harry starts kissing your thighs; even in both of your desperate states, even when he's at his most dominant, he's still the gentle, loving harry you're so in love with.

harry's hands find your own and intertwine your fingers together as his tongue begins exploring your pussy. you can feel yourself getting even more wet as harry's mouth attaches itself to you, enjoying how you taste. moaning, whining, hips bucking onto harry's tongue, you start to feel yourself sweat from both the fire and harry's intense gaze up at you.

"f-fuck," you cry, your thighs instinctively squeezing around harry's head. he can't help but moan as he sucks on your clit, practically letting you ride his face.

you reach for your silky nightdress and lift it above your chest, exposing your nipples to the warmth of the fire as you continue watching harry make your legs tremble.

harry's eyes droop in pleasure. one of his hands grabs for your tits and the other applies the same pressure to your hips as before. you let out your first real moan above a whimper, your hips still trying to grind against harry's mouth as he continues pushing you further into the rug.

his tongue's now inside of you, teasing you as you clench around him, your thighs still quivering.

"harry, harry, please," you say breathlessly, begging for more. harry ignores you, instead only going slower to drive you mad. you groan in frustration. he looks back up at you for only a second, but you can see the smirk in his eyes.

his hand lets go of your tits before making its way to your thighs, pushing them away from his head as harry takes a moment to breathe. you're blushing, completely flustered, eyes half-open. "sorry," you apologize.

"don't be. give me more." harry demands.

his hand pushes further into your pelvis, his elbow holding down your thigh as you wince at the pressure.

harry's mouth returns to your clit as his fingers feel how wet you are for him. your body jolts at the sensation, but harry just holds you down tighter. starting with one finger, harry pushes inside you slowly as you writhe under his grasp. your hands get tangled in his hair again, desperately pulling his face further into your pussy.

harry just chuckles, looking up at you as he slowly pushes another finger inside you. you gasp, your grip in his hair tightening as your other hand plays with your tits. just the look in harry's eyes watching you chase your high is enough to bring you close to the edge.

harry's fingers were pumping in and out of your pussy, his lips and tongue still teasing your clit. your thighs threatened to close again, but harry kept them spread open for himself. "enough," he states, planting his elbows into your thighs and his hand against your pelvis. he glares up at you as he repositions himself. "stay."

you can feel your body react to the aggression in his voice. this is the hungriest, and hottest, side of harry you've ever seen. you're already brought back to the brink of orgasm as soon as you can see harry's fingers pumping inside you again, his wrist and forearm veins pronounced against the light of the fire as he picks up his speed.

the moans coming out of your mouth are filthy and involuntary, your mind going blank at the sudden rush of pleasure through your body. once harry's tongue begins circling your clit again, you don't have a chance at lasting much longer.

"i-i, harry, stop, i'm–" is all you're able to get out before your legs begin shaking, your head thrown back, crying out in overwhelming pleasure. it feels so good not having to hold back your moans anymore.

harry's lips detach from you, swollen, covered in your wetness. his fingers continue thrusting into you, gently now as you ride out your high. he slowly removes them after a moment, his hand and elbows relieving the pressure that kept you pinned to the ground.

you're still whining, your legs aching from struggling against harry's weight. they feel impossibly heavy as you try to bend your knees up. harry just watches you, enjoying the aftermath of his work.

you're still seeing stars by the time harry's pants have come off, his cock barely peeking through the front of his boxers. he starts rubbing himself through the fabric, his breathing becoming labored as you watched him in a daze.

you look up at him innocently through your eyelashes, your mouth slightly ajar as you lean your weight to one elbow, using the other hand to take his place. he lets you take over, slowly stroking his erection through his boxers, enjoying his gaze down at you from above. his hand goes to your cheek, softly tracing the curve of your smile.

his fingers delicately open your lips before roughly shoving them into your mouth. you make a surprised noise, but quickly begin sucking and licking his fingers. he pulls his boxers down with the other hand, and uses your spit to lube himself up. you lick your own fingers and do the same, helping guide his cock into you with a groan of both pleasure and discomfort.

harry gradually thrusts into you, letting you adjust to him, taking his time with you. he watches your aching pussy welcome his cock eagerly, your legs already starting to tremble from the pressure building inside you again. "oh, fuck," harry's voice cracks, his hands gripping your thighs as they continue to involuntarily shake.

a hand flies to your mouth, barely able to contain yourself already. seeing harry's face of relief as his cock slides all the way inside you only makes you clench around him tighter. he lets out a struggled breath, his grip on your thighs only tightening as he spread them open for himself again.

harry's eyes are closed in bliss, his thrusts slow but deep, forcing a whine from your throat each time he's completely inside you. he's starting to sweat, his hair hanging loosely around his forehead, arms flexed to keep his grip on you, his body leaning down into yours as he starts picking up his pace.

harry looks down at you. one of his hands grabs the hand covering your mouth. "let me hear you, angel," he speaks gently but his voice is hungry, immediately earning a soft moan from your lips. he smiles, leaning down to kiss you sloppily.

harry takes this time to really pick up his speed, adjusting his position to roughly thrust himself into your throbbing pussy. his hands grab for the back of your knees, forcing your legs to bend back as he only pushes himself into you more.

"oh my god," you gasp into harry's kiss, your hands wrapping around his shoulders to steady yourself. harry's forehead rests against yours, looking down, glasses fogged up from the heavy breathing and heat from the fire. he's watching himself from your angle, slowing down his thrusting to a torturous pace. you both groan at the feeling and sight of harry pushing his cock completely inside you and slowly pulling back out before thrusting into you again.

"fuck, baby, you take my cock so well, feel so fucking good," harry says breathlessly into your ear. your nails dig into his shoulders as you try not to cum again already just from harry's voice. you're both sweating, faces pressed together, the fire slightly dying beside you but still creating a warm glow.

"y-you're, mmph, i'm so close, again," you cry, letting yourself rest back on the soft rug. you feel so at peace despite the growing tension in your stomach – watching harry prop himself up with one hand on the ground beside you and the other still holding your leg back, his chest heaving as he continues thrusting inside you with a growing pace.

harry looks at your twisted expression, eyes glossed over and cheeks flushed, your tits bouncing as he roughly uses your body for his pleasure.

"yeah?" harry looks at you, his grip on your leg tightening as he fucks you roughy into the rug. "fucking cum for me," he commands from you.

you barely need his permission before you're already over the edge, legs uncontrollably shaking, eyes rolling back, incoherent words getting lost in your broken moans and cries of pain.

it's all harry needs before he feels himself release inside you, still thrusting into you slowly as his cum spills out of your pussy.

your body is shaking from the sensation, your legs still vibrating as you clench around harry's cock. he struggled to finally pull out of you.

still trying to catch his breath, harry lovingly rubs your thighs as he watches your swollen pussy ache for the feeling of his cock again.

"so fucking beautiful, my love," harry sighs, relaxing his body on top of yours, his head in your neck. "my beautiful, beautiful girl," he repeats, covering you in kisses as he showers you with compliments.

you just giggle at him, exhausted, trying to come back down to earth.

"i can't…move," you mumble between breaths, your eyes drooping closed as your feet touch back down on the rug. you feel even more weak than before.

harry hums, kissing your forehead. "it's okay, i've got you, darling," he says with a warm smile.

he stands up, slowly, but isn't in as much pain as he expected. his knees are sore for sure, but otherwise, he couldn't feel better.

he leans down to help you sit up, guiding your body into his arms as he picks you up bridal style, your head resting in his chest. you giggle again but you're too weak to reject the gesture. he carefully carries you to the bathroom just down the hall from the living room.

harry runs you both a warm bath as you watch from the counter. he's still naked, as are you, but it's not awkward or sexual – it's just natural.

he shuts the water off and reaches for you once again. "i'm okay now," you insist, standing from the counter and steadying yourself with his hands. he still helps you walk to the tub before helping you climb inside. the water's extremely hot, but it feels so nice on your sweaty, aching skin.

"i'll be right back, gotta feed the fire, just wait for me, yeah?" harry says before he dips out of the bathroom.

looking around you as you warm the rest of your body with the water, you notice the candles sitting around the tub from the last time you both took a bath together. just the flash of the memory through your brain is enough to make your stomach twist into knots again. harry had you bent over the side of the tub as water splashed everywhere, the feeling of freedom and carelessness intoxicating you both as you cared about nothing but each other's highs.

with a flick of your wet hand, you light all the candles again, and the room is lit with a warm glow. it's not often you use magic anymore, harry prefers to do things manually now that you're both caring for a piece of land, but the convenience of certain spells are too useful to forget completely.

walking back in, harry smirks at all the candles being lit. he admires you for a moment, naked, sweaty, half submerged in the huge clawfoot bathtub surrounded by the glow of the candles. "trying to insinuate something, love?" harry asks, closing the bathroom door behind him.

you blush, curling your knees into your chest. "just thought it'd be nice to have some light," you say softly.

harry grabs you both towels and sets them next to the tub before climbing in himself. he positions himself behind you, holding your body as he guides you to relax into his chest. once you laid your head back, you and harry sat in comfortable, warm silence for a long while.

it takes a few minutes before harry's hands begin rubbing at your stomach, slowly, making ripples throughout the water as you lower your knees, letting harry comfort you. he's humming softly, your head rumbling in his chest. he rests his head next to your own and watches his hands from your perspective.

his rubbing gets further and further down your stomach, running his hands along your waist and hips before finally grabbing at your inner thighs roughly. you let out a pathetic whimper, watching his hands from above the water.

"is it bad that i already need you again?" harry chuckles, half joking but half already turned on. you shake your head quickly, your hips thrusting up for relief, moaning at his words. "no, need you, please," you respond desperately, looking over at him.

harry's eyes are darker once more, watching as his hands gradually move to your sensitive pussy. you groan in response, but harry quickly kisses you to cover it. "i know, baby, just let me take care of it," he says into your lips.

slowly circling your clit with soft fingers, harry watches as your eyes droop more and more from the building pleasure. eventually his fingers are back inside of you, gently pumping in and out. his head turns back to your body as he watches you react to him. his other hand goes for your tits, grabbing one roughly from just above the surface of the water.

while it feels good being teased you're insanely desperate for harry once again. your hand reaches behind you, feeling harry's growing erection against your back. harry's grip on you tightens as your hand starts stroking his cock slowly under the water.

"fucking dirty girl," he groans under his breath, taking his fingers out of your pussy to continue rubbing your clit. you cry out at the loss of feeling, your hand squeezing around harry as he just enjoys the feeling.

soon, harry's moved your hips to align with his, your arms holding your body up on either side of the tub as you slowly insert harry back inside your pussy once again. the familiar feeling is only enhanced by being underwater, his cock sliding in and out of you with ease as you adjust to the feeling.

"oh my god," you sigh, your stomach already tightening, thighs still a bit shaky. harry's guiding your hips expertly, groaning in pleasure watching your ass dip in and out of the water onto his lap. his head is resting against the edge of the tub, mind blank, solely focused on your pleasure and his.

"fuck, harry," you whimper again, rolling your hips around on his cock before thrusting it inside you again. harry wishes you could see just how sexy you look from this angle, your hair flowing down your back, your skin glistening in the candlelight, the water droplets running down your hips, it's enough to make him resist the urge to finish already.

"you're so perfect," harry groans. he smacks your ass, slapping the water with it, causing you to squeal and quicken your pace. the same filthy moans are still spilling from your mouth, hardly able to contain yourself in this situation. something about using the time meant to help each other clean up to only continue fucking makes you feel so dirty, so used, and it's driving you crazy.

harry suddenly stops you, much to your disappointment, and tells you to trust him. "just get out and stand up," he says.

you do as he says, and eventually harry has you bent over the bathroom counter, barely lit by the candles behind you. he slowly returns his cock inside of you, your bodies dripping water everywhere.

as harry's thrusts become more consistent, one hand grabs for your shoulder and the other for your damp hair. he forces your face to look in the mirror, your eyes barely open from the pleasure. "watch," he commands. your eyes shot open at his voice, tracing the shape of your shadows in the mirror in front of your face.

harry loses himself in you, his head rolling back in pleasure hearing you struggle to take his cock for a second time. you're trying to moan, say anything at all, but your voice is incomprehensible as harry only becomes rougher with you.

"god damn it, [y/n]," harry spits out, his voice clearly exhausted. his hands travel back to your tits, pulling you back up into him as he continues pounding into you from behind. you're a mess in his hands as they roughly grope your tits.

"look at you," harry growls into your neck, looking into the mirror just in front of you as his gaze meets yours. "so fucking sexy,"

your hands desperately grip the edge of the counter for balance, your legs getting more and more weak by the second. harry pushes you further over the counter, his moans becoming urgent.

"i'm gonna fill you up because you're fucking mine, yeah? look at this perfect body of yours," harry's voice strains, his sweaty chest against your back as he forces you to continue watching yourself get pounded in the mirror, one arm over your chest and the other holding your hips. the light of the candles is just enough to let you see harry's dark expression. "fucking perfect, just for me,"

you haven't been able to get a single word out, your mind spinning as harry only gets more and more desperate, his pace getting sloppy.

"fuck, baby, just be good for me and let me cum inside your tight little pussy, hm? let me show you what's mine,"

you're already starting to cum just from harry's words. the overwhelming pleasure racks your body harshly as harry continues to use you for himself. shaking, barely able to stand without his help, your voice is breaking as you cry out in ecstasy for the third time just this morning.

harry's barely able to last much longer. his thrusts have slowed to uneven, jerky motion as he feels his cum spilling deep inside you. breathy moans and aching bodies, harry rests against you with your body limp against the counter. he lifts his head from your neck to kiss your skin softly, everywhere, slowly helping guide you back to the tub for a second time. your legs are weaker than before and you're barely able to contribute as harry leans you into the water, still kissing your damp skin.

"i love you, i love you," he's mumbling between kisses.

you're too weak and dizzy to respond in any way, still trying to catch your breath as harry begins cleaning your skin. he rubs a soft rag along your chest, neck, back, shoulders, and arms. the whole time he's complimenting you lovingly, a gentle touch and warm gaze upon your tired face.

after washing himself, harry also dries you off, carrying you back to bed before getting you both dressed in comfortable, warm pajamas. "just rest for today, my love," he told you as he laid you down. you reach for his hands. "stay?"

harry smiles. you didn't have to ask, it was literally his bed too, but he admires how soft and innocent you are in this moment. though he loves to be rough with you like he just was, there's nothing more special in the world to him than the gentleness between you two. his whole life has been nothing but challenges, setbacks, problems, and you're everything but. he just wants to be soft and gentle with you.

harry climbs under the sheets, his body also succumbing to the ache and exhaustion. he wraps himself around you, already falling asleep against his chest. harry joins not long after, finally getting his much needed sleep without the threat of his nightmares.

a few weeks later it's just a bit warmer out than it has been, so you and harry immediately started the day doing outdoor chores while you could. harry was chopping wood as you cleaned up around the cottage garden. it was too cold most of the year to grow much of anything out of it, but you still liked to keep it manageable for the smaller animals that stopped by to look around.

you also took the time to admire harry, shirtless, sweaty, groaning each time he drops the ax into another cut of firewood. his body had become well built from all the manual labor he's been doing lately, carrying entire trunks or stumps of trees out of the forest, lifting heavy bags of mulch and dirt for you, digging out the flower bed around the cottage, he was more muscular and toned than you'd ever seen him. it never mattered what harry's body looked like to you, you always found him attractive no matter what, but you couldn't deny that his toned back and broad shoulders got you more worked up than usual lately.

it was nice getting to work on the home with each other, a comfortable silence filling the day broken by the occasional question, favor, kiss, or compliment. it was peaceful, this routine you both had, and it felt so natural to work with each other. you hardly had to communicate your ideas because you were often thinking the same things.

tea in the morning, chores once the sun is out, taking a dip in the ocean at sunset, and having a warm home cooked dinner in the dark, the cottage lit from within from candles and the fireplace. it was perfect. for both of you.

and, of course, the sex had never slowed down as well.

you had both joked at the beginning of your move that you didn't think you could ever stop yourselves now that you were isolated from the world, but that's exactly what ended up happening. neither of your desires could be relieved no matter how many times you tried. not that you wanted them to go away by any means, it was just overwhelming, the feral need to spend hours each day pleasuring each other in every way possible. it was always passionate and desperate for more, never becoming repetitive or any less exciting. it was exactly what you both needed and wanted all the time.

as the sun was setting for the day, you and harry sat together and shared an orange you had gotten at the market just a few miles away earlier that week. you were lucky to be close enough to something that offered fresh produce, even in the colder parts of the year. harry watched the waves crashing against the sand, his knees to his chest as you both steady yourself on a large rock between the cottage and the water.

"thank you," harry says softly. you look over at him, his hands now empty as he's swallowing the last of his orange slices. you finish yours as well. "of course," you respond.

harry shakes his head. "no. really. thank you, [y/n], for everything." he says, still watching the sea. you blush, giving him a soft smile before turning to watch it as well. "i'm finally, really, truly happy. for the first time in my life, i feel at peace." harry explains, still speaking softly just over the crashing waves.

you could cry just from harry's words. all you've ever wanted was for him to feel safe. he's had such a difficult start in life and didn't deserve what happened to him, or what he was forced to do. he deserved simplicity. a normal life in a normal home doing normal chores. he deserved to be happy.

overcome with love, you stand from the rock and grab harry's hand, pulling him with you. he silently follows you down the beach. once you're a few yards away from the shore, you pull down the straps of the dress you had been working in off your shoulders, letting the material slide right off your body and onto the sand as you continue heading towards the water.

you turn to look at harry, and he's stunned at how beautiful you are. the shape of your body against the warm sunset over the water, nothing but a pair of panties covering your sweaty skin. your hair was flowing in the salty breeze of the ocean, hands reaching for his as your feet began to touch the water.

harry's ripped and dirty blue jeans come off as well as his glasses, leaving them behind on the sand as he grabs for your hand. you walk into the water together, slightly shivering from the lingering chill beneath the warm surface, but quickly adjusting to the temperature. harry's only admiring you, like he always does, as you dip your head under the water and come up, pushing the hair out of your face.

harry does the same, wiping his face of the sweat and dirt that's collected over the work day with the salty water. this has become one of his favorite parts of your routine together, cooling off in the ocean after a long day. not just to wash off the sweat and stress of the day, but also to admire you in all your glory under the shining sun.

harry wastes no time reaching for you, pulling you into him as you float in his grasp. he holds you for a moment, mesmerized by the light in your eyes, a smile permanently fixed on his face. "my beautiful girl," he reminds you, his forehead leaning against yours. you hum, reaching your hands to his neck as you pull him in for a heated kiss.

you've had sex in the ocean a few times now, and it's quickly become one of your favorites. it's the ultimate form of freedom being naked together making love in the gentle waves, harry holding you around his waist as he hugs your body into his.

most nights you're both too tired from working to go further than sloppy making out and feeling each other up; but other nights, like tonight, you're both too desperate to care if it hurts.

as harry continues kissing you he carries you back to the shore, your legs still around his waist as he lays you down onto the sand. the water just barely washes over harry's legs as it meets the shoreline. you relax into the warm sand beneath you, harry already pulling your panties off. you giggle at his eagerness. he smirks, his hands gripping your waist hungrily.

you can see harry's erection through his soaking wet boxers barely hanging off his hips. just as eagerly, you pull them down for him as he kicks them to the side.

harry easily slides his cock inside of you, letting out a struggled sigh of relief at the feeling. no matter what's going on around him, harry will always feel perfectly in place when he's inside of you.

your hands are tangled in his wet hair, gripping tighter as he bottoms out. he moans desperately, leaning in for another kiss. his pace evens out to a familiar rhythm, your body wrapping around him as he fucks you into the wet sand. the warm sunset is perfectly met with the chilly breeze of the water that's still waving over both of you gently. each time it gives you shivers, your body arching into harry's from the shocking feeling.

harry's not sure if he's ever wanted to finish this quickly before. it was so perfect, this moment, the sun, the waves, you. he just couldn't believe this was his life. making love to the most beautiful girl in the world where the land meets the sea. he never thought life could be this simple and beautiful, but with you it was effortless.

he pulled away from the kiss to simply look at you, eyes drooping, cheeks blushing, eyebrows pinched together in desperation. he smiled. "i love you," he says so simply, his thrusts beginning to stutter against you. you smile back, eyes still half open. "love you, harry, so much," you manage to say between heavy breaths.

you pull him back in for a kiss, and feel his body weaken on top of you, leaning on his elbows for support in the uneven sand. "baby, baby," he tries to warn you, but you just continue kissing him and wrap your legs back around his waist, pulling him deeper into your pussy.

he completely unravels, pumping his cum inside you as he cries against your lips. "fuck," he keeps groaning in a broken voice. you can feel yourself letting go as well, your thighs squeezing around harry's waist as the water crashes into your body again, making you shake even more.

you both enjoy the moments after your climaxes together, letting the water continue to run over you as the sun's light falls below the horizon. harry, still inside you, his body resting on top of yours, tells you he loves you in the softest, sleepiest voice he can manage.

you kiss his head, reminding him how much you love him.

you both eventually sit up, covered in sand, and chuckle to each other about it. harry invites you back into the water where he washes you off, giving you a loving kiss under the dim sky.

he continues holding you there in the gentle waves, the emerging stars lighting the sky above you. he's a bit cold now, but he couldn't be more warm inside. harry just loves you and the little life you've built with him here on the sea. he feels happy, loved, and completely at peace in the ocean with you in his arms.

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rainydayathogwarts · 7 days ago

Text

Think of me - Remus Lupin

ˋ°•*⁀➷ Phantom of the Opera

☆ 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ☆ 𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ☆ 𝐌𝐀𝐉𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇 ☆

summary: Sirius has to bring moral support with to come watch your debut as Christine in the Phantom of the Opera. Despite the judgemental pureblooded families around the pair, they are both serenaded by your enchanting singing a/n: this is more of an introductory chapter, the real story begins in the next one!

Sirius had not exercised his skills on being the ‘perfect pureblood’ in just about, well, since he was taught them. However tonight, he hadn’t only gone to the extent of putting them into practise, but he even taught Remus the few rules he could remember, and everything about theatre etiquette.

All to impress you.

His favourite family member, and the only pureblood with perfect reputation he could stand being around.

Walking into the theatre, Sirius knew that he and Remus never looked better: in old, untouched suits Sirius had specifically tailored to fit them perfectly, all to put every other snobby, rich pureblood coming to watch you to shame. He didn’t hide his smirk as he and his best friend walked into the theatre, aware of the heads turning to look at him, long haired, pierced, tattooed, and his best friend, scarred, freckled, a half-blood. Remus nervously fiddled with the end of his blazer, playing with the metal cuff-link, but to outsiders, his scary resting face gave them the impression he was confidently fixing his appearance, judging all those around him.

Sirius patted Remus’s shoulder as they finally reached the front row of seats, and Remus walked in first, though he didn’t have to move far because their seats were front and centre: the best seats in the house.

Courtesy of you, of course, though the wealthy families around the two men didn’t need to know that. “I could get used to this.” Sirius whispered to Remus, spreading his legs slightly and looking around him. He gaze caught on a curly-haired boy to his right. His younger brother, who nodded curtly to him when their eyes met. Regulus was sat with your parents a couple rows back; clearly you hadn't offered them any free tickets. The older couple was engaged in an enthusiastically fake conversation with another couple, but their rich laughs reached Sirius’s ears, and he shuddered, turning to face the front again.

The last bell rang in the theatre, signalling any wanderers to finally make their way to their seats. Remus’s gaze was drawn down to the orchestra below them, hidden by a railing above the pit. As the lights died down and the orchestra began playing the overture, Remus turned his line of sight to the empty stage. Remus wasn’t a theatre connoisseur. Unlike these wealthy pureblooded families surrounding him, he had only been to a community theatre once when he snuck out of the orphanage with the few friends he had to watch a local production of Matilda. But now, as the live music flooded his veins and the actors started appearing on stage, he decided he liked the rich culture of theatres in the wizarding world.

Remus barely understood the start of the show, but the second he spotted you across the stage — with unmistakable features that belonged to an entire bloodline of Blacks, but so undeniably you — he was taken.

From everything Remus had learned from your parents, he always hated them, but he couldn’t help but agree with them on the fact that you had more than just links to the most powerful wizards in the industry. You had talent. No wonder they had sent you to beauxbatons, where your full potential as a performer could be reached. Your voice was melodic, angelic, serenading even.

So when the show ended and you smiled so widely through your first bows in your run as the lead in the Phantom of The Opera, Remus silently promised you that he would think of you, think of you fondly when you’ll part ways tonight. He’ll remember you once in a while, or perhaps even more than that, because it will be impossible to get your enchanting cadence out of his mind.

taglist: @rory-cakes, @boromoony, @stta-princess, @arielthee-potterhead, @lettertovera

@ravisinghs-wife, @amatoanima, @starry-remus, @pain-in-the-ashe, @hiireadstuff, @superlegend216, @treefairy-28, @superlegend216, @kitkatkl, @juliet-017,

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hermesserpent-stuff · 4 months ago

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another radio script for Billy

The Whizz radio intro tones-

Billy Batson then starts speaking through a slightly crackly radio as Fawcett is a city someone lost to time, given its connection to the Rock of Eternity.

Welcome to WHIZZ Radio: Where we give the latest news, truths, and views of Fawcett City. Brought to you by your host, me, Billy Batson.

Today we’ll begin with our community news! Atlas would like to thank the people of Fawcett for their influx of offerings. We will all find a little more endurance this week. Captain Marvel also expressed thanks for the offerings left at his shrine and will continue to try his best for our city.

Tonight is the new moon; a good time for spells of renewal, fresh starts, and seeking a way out of the darkness. Keep an eye out for candle sales so you can perform your renewing rituals at a reasonable cost. Beck’s Storehouse is running a sale on all black candles and as always a percentage of their sales goes to the local soup kitchen. Be sure to make a pit stop there before midnight tonight. I know I will!

Onto traffic! Currently, there are still delays on Mainstreet, but the fissures to Hades have been sealed up. Major thanks to Persephone. There are no other traffic delays to report.

Heres the weather! There has been a lot of Milfoil flowers springing up from Cap’s lightning strikes lately. Watch the skies for oncoming war. There will be a thin fog tonight, watch out for strangers lurking in the mists. Only go home with those you are sure are your friends and family. Spirits might pretend to be the people that you know.

Right into the Capes and Crooks news bulletin. Dr. Sivana is still missing and will likely stay so for a while. Arson Fiend is back on the streets. Double check your fire insurance and keep an eye out for the pryokentic man. He has a tendency to go for businesses not insured by Sheild & Stone Insurance despite being fired from said company after his first arrest. You’d think hed stop showing company loyalty after the checks stopped coming, but nope! That dead hoofer seems set on getting everyone to sign up for Shield & Stone. Wild.

This radio program is brought to you by Eloise’s Herbs and Verbs. A shop for all your cooking and spell-casting needs. If there's anything you need from Sunday dinner to Wednesday night curses, Eloise has you covered. Don't get your materials from the chain stores, get it from a local. Grown with care and sure to work every time.

*Little jingle*

Welcome back to the program. Time for our daily sister city’s segment.

Annnnd….

*sarcasm fills Billy’s voice*

I, Billy, your host, has been told that I need to apologize officially to Black Adam and state clearly that, my, Billy Batson’s, opinions do not reflect the opinion of WHIZZ radio.

Im sorry for calling Black Adam a kook and someone bearing a grudge unbecoming of a king and calling him a ancient man-child.

There. Happy?

*indidstict producer noise*

Perfect. Onwards and upwards.

Kahndaq continues to thrive despite the work of the UN and lack of response from the Justice League. Queen Bee has attempted to launch an attack on their northern border. Black Adam was quick to remind the world that while an ex-champion out of the good graces of the Wizard, he is still a champion with his own patrons' support.

He threw a tank fifty feet and none in Kahndaq died from the attempted raid. The Justice League has expressed some worry over this feat of strength, but this reporter would like to remind people that Superman has been tossing robots for years. To me, it seems like a bunch of floy floy.

Fawcett still stands with Kahndaq and recognizes the country as sovereign while most of the world sees it as illegitimate. Hold in there.

Adam has not been seen in Fawcett for a week. Which is good. Means he's focusing on what he's supposed to instead of harassing Cap like a stalker. Good for him. Maybe he actually going to anger management. Good for him!!

Guest speaker- interview or!! Opinion peoce- billy raving about anyone. Anyone. Good or bad.

Now its time again for Billy's opinion of the day!

So! Id like to take a moment and chatter about our other midwest hero, Flash! He’s been around town a few times and Im sure everyone heard about his big charity race with Supes!

He’s a lot like Cap in how he helps out around his home town and he’s a great listener.

Just listen to this recent Facebook post by Nancy; ‘Flash recently helped my son find his way home. Joseph got turned around on the opposite side of town, without any phone battery. He was so nervous about trying to find any help, as most of the stores on the street were closed. Flash saw Joseph trying not to cry and helped him on his way home. Was nice enough to tell him what to do if it ever happened again. Real sweetheart, he is officially our family's favorite hero.’ What a story.

He also comes to help when Mercury gets in a racing mood, which is always nice. It helps keep drivers and random runners from randomly getting whisked to the racing stadium.

Please dont forget to donate to the Flash drive that Central City is hosting tomorrow to help feed their speedsters. All that running makes them real hungry!.

*Mercury intro*

Ah hello Mercury!! Here, a few viewers sent in a few gifts for you as thanks for yesterdays warning.

*chimes*

New mail? Thank you, Mercury!

*shuffling papers*

Ah! Keep an eye out for a Victorian-looking child with an orange cat and pointed black hair. Klarion is back in town and may wish to cut a chaotic deal with you. Hopefully, he’s listening in. hey, Klarion! I didnt forget about our dinner plans. Please meet me at the Waffle House at 5. Please please dont forget that we planned to hang out because you got distracted with making chaos. Thanks pal!

With that, our show comes to an end.

Do good, and good will follow.

And keep an eye on the sky for lightning!

This has been Billy Batson, signing off!

#hermes speaks #billy the radio host au #billy batson #shazam #captain marvel

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mitigatedchaos · 3 months ago

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One snowy night (you find it snowing even in Florida), a wizard approaches you and shows you some of his fantastical wizard powers. He then offers you $10 million to become a Christmas character for 10 years.

Your lawyer, who was drinking Christmas beverages at your house, reads through the contract. He says that the contract seems reasonable, with no obvious loopholes. Once the contract is over, you will return to your original self at the same biological age you were when it started. You may pick a gender variant you like, but the form will obey the same general style (e.g. you may not pick "that guy, but as a handsome Hollywood actor").

Additional Information...

You will receive a flying sled. The sled has a comfortable magical bubble around it which ensures that the air is reasonably still and pressurized. It can fly up to the speed and altitude of a 747, and carry up to 2 tons.

You will be immune to arctic temperatures, although you will still need oxygen, food, and water.

Every year, in the 48 hours before and after Christmas, you may use Christmas time magic to enable you to visit every occupied dwelling, and every child, in the entire world. (Christmas time magic is complicated, and may adjust if people start celebrating Christmas at a different time of year.)

If you have chosen Santa Claus...

The portal to your Christmas village domain is located at the North Pole. Your realm is a stereotypical Christmas village, with all the alpine trappings, located in a mountain valley. Local temperatures are always just below freezing. A full course of holiday food and drink is automatically generated every day, and firewood is replenished automatically.

You possess a magical gift bag from which you may withdraw one toy desired by a child within a 250ft range, per child (up to 18), per year. The item must be generally accepted as a toy (so no guns, tanks, bombs, gold bars, plutonium, etc), although for older children it may be acceptable to generate a gaming PC. The item may be worth no more than $6,000 (anchored at the start of your term as Santa) - if the item would be worth over $6,000, such as a luxury SUV for a teenager, it arrives damaged or aged, until it is only worth $6,000. You may create toys produced by no existing manufacturer, assuming the technology exists for something similar, and are required to do no engineering work. The True Spirit of Christmas prohibits you from deliberately creating dangerous toys. You may not create new video games, movies, or books, although you may copy any of these created throughout human history, even if you don't have access to it. (This excludes classified information, development plans for bombs, corporate records, etc.)

You may create a lump of coal (or charcoal) at will. You may produce one cubic meter of coal, charcoal, firewood, or lumber per minute. It appears gradually in an empty space in front of you and gently floats to the ground, making it difficult to injure someone.

Once per year per individual, you may sense whether an individual is naughty or nice. This is a form of Christmas Magic, and you have little insight into how it classifies people (your lawyer thinks it may be Confucian, but the contract is vague). Whether you give people gifts or coal anyway is up to you.

You may recruit Christmas elves for the remaining duration of your term as Santa Claus. While inside the Christmas village, a contracted elf will become the 4-foot-tall Christmas elf version of themselves, and become healthy, strong, unaging, and immune to disease. They must work 8 hours a day, 5 days a week (religious observances exempt), or they will be automatically ejected from the Christmas village. Christmas elves may use Christmas magic to create toys not desired by any specific child. This takes them 1 minute per $30 of toy value. Your Christmas village automatically supports, with room and board, a population of up to 50,000 elves. It also sports truly massive warehouses for holding toys prior to distribution. You may access any toy stored in this way using your magical gift bag. All Christmas elf contracts expire at the end of your term. Any elves still in your village, as well as their belongings, will be deposited in temporary dwellings in a safe location somewhere in the State of New York. They will continue to have pointed ears afterwards.

You may not give gift cards or cash (Wizard Law prohibits counterfeiting currency). However, you may give digital assets (such as lootboxes or Steam games). You may choose to automatically compensate companies in an account with your realm, from which they may withdraw some amount of toys created by your elves. The associated website is part of the Christmas village's domain, and requires little to no oversight on your part. The toys arrive in cardboard boxes 7-10 business days after they are requested.

You may legally eat any cookies and milk you find, at any time. These count as complete nutrition for you. No matter how much you attempt to diet, you will find that you cannot lose your holly jolly weight.

You may create ordinary Christmas decorations, such as garlands, at will. The decorations created in this way are generally made out of wood, paint, pine, twine, and so on.

When using Christmas time magic to visit the children of the world, you may enter buildings using a form of magical projection. This allows you to leave gifts, eat cookies, and so on, but you aren't able to steal items and bring them back with you from inside locked or closed buildings.

If you have chosen the Grinch...

Your domain is a very large cave located in the largest mountain on your continent. It is reasonably well-lit, ventilated, and habitable. There is an unlimited supply of awful, smelly food and water. Somehow, this food seems strangely appetizing, but other people will recoil at the scent.

You possess a magical theft bag that helps you to steal Christmas. Items so stolen are transported to parts of your cave, where they are heaped into large piles. You may steal Christmas-themed items such as Christmas gifts, food, and Christmas decorations and even Christmas trees. These items become legally yours - you may even melt down golden Christmas ornaments and sell the gold for scrap. (Overtly religious items such as nativity scenes are generally protected by the True Spirit of Christmas, unless they are against the True Spirit of Christmas in some way.) Your cave has many rooms, and you may choose to divert food items to a frozen room for later, if you like.

You may also steal other winter-holiday-themed items, including gifts for New Year's Eve, gifts intended for other winter holidays, and so on. If you attempt to steal a non-holiday item, it is possible that you may be arrested by the authorities. Only holiday items can go in your magical theft bag.

Your may return Christmas. Using your magical theft bag, you may place items back where you originally found them, or back with the original owners. However, you may also choose to redistribute Christmas and give items to different people, or put them in different places. Even when using Christmas time magic, you may not e.g. place Christmas trees in front of a flying aircraft, as this is against the True Spirit of Christmas.

Unlike Santa Claus, when using Christmas time magic, you may also enter stores, warehouses, and vehicles, to steal Christmas from Amazon. You may even take down the "Merry Christmas" signs at Target.

Your holiday sense allows you to sense the range, direction, and location of nearby Holiday items to steal.

You may steal holiday music. Not pirate, but steal. If you are walking through the grocery store and hear a rendition of "All I want for Christmas is you," you may rip the song to your device of choice, and the file containing it on the originating server will be deleted.

You may create contraptions. These machines are always composed of junk and tend to have a Rube Goldberg element to them. They are not particularly durable. If the contraption is doing something unusual, it is powered by Christmas theft magic. You can only focus enough to create a contraption with magical effects if you are trying to do so in order to steal or return Christmas (or other winter holidays). (The effects of magical contraptions are limited, but generally do allow you to steal Christmas more effectively or efficiently. The more powerful a magical contraption is, the more comedic it must be.) Other contraptions are limited to what can be accomplished via ordinary technology.

You have one loyal dog. Though surprisingly resourceful for a dog, unlike the Christmas elves, he can't create any Christmas gifts at all.

In either case, you may visit people and generally travel and talk to people outside of Christmas.

#polls #tumblr polls

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