#they couldn’t have found a way to make all of it work in cottage living or something ??

[plumdale]

The fact that you have to purchase 3 different EPs to have all ts4 animals lol

[safetypinxtales]

Santa baby | Azriel

summary: it's nearing solstice and you have an extensive list for your mate Santa.

words: 1.5k

warnings: fluff, a bit of seduction, Azriel is stupid in love, like absolutely whipped, reader sits in Azriel's lap, feminine reader (lipgloss, hair below shoulder-length), otherwise neutrally described reader, no use of y/n, it's an AU where everything is the same except Santa is a thing.

notes: well, it's been a while but it's Christmas and I have free time for once so why not write? I whipped this one up in like an hour whilst waiting for our guests to arrive today, and it has minimal editing, but it's something light and sweet for the holidays. Hope you enjoy and merry Christmas! 🤍

masterlist

The glass is cold in your hand as you waltz into the living room. The winter sun had already set on the quaint seaside cottage you shared with Azriel. He had surprised you with it after your mating ceremony last solstice, and as you took in the shadows dancing around on the walls, cast by dim candle light, a feeling of contentedness enveloped you. The amber liquid in the glass sloshed with each step you took, but never quite enough to spill over the rim. It was a practiced routine, bringing him a drink whenever you found your mate a little too stuck in his work.

His head lifted from the paperwork he had been going over as he sensed your presence entering the living room, the hand that had been carefully turning a leaf falling slack on the armrest.

His eyes dropped down to your hips, watching them sway with every step you took, gaze fixed as if in a trance.

You let out a low hum as you reached him, extending the glass. His eyes met yours as he put the paperwork aside and accepted your offering.

Slowly – gracefully and practiced – you slid into his lap, one arm snaking its way around his shoulder. The warmth of his hands on your waist spread all the way into your chest, making your heart beat just that little bit faster.

Grabbing his face, feeling the slight stubble of his cheek under your palm, you planted your lips on his. 

The kiss was soft and warm, and perfectly matched the feeling blooming in your chest has he murmured a low:

“Hello, my love.”

“Hello,” you hummed back and felt that slow tug in your chest that you had come to love so. 

You gave a loving tug back and felt Azriel shudder beneath you.

Letting you gaze flit over his face, you marveled at his features. 

The dark lashes framing those mesmerizing hazel eyes of his. The colour of the finest of honey, all swirling and golden. 

The constellations of freckles adorning his cheeks, like a map only you were privy to read.

His lips, currently smeared in your lipgloss and stretched into a dopey smile making him look just as lovesick as you felt inside.

“Hey, Az?” You broke the warm silence that had enveloped you.

“Yes, my love?” He murmured, his eyes flicking down to your lips briefly before finding their way back to yours.

You leaned in to give him another soft peck, only pulling away to rest your forehead against his.

“I have.. I’ve been thinking about something,” you whispered, feeling the breath from his curious yes? on your lips. “About what I want from Santa this year.”

He pulled back slightly at your words, eyebrows raised and that dopey smile still plastered on that pretty mouth of his. He knew as well as you that Santa meant Azriel himself.

“Oh, really? Please, do tell,” his curious hum sent you heart fluttering as you settled in further in his lap.

“Well, do you remember that dagger I liked so much when we visited summer? The gold one?” You purred and ran your fingers through his hair. His eyes fluttered as your nails lightly scratched his scalp.

“The one with the eye-sized ruby in the pommel?” You nodded. “My love, that blade is useless. You couldn’t even cut an apple with it, much less cause any real damage,” he scoffed, ”you’d be better off fighting someone with a cotton ball. That you could at least shove down their throat – hope they choke to death.”

His eyes gleamed at the gasp you let out. The soft swat you landed on his chest drawing out a quiet chuckle.

“I know it’s useless in combat, but it’s so pretty isn’t it? Besides, why would I need to fight when I have you to defend me?” You chirped with a flutter of lashes. 

You just managed to catch his eyes darkening before he pulled you into yet another kiss, this time firmer. Purposeful. 

Claiming.

When he pulled away his breath was heavier and his voice rougher as he swore, “I will always protect you, always defend you.”

“Even if I’m in the wrong?”

“No such thing.”

Your toes curled at his admission, and the hand that was tangled in his hair tightened its grip.

“Good answer,” you mused, and his thumbs swiped at your waist – up and down. 

“What else should Santa put on his list?”

You pretended to think for a moment, pursing your lips into a glossy pout, knowing just how crazy the act drove your mate.

And just as you could have predicted, his eyes dropped down to your mouth, his smile fading slightly, his eyelids growing heavier.

“Well you know that necklace that Feyre has? That she wore on our mating ceremony?” You asked.

He nodded in response, eyes still focused on your lips.

You let your cheeks pull into a broad smile, “well I saw that the jewellery shop by the Palace of Thread and Jewels has its twin in gold.”

“The diamond necklace you kept sighing about for weeks after the ceremony? The one that had me questioning if it was the mating bond that was making you so blue?” He questioned, his voice laced with disbelief.

“That’s the one,” you replied. Removing your hand from where it was nestled against his head, you moved to push your hair over your shoulder, exposing your décolletage.

”Wouldn’t it fit me so well?” You asked, letting your hands graze the bottom of your throat, following the curve down to the top of your chest, watching his eyes track the movement with a predatory focus.

Azriel’s throat bobbed, “It would.”

Your hand fell to his arm, giving the muscle hiding under his sweater a light squeeze. 

“Yeah, you really think so?” You gave him your best hopeful look, batting your eyelashes for added effect.

He simply nodded, too much of a lovestruck, mess of a male in your presence to form any actual words. 

“That’s good,” you hum, “now I only have one last thing on my wish list.”

Your mate didn’t verbally respond, but you took the squeeze of his hands on your hips as a sign to keep going.

“An apartment in the city.”

That seemed to bring Azriel back to life.

“An apartment? Is the cottage I got for us not enough?” He asked with a playful glint in his eyes.

“Well, no, I love the cottage – you know that. But sometimes it would be nice to have somewhere closer to go to after having spent the evening with the others, don’t you think?”

“It takes half a second to winnow from there to here,” he deadpanned, causing you to roll your eyes.

“But I think it would be nice to stay in the city sometimes. To be able to walk home, a stroll along the Sidra,” you gave him your sweetest, most innocent smile and added, “just you and me?”

You could see his resolve melting, and felt the largeness of his hand leave your waist in favour of gently stroking your thigh. 

“An apartment, huh?” His soft voice still had some reluctance hanging on to it, but you could tell he was warming up to the idea pretty quickly.

Your head bobbed up and down in confirmation, and an amused sigh left his lips.

“You must think mighty highly of yourself, dear, to think Santa would give you such special treatment,” he mused as he pulled you closer. 

“Well, I just have it on a hunch that Santa might know that my wonderful, loving mate, who – if I haven’t already mentioned – loves me so,” Azriel’s eyes crinkled at the corners as you continued, “works for the high lord.”

Amusement danced in his eyes, and a soft red glow started making its way up his cheeks.

“So maybe someone like that, like me. Like the mate of the Night court spymaster, deserves to be a little spoiled.” You leaned in to kiss his jaw, and stopped to whisper in his ear, “it sure would make her happy.”

He hummed in agreement, his thumb stroking across your thigh at a slow but steady pace.

“Besides,” you continued, leaning back to look him in the eyes, “I have been such a good girl this year.” 

Azriel’s administrations on you leg stopped, his large hand instead coming up to cup your face. 

He hummed lowly, eyes locked on your lips, eyebrows drawn together in a pensive look.

“You really have,” he murmured.

Again, he pulled you into a kiss, molding his lips to yours. You let yourself melt into him – your wonderful, loving spymaster – into the warmth radiating from his large body. Into the secure grip of his hands and the gentle softness of his lips. You let yourself melt into your mate, with no care in the world, besides kissing him back.

When you finally pulled away you leaned in close to his ear and whispered, “if Santa is very kind to me, I promise I will be just as good next year.”

“Yeah?” His voice was thick with emotion.

“Yes, maybe even better.” You promised, and leaned back to look at him. 

You cupped his jaw, the slight stubble adorning the skin scratching your hand in the most comforting way.

He shook his head slightly, his gaze never leaving yours.

“Not possible.”

Want to be added to my taglist?

tags: @missussimonriley @azrielshadows1nger @anuttellaa @tele86 @aria-chikage @lilah-asteria

(since I haven't written in a while, lmk if you want to be removed)

[plumbieyt]

Planting Plums Legacy Challenge by Plumbie and The Plum Family

Do you enjoy wholesome family gameplay, storytelling and the cosy side of The Sims 4? If so, the Planting Plums Legacy Challenge is for you.

My Inspiration For the Challenge:

My favourite aspect of The Sims is the family gameplay and all the stories that can arise from it. I love using the game as a vessel for telling stories, with that in mind, I thought I would create a legacy challenge built around all my favourite things in the game.

Each generation will have a focus on cosy and wholesome gameplay, primarily focusing on big families, but this doesn’t mean it will shy away from drama. It wouldn’t be realistic if I weren’t to include some sort of tension, so in each generation there will be conflicts but they will be mild and used in order to add depth to the family.

What Makes it Different:

One thing that separates this legacy challenge from the usual one is that I’ll be writing it one generation at a time. I’m doing this because I want to build this legacy with my community (the Plum family) on YouTube so that the Sims and stories will be a joint effort, making it a unique legacy due to the many inputs. It also means the story will grow organically, as it won’t necessarily be planned. This doesn’t mean you can’t take part in this legacy until we’ve reached the final generation because I’ve created the first generation, and we can play alongside as we grow the legacy.

The goal for this legacy challenge is to create a beautiful family that you’ll fall in love with and cherish all the members, even the troublesome ones. If this sounds like something you’d want to be part of, you can always comment, email or DM me your ideas for the legacy, as this is a community effort. So, let’s begin growing the family that will be known as the Plumtrees. 🌱🌸

General Rules & Packs Needed:

There won’t be any rules for this legacy challenge, as I want storytelling to be the focus point of it, but I’d recommend only using cheats if you absolutely need to use them, as sometimes, there is more fun and imagination in the limitations.

As of right now, you’ll need Cottage Living, Seasons and Get to Work. But if you don’t have these packs, feel free to adapt the challenge in your own way so that you can participate. Keep in mind the list of packs needed will grow bigger once the third generation is born.

Generation I: The Plum Seed

Some of your earliest memories were of running around your grandmother’s bakery, helping her bake all sorts of treats. You always said you’d take over her business when you were older, but sadly, when you were a child, she passed away, and your family couldn’t afford to keep the bakery.

As you became older, your passion shifted from baked goods to flowers. You found great comfort in creating all sorts of bouquets and writing down the different varieties of flowers, as they gave you the purpose you lost after your grandmother passed.

Growing up in a city meant nature was scarce; you spent time after school wandering around botanical gardens and finding wildflowers in the concrete, but this wasn’t enough, so the moment you became a young adult, you made the daring decision to move to an old cottage in Henford on Bagley.

Towering buildings and busy streets have been all you’ve ever known, so living in the sticks is going to take some getting used to, but as you stand on the doorstep of a new life, with baskets full of flowers, notebooks, baking ingredients and a dream to open a florist in the heart of the village, you feel that a slip in the mud won’t bother you a single bit.

Aspiration:

Best-selling Author: You want to write nonfiction books about your interest in flowers and bouquets to share your passion with the world.

Traits:

Love the Outdoors

Creative

Ambitious

Hobbies & Skills:

Baking

Gardening

Writing

Career:

Florist & Author: You own a florist business and sell your books.

To-Do's:

Move into a small cottage (it can be in any world, but preferably Henford or a countryside world)

Build from scratch a florist shop

Reach level 10 of the flower-arranging skill

Grow every type of flower in the game (or every flower in your game. For example, if you are missing a pack with a certain flower in it, you don't need to buy the pack just to grow that flower)

Reach level 5 of the writing skill

Write and publish 5 non-fiction books

Complete errands

[multifictional]

A Court Of Burning Seasons || Introduction

— > eris vanserra x archeron!reader, elain archeron x lucien vanserra

• Introduction: get a glimpse into elain and y/n life and feelings (eris and lucien aren’t yet present, but they will soon appear, don’t worry!)

• Summary: [Y/N] Archeron always felt the pull of autumn, even as a human. The fallen leaves, the warm colours, the spicy sweets, even her birthday. For Elain, it was the sun and the way of feeding her gardens and flowers with its light. Together in the Night Court after being thrown into the Cauldron, they both feel out of place. But while Elain has her growing bond with Lucien, [y/n] remains an outsider. With her powers still silents even after years, she feels a longing she can't quite place. A mating bond with Eris Vanserra is the last thing she expects and also what she seemed to need. But nothing is ever easy as it seems in Prythian, especially not with Beron impeding presence and courts rivalries always finding a way of creating complications.

• Warnings: just some angst for now

• Word count: 764

Y/N Archeron didn’t care about greatness.

She never had.

All she ever wanted, the only wish she had in her once so humble life, was to belong. It was a desire she always carried quietly, in the silence she always refuged in. But it was also something that had never come true. Not in the human lands, where she had lived as a human, and much less in Prythian, as an High Fae.

She never had a home. And she never would. Not truly.

The cottage she had shared with her sisters and father had been the closest she’d ever come to it. Small, ruined, and cold as it was, it had protected them after they had lost everything. The grand mansion her father had been granted after Feyre’s absence… it had never felt like hers.

It had been filled with comfort and luxury, but not the kind she had always hoped for. It still wasn’t home.

And the Night Court? It felt more like a prison.

Everyone there seemed to have found their place, their role. Everyone except her.

And maybe that was the problem. She didn’t want a role. She didn’t want greatness, power, a role to fulfil or anything extraordinary.

All she wanted was something far simpler, deeper. To belong. To find her place.

And though she didn’t know it yet, the Cauldron granted her just that. Not out of kindness, its magic didn’t work that way, it didn’t just make gifts. It acted out of balance, a cruel sort of revenge. A retribution for what Nesta had taken from it. Y/n hadn’t been granted any special powers like her sisters. No visions, no death-defying strength. Her power was small, normal, unremarkable.

Ordinary.

But it was so much more than that.

It was a power that tied her to a court where an unexpected mating bond awaited her.

She had spent her whole life feeling like a shadow, her mask of silence always misguided as fear, fragility and weakness. Yet the Cauldron couldn’t be fooled, and it had given her nothing and everything at the same time.

It had given her the chance to belong, to unravel what had always been there. To become what she was always destined to be.

And soon enough, she would have to decide the path she was willing to take to understand what it really meant.

Across the Night Court, Elain Archeron was in a similar situation.

As a human, she had always known what it meant to belong. She belonged to the soft vibrant greens of her gardens. To the colours of the flowers she coxed into beautiful blooms. But the Cauldron ripped that belonging away from her.

For years, she had believed it was all gone. Her gardens. Her future. Her happiness, which she thought she would never find again. But slowly, as she forced herself to face this new reality, she began to realize the truth.

The lie she had been feeding herself.

She hadn’t lost happiness. She had never found it in the first place. And now, for the first time, she wanted more.

Despite all her efforts, Velaris wasn’t the place for her. Not the city of starlight, and not even the Court of Dreams. She didn’t belong to the coolness of the night, she belonged to the heat of the sun.

All she ever wanted was to have a choice.

The Cauldron, though, didn’t care about what she wanted. It had given her a new body that wasn’t hers, the immortality she didn’t ask for, and a power that felt more of a curse than a gift.

And it had given her something else too.

A mate.

Elain had never asked for the bond with Lucien. Didn’t want him. She had spent years pretending it didn’t exist, pretending she didn’t feel the pull of it, as strong as it was at every tug.

She had told herself she didn’t want him.

But no matter what she told herself, Lucien was there. Not only in her dreams, but in her visions too. And in the quiet moments where her thoughts drifted. It didn’t matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t deny the truth.

Not anymore.

She yearned for what he offered: the warmth of belonging.

So she made a choice. A choice that would change everything. A choice for herself.

She decided to give the bond - and him - a chance.

And that choice will change everything.

And in that choice she would find what she had been searching all along. Not to see, but to be seen.

Part 1

A.N: i take advantage to thank you all for the support under the blurb I posted. I didn’t expect that. I’m so inspired for this fic so I hope you will like it!! Let me know what you think :)

Also, if you want to be added in a taglist, feel free to ask!

Taglist: @wrenisrad

[francixoxoxo]

Beautiful Girl

Billy the Kid X reader

Billy takes the day off to be with you and your daughter!

You gave Billy everything he resigned to never have.

He never thought he’d live to get married, much less find a woman willing to take such a controversial last name. Then he found you. And he was delighted to find that white was a beautiful color on you.

Billy also thought he’d never become a father. He often doubted he would be a good one, anyway. No child deserved a father with such an unsure line of work.

Until you two moved away from Lincoln, to a beautifully quaint cottage up in Colorado. And Billy found honest work. It was a no brainer, the two of you living together mixed with Billy’s constant want for you inevitably led to your belly rounding and baby names filling his brain.

And so here he was. Married. Making honest money. Sitting on his front porch in a rocking chair. Cooing at a two-year-old in his arms. A two year old with baby blues like his, but a nose and lips like her momma’s.

Billy knew she couldn’t understand him. But he couldn’t help it, telling his baby girl all about his day. Alice’d babble at a certain point and he’d hum in agreement, nodding seriously, “Oh, I know. I agree.” Even if it wasn’t a thing to agree to, even if it was simple as mentioning picking up some fruit for you on the way home.

Speaking of you, you were tending to your little garden on the side of the house. Wearing Billy’s trousers, on your hands and knees with a spade. The sight of you, with that silly gardening hat on your head, he could’ve sworn he was in the presence of an angel. Two, in fact.

“Isn’t momma pretty? Look at ‘er, playin’ in the dirt.” Billy’s lilted tone was purposefully loud enough for you to hear, lifting your head and putting your hands on your hips.

“You’re talking her ear off!” You jested, watching Billy shake his head and grin, turning back to your daughter. He scrunched his face at her, shaking his head and holding her close to his broad chest. “Momma’s in a bad mood. Dunno why.”

“I’m not!” You scoffed, making Billy raise a brow at you. He pressed a kiss to the top of Alice’s hair, rubbing a strong hand up and down her little back.

You caught him mumbling lowly to her with a cheeky smile, “She’s just mad that’cha don’t wanna garden. ‘Cause y’wanna be with your daddy, right?” You shook your head and snorted, turning back to the carrots you’d planted. Billy shouted to you with pride. “Hear that, baby? Ally’s a daddy’s girl.”

“How do you know?” You smiled down at your garden, wiggling an orange vegetable out from the dirt. You didn’t mind the dirt under your fingernails now, something about getting your hands dirty was gratifying.

There was a grin plastered on Billy’s face so big that you heard it in his words. “‘Cause she told me?” He shrugs, that smile growing at the sound of your laughter. When you shoot him a glance, he’s twirling some of Alice’s dark strands of hair around his finger. He was sickeningly sweet with your daughter, doting on her every chance got. Not to mention he was an honestly hot dad.

You saw his shadow loom over your work a minute later. You threw a look over your shoulder to see Billy, Alice on his hip, grinning down at you. “Hey, momma.”

A smile splits your lips before you realize it. Billy gently lets down Alice, watching as she wobbles around a bit before plopping herself beside one of the tomato stalks. She babbles and pulls on the leaves a little. Billy crouches beside you before you can worry too much about your daughter and the plant.

Your husband grasped your chin gently but firmly, turning your face to press a kiss to your lips. He meant for it to be quick, but then he’s giving another little peck, and another, and another, until you begin to giggle and push him away by the shoulder. Billy snorts a little, a large palm laying over your hand on him. He throws a look over his shoulder at Alice.

“She’s the coolest little girl.” Billy breathed, shaking his head in awe. Now it’s your turn to snort.

“She can’t talk, Billy.”

“N’ she’s already the damn coolest girl.”

You wound your hand around his arm, smiling fondly at Alice as she picked off one of the tomato plant’s leaves. Billy quickly picks it from her grip when she tries to put it in her mouth, a laugh rumbling from his chest. “We did good.”

You didn’t have to ask what he meant to know he meant you did a good job with making Ally. You leaned the crown of your head against Billy’s shoulder, humming in agreement.

He went on, his voice so soft and tender you thought he’d melt into the garden. “I think she’s the best thing I ever did.” Billy turned his face to you. He nosed your hair, a strong hand snaking around to hold the side of your head. “You n’ Ally.”

You watched your daughter as she stumbled to her little feet, waddling ‘round. As she tried to run past Billy, he stuck out a large arm and gently herded her back within eyesight. Seeing how gentle he was with her, you knew you’d ended up right where you were meant to.

“I think so too.”

A quick little one shot bc I’m twixt long fics!!

[jjkamochoso]

Imagine… Making Lemonade for Levi on a Hot Summer Day

Fluff

Postwar!Levi Ackerman x gn!reader

Warnings: none

The summer heat was scorching down on you as you stretched out on a lounge chair in your backyard, soaking up some sun. You were enjoying your lazy day, getting some much needed Vitamin D. You flipped through a magazine, your mind still blown by the fact that the glossy pages had entertained people for much longer than you had even known they existed. There were many things in Marley that were completely new to you and every trip to the market was filled with enchantment as you learned of all the wonders that had been held from you in your previous life in Paradis. Now, you and your boyfriend Levi were living it up together in your cottage and you couldn’t be happier. Speaking of Levi, you had a fantastic view of the raven haired man while he was hard at work, tending the garden. His white shirt was clinging to his sturdy back as he dug the spade into the dirt, his arm muscles flexing with each movement. When he was finished planting, you saw him lean back a little as he wiped the sweat that had accumulated on his forehead. The extra moisture made his whole body glisten; he looked absolutely divine and you couldn’t tear your gaze away from him. He cocked his head, finally acknowledging your unbridled interest in his figure.

“Didn’t your parents teach you that it’s rude to stare?”

“There’s no harm in admiring the spectacular view in front of me,” you said, cheekiness apparent in your tone. Levi scoffed and rolled his eyes, getting back to the task at hand, but you could tell that you flustered him a bit with your flirting as the pink tinge that now graced his face wasn’t just from the heat. You tried putting your focus back on your magazine but you started to feel quite parched. You decided to go inside and make some lemonade for yourself and your handsome boyfriend. You gathered everything you needed and began to squeeze the lemons. When you got enough juice, you made a simple syrup on the stove, then poured both of those and lots of water into a giant pitcher, mixing it all up. Taking out two tall glasses, you filled them up to the brim with ice and the lemonade, enjoying the relief of the cold that seeped onto your hand. You left your glass inside so you had an empty hand to open and close the back door and headed into the warmth of the outdoors.

“I got something to cool you down, hottie,” you greeted Levi, this time earning a groan and an eye roll.

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?” he chided, shaking his head when you attempted to wink at him. Though he found your antics silly, he also thought you were completely adorable with the way you showed your affection toward him. Putting words to his feelings was never his forte so having a partner like you, comfortable in expressing your attraction to him, was something he was extremely grateful for. You reached out your unoccupied arm to help steady Levi as he stood up from the ground, his legs shaky from exertion. You held up the glass of lemonade for him to take a sip from, hoping he wasn’t dehydrated from his time under the sun. He put his lips around the straw and took a long drink, eager to quench his thirst.

“Y/n, that’s really good. Thank you,” he said, giving you a close lipped grin.

“Of course,” you replied, brushing a stray piece of hair from his face. He suddenly got shy from the intimacy of your gesture, opting to study the ground instead of your face, though he still leaned on you as you helped him walk over to the patio where a chair in the shade was waiting for him. You sat him down and retrieved your own drink from inside the house before sitting in the chair next to him.

“Thank you for all your work,” you told Levi, a kiss lovingly placed onto his cheek. “The garden is beautiful. The flowers are going to look phenomenal this year.”

“Not as phenomenal as you look now,” he observed, meeting your eyes once more as you gasped.

“Levi! How uncharacteristically suave that was!” you exclaimed, playfully holding a hand over your mouth in faux shock.

“Tch. I can be romantic, you know.”

“Wow, I can’t believe I got the Levi “Loverboy” Ackerman to fall for me. How lucky am I?” you asked, swooning. “Ooh, maybe next time you can garden shirtless and give me a real show. It’ll be like those romance novels Hange always told me about.”

“Just drink your damn lemonade,” muttered the man, failing to hide the tenderness that appeared on his facial features at the sound of your laughter. You couldn’t contain your giggles, trying your best not to choke on your drink and Levi wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer and enjoying this carefree moment with you. The lemonade was the perfect drink for the perfect day with the perfect love of your life.

[junicult]

I love how you write harvey sm!!! You had me swooning with every words !! So sweet, short, and straight to the point but very flavorful and entertaining! i'm so happy i came across your blog !

I have a prompt that u can feel free to use!

What do you think Harvey is like when he & the farmer just got married? For example, is he very timid that he couldn't sleep when next to the farmer? Is he very hesitant to hold them? Or other things u think/headcanon? Would love to read your thoughts! Thank you so much for your time !!<3

!! harvey as your new husband

contains ; domestic fluff. another post of me rambling lol. entirely sfw! gn!farmer / gender is never implied. short drabble.

note ; i’m in a harvey brainrot rn that every time i try to sit down to write for the other bachelors, i just end up staring at my screen doing nothing 😓

when you were only dating, it wasn’t rare for harvey to come over while you were working after he found some time of his own.

even once, after you invited him over and sighed about how dirty you felt the cottage was since you hardly had time to clean—he became accustomed to do so just for you.

bringing over his own cleaning supplies just to sweep the dust, help with laundry, clean your kitchen and make dinner for you.

and he didn’t even mind doing all of it, just to help you lift the weight of your chores.

so after that one time, and you came home to see a squeaky clean home, and your excellent boyfriend after a particularly exhausting day—you could’ve cried.

not to mention, he goes the great mile. those large yellow gloves over his hands, non-slip shoes and a hardware apron over his clothes so he wouldn’t get himself dirty.

some may say it’s a bit dramatic, but he says prepared.

anyways, it became a routine he was fond of doing.

harvey came over a lot. to the point where his own house didn’t really feel like home anymore.

he hated those nights when he couldn’t come over, forced to sleep in his own bed without you by his side. it would take him longer to fall asleep if he couldn’t feel you next to him. he probably had to hug a pillow just to feel something lol.

so when you got married, it’s safe to say he was ecstatic to be moving out of his lonely apartment. especially when you made time to come help him, packing stuff in boxes.

it really made him realize how life changing it is. to see you labeling each box, sorting through his cds and tapes while talking about your future together.

“i think these would look nice in our living room, i could move my bookshelf over and we could squeeze this in…” you ramble on, face full of concentration.

it made his heart gush, even just hearing you call it our living room.

when you’d “ooo” and “aaa” at items of his you looked forward to decorating the house with, and “uhh” at the ones you didn’t. he couldn’t possibly be upset, if anything, he’d laugh at your honesty. there’s nothing that’d make him upset right now.

so when you were finally married, you had to work but he spent the majority of the day squeezing his stuff into the house like you both planned, it still felt right.

you didn’t have to be beside him, helping him unbox for him to be happy. he found everything seemed to fit in place.

settling in didn’t feel as much of a task as you both thought it’d be. there was always a cloud of sadness when he’d have to leave, so finally that experience was tarnished after the knot was tied.

there’s no leaving anymore, because he always comes right back.

at this point, his nerves being around you were fizzled, but of course he still got butterflies when he’d see you.

any moment he was intimate with you still made him feel much younger with the way his heart would pound and his palms would grow sweaty. even if you were just leaning in to kiss him.

so the first night you two were living together as a married couple—i don’t think he’d be so nervous.

or at least, not nervous in a bad way.

“which side of the bed should i sleep on?”

“harvey, we’ve slept together before. this isn’t new.” you tease.

“well we’ve never slept together as a married couple who lives in the same house. this is the start to the rest of our lives, i want to make sure we’re making the right decision,” and after he realizes what he implied, he’s widening his eyes and shaking his head, “no! not like that! as in, what if i sleep on the right side, but i sleep on my right side so my back is always turned to you—“

“harvey, honey…i’m not going to be mad at you if i wake up and you’re not facing me.” you giggle.

he really knows how to overthink everything.

but once you’re finally tucked in bed together (you on the right, him on the left) i don’t think he’ll overthink at this point.

by now, you’re both so in love that he doesn’t second guess reaching over to hold you anymore. he doesn’t need to rethink all of that.

when you latch onto him, pressing your face into his chest and wrapping your arms around him—he’s bound to get butterflies. you may even hear his heart beat a little quicker. but he’s not shy to give you the same treatment.

if he could, he’d hold you all day. he never wants to let go.

[rainydayandmondays]

...in case, I stand one little chance...

Summary: New Year’s Eve shouldn’t be for charity galas. Or at least that’s what Andy believes. Good thing he can see you when he gets home.

Pairing: Andy Barber X Reader, Jake Jensen X Reader

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: 18+ only. Minors DNI. Explicit language, explicit sexual content, male masturbation, fingering (female receiving), voyeurism, Daddy kink, slight non-con, unprotected sex

Author’s Note: Our third holiday in the Holidays with Andy series. And when I told you that Andy was not too happy about this one, well...

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Andy watched as everyone made their way around the venue making small talk with people they honestly couldn’t care less about. He sipped at the glass of champagne being passed around. But he could really go for something harder right about now.

Laurie had invited him tonight. It was the Children’s Cottage charity gala. They had really gone all out this year. Some last-minute donors had really shelled out the cash this time. Probably looking for an easy tax write off. Either way, Laurie had spent the last couple of weeks completely enveloped in putting on the best gala. Something about money attracts money. Big gala meant big donations. Or at least that’s what she had said as she laid out his suit for the night.

Andy was itching to get a way. He had done his due diligence for the night. Had showed up, providing the loving, doting husband routine as they walked into the venue. However, it was not but thirty minutes before Laurie was pulled away to schmooze with some potential donors. She left Andy to fend for himself as he looked around the event area. Somewhere along the way, he had been cornered by one of the farther leaning conversative attendees. Once they found out about his job, the man couldn’t help but to drone on about the need to tighten up on crime. Mind you, Andy was pretty sure this man lived behind a gate with a driveway that took at least ten minutes to drive up. What possible crime would he know about?

Breaking free from the conversation under the guise of refilling his drink, Andy decided to loiter by the bar for the remainder of the night. He was sure at some point Laurie would find him, until then, he would wait out, switching the champagne for something harder.

Halfway into his glass of whiskey, he felt his phone go off in his pocket. Turning towards the bar, he took it out to see the pop-up notification from his favorite app. There was movement detected. He smiled, you must have made it home and before midnight.

Andy hadn’t seen you after your Secret Santa exchange. You having taken the week off from work, he had missed seeing you flit through the office. Seeing you pour your third cup of coffee for the day in the breakroom as you talked about your New Year’s plans. He knew you would celebrate it. Holidays seemed to be too big a deal for you not to.

No, there hadn’t been any sight of you for a whole week. Well, except for his camera. There, he had seen so much of you. In the short week that it had been up, Andy was able to discover a lot about you. He had made sure to set up the motion detected notifications the day after that first night. Wearing subdued clothing to work, at home you preferred satin nighties and pajama sets. He imagined you preferred the softness against your skin. In the mornings, you would wake up and start blasting 80’s music as you danced around your room, getting ready for the day. He didn’t know he could love Bon Jovi so much being an AC/DC fan himself. But something about you lip-syncing to Dead or Alive as you made your bed had that song stuck in his head for the rest of the week.

At night, well at night were the best times. That’s when the other you came out. The you, you had shown that night whispering out for daddy as you ground against your pillow. He still hadn’t recovered from learning about your kink or the fact that it could work you up so much to squirt. But then again, daddies always know how to get their good girls there. True, at night, his sweet girl became his good girl. He watched and listened as every night you found a way to get yourself off. Whether you rode yourself to orgasm or tried with your small fingers to finger yourself there, he watched.

It always started with the headphones first, some audio you listened to that never failed to get you where you needed to go. He finally heard it Friday night when your earbuds lost their connection. He watched as you frantically tried to re-pair the headphones as a man’s voice filtered through your room telling you exactly what to do. At first, the thought of another man pulling those noises from you, even a disembodied voice, made his hair stand on end. However, if it meant that his sweet girl could get her release, then so be it.

Staring down at the notification, Andy debated opening the app now to see what you might be doing. It was still relatively early for any nighttime performances, but it might be the right time for your after-shower routine. Making his decision, Andy downed the rest of his drink, before turning to head towards the restroom. He wasn’t sure exactly where Laurie was, but given the night, she was probably still sucking up to another donor.

Phone in hand, he started to pull up the app when he rounded the corner to the bathrooms. Pushed against the men’s room, he saw his wife gripping some random’s neck as said rando had their face buried in her collarbone and his hand up her skirt. The little whimpers escaping her mouth and the squelches coming from beneath her skirt left little to the imagination about what was going on in the corner of the venue. Watching the scene unfold, Andy’s face tightened, and his jaw creaked as he bared down.

“Andy?!”

Finally noticing her audience, his wife gasped out his name, urging the guy’s hand from under her dress. She tried to right herself, as her comically wide eyes looked at him to determine just how fucked up the situation was.

Letting out a dry chuckle beneath his breath, he only stared back before calmly stating, “I’ll be in the car.”

As he made his way back through the venue, he could hear Laurie calling out to him. She only stopped once they hit the main area. She couldn’t risk making a scene. She had donors to think about.

“Jake!”

You looked up from your bed, where you had perched with a few pillows against the headboard. The night was slowly closing in on its midnight deadline and you had spent it watching the Twilight Zone marathon on TV. Jake had introduced it to you in one of the first years of your friendship. Neither of you had really been up to going to any local parties. In fact, the idea of meeting up with high school acquaintances, all home from college and pretending that college had somehow changed them in the 4 months they had been gone, sounded exhausting. Rebuffing any invitation you received, it was Jake’s late-night text asking you to come over, that won out. Laying on his parents’ basement couch, you had rung in the new year with Rod Serling and a boy who was slowly becoming your best friend.

Since then, you have made it a tradition to watch the marathon together to celebrate the New Year. When Jake had gone out on his latest mission, you know it was a possibility that he may miss out this year. In all the time you had known each other, you had only missed your tradition when he gone off to bootcamp. But even then, he had sent you a play-by-play commentary as you watched together through chat.

Now he had been gone since before Christmas, your last call the night you had shared your amazing news about school. You had gotten mad at him for not reacting the way you had hoped. Jake had always supported you in everything you did. When the last year of school almost took you out with the last of your criminal justice classes, he had stayed up with you to quiz you. And when you brought home the A’s, that he promised you would get, he gave you your nickname. The LSASTs came and he sat at your kitchen table as you reviewed each section of the exam over and over again. He made sure that you had a continuous drip of coffee until you ultimately crashed and he carried you to your couch to sleep. Reading out your final score, he had stood by with your parents, grabbing you and repeatedly telling you ‘I told you so.’ Then when your mom had gotten sick, he held you as you decided to put your law school dreams on the backburner. He rocked you and whispered that it wasn’t for forever. That was the Jake you expected it.

Thinking over it afterwards, you had kicked yourself about being short with him. Jake had always been there for you, watched over you. He had just been preoccupied with the mission, calling you from his motel room. He sent you a text later that night to let you know that all communication was going dark and he would talk to you as soon as possible. On Christmas, you shot him a text with a picture of your family’s Christmas tree lighting up the dark living room and a simple Merry Christmas.

But now, here he stood in your doorway, shuffling towards your bed while he closed the door behind him.

“Hey Ace.”

Taking a seat on your bed, you brought up your legs to make room for him and the gift bag in his hands.

“How are you here?”

“The mission finished.” He replied, grabbing hold of your socked foot and rubbing circles into the sole of it.

“But I thought you said…”

“I may have told them I had an important date to keep,” He interrupted you, squeezing your foot as he looked up at you, “Besides Hooch’s wife made him promise to be back for New Year’s.”

He watched as you smiled back at him. There was that smile. He had missed it while he was gone. Most missions were never easy for him, but you always made sure to see him off with a smile and well wishes. This last one hadn’t been the same as the memory of your displeased face popping up as he carried out his comms duty. He hadn’t meant to make you angry. It was only after receiving your Christmas tree photo that he knew may be all had been forgiven.

Driving back from the meet up site, he had rushed to grab a gift bag from his sister’s place, dropping all his bags at hers and heading out to you. His sister, used to his antics when it came to you, had met him at the door, hugging him quickly and handing him the gift bag with tissue paper ready. Outside your house, he had shoved the gift into the bag, noting the time on the car’s clock and knowing you had to be deep into their annual marathon. Knocking on the door, your mom greeted him, and he noticed she seemed to have a healthier glow about her. She welcomed him with the same genuine smile you had, before pointing to your room upstairs.

“Are you going to tell me what you have hidden behind your back?”

He smirked, grabbing at the bag and handing it to you. You made quick work of the tissue paper on top before reaching down and pulling at your gift. Holding it in your hands, you looked at the white sweatshirt with Boston College scrawled across the front.

“I am happy for you, Ace. You of all people deserve this.” He whispered waiting for your reaction when he saw you starting to chew on your lip. Your eyes lifting and tears lining each lid. He was pretty sure he did it right this time, but waiting for you to say something had his anxiety spiking. Nervously pushing up his glasses, he waited.

“Jake.”

Only hearing his name, he barely had time to brace himself as you threw yourself at him. His arms taking hold of your waist as you slung yours around his neck.

“Merry Christmas, Ace.”

He felt you squeeze him harder at his utterance of your nickname. Slowly backing away from him, you sniffled before leaning over to your beside table. A sparkly red gift with gold ribbon came into view, as you placed it in front of him.

“Merry Christmas, Jake.”

He smiled ripping into the wrapping paper and box. Inside he found Baby Yoda staring up at him talking about protecting and snacking, smirking to himself, he looked up at your expectant face.

“You like it?”

“I love it.” He replied draping it against his chest to model it for you, before pulling on neckline of the shirt he was wearing.

He hadn’t had a chance to really change and had opted to spray as much of Axe body spray on himself to cover the smell of travel. Pulling the old shirt over his head, he got a small whiff of it and was surprised you hadn’t mentioned anything when you hugged him. The shirt fully settled he caught the last bit of you pulling your sweatshirt down, a small glimpse of your belly making him clear his throat.

“So, have they shown To Serve Man yet?”

“Not yet. You know that the classic episodes are saved for actual New Years Day.” You explained as you pulled the duvet away for him to climb in next to you.

Watching the clock over the TV, he saw that you were only a couple of minutes out from midnight. But despite your best efforts, you fell asleep about an hour ago. Somehow inching your way onto his lap, you had snuggled close to him with his hand making its way to rest along your waist. It hadn’t been a conscious thought to do so and yet here he was. Short little puffs of air hitting his thighs, just under your clasped hands. He enjoyed the sense of calm the position had brought the both of you, before stroking your shoulder.

“Ace, you need to wake up. It’s almost time.”

He felt you shift, moving to turn your head towards his stomach. The little puffs of air now danced along the bottom edge of the Mandalorian t-shirt you had gifted him a few hours earlier.

“Ace, come on. You don’t want to miss it.”

At that your eyes blinked open to stare up at him. A sleepy smile stretching the corners of your mouth, as you moved up to lean against him instead.

Switching the TV to show the ball dropping in New York, the roar of the crowd echoed through your bedroom.

“5…4…3…2…1. Happy New Year, Ace.” He quietly spoke the countdown, his chin resting on top of your head as you held onto his arm.

“I’m so happy you’re here.” He felt your whisper along his arm, your hand running down to hold his hand.

He interlaced your fingers, giving a firm squeeze in response. He was over the moon to be here. The two of you were able to complete you tradition one more year. If he was lucky, he’d be able to spend many more with you.

“I’m sorry about last time. I shouldn’t have been mad at you. You were just looking out for me.”

He felt tears before he heard the sniffling. This was the second time that you were crying tonight. However, this was for a much worse reason. Grabbing onto your chin, he lifted it to see your big eyes filled with tears, “I will always look out for you.”

Your watery smile seemed to stem any additional tears as you nodded. Starting to lean back, he tried to resettle the two of you from the small break in the bubble you had created.

“One day you won’t. One day you’re going to meet an amazing woman and she’s going to make you so happy. She’ll be the one you look out for. Not me.”

The way your voice seemed to get smaller as your confession continued, made something in him ache. He wasn’t sure where all these questions about his feelings about you came from. He wouldn’t let you think that somehow, he felt so little about you.

“There will never be a time where I don’t look out for you. Where I don’t care about you. Because I can’t not. I can’t not care about you. I can’t not…” He caught himself before finishing his thought. He couldn’t go there with you. Couldn’t risk it. Closing his eyes, he opened them to find you staring back at him.

“Can’t not what, Jake?” He shook his head, swallowing hard to avoid answering your question, “Jake, can’t not what?”

Feeling the bed shift, he watched as you climbed into his lap, your pajama shorts riding up, as you stared at him straight on. Your hands came up to cradle his face, stopping him from looking anywhere other than you.

“Tell me.”

The drive home had been frosty with little to no talk being had. Getting into the car, Laurie had thankfully picked up on the fact that there was little to be said. He had caught her right out and no spinning of the truth could change that. Pulling into the driveway, Andy was glad that they had okayed Jacob to spend New Year’s at some classmate’s party. He couldn’t see this going any other way but ugly once safe in their home.

Accusations started the moment inside. The lone overhead light from the kitchen island was the only thing illuminating the house when Laurie let out her vitriol.

It wasn’t her fault.

He was never there.

Work was more important than either of them.

The image of the perfect family was what he wanted. Not an actual family.

He couldn’t expect something to last if he was never there to take care of it.

He stood cross-armed against the counter, letting his wife have her say. He watched her let everything out, her words becoming more strained as she continued. She didn’t touch what she had done tonight. Save from pleading again how it wasn’t her fault. Once she calmed to a simmer, realizing that he wouldn’t be rising to her level, he felt the need to answer.

“You’ve been different. Happier for a few months. I would say that’s probably around the time it started. Maybe it started with a few compliments, a flirtatious quip during a meeting. It probably developed from a woe is me, my husband doesn’t love me anymore diatribe where the fucker saw his chance. It could have happened in a few ways. I don’t know.” He started slowly uncrossing his arms and approaching her.

Her mouth was in line, presumably getting ready for another round of denial, when he continued.

“But what I do know, is that you never really loved me. No, we were a means to an end for each other. What I know is that I’m not the only one that has cared about appearances. What I know is that this would be a slam dunk, fault-based divorce on the grounds of adultery. Given tonight’s events, there’s going to be more proof somewhere. And what I know is that your reputation would never recover. There’s got to be a morality clause somewhere in your contract with Children’s Cottage.”

He saw her confidence start to fade. The righteous anger she had built up with her tirade diminishing as he kept talking. She didn’t have a leg to stand on and he would make sure she knew.

“But you see, what I know is that I don’t have the desire to deal with that. So, this is what’s going to happen, we’re going to finish this for tonight. Come next week, you will end whatever this little thing is. Or at least give the illusion that it’s ended. We will put up the pretense of trying to make it work for Jacob’s sake. But this will end. A non-contested divorce. Just another New England marriage falling victim to irreconcilable differences. That is what I know. And now, that is what you know.”

Leaving her in the kitchen, he drowned out the small whimpers she made as she tried to collect herself. What’s done was done and there was nothing more for it. Entering his office, he threw his overcoat on the small loveseat in the corner, before sitting at his desk. He waited to hear her steps overhead before pulling out his iPad and setting it up on the stand he bought earlier this week.

His marriage may be ending, but he still had you. His sweet girl that loved every holiday with equal passion. That didn’t seem to be touched by the darkness in the world. That had done nothing but shine a light into his life. His sweet girl, that should be right about now becoming his good girl.

Logging into the camera’s app, he waited for the feed to load as he started to unbutton the collar and cuffs of the overly starched shirt, Laurie had insisted he wear.

“Damn it, Ace”

“Tell me, please.”

As the feed fully came up, he heard his sweet girl talking to someone. Someone distinctly male sounding. Looking at the camera, he zoomed in on the image of her straddling someone. Her hands were gripping the guy’s neck, as he watched them leave heated bite marks along her neck.

“Sweet girl. Not you too. You wouldn’t do this to me too.” He whispered into the darkness of this office. He could feel the urge to be mad. To reach through the computer and punch the guy currently nibbling on his sweet girl. Pawing at her like he had any idea of what to do for her.

Rubbing at his chin, he leaned forward on his desk, his breath puffing out over his clasped hands. He wouldn’t have this. Not tonight. Not ever. He fought the anger building up when he heard your gasp. Focusing back on the scene, he watched you start to rock on the lap of your stranger. Your hips rolled in that practiced way he had memorized from before. You had switched your pillow for this man.

“God damn it, Ace. Say that you want this.”

“Jake.”

Jake. That goofy sidekick friend you had introduced him to on Thanksgiving, was the one you were currently grounding against. How could he possibly know what to do for you? What to give you? There’s no way he would be able to handle what you needed.

“Take it out.”

The little moan you gave at Jake’s words had Andy ears perking up again. He knew that moan, that was your happy moan. The moan you made as you slipped into the lovely sub headspace. He had heard that moan from you throughout this week. Each time signaling to him that you were becoming his good girl.

He watched as you fussed with something in front of you. He assumed it was your friend’s pants and zip. It was confirmed when a groan was let out by Jake. He was glad to not be able to see what exactly you might be holding onto. He could barely stomach that you had chosen to ring in the New Year’s this way. But despite himself, he couldn’t stop watching. Maybe he needed to know exactly what you do when it wasn’t just a disembodied voice with you. Or maybe he just needed to know that despite Jake’s best efforts, he would fail at giving you what daddy could.

You continued your slow grind against him and he watched as a pair of hands came around, grabbing your ass and pulling you closer. Your satin pajama shorts rode up higher and Andy wasn’t sure how much stretch they were going to give you. You pushed your ass back into his hands and Andy knew you were begging for a swift slap to each cheek. Instead, Jake just gripped them tighter, massaging each. You let out a small whimper at that before doubling down on your grind.

He knew that squeeze wasn’t what you needed. He watched as Jake’s fingers finally made their way under the hem of your shorts. Andy was able to clock the exact moment when Jake figured out that you wore nothing under those sleep shorts.

“Ah fuck, Ace.”

“Please.”

Hearing you beg gave him what he needed. Up to this point, he had spent most of the time judging Jake’s handling of you. Comparing what he might do, knowing what he would do would be better. But the sweet sound of you pleading, woke up the part of him needing to serve you. Give you what you need. He swore it was Pavlovian. He adjusted in his seat, rubbing at himself through his dress pants.

“What does my sweet girl need?”

He watched as Jake’s hand grew bolder, fingers inching further under her shorts, until his sweet girl’s back arched. Zooming in, Andy followed the fingers moving in and out of his girl’s pussy. A wet spot was growing in the crotch of her shorts, and he knew if Jake would hold out a little longer, she would let go for both of them.

“Those fingers are so much better than your little ones, aren’t they sweet girl? Thicker. Are you squeezing them, sweetheart? Show us how tight it is. Come on, I know you’re almost there.”

Unzipping his pants, Andy dove his hand into his boxer briefs, grabbing onto himself. It had only been a few minutes of watching her and he was already dripping, creating a nice, healthy wet spot in these damn suit pants. Pulling at the waist of them, he pulled them down as he grabbed at his button-down shirt. Leaving just the bottom two buttons undone, the shirt tails splayed around his cock. The pink head standing between the edges of his shirt, as he dribbled onto hem of each side.

“Jake, I’m…”

“Shit, I know. I can feel it. Ah fuck, Ace I can feel it. It’s so tight.”

“No shit, you can feel it. You better give it to her. Don’t fucking dare leave her hanging.”

Andy watched as your hips finally stuttered and you reached back to grip Jake’s hands. His finger stopped moving beneath your shorts, while you laid your head against his shoulder.

“No! You have to keep going for her.” Andy brought a fist down on his desk as he saw the wet spot grow on your shorts. But nowhere to the point it should be. You could go so much further. He would have gotten you there.

“Ace, I gotta…”

“Yes, Jake.”

That small acquiescence was all Jake needed to flip the both of you over. Balancing over you, Jake shoved his pants and boxers down, kicking them off the edge of the bed. Still slightly blissed out from already cumming, you let Jake grab at your shorts for you, followed shortly by your sweatshirt. As Jake moved to throw your clothing, Andy caught a glimpse of your glistening pussy, all puffy and coated with your juices. Andy had been letting himself bob freely, deciding he wouldn’t cum until you did. But now, seeing this, having the image of you completely bared to him. Fuck, if he didn’t have to pinch at the base of himself. It had been a while since he had cum hands-free. But if it were to happen for him again, it would be with you.

“Jake, please. I need it.”

You had reached down, dipping a finger inside yourself before pulling it up to push back your little hood.

“Fucking Christ. Are you that needy, little one? You just came and already need something inside you again?”

“Shit, Ace. You can’t do that to me.”

Andy shook his head at your friend. How was he ever going to keep up with you? You haven’t shown half of what you could do. Of what you wanted. What you cried out for as you rode your own fingers. Your legs came to hook behind Jake’s ass and that seemed to be what he needed to finally sink into you.

He could hear the little whimper that left you after Jake slide in, your legs tensing under his ass, as you got used to the stretch. Taking full advantage of the 10X zoom, Andy gawked at your lips hugging onto Jake. Fluttering a little, as they stretched around him.

“My sweet girl, look at you stretched out. She can barely hold onto him. That’s okay, she’s not used to it. We can teach her.”

Taking himself in hand, Andy mimicked the pace Jake set. Poor boy was barely holding on. He was grinding into you, with his face buried in your neck. He wasn’t even sure that he would last long enough for you to get there a second time. Andy couldn’t have it. Even if it was another man sliding into you, daddies always took care of their good girls.

“Come on my sweet girl. Daddy needs you to cum. You’re daddy’s good girl, aren’t you?”

“Yes. Yes. Yes.”

“Ace, shit, how are you tighter?”

Andy tightened his hold on himself, activity thrusting into his fist at your response to him. He knew you just needed a little coaxing. The okay to let yourself go. He watched you lose yourself, your grip on Jake spasming as your nails scratched at his back.

“There you go little one. Look at the mess you’re making. Fuck, keep squeezing him. Let him know exactly how good you are.”

“Fuck, Ace.”

He watched Jake quickly pull from your hold and finish himself on your tummy. It splattered against your skin and Andy had to wonder how long it had been for the kid. Or maybe this was just the hold you had on men. You could draw the very souls out of them.

He stroked himself, watching you both come down, your little mewls the only thing keeping him going. Your pussy was still twitching as more of you leaked onto the bed, while Jake tried to get himself together. Leaning back, Andy played at his balls, pulling on them trying to join you in that post haze bliss. Closing his eyes, he replayed your pussy stretched out around the cock being shoved into you. The sweet noises you made when given his permission.

“Mmm daddy.”

Andy’s eyes whipped open at that. He had let you have fun with your friend, but he be damned if you called him daddy. Looking at the feed, he saw that Jake had left the room, presumably to get a towel to clean up. You were still spread out on your bed, your legs relaxed open, while your fingers played with the spend left on your stomach. Taking a scoop onto your middle finger, Andy’s pupils blew black, as you licked it from your fingers.

“Fuck, sweetheart. I’m here. You’ve missed it haven’t you. God, I swear to you I’ll figure out a way to give it to you again. Keep licking sweet girl. Keep licking…”

He lost it. This time he didn’t even have time to aim. The half hours’ worth of edging ended with the bottom of his dress shirt soaked. Looking down at it, he smirked thinking of Laurie finding it in the laundry later.

Sitting back in his chair, he watched as Jake came back in, gently cleaning you. Grabbing his hand, you directed him back to the bed, for him to cuddle in behind you. Andy sighed. It seemed that maybe Jake was more of an obstacle than he had originally given him credit. But it was your daddy you had called out for, not Jake. And that Andy could work with.

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[sachiko6243]

Be my little good boy

Summary: Jasper and Y/N have been friends for a while, but both feel more than that for each other...

Word count: 3455

Warnings: smut, oral (f receiving), handjob, praising, degrading, top reader, bottom Jasper, first attempt at this xd, Minors DNI this contains adult content

This was made at the request of: @ch3rrybunnies and it is my first time writing top reader + bottom male character, so I hope it is acceptable at least. I really tried my best, as I am usually not doing that type of fic 😅

Jasper and I had been friends for some time now. He had saved me from a very dangerous situation I had maneuvered myself into, making sure I would get home save. Since then, whenever he could, he stopped by my house. A smaller cottage on the outskirts of a mining town. My parents had died, leaving me the house and garden, in which I grew vegetables, selling them on the market to buy the other things I needed to live.

We had established a friendship, but he always remained his stoic and retreated self. And whatever I tried to get him to loosen up, didn’t work. I had seen him feed on a human before, nearly dying myself, when he attacked me in his frenzy and after that he had become even more wary of me. Making sure to never stand too close to me, or make me feel cornered. I was very thankful for that, but I grew annoyed with his behavior. His gift of course told him and so did I many times, but he wouldn’t budge, always arguing it was better for me that way.

 But I was determined to make a move on him. He wasn’t married, didn’t pursuit another woman and look wise, he fell completely in my department. Taller, muscular, good looking, a gentleman. Something very rare in the current times. The civil war causing several men to die fighting for their beliefs and those that remained simply were either scared from what they had seen, or never even bothered to integrate back into society.

Suddenly, a whirl of wind announced Jaspers arrival. He had become more relaxed with being himself in my home and I was glad he did. He needed to relax and have at least some sort of save haven. “Good evening, Jasper.” I greeted him in an amused tone. “I am glad to see you took at least the time to take off your hat.” I teased him and he frowned at my remark: “Always, my Lady.” Tilting his head slightly and bowing, before he sat down at my kitchen table. “Anything I can offer?” I asked with a smirk. We played that game every time he stopped by. “I take my usual.” He answered and I sat an empty cup down in front of him. Settling onto my usual spot, I looked out of the window watching the sun finally retreat on the horizon.

“Where have you been the latest?” I asked, looking back at him with curious eyes. Jasper only chuckled, disregarding his cup, before he reached into his pocket pulling out a little dangly necklace. “Denton. I was visiting the statue of the founder of that city or more like the name giver, since he was already dead, when it was built. Anyway, I also found this one and it reminded me of you.” Handing me the small necklace. It was a golden locket and when I opened it, I couldn’t help but smile. In it, there was a dried leave of my favorite flower and a small picture of him. “Thank you Jasper. That’s… This is so nice of you.” Looking up, I beamed at him with a wide and honest smile, to which he only shrugged. “It’s the least I can do to thank you for not turning your back on me.”

“The only time, I would turn my back to you is when you bend me over this table.” I teased, knowing fully well that hiding the feelings I started to grow for him was pointless. He had probably already figured the last time he was here and since then, they only became worse. Still, he cleared his throat, skidding around on his chair. “Y/N. We both know that this cannot happen.” I sat down the locket: “Why not? Its not like somebody would know or care?”

“It is not right in the first place and most important of all, dangerous.” He held his ground and I groaned: “Yeah I know. You could kill me and all that shit.” But then his words replayed in my mind and I looked at him with furrowed brows: “Wait. That’s the only thing keeping you from allowing us to happen?”

“I think it’s a very good reason.” Jasper answered, getting up to probably help me with the necklace, but I didn’t give it to him. “If you were human, would you have agreed to it?”

“Let me help you with the necklace. I want to see how it looks on you.” Dodging my question, he tried to reach for the locket, but I didn’t let go of it. “Don’t sidestep me, Jasper.”

“Probably not like this. I would have asked you properly to court me. I would have made sure you would be treated very good, asking you for walking dates, steal a kiss or two, before I would have asked for your hand in marriage. I would have married you in the towns chapel, built a home for you and me, planning to have several kids with you, to grow old, eat your horrible cooked food, help you in the garden. All of it.”

“What is keeping you from still doing it? I mean you could turn me and we could do all of that without the kids part and visibly growing old.” Letting go of the necklace, I allowed him to put it around my neck. He stayed silent for a while, leaning against the kitchen wall with a stoic expression. “Like I said. It is not right this way. You deserve a better life than me.”

“Stop downplaying yourself. You know I don’t like that.” I growled at him, causing him to straighten up. “Yes, Ma’am.”

“Atta boy.” I teased and when I saw his eyes flicker for a little moment, I started to wonder. “Everything alright? Have you fed enough?”

“I always do when I visit you. I wont risk anything.” His answer was strained and I got up stepping closer to him. “Then what's wrong, Jasper? You know you can trust me. I am here for you anytime you need it, however you need it.”

“I am alright.” He gritted out, but his breathing was agitated and when I came even closer, his hands started to shiver. “I think it is better for me to leave. I am sure, you are tired, I can smell the garden on you. You must have worked in it all day.”

“Don’t go.” I whispered, letting my hands wander over his shoulders and down his chest. His eyes were darker than the usual red, now turning into a darker tone switching into black. “Tell me, Jasper. What's going on inside your head?”

“I am nervous.” He answered honestly, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his vest.

“Why?” I pressed on and he let out a shaky breath. “You know why…”

Grinning slightly, I let my hands wander over his chest and lower. “Are you letting me help you with that? Or do you want to stop?”

“But… but what about our friendship?” He stuttered out. “Wouldn’t it be weird for us to… I don’t know… do it?” He added and I just smiled at him: “It doesn’t have to be weird. Think about it as me doing you a little favor. I just wanna help you, Jas.” I whispered into his ears and he shivered at my words, a little gasp leaving his mouth and I knew I was starting to win. “We don’t have to go all the way. I can just take care of you.” Letting my hands slide down further, I sank to my knees, dragging out the words while I spoke. He reached for the kitchen counter on his right, stabilizing himself, while watching me with big doe eyes.

“Yes, Ma’am.” He whispered and I heard his suppress a moan. Grinning up at him, I played with the strings of his pants. “Then ask for it. Be a good little boy for me and ask me nicely.” My fingers slid over his stomach and the waistband of his pants. “Please, Ma’am. I… I want you take care of me.” His eyes were trained on my face and my hands and I applied the smallest amount of pressure against his crotch, but even that was enough to pull a desperate whimper from his lips. It sounded wonderful. The total opposite of his usual composed confident self. And having him give in to his softer vulnerable side made me proud, stroking my ego just right.

I didn’t waist anymore time, opening up his pants, pushing them down a bit to free his erection. It was already leaking precum and I carefully let my fingers wrap around his length. Jasper leaned his head against the wall, letting out a high moan. “Does that feel good, sweetie?” I asked to which he only nodded weakly. “Be a good boy and use your words.”

He opened his eyes slightly to look at me: “So good, Ma’am. Please don’t stop…”

“I wont if you are behaving like I want you to. I want to hear you and I want you to trust me, do you understand?” I increased the pace of my hand while I spoke, imposing a punishing rhythm on his cock.

“Yes, Ma’am. Whatever you want.” He whimpered desperately, struggling to keep his stand. I clicked my tongue: “Straighten up, soldier, or you will get nothing.” And he instantly changed his position, stretching his legs again. “N-no… I… I will do better, Ma’am.” He managed to say between ragged, sharp breaths and his desperate whimpers. The way his strong southern drawl changed into sweet little moans aroused me, every little sound that left him going straight to my core and I could feel myself grow wetter with every second. “Good boy.” I praised him, feeling his length throb against my hand at the nickname. “You like that? Being called my good boy?” I asked further, a smile tugging on my lips.

“I do, Ma’am.” He whined out, another loud moan escaping him when I circled my palm over the sensitive tip of his cock. His hips thrusted against the rhythm of my hand and I grinned even wider. The knowledge of having the power to either bring him immense amounts of pleasure, or take it away and leaving him to be crying out for more made me feel powerful. I picked up the pace, the throbbing tension between my legs growing to a point where I started to grow impatient.

Jaspers face contorted in pleasure, eyebrows furrowing and lips twitching as the endless sounds of his moans mixed with his soft whimpers. He became more and more desperate with each second and it was one of the most arousing sights I had ever seen. “Are you getting close, sweetie?” I asked him with a teasing tone.

“Yes, Ma’am.” He cried out, his hands digging into the wall and kitchen cupboard and I heard wood splinter, but I ignored it. “Are you going to come for me like a good little boy?”

“Yes, fuck yes, Ma’am. Please… Don’t stop, please, I will do everything you want, but please let me come.” Jasper whined, looking at me with half-closed, glassy eyes.

“Everything?” I pressed further and he nodded wildly. “Yes. Everything, Ma’am.”

“Good boy.” I said softly, encouraging him even more: “Then go on. Give into the pleasure, sweetie. Be a good boy and come for me. I got you.” Jasper took my words as a command, and only couple seconds later, I felt his cock twitch in my hand. I couldn’t help but stare at his beautiful face twitching like that when his orgasm took over. Ropes of pearly white sticky cum poured out of his cock and onto my hand. I helped him through his orgasm, the grunty moans slowly changing into sweet little whines. He had his eyes closed, his breathing going rigid as I pushed him even further overstimulating him a bit. Only when his whimpering turned pained, did I pull away my hand, reaching for a towel to wipe my hand and then his cock clean.

“Feeling better?” I asked him, when I was sure he would be able to answer me again. An adorable smile formed on his lips: “I feel great. This… Thank you, Ma’am.” The pure bliss on his face made me chuckle and I looked at him with a raised brow. He didn’t dare to look at me, when I took his hand, slowly leading him into my bedroom. Closing the door behind me, I looked at the young vampire standing in the middle of the room and looking everywhere but me.

“So…” I began. “Is it true that you have never courted a woman?”

“I… uh… no.” He stuttered out, clasping his hands behind his back.

“Well, do you want to test it?” I asked, now looking at him with a soft smile. I could see he was still scared, but curious at my offer, so I added: “I don’t mind going further.” Taking off my clothes, I let him decide what he wanted, but me being so at ease seemed to ease his tension a bit, because he finally laid his eyes upon me. I stepped back, allowing him to take in my naked form entirely. “What do you want, sweetie?” I asked seductively, watching him gulp harshly at my words. “I… uh… I… Can I touch you?” He shyly asked, his hand already reaching out to me. I smiled at his innocence, walking over to the bed and sitting down. “Of course. You can touch me everywhere you want.”

He slowly followed me, stopping in front of me, before he sunk to the ground, kneeling before me. His eyes roamed over my body, taking in every inch, before he slowly reached out with his hand, gently cupping my breast with it. Then he looked at me with curious eyes: “Why would you even pursue me? Aren't you scared?”

I shook my head. “No. I know you would never hurt me. You are stronger than you think and if you let me, I will show you exactly how strong you are.” I chuckled lowly

Jasper stayed silent for a while, weighing his thoughts. Then he looked up at me, a blush creeping on his cheeks. “Can you… Would you teach me how to pleasure a woman?” He silently whispered, averting his gaze quickly after he spoke. I smiled at him, taking his chin in my hand. “What do you want to know?”

“Everything.” He blurted out and I just chuckled. “Alright. Then follow me.” Slowly I climbed up the bed, propping myself up on the pillows, while he settled at the end, still completely dressed. “Lose those clothes.” I whispered, watching him blush again, but he followed my orders.

Once he was naked, I spread my legs, inviting him in. “What do you want to learn first?”

“I don’t know… I never have… What do you usually start with?” He asked, eyes trained between my legs. I grinned: “You wouldn’t be able to give me that today. How about I ease you in first, and we keep the adult stuff for a later time?” “I… What?” Jasper breathed, this time his tone was even more shaky, making my smile grow wolfish: “That’s a discussion for another place. Just watch and learn.” Collecting some of my slick, I flicked my fingers over my clit. “See that little bundle here is your best friend when you want to pleasure a woman. You have to be very careful though. Its really sensitive, but I promise knowing how to use it, will have any woman on her knees in seconds. You can either use your fingers or your mouth. Whatever you want.”

“I have read about this.” He stated, watching my fingers pleasure me. “Can I…?” I nodded, taking my hands away. I expected him to use his fingers, so I gasped in surprise, when he buried his head between my thighs. His touches were soft kisses, trailing up my thighs until he reached the middle, pressing a sloppy kiss to my heat. I moaned softly, letting my fingers weave into his hair, to guide his movements.

“Gosh Jas…” I gasped, causing him to look up. I stared into his brown hues. “Just like that… Eat me out like a good boy. Fingers and tongue.”

“Is that what you want?” He rasped and I saw a glimpse as to why he grew to be a Major so quickly. There was no doubt that he could be demanding if needed. I let squinted my eyes, staring him down: “Are you questioning my orders, soldier? Put your fingers inside of me and suck on my clit.”

“I am sorry, Ma’am.” He answered, immediately going back to work.

“You better are. I give you a pass this time, because you are learning. But the next time you don’t follow my orders, I will make sure you will learn your lesson.” Holding his head back by his hair, I stopped him from doing more. “You should be thankful, I even allow you to do this.”

“My apologies, Ma’am. Thank you for letting me learn.” Jasper whimpered, visibly melting at my harsh tone. “Please… Let me pleasure you. I want to be at your service and learn from you to be better boy in the future.”

“I sure hope you do. From now on, whenever you fail to follow my orders, I will chastise you for as long as I think it is needed, have I made myself clear?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Then get back to work.” Shoving his head down again, I let go of his hair, watching as he sank down, cursing as I felt one finger intrude my core, slowly pumping in and out of me, a second finger following very quickly. Then his mouth was back on my clit, circling it and softly sucking on the sweet pearl every now and then. I could feel my orgasm starting to build inside of my stomach, the heat of my pleasure, slowly filling my body. The knot in my stomach tightened with every move of Jaspers tongue, a hot sensation spreading through my body, as my legs started to tremble.

Suppressing a moan, I praised him, causing Jasper to moan against my core, the vibration only adding to my pleasure. He must have realized, I was getting closer, because he slightly picked up the pace, curling his fingers upwards, stroking my sweet spot deep inside of me. I fought very hard to keep my hips still, not wanting to overwhelm him with too much going on, but I couldn’t help but buck every now and then.

Wrapping an arm around my hips, he totally sank against my body. I moaned this time, wrapping my hand in his hair and wrapping my legs around his shoulders to keep him in place.  “That’s it…” I rasped out. “Just like the good boy you are. Keep going and I will reward you with my orgasm.” Pure bliss was spreading through my body and it was hard to focus and keep my hold on him. That seemed to spur him on even further, because he sucked on my clit harder this time, while curling his fingers up perfectly hitting my sweet spot.

My orgasm hit me like a brick wall, wave after wave the pleasure rolled through my bones. I allowed myself to moan, bucking up my hips and tugging harshly on his hair. My legs closed in, holding him in place for a while, before I remembered that it was Jasper not any random man, that I had pressed so hard against my body. Letting go of him with a sigh, I let my head fall back into the sheets to catch my breath. “Fuck… That was… How come this was your first time? You are obviously lying.” I gently teased him, causing him to blush. “I have been reading a lot. I wanted to be prepared.”

“You really are made to please, aren't you?” Letting him go, I patted the mattress next to me, pulling his head onto my chest when he had settled. Instantly, his arms wrapped around my body and he snuggled into my warm embrace.

“I only live to please you.” Came his quiet answer and I felt him relax more and more into me. Starting to stroke his hair mindlessly, I watched as his breathing pattern slowed down, the tension in his fingers holding onto me starting to fade as well. “That’s it, little boy. Let go. I am here for you.” I whispered, lulling him in with my soft little praises to help him come down.

[spaceyaceface]

What Could Have Been

Sebastian Sallow x f!Reader (Unspecified Hogwarts House)

Word Count: 3.4k

Content Warnings: Heavy angst. This is not a very happy fic.

Summary:

She had been in love with Sebastian Sallow for some time. And she was afraid of having something to lose. After all, she knew all too well that good things always came to an end.

Now it was their last night together. What were they willing to lose?

Also available on AO3

"I don’t know how to mend it, When this chapter ended, When all of my plans have depended on you. But at least tonight we’ll still pretend, Hold each other close like it’s not the end.” - from "Dearly Departed" by Marianas Trench

Time had passed much too quickly. It felt like yesterday that she walked into the Great Hall for the first time, head spinning with the buzzing noise of students talking. The room still sounded the same—but it was now her last time sitting there as a student. 

Tomorrow morning, the last term of her seventh year would be over. She had no more classes to attend, no more essays to write, no more detentions to be served. She knew at least part of her should have been excited, but all she felt was dread. Was she the only one feeling like this? Was it because she had had so little time to enjoy her time here, compared to the rest of her classmates? She’d found that being a student at Hogwarts was much more than learning magic. It was having a home, knowing there was some place to belong. It was building friendships that felt more like family. 

She knew she was being a bit silly about all of it—after all, she wouldn’t really be leaving Hogwarts. Professor Hecate had offered her an apprenticeship; she had seen the girl’s talent in fighting the Dark Arts first hand in her fifth year, and thought she would make a wonderful Defense Against the Dark Arts professor when the time came. She wouldn’t be leaving. But nearly everyone else would. 

As she looked around the Great Hall, her eyes rested on each of her friends. Garreth was beginning his own line of potions—he was already doing well. Poppy was going into the Ministry, working to preserve Magical Creatures. Imelda had been accepted to fly with the Holyhead Harpies. They all had adventures to go on, lives to live freely. This was their parting of ways—would they ever be all together again? 

Her throat tightened as she saw Ominis and Sebastian sitting together across the room. Of all the friends she’d miss, they were easily at the top of her list. There had been a while she truly worried their little trio wouldn’t pull through. After Soloman’s death, Ominis found being around Sebastian almost unbearable—he felt a great deal of responsibility for the man’s demise. For that time, Sebastian was pretty much completely alone. But she had stepped in. She couldn’t let him wallow in his guilt (and there were times it had nearly consumed him) and tried to pull him back off the dark path he’d started treading. While not guilty in the same way, she a semblance of what he had been feeling—when Professor Figg died, she tore herself up for months afterward, grieving and regretting. Sebastian had helped her through it. They had learned to depend on one another when they weren’t feeling strong enough on their own. They had each other—and that was enough. Sebastian swore off the Dark Arts forever, and he was finally serious. There was no way to completely rid himself of the burden of his guilt—a guilt that had come from using an Unforgivable Curse. He never wanted to feel that way again. 

After some time, Ominis saw the change in Sebastian. The two began talking again—and they had pulled through. She was glad. She didn’t know what she would do without them both. 

Poor Ominis was going back home with his family, now that he was done with school—at least for a little while. He was planning on buying some little cottage and leaving them as soon as possible. And Sebastian—she had to look away from him as the memories clouded her head. 

It had just been a month ago. He’d sent her an urgent letter, telling her to meet in the Undercroft. When she had entered the room, he’d been pacing back and forth. This worried her. Usually, Sebastian only paced when he was concerned or thinking hard about something. But as soon as he spotted her, his face broke out into a wide grin. 

“I’ve got great news!” he said, marching up to her. “I’ve finally found a solid lead for Anne’s curse!” 

Her mouth dropped open. After all that time, Sebastian had never stopped looking for a cure for Anne. They were hardly on speaking terms—or more send-the-occasional-letter terms, really—but he was still looking for the cure he was sure was out there.

“A lead?” she asked. “How? What is it?” 

The whole story came spilling out of his mouth, and he spoke faster than she had ever seen him do. He detailed of the letters he sent, the books he had tracked down for mere sentences of information. But it had concluded in learning of some wizard who had extensive knowledge of healing curses.

“He’s agreed to help me. He’ll have loads to show me—to teach me. I’m sure something he knows will help Anne,” Sebastian said. “I leave for America at the end of the year.” 

She swore her heart shattered. 

Sebastian, gone to chase after a man in America? Why would he have done anything different? He’d always done everything he could for Anne—his care for his sister was still one of his driving forces. She loved that about him. 

Yes, loved. She loved Sebastian Sallow with every bit of her heart and soul. He was a troubled young man—but one who persevered through his problems with an unyielding determination. He was passionate in everything he did. He was like a fire, spreading himself far and wide with a heat and excitement that astonished her. And there were those times he calmed down enough to be a focused flame on the wick of a candle—something warm and careful, a light when the world seemed black. 

She had never told him this. Just as he had never told her how he felt. But it was there—present in every word, every moment they had together. It was there in the sleepless nights they spent in the Undercroft, fending away nightmares. It was there in the brushing of hands, the whispers of “are you ok?” It was there in aching embraces when it all became too much. 

She couldn’t tell him. No, she had always told herself, it was better left unspoken. Better left in the dark, where it could fade away when it had run its course. 

Better left where it wasn’t something to lose. 

Because that was what she was afraid of, wasn’t it? Both her and Sebastian had already lost so much. Families, friends, innocence—it had all been whisked away from them. To place hope in something—to give life to something good—well, losing it could be the end of either of them. 

That didn’t mean she didn’t want it—and God, did she want it desperately. There had been times she’d written it in a letter, only to burn it in the fireplace. Times she almost closed the distance between them, breaching the invisible wall they’d put up. There were nights she had stared up at the ceiling, deciding that tomorrow, tomorrow she’d throw all caution to the wind and let herself be happy for once, dammit.

But now, she was all out of tomorrows. 

Tomorrow, he left for America. Tomorrow, he was no longer hers. Tomorrow, she would be alone. 

There was no guarantee she would ever see him again. She’d run through every possibility in her head—it was all she had done since he’d told her his plans a month ago. He could go and find a cure, inviting Anne to join him across the sea. Maybe he’d find work there—be an apprentice to the healer, follow in his footsteps. Maybe—and this is what she feared the most—maybe he’d find some beautiful American girl, one who Sebastian for the dashing man he so obviously was, and he’d fall in love. 

He could have asked her to come with him. It was that thought that hurt her the most. She already knew what her answer would have been—a complete and undeniable yes. She would have followed him anywhere, if he had only asked. But he didn’t. 

How could he have asked that of her? To leave the home she had so recently found for some mere possibility? To leave a job that had been all but promised to her, to abandon everything she had come to know… No, no… he couldn’t ask that of her. 

She still would have said yes.

She said yes that very night, after her thoughts had cleared. It wasn’t to America that he had asked her to follow—only to the Restricted Section of the library. 

“For old time’s sake,” he said. He smiled down at her, his dark brown eyes enticing her. 

She smiled back. It had been one of their first adventures together—might as well be their last, too. “How could I say no to an offer like that?” 

And off they went. They waited together in the Great Hall until most of the other students had  gone off to bed, following the rule of curfew—a rule both she and Sebastian had long since disregarded. She said goodnight to Ominis and other friends as they filed out, making them promise to send letters. She couldn’t think too hard about the goodbyes—it would break her. Instead, she focused on the Disillusionment Charm she cast on herself as she and Sebastian walked quietly through the halls. She heard Sebastian chuckle beside her. She looked over at him, only seeing a hazy blur of motion in the shadows. 

“Something funny over there?” she said quietly. 

“Do you remember the first time we did this? You didn’t even know the Disillusionment Charm, and yet you were ready to go barging into the library, no second thoughts about it.”

She smiled. “I was a bit brash then, wasn’t I?”

“You say that like you aren’t now.” 

“Oh hush. I’m plenty brash. The difference is now I know enough to keep it from being my downfall.” She poked her head around the corner, eyes scanning for any prefects in the hall. She didn’t spot any, stepping forward. “Looks clear.” 

Into the library they went, sneaking easily past the dim lights and empty tables. Scribner didn’t seem to be there. Turned in early, perhaps, to prepare for travel the next day. 

At last they were marching down the familiar stairs of the Restricted Section. Even in her shortened time in Hogwarts, she was sure she came second to only Sebastian in the time any student had spent there. 

Sebastian sighed in comfort, taking the charm off of him. He went to a nearby shelf, finger brushing over the spines of familiar books. “Sure am going to miss having my own private library,” he said. 

“You’ll be miserable,” she told him. “I’d suggest packing enough books to keep you on your boatride over, but I doubt even an enchanted case could hold that many.” 

He laughed. “I’d say you’re making fun of me for all my reading, but it’s too true to be much of a joke.” 

“A proper and thorough education is nothing to make fun of, dear Sebastian.” She stood beside him, staring at the shelves. “You reckon you’ve really read every one?” “Twice over,” he said confidently. 

“Then which one is your favorite?” 

He thought for a moment. “It’s this way,” he said, leading her around the corner. Then he leaned down, staring hard at a lower shelf, arms crossed as he searched. Then he smiled. “Here we are!” The book he pulled out was intricately designed, with weaving patterns of gold decorating the cover. It was thick and clearly old, but well kept. “It’s a book of children’s tales. Some of them are quite gruesome, of course, and describe a bit too much of the curses and hexes in the stories, hence the being in the Restricted Section. The story I like is just fine, though.” He leafed through the pages, finally settling on a moving drawing of a maiden weeping, looking out a window. 

“Seems cheery,” she commented. 

“Well, it’s not for the most of it, but it ends alright. Happily ever after and all that,” he said, turning the pages. He was quiet at the moment, staring at the words the end on the last page of the story. “I think it’s the only one with a happy ending in the whole book. I don’t really remember much of the story.” 

She didn’t know what to say to that. It was… too real. Too fitting. He had to be wondering the same thing she was—would either of them have a happy ending? Were they lucky enough to be the single story in a book of sorrow that ended well? If their lives leading up to this point were any indication, she was inclined to say no. 

They spent a bit longer browsing books, Sebastian showing off some of the interesting spells and facts he had learned there. It was a walk down memory lane—one that she found comforting on that last night. Finally, they grew bored of already read books and parchment, and made their way back up the stairs. They had charmed themselves to fade away against the stone walls of the castle, and made their way together through them. She paused suddenly when she heard voices up ahead. 

“I’ve still got to finish grading the last essays they turned in.” She recognized the voice, of course—Professor Weasley. 

“That’s why I went with a practical exam for the final. Less papers to go through,” Professor Onai replied. 

Sebastian grabbed her hand from behind her—they were just around the corner. It was much too bright in this corridor—the charm would do nothing to conceal them. So, she let Sebastian pull her into a classroom just beside them. Well, she thought it was a classroom until she tried to step back and found a wall directly behind her. It was a closet—barely big enough to hold them both. 

Sebastian stood directly in front of her, trying to peer through the crack between the door and wall. He looked so awfully serious as he did—she couldn’t help the small laugh that bubbled up through her lips. Sebastian’s eyes widened at the sound, and his scandalized expression only made her laugh harder. He dove forward, pressing his hand over her mouth.

“Are you trying to get us caught?” he whispered. The voices of the professors had passed them by, leaving them in silence once again. 

She tugged away the hand over her mouth. “What are they going to do? Expel us?”

Now it was his turn to laugh. “Honestly, I wouldn’t put it past Black to do something like that.” 

“It would sure allow you to be remembered here,” she said. “Sebastian Sallow, the brilliant, troublemaking boy who made it all the way to his last day before getting kicked out.”

“Don’t forget his sidekick, who got the both of them kicked out with her ridiculous laughing.”

She gasped. “Oh, I’m the sidekick, am I?” 

“Well, most stories prefer to have a dashing and likable main character, and I fit that quite well, I think.” 

“I think you’re forgetting which of us wields a very rare kind of ancient magic.”

He waved a hand. “Semantics.” 

They were grinning at each other, light dim in the closet. She adored that mischief in his eyes. It made her feel alive. But slowly, his grin faded, face becoming more serious. 

No, she thought. No, he can’t say it. I can’t let him say it. 

“Do you want to go down to the boathouse?” she asked, before he had the chance to open his mouth. 

He nodded. “We couldn’t dare forget to say goodbye to our dear old friend, the squid.” 

She playfully shoved his shoulder before opening the door to the closet. The both of them tumbled out and soon found themselves outside, cool breeze blowing over them. The night sky was clear; the stars glimmered in the sky. 

Sebastian sat at the edge of the boathouse’s dock. She quickly joined him. 

“I’m going to miss this view,” Sebastian said quietly. 

It really was something. The Black Lake reflected the moonlight and stars, making her feel like she was surrounded by the night sky. 

She felt Sebastian’s gaze shift to her. “I’m going to miss you, you know.”

She bit her lip. “Don’t say that.” 

“Why not? It’s true.” 

“Just because it’s true doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt,” she said softly. 

It took him several moments to respond. “I know,” he finally whispered. He reached for her hand, taking it her own. “I don’t know what I would have done all this time without you.”

His voice was soft—softer than she’d ever heard it. She was so used to his confidence, his bravado. This softness scared her. It was too close to what they shouldn’t say. It implied too much. 

But she decided to let herself have that moment. They would toe the edge without coming over. They’d get close to that line, but never cross it. She leaned against his shoulder, resting her head on him. 

“I’m glad I met you, Sebastian. Truly.” 

She felt his body tense at the words—she knew exactly what was going through his head. How could that be the truth? How could she be glad to meet him, after all the pain he had put her through? She stayed quiet, letting the words sink in. The sincerity of them. 

“I’m glad I met you, too. Even if you had to knock me on my arse to do it,” he said quietly. 

She laughed a bit, relaxing into him. If she could just stay in this moment—this one where she could pretend he wasn’t leaving in a few short hours, this one where they held each other close, as if the words had been spoken, as if it was how it could be, she would. 

But she knew too well that all good things had an end, and this night was just the same. She didn’t know how long they had sat in silence, staring out across the water. It felt like lifetimes. It felt like seconds. Then they stood and began walking back to the castle. 

He didn’t let go of her hand. She was grateful for the comfort—she needed every once of it. He led her to her common room as they unspokenly decided to get it over with; to let the night end. 

With every breath, she felt her chest tighten. She had to let it go. He had never been hers—she needed to remember that. Nothing was ending, because it had never begun. 

They stood, face to face, in front of her common room door. She let go of his hand and threw her arms around him, pulling him into an embrace. His arms didn’t hesitate to hold her tight against him—like he was afraid to let go. She felt the pounding of his heart, his warm breath against her neck as he buried his face into it. All too soon, they broke apart. 

She stared up at him. Ask me. Ask me to come with you. 

I’d follow you. I’d say yes. 

But he didn’t say anything. Instead, he took a small step backward, letting the distance come between them. It was better this way, she thought. Of course it was. 

He was just about to turn to go when she spoke.

“Seb-Sebastian,” she said. Was her voice really that frantic? He turned around, facing her again. There was hope on his face—paired with dread. Her next words came out soft. “Write me, will you?” 

He nodded, still staring at her. 

And then Sebastian Sallow ruined it all. 

He marched up to her, placing his hand on her cheek, and before she could even think, he crashed his lips into her own. Her hands came up to grip his robe, holding him there, keeping them together. It was searing and haunting, soft and horrible. It was everything she had ever dreamed of, and that made it all the more painful. 

They parted. His eyes were closed as he pried her hands off of him. And then he left. 

She walked into the common room, shaking. She didn’t even have time to think if the room was empty or not before she collapsed to the ground, sob tearing out of her throat. 

He had done it. The idiot had done it. He had given her everything, and now she had lost it. The taste of what could have been haunted her—she knew in that moment that she would never be free. It would follow her each morning she woke up without him. It would keep her awake each night. She had gotten too close to the flame—she’d let herself burn. 

She wept, trying to forget the heat of his kiss—his kiss goodbye.

A/N: ... sorry about that, folks. This was heavily inspired by the song "Dearly Departed" by Marianas Trench, hence the title and quote above. I highly recommend giving it a listen.

Thanks for reading!

[starfruitgalaxy]

It was like any other day in the busy town of Ravencrest; and, at its heart there was a bustling inn’s keep. The building was filled with the sounds of laughter, joy, and singing, and mugs clanking together as parties celebrated the fruitful bounty after a hard days work.

Despite the room being packed to the brim with patrons, there was a small corner only occupied by one person. They wore mostly dark clothing acquainted with some brown leather straps and donned a hood that concealed their face from peering eyes. A bow and a piece of parchment lay on the small table. The note reads of a promise of a large sum of coin to whoever brings in the witch outside the skirts of town.

Taking a small swig of the beverage, they rose from their seat and left with the intention of liberating the witch’s soul from her body

The bounty hunter rode a horse west of Ravencrest, deep into the forest, knowing that the witch would have made an effort to conceal her whereabouts. As they kept going deeper and deeper into the woods, their hopes drew thinner as they had no luck. The horse continued to move faster until suddenly, they stopped dead in their tracks, causing them to fall off and tumble onto the ground.

Fortunately, aside from a bruise or two they seemed to be perfectly fine, although bewildered as to why the horse suddenly stopped moving. It was as if there was a force preventing them from moving forward.

Curious about this mystery, the hooded figure pulled one arrow out of their quiver and held it forward. Strangely, the front half of the arrow disappeared; but, pulling back the arrow revealed that it was in one piece.

Determining that it would be safe to cross the invisible barrier, they walked towards it until reaching the other side which revealed a cute cottage house.

Drawing out a dagger, they knew that they had to be careful as being caught would mean certain death, or worse.

They opened the door and began scanning the living room to see if there were any indicators of her presence close by. However, the room was empty. A fire gently glowed in the pit, driving away the cold.

Moving on to see if she was elsewhere in the house, they roamed the small hallways until they found a room emitting a small glow. They saw that this was a bedroom. A large mattress with soft pillows and fuzzy blankets lay in a mess, as if she didn’t have enough time to make her bed. Additionally the room had clothes littered all over the floor (whoever lives here doesn’t really seem to mind the state of her room).

In a way, the bedroom felt very homey, with tiny familiar fireflies glowing in jars giving the room a warm tone.

As they continued to search, they stumbled into the closet, perhaps they’d find her in here?

Looking through all the coats and hangers, there didn’t seem to be any sign of anyone hiding in there. However, there was a really beautiful dress which caught their attention: it was a lavender dress with black accents. They couldn’t stop but take a minute to feel the material: it felt good, almost too good. They were getting distracted they needed to find the witch before…

Feeling very disoriented, they tried to fight it off but couldn’t resist the effects and passed out.

They woke up in the bed, feeling very cozy it would be very hard to want to get up, but they realized that they passed out and needed to kill the witch. They hopped out of bed, but noticed that the clothing they were wearing was missing

Instead of the normal attire, it was only a silky pair of panties and a bra. Freaking out, they ran to the mirror. It was just as they expected, she must’ve seen what they looked like. Black hair ran down their shoulders, their eyes gold as the sun in the sky, with a body very thin almost appearing feminine.

They were a natural beauty, though they never showed that to the outside world for private reasons.

Deciding to investigate further, they opened the door and heard an enchanting hum coming from the kitchen. They walked bare foot, hips swaying in a mesmerizing way. Finally reaching the kitchen the witch turned around and noticed.

“Good morning darling, I’m so sorry that I put you to sleep, but I needed to know that you wouldn’t pose a threat in my home, at least until I knew what I wanted to do with you…”

Feeling their heart exploding out of their chest hearing those words, they bolted for the door only to realize it was sealed shut.

“I figured you world try to do that so I went ahead and cast a spell on the lock, it won’t budge until I say so. So… are you a coffee or tea type of girl”.

“Girl?” They thought to themselves, “Does she not know what I am?”

“T-Tea” they said shyly

“Okay! I’ll make you a cup of tea, cutie!”

After the tea finished brewing the lady brought over two cups and quickly came back with some scones

“I hope you enjoy sweetie! I made those scones just today!”

They were hesitant to eat or drink, fearing that it may be poisoned.

“Why aren’t you eating? Look if you scared about me putting anything in here I promise you I didn’t. Here, watch me”.

She takes a sip of your tea and breaks off a small piece of the very large scone.

“See, no poison. Now eat up, a girl like you isn’t going to be well unless you get something in your system”.

“Why do you keep calling me a girl, l’m not a girl”.

“Is that what you think? Or what the simpletons in Ravencrest tell you?”

“I don’t show myself to others, it draws too much attention”

“Right, and being in the edgy outfit with a large hood doesn’t draw suspicion”

“Touché. So… you said you were deciding what to do with me, is this the part where you kill me or curse me with something fatal for trying to kill you?”

“Pfffft hahaha! Goodness no! Honestly I don’t think you could kill me even if you tried”.

“Oh…”

“But don’t worry, I have a much better fate for you. See, a witch can get lonely by her lonesome, she needs company. And I really can’t have a relationship if everyone is trying to kill me. When you entered my domain, I kept a very close eye on you and observed every little thing you did. Especially when you were getting all googly eyed over that purple dress”.

Their cheeks flooded with warmth as they became embarrassed after hearing her comments.

“I want to make a deal with you. I ignore the fact you tried to kill me, if you agree to be my girlfriend”.

“W-What!?”

“I know you think that’s crazy, but think about it, you get to have a beautiful girlfriend, you get to have a nice, relaxing life, you never have to worry about anyone harassing you, and you get to wear all the cute clothes you want!”

All these offers sounded very nice, but they were concerned about one thing

“Um… that sounds nice, but I don’t know if you would be uncomfortable with me having a dick, and no breasts”

“Awe, rest assured. I will love you no matter what. besides, I always have some potions and spells to help with the transition”.

With their, no, her mind at rest she agreed.

“Yay!!! I’m so happy!!! Oh wait we never introduced ourselves, I’m Hazel, what’s your name?”

She had a name, but she never referred herself by it since it felt so wrong, she was used to being referred to as the bounty hunter, but no it’s time for her to choose a new name for herself, she chose:

“Serena”.

[rintarousgirl]

jjk characters as taylor swift love songs

PART ONE

a/n: these are all the adult characters that i chose, and the next part will be the current students!

suguru getou / invisible string

"hell was the journey, but it brought me to heaven"

there was a time in suguru's life where he thought he wouldn't be able to recover from the pressing darkness clouding his mind. waking up each day managed to be a chore, and staying awake was even harder. trying to remain strong and positive took too many tolls on him, and yet you came. you were a shine of gold light in his small rotting cottage, holding the piece of invisible string that tied your pinkies together. you gave him your honey-sweet smiles and looked up at him with those beautiful sparkling eyes that promised a future better than anything he could've wished for.

nanami kento / call it what you want

"you don't need to save me, but would you run away with me"

kento knew he'd live a desired life. an easy one. he worked his hours, got paid for his hours, got home and took his rest and the next day he'd repeated. you were unexpected, unplanned. you'd waltzed into his office job, holding coffees and smiling, and kento knew you were the person he wanted to live beside. even if it meant throwing away jujutsu society and everything he worked for. he'd take your hand, shoulder all your burdens, go out of his way to make sure your life was easy if it meant keeping you.

gojo satoru / daylight

“i don't wanna look at anything else now that I saw you, i don't wanna think of anything else now that I thought of you”

satoru knows he doesn’t have a lot of things in life. he’s the number one sorcerer, he can’t be selfish. but when it comes to you? there’s nothing he wants more but to be by your side. satoru would move heaven and earth to be with you. no elders, no curse could stop him. everyday he was graced by you, and he never wanted it to stop. you saved him. you kept him from the crooked path of corruption. you kept his heart full, healthy. in sickness and in health, as he’d call it. satoru vows that if theres ever a day he’s not with you, he must be dead.

choso / mine

“you made a rebel of a careless man's careful daughter, you are the best thing that's ever been mine”

choso knew better than to break your heart. he was smarter than that, he loved you more than that. he had to be careful, made sure your love was just as strong as his, before he could take you. he didn’t want any doubt, because he knows there are much better men out there, begging for your attention. but they couldn’t hold a dime to his love. they couldn’t treat you the way he could, worship you the way he could. his love was unmatched, and on top of that, you were his. “mine,” he’d whisper, and you’d hum. “yours,” you agree.

toji fushiguro / dress

“only bought this dress so you could take it off, take it off, carve your name into my bedpost, ‘cause I don't want you like a best friend”

toji knew it was wrong, he’d be stupid not to. he shouldn’t have let the pathetic maid from the zen’in clan follow him that night he escaped. you were dead weight. but toji still found himself draping his jacket over your shoulders when you shivered, and breathing hot air into your hands. he still found himself paying for your food, and buying you small things you mentioned in passing. he still found himself wrapped around you, his lips pressing against yours in the dark hours of the night. in the morning, it’d be fine. you’d be the pathetic person who followed him around all day. there would be no touches, no lingering glazes. he wouldn’t care for you like that, even though he desperately wanted to.

ieiri shoko / sparks fly

“my mind forgets to remind me you're a bad idea, you touch me once and it's really something”

shoko knows she isn’t perfect. she knows her sleep schedule is horrible, and that most of her attention is divided between med school and getting a new pack of cigs. but once she saw you, she couldn’t stop noticing you. your bright smiles, beautiful laughter. shoko wanted to be on the receiving end of all of it. she wanted to be the one who brightened up your day, and kissed your lips till you were breathless. even if she was the worst option, the option that couldn’t give you what you wanted. she wanted you, and that should make up for it right?

[sagaapprentice]

I don’t think this is going to be like ???? The entirety of chapter 2? Just basically writing and posting as I go (at least until AO3 decides I am worthy enough for an account)

I know where the story is going I’m just having A Time getting us there. Build up is important and I’m trying to get better at it I just Maybe Am Not Yet. It’s why a lot of times I give up on stories half-finished because I just…don’t know how to build up to the point of the story I want to be. Part of writing this is working myself past that because obviously actually writing the build up is KIND OF IMPORTANT TO ESTABLISH A STORY (I also hated writing intros to essay’s in school so go figure)

Anyway, no beta we die like Ianthe in the Weavers Cottage

The Golden Fawn

(working title) (if you have a better idea let me know)

Unfortunately, there wasn’t a whole lot of information about the group itself. Usually when researching something that may or may not be a cult, there would be stories online from former members talking about “escaping” and detailing their time in the group. However, Azriel found none of that. There was no Facebook page with a few dozen members talking about how they escaped. No Substack post from a former member talking about their time living with the group. Just…nothing.

Someone who was just casually researching them might think that, without any defectors talking about their experiences, then clearly they were a trustworthy group who really were (as their website explained) “helping young people find their place in the world”. Endless photos of smiling college students and twenty-something’s that clearly just graduated were pictured on the website, and Azriel found one photo that had been uploaded recently that had Elain in it. She was smiling brightly, leaning on a man with bright red hair (Feyre explained that Elain seemed to have joined with a friend of hers from college named Lucien and based on her vague description he assumed that was who she was with in the photo). There was a page detailing different classes they offered (for free) for anyone who felt like they just wanted some direction. Classes from “managing anxiety” to “preparing for job interviews” running the entire gamut from what someone who was about to finish or had just finished college might be struggling with. It seemed like the absolute perfect program.

Which is exactly why Azriel was starting to take Feyre’s fears seriously.

There wasn’t a single organization on the planet that didn’t have scathing blog posts from former members talking about how terrible their experiences were. Every religion had them, every job preparedness training program had them, hell even some particularly intense exercise programs had them. So how was it that this group that boasted over 500 members, with 100 of them living together in some kind of commune, have nothing.

Something was…off.

He stared at the photo of Elain again, smiling brightly at whoever was taking the photo. Something was wrong, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. He just couldn’t stop staring at her face and the way the sun shined down making her hair glow like a halo around her.

Whatever was going on, he was absolutely determined to help her. Whatever this group was, whatever they had done to pull so many people in, he was going to find it and he was going to get her out.

There was an open class being offered at the end of the week at their compound (called “dormitory” on the website probably because it sounded better) for people “overcoming trauma” which was perfect. All he really had to do was talk about his childhood and play up how much it affected him and he would probably be fast tracked into being asked to live on site. Considering the internet was scrubbed of any negative experiences, he figured they were at least basically computer savvy and probably somewhat vetted the people they brought on site, so he couldn’t exactly walk in giving them his real name since it would be fairly easy to find his PI business.

He needed an identity that would seamlessly fit in with the stories he’d be able to tell of his childhood, but would also stand up to a cursory search online to verify he was telling the truth. Someone who, if photos popped up, he could reasonably pass as photos of himself. With a not insignificant amount of self-hatred, he realised that the easiest identity to steal would be one of his half-brothers.

He and Rhys weren’t brothers by blood, but by choice. For the first decade of Azriel’s life, he lived with his father and half-brothers who were, to put it lightly, fucking awful. They had beaten and screamed at him and put him thru all manners of abuse, culminating in the incident that permanently scarred his hands when they set him on fire. But he had also been keeping tabs on them (to make sure he could avoid them) so it would be fairly easy to slide into one of their identities to get access.

[sunnyrealist]

Chapter 66: The Former Gaunt

The Sun, the Moon, and All Our Stars

Summary and Details…

Previous Chapter Recap/Context: Emotionally exhausted, Sebastian returned home after his visit with Ominis in the Three Broomsticks, during which he learned how Anne had died - in a rather mundane manner that was unrelated to the curse she had suffered through as a child. The next morning, Kate tries her best to take care of Sebastian, cooking him a hearty breakfast. He tells her about all that Ominis had shared and then reveals he has invited him over for dinner that night. Although it is very last-minute and Kate has been taken by surprise, she agrees to host. She and Sebastian work all day to prepare the cottage and cook an impressive meal for Ominis while still finding time for some sweet moments and merriment.

Pairing: 25-year-old, post-Azkaban Sebastian Sallow x 24-year-old Kate Mayflower (my OC), the assistant librarian at Hogwarts

Content warnings: In general, this is rated 18+, so minors should not read or interact with this story. This chapter is pretty mild, but there's discussion of disowning a family member and general family trauma.

The full chapter is available below the cut; it can also be found on AO3 (link is posted below). Please leave some feedback if possible, especially if you like what you read! 🥰

Chapter 66: The Former Gaunt

“When my father found out that I was no longer living at Hogwarts, he was furious,” Ominis tells them as he spreads butter onto a slice of warm bread. “But I had already received permission from the Headmaster, and it would have been… humiliating for him to tell Black, one of his own friends, that I, his son, had not consulted him at all in the arrangement and that I was openly defying him.”

Kate nods, and Sebastian gives her a look before replying, “I see.” She realizes the mistake instantly - the blind man wouldn’t have a clue that she was responding in any way unless she spoke up.

“My parents couldn’t understand that I wanted to help Anne. They… have… an unusual set of values,” Ominis adds, to help Kate understand. “They felt there was no reason to do so, and that it actually was a tarnishing of the Gaunt name.”

“Why would it be considered…?” Kate trails off, bewildered. “How… cruel… and strange to chastise you for such a selfless act.”

“There is nothing selfless about my ‘family.’ I don’t even consider them family anymore, nor the other way around. They don’t help anyone out of the goodness of their hearts. They perform a favor only when there is some benefit to them - like having someone in their debt or gaining some type of prestige,” Ominis continues with his brows furrowed. “It didn’t matter how many times I explained how I owed it to Sebastian to help his sister.” He gestures to his old friend on the other side of the table. “To them, Sebastian was just… a criminal. They couldn’t understand.” 

Kate glances Sebastian’s way, examining his face as he frowns deeply and begins to violently attack his steak.

“And when time passed and I had made up my mind that I would marry Anne, I kept it to myself for a long while.” Ominis takes a moment to take a sip of his cranberry currant seltzer water. “I knew I might require the Gaunt name to obtain a respectable job - one with flexible hours so that I could still tend to Anne as needed. I became an employee at Borgin and Burke’s after my father called in a favor to Caractacus Burke.”

Sebastian’s eyes snap up in recognition, and his eyes narrow. “You work at Borgin and Burke’s?”

Kate glances his way in confusion. “What exactly is Borgin and Burke’s?”

“It’s -” Sebastian begins confidently, then realizes how much it might give away about his post-Azkaban life and career and almost immediately shuts up. He pauses, making it sound as though he is unsure. “It’s a shop, isn’t it?”

Ominis takes a heaping spoonful of mashed potatoes and is silent for a long moment - a bit too long. He seems to choose his words carefully. “Yes, in Diagon Alley, a bit… off the beaten path. We purchase and sell magical items, specializing in powerful, rare, and ancient artifacts. There are many… curiosities in the shop. I’m a manager there now.” He smiles faintly. “I enjoy having priority over the customers whenever there’s a new item. Some are quite useful.”

Sebastian suddenly chokes on his seltzer water, and Kate covers for him. “We’ll have to pay the store a visit. I’m interested to see your wares.”

“Yes,” Sebastian adds after recovering. “In fact, we may have some items to sell.”

Surprised, Ominis considers this. “Do you now?” 

“Well, we recently went on a camping trip. It was rather adventurous for me. We did some exploration and discovered a trove of unique treasures,” Kate explains. 

“Certainly the shop owners would be delighted to assess them.” He dabs his mouth with a napkin. “Come by anytime. I often work weekdays. If I am there, I will ensure that you make a fair bargain.”

“Thank you,” she replies. 

The trio pause to enjoy their dinner - pan-seared steak with a demi-glace, mashed potatoes, warm honey bread, and oven-roasted vegetables fresh from Kate’s garden. 

“This is delicious. Everything is seasoned perfectly,” Ominis remarks. “You’re a talented cook, Kate. I truly appreciate the effort.”

“Thank you.” Kate beams. “Sebastian did help quite a bit, too.” 

Her boyfriend smiles in response, squeezing her hand.

“If I may,” Sebastian begins, “Dare I ask how your family responded when you married Anne? Did you receive their blessing? I can’t imagine it… went well, knowing the Gaunts.”

His friend scoffs. “My mother was apparently trying to arrange an advantageous marriage for me at the time without my knowledge. Anne and I certainly did not receive their blessing. I knew they’d never grant it. We wed in secret,” Ominis replies. “They would have resorted to… drastic measures had they known in advance. After the fact, I informed them of our marriage and announced that I had changed my name for Anne. They handled their anger with me discreetly, trying to not cause a fuss or fuel gossip amongst the pureblood community. If it were announced to the public that their weak, disappointing, disabled, black sheep of a son had married the chronically ill and uneducated sister of a known criminal, it would have been shameful to the family.” He cringes. “They are… infinitely judgmental.”

A scowl overtaking his face, Sebastian sees red.

“Sebastian…” Kate warns as quietly as she can, gently touching her boyfriend’s arm.

“You know I didn’t look at Anne or you that way,” Ominis quickly mentions, picking up on Kate’s tone. “My parents didn’t officially remove me from the family tree, but I am essentially dead to them. They don’t need me… or want me anyway. I have two older brothers, married with children. There are plenty of Gaunt heirs.” He pauses, smirking a little. “But… you know, there are times during which the Gaunt family name is still useful to me. I am able to enjoy the reputation of my former name without having to actually associate with them.” 

“You were never one of them,” Sebastian murmurs. “You were meant to be part of the Sallow family, Ominis.” 

Ominis appears pensive, smiling faintly. “My fondest childhood memories were… always with you and Anne. In Hogwarts and in Feldcroft.” He takes a bite of steak, then speaks directly to Kate. “As abusive as Solomon was towards Sebastian, even he was far more kind than my own family members.” 

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she replies. “I can’t imagine growing up in either of your circumstances.”

“Did you have any family trauma?” Ominis asks incredulously with a laugh.

A lopsided smile tugs at Kate’s lips as she shakes her head. “No. No trauma.”

After the meal, Kate ushers Omins and Sebastian into the living room. She delivers two steaming cups of tea and kisses Sebastian’s cheek. She thanks her boyfriend’s old friend for the considerate gift of chocolate truffles, then disappears back into the kitchen to clean up.

“She’s lovely,” Ominis murmurs. “Truly.” 

“I’m still astounded every day that she chose me,” Sebastian remarks. “She’s the kindest woman I’ve ever met. She’s patient beyond belief. Intelligent and loyal with a great sense of humor. Beautiful inside and out. I wish you could see her - our cottage - it’s really something.”

“I can tell it’s very much a home,” Ominis muses. “It’s warm and comfortable here. And it smells like… a greenhouse and a bakery all at once.”

Sebastian laughs. “An apt description. There are plants everywhere. She loves them. Her father is deeply interested in horticulture, and clearly, that passed on to her.” 

“Pureblood?”

“Yes,” Sebastian answers. 

“I’m not familiar with her family name,” the blonde man notes. “But judging by her nature, it isn’t surprising my family didn’t associate with hers.”

“I don’t know them - not yet, but I agree with you. She grew up very comfortable and loved,” Sebastian notes. “Not at all the way we were raised.”

“You haven’t met them?”

The sound of dishes being stacked comes from the kitchen. Sebastian wandlessly turns on the gramophone. A Frederic Chopin song begins to play.

He sighs, speaking very low. “No… not yet. She… hasn’t really even told them much about me. I’ve got to be honest - I’m rather nervous. I think when they find out who I am… where I’ve been… they won’t approve. I hate to put her through that pain.” 

Ominis hums in response. “If it’s meant to be, you’ll both weather it…”

“It is,” Sebastian replies quickly. “But… I’m certainly not the kind of man they would want their daughter to marry.”

Ominis picks up his teacup again. “Hmm… sounds like a challenge. Are you… not up to it? The Sebastian Sallow I once knew would have stopped at nothing to get what he wanted.”

Sebastian huffs. “I wouldn’t say I am less determined, but I…” the chestnut-haired man explains, “...I just want to do things right. There are boundaries I will never cross again. I’ve learned a great deal since… well, since… you know what.”

His friend nods in understanding. 

Both of them sit quietly, sipping their tea and listening to the music.

“Sebastian,” Ominis finally says with some hesitation, “There is something I need to tell you.”

[anima-nostrae]

Ups, I forgot about my WIP

A curse as old as time, isn't it? A fanfic, an essay, a story, a piece of art...

The beautiful thing is that there is no deadline for passion projects. They can lay dormant for a day, a month, or a decade, but they come to life just as fervently as loyal old dogs that greet their owners when they come back from a boring but life-giving job.

That is to say, I am proud to announce Days of Reckoning have been picked up again, if there is anyone here that cares for them. I would hazard a guess that Chapter 3 will be live by the end of the month. In the meanwhile, here's a sneak peak (this is an unedited version, therefore might differ slightly from the "published version"):

If the temperature inside the cottage could be classified as breezy the previous evening, then the morning was assuredly cutting. The second Bloom opened her eyes, with one being covered by a duvet she had to throw over her face sometime in the night, she wanted to curl up even tighter into herself, suddenly missing her grandmother’s favourite hobby, knitting, and particularly discovering the art of weaving herself into a tight woollen ball. The very next thought was that she had to be smelling burnt toast, since that particular charring process is, at least to the nose, unmistakeable. The third thought was that she was in the goddamn cottage, and not alone but with…

With a groan that was just a tiny bit exaggerated she rolled over onto her back and sat up straight, still wearing the protective cocoon all around her trembling body. Her eyes were lacking their usual sharpness, hence why Bloom couldn’t be convinced that she saw Valtor cooking in front of her. 

He didn’t mind her much, focused tightly on his fried eggs and probably very much less than fresh toasts with butter, all of which the stars themselves only knew where he got from.

“Erghm,” she cleared her throat. He turned around like a startled fawn, a reflex probably polished by hundreds of battles and assassination attempts. All he found was a half-naked woman, freezing on the bed they made love in the night before. The same woman he fought for many months, the same woman he’s wanted for more than that.

“Morning,” he said, in the most curated monotone.

“I didn’t know you…” she started, but hesitated, “cook.” Nevermind the first thing that came to her mind was eat.

He returned her a slight smile. “I don’t like to, usually. I simply refuse to be dependent on someone because of my lack of skill.”

Bloom took a moment to appraise him - having her enemy before her the morning after they had each other in turn was not something that would happen any other day. His hair wasn’t a complete mess like she would expect, but it wasn’t the shiny wave it was normally. He was shirtless - with his jacket on, but shirtless nonetheless. Bent over the stove like a��

He was shirtless because she was still wearing his shirt.

Something in her brain that hadn't acknowledged Bloom was already awake decided it was a fair thing to return him his property - it was his shirt, his silk against her skin - so her palms made their way to the collar as she was making rounds with her neck to warm up the stiff muscles. The silk was already past her elbows when the cold hit her directly and Bloom understood she was very much awake. Just like him.

As she was working her way up she realised how pitiful she must’ve looked. Cold, so probably red - nevermind blushed - with morning hair, actively performing a striptease before Valtor, who very mindfully and pointedly was admiring the view outside, but his sly smirk betrayed how much of the show he’s actually witnessed. 

“I thought you’d sneak a peek,” Bloom tried to seem unaffected, but more importantly - not embarrassed - which granted her a rare, and before the previous night unknown, pearly laugh. The kind that makes you show all your teeth and shudder your shoulders.

“Oh, I wouldn’t. Bloom, I am a powerful wizard, and a man, but before that - a gentleman. And,” Somehow, his eyes gained an intensity otherwise improper between a pair of lovers during their first shared morning, “There is nothing you can show me now that I haven’t committed to memory already.”

Bloom broke the stare first, trying to concentrate on the fire instead of this man. He was right, he already got everything.

“That is to say,” he continued, clearly sensing her unease, “Don’t think that I would ever dare to forget even a centimetre of you. A second of you. Now, please dress yourself and come to the fire. The eggs are getting cold, and so I think are you.”

Now that was a convincing argument, Bloom thought, as his previous train of thought remained uncontinued by both of them, seemingly in agreement. But those goose feather bedding seemed much cosier than the proximity of the fire.

“Can’t I have breakfast in bed?”“If you want to sleep in stains for how long we’re staying here, yes. Otherwise - come here.”

Some sweet little fluff huh? Do we like it? There's not much of it coming up, so savour it while it lasts.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Rachel Connolly:

Earlier this year, I had a bout of what my friends and I term “mental health”. I was always tired. I couldn’t concentrate. I felt burnt out by the volume of communication that social media facilitates. I am 31 and, like many people my age, I’m in multiple group chats on WhatsApp and often find myself added to new ones. I use Instagram to post work and selfies, and to chat with people via the DM function. I use X similarly. (I’m too old for TikTok.) I enjoy some of this. I like talking nonsense with my friends. But I’d started to question how deliberate much of it was. I’d find myself posting a picture of a book I was reading and think, why do I need an audience to read? I began to wonder if, in the cycle of curating, recording and publicising our lives on social media, the things we do that are not seen and affirmed by people online feel somehow less “real”. My work as a writer means I probably get more online communication than the average person. Last year I published my first novel, and I have since noticed the slightly strange way that novels are discussed online. I get tagged in Instagram posts saying that my book is about a messy girl, a sad girl, a distant girl or a cold girl. There is an algorithmic basis to this. The easiest way to attract attention on social media is to talk about a trend everyone else is talking about, or to slot whatever you’re talking about into one of these trends.

So everywhere you look it is Brat summers or trad wives, cottage-core or bloke-core, high-functioning anxiety, parentified children or whatever happens to be the latest term for pathologising your life experience. Everything is flattened, simplified. I worried that being immersed in it was making me think this way too. A friend recently got a “dumb” phone, a Nokia 3210, to use when she’s out of the house. She leaves her smartphone at home like a landline. It has made her happier, she says. I needed a break too, but I was drawn to the idea of spending some time cut off from all communication. A reset, of sorts. I found a weekend-long silent retreat, no phones allowed, and booked myself in. My craving for a break is not uncommon. Social media is such a constant background presence in our lives that it’s easy to forget how recent it is. Facebook, which feels impossibly passé, is only 20. Instagram is not yet 15. Researchers first used the term “digital detox”, to refer to a period of abstention from phones and laptops, in 2012, around the same time that social media was really taking off (chat rooms had been around since the turn of the 1990s without the concept surfacing).

Digital detoxes remained unusual for a time. In 2015, Essena O’Neill, an Australian influencer with 612,000 Instagram followers, made news around the world when she released a statement about quitting the platform. Today, similar moves by celebrities are so common they barely make headlines. Billie Eilish deleted all social media apps from her phone. Actress Tavi Gevinson wrote about using an assistant to manage her Instagram. It has been hard to keep track of the number of times Stephen Fry has quit and rejoined Twitter over the years. These dramatic exits can seem amusing, especially when they’re followed by sheepish returns, but mostly they underscore how addictive and overwhelming social media can be. My silent retreat took place in a large house in rural Devon. I arrived on Friday, one of a group of about 50. We were allowed to speak during registration and, because I had gone there determined not to use reductive labels, I could already sense myself reaching for them. A young man told me he had done several silent retreats before. Ah, I thought, so you’re the type of person who does these often. Then I caught myself. What type would that be?

During the first meditation session, our instructors explained that we would sit and try to embody, rather than think about, the question “What is this?” This distinction struck me as confusing to the point of meaninglessness. But they explained that one way of attempting “not to think” about the question was to resist the urge to answer it. They encouraged us to focus instead on how we felt, on the physical sensations in our bodies. If you have never tried this, I will say that it is extremely difficult. We sat cross-legged for 30 minutes. I stared at a wall. Then we walked in a circle for 10 minutes. Then we sat down again, and so on, for about two hours. Then it was bedtime. I enjoyed the communality of me and the other girls silently working through our evening routines together. I realised that I had never decided to bring my phone everywhere, like an appendage to my body

The next two days were structured around meditation and chores. At 6.30am we were woken by a bell. We did two hours of meditation, after which we had breakfast. Then a break, followed by another two hours of meditation and lunch. My chore was washing up after we ate. Then more meditation, dinner, another break, meditation, bed. If sitting in an uncomfortable position and staring at a wall while trying not to think sounds impossibly boring, I would say it is not so different from the way my days would unfold when I worked in offices, traipsing from my desk to the tea station and back. More earnestly, I would say I could not have imagined how much I would enjoy the retreat, or how much I’d get out of it. Over the weekend, one of the instructors spoke about trying to be more conscious of the labels we put on our experiences and interactions. It struck me that a similar fatigue with the overload of digital communication is probably what draws a lot of people to try a silent retreat. We were all the type of person who is fed up with “types of people”.

On my first morning after breakfast, I went outside. The countryside seemed fantastically vivid. The blackbirds looked as beautiful as anything I had seen before. I watched one, like a dash of ink, flickering against the mottled grey sky, then two sailing as a pair, in tune with each other. I watched a cloud of them, pulsing. It reminded me of a jellyfish. Back inside, from my seat in the meditation room, I could see a tree that the birds would visit. When I was frustrated with the way my thoughts rattled around my head, reviewing unsaid rebuttals to months-old arguments, I watched the birds and imagined the paths they were taking in the world. One of my issues with the task “embody but try not to think” is that the semantic distinction between thinking and feeling is hard to grasp. If you notice that you feel happy or sad, is that a thought? Or a feeling? I found animals a useful framework to try to understand the distinction, as they negotiate the world using senses. A bird might fly north because of an environmental cue, but it does not say to itself in words, “I want to fly north.” I came to understand the task not as emptying your head of thoughts, but rather resisting the tendency to narrate things to yourself in words. I noticed that this interior monologuing would lead me along familiar, superficial trains of thought, to recent memories associated with certain feelings, say, and soon enough back to mundane anxieties.

At night, I would sit outside and look at the stars. The clouds, invisible in the darkness, shifted to expose one patch of stars, then another, making it look like the sky itself was swelling and shrinking. Memories and ideas still came to me, but deeper, more interesting ones than before. It was as if I had cleared the way for them. I remembered that I used to look at the stars when I was a teenager. I used to read about how they’re born, how they sustain themselves, why we see only some of them, how they die. On Monday morning at breakfast, we were allowed to speak again. Some participants had found the weekend hard, they said. One person had cried repeatedly. Others said that eating in silence had made them feel as though everyone was being cold towards them. As they talked, I remembered old corporate jobs where I was always the office loser. People could sense the aura of failure emanating from me, so I would eat lunch by myself, in silence. I got used to it. I didn’t feel I was learning anything valuable at the time, but life can surprise you. Sticking out is not so bad, I realised. This is the message of most children’s books, but one it’s easy to lose sight of as an adult. Other people’s perceptions of you, real or imagined, don’t have to influence how you see yourself. Social media is designed to erase this perspective. Much of the anxiety it fosters comes from forcing you to see yourself, constantly, as relative to others.