#thing was gorgeous. i could lay across the stump and not touch either side

[housecow]

As a Texan, I feel strangely horny for oaks because they grow so proud and beautifully in the sun. Dare i say gluttonous. Texas oaks are particularly full, inviting, and comforting. They have fed people for thousands of years. The shade of an oak is not preferred but necessary for a climate as variable and unforgiving as Texas. Temporary respite from a cruel world. It’s shade is soft.

Live oaks in particular… there is something about them

no you are SO. RIGHT. growing up, a lot of my friends had land (rural things). one of them had this old oak grove on her property—we’d go down there and climb trees for fun.

it was like an entirely different world once you entered the canopy—they were “angel” oaks, with these huge limbs reaching down and touching the ground. super easy to climb, but it also felt so… isolated. the leaves almost muffled the sound from outside, you couldn’t even feel the wind (which blew hard, people living in plains know what i mean). we’d spend hours there and i miss it every day.

one day i’ll write a (horror?) novel about this, lol…

[peterparkerspooderman]

Flirt

Summary: Harrison comes over for your weekly movie night but you have a different idea of how you want the night to end.

Warning: Smut, threesome, fingering, oral (giving and receiving on both)

A/N: Thank you so much @daddydobrik22 for requesting this to me☺! My requests are open so feel free to ask whatever you want🤗.

Masterlist

You have always wanted to have a threesome at least once in your life just to say that you’ve done it and you are, by nature, a curious person and this is one of the things you’re most curious about. You just don’t know who to have it with. You’re not picky about the gender of the person but are picky about the person. Doing it with a stranger is a good option for no awkwardness afterwards but they might have an STD and you’re not risking it. You would most likely want to do it with a friend but who would be up to it and would not make it be awkward afterwards. You eventually bring it up with Tom and he was totally on board about the threesome, but he too is stumped on who to do it with.

“I don’t know, babe. We can’t just ask one of our friends to have sex with us.” He points out, a thought that has been stuck in your head for ages.

“I know.” You sigh out in frustration, plopping yourself on the couch. Tom follows suit and sits next to you, his arm stretched out and resting on the back of the couch.

“So you don’t mind if it’s a boy or girl it just has to be someone we know” Tom reiterates, making sure he has all the correct information. You nod in approval.

“What about Zendaya?” You ask facing him. She’s gorgeous and you totally wouldn’t mind it getting steamy between you two.

“Too busy, she’s always out of the country,” Tom replies. You nod.

“What about Nick?” Tom says, his eyebrows furrowed in thought, remembering one of his old friends.

“I know that I said it’s someone we know but they must also be somewhat attractive.” You sass. Tom’s mouth falls open, but you hear a soft “true” leave his mouth.

“What about Harry or Sam?” You blurt out, taking a shot in the dark.

“Too weird.” Tom replies quickly. You sigh out in frustration, falling to the side so your head lays on his lap, his hand instantly on your head to play with your hair. Your eyes flutter and you let out a soft sigh.

“Who could it be?” You ask, to no one in particular. Suddenly the doorbell rings. You sit up and look at Tom, confusion evident on your face when you remember. It’s your weekly movie night. A thought pops in your head and by the look on Tom’s face he thought it too.  You get up to answer the door when Tom’s voice stops you.

“I don’t know Y/N. What if it’s awkward afterwards? Or what if we make a fool of ourselves for even asking?” Tom blurts out, suddenly second-guessing to agreeing to your fantasy.

“He won’t make it awkward and we won’t ask him flat out. I could maybe flirt with him and get him going then we can ask him.” You suggest, unsure that Tom will be okay with you flirting with someone else but to your surprise Tom nods in agreement.

With a smile on your face you go to open the door for Harrison. You see him looking down the hall, assumingly keeping himself occupied while waiting for you to answer, and your eyes flitter to his sharp jawline. This will be the only time where you can drool over someone that isn’t your boyfriend and not feel guilty. Not that you’re bored of your boyfriend’s dashing looks but it’s always good to spice it up.

Harrison turns his head towards the door and once he sees you his lips stretch into a cute smile. You smile back. He leans in to give you a hug, you happily receive it, making sure your bodies are pressed against each other. You two pull apart. You don’t know if he realised it but either way, he didn’t mention it.

“Come on in.” You say, moving to the side so he can walk in, a smile still on your face.

He walks in and sheds off his jacket, hanging it on the coat rack. You catch a glimpse of his back muscles and your eyes almost bulged out of your head. Has Harrison always been this ripped? Either way you’re enjoying bringing this up very much.

Tom and Harrison greet each other and start catching up what they did during the week. You stand away, silently admiring Harrison from afar, having a good look at him. You never did because he’s you’re boyfriend’s best friend but now knowing what you’re thinking of doing it has all sorts of thoughts running through your head. All of them sending tingles down your core.

His arms are crossed across his chest, his muscles bulging out from under his skin. Your eyes travel to his hands, sooner or later they will be wrapped around your throat or in your pussy. His torso lean and muscular, your hands itching to run over his hard muscles. You shake yourself out of your thoughts and notice that it’s your time to step in.

“Babe, why don’t you chose the movie while Harrison and I get some snacks?” You suggest, giving Harrison a sweet smile. Tom nods before turning on the tv and switching it to Netflix.

You walk to the kitchen and hear Harrison follow behind you. You put the popcorn in the microwave. You walk to the cabinet and pull out two packets, one contain jelly beans and the other containing gummy bears.

“Which one?” You ask, showing him the packets.

“Let’s go with jelly beans, hate gummy bears.” He says, a grimace taking over his beautiful features. Your jaw drops at this.

“How can you hate gummy bears?” You ask shocked.

“They get stuck in your teeth and it takes forever to chew them.” He explains. He rests his body against the counter, his hands resting next to him.

“I’m stunned. You’re a psychopath.” You tease, getting a chuckle from him.

You start opening the packets and pouring them into bowls.

“I’m the psychopath? You’re the psychopath because you like them.” He sasses back. You gasp and throw a jellybean at him. Harrison somehow predicted this and caught it in his mouth. You stand there stunned.

“I know you too well.” He says while chewing the bean in his mouth, a smirk evident on his face.

“Not gonna lie that was kinda hot” You say, hoping to get him going a bit. The look in Harrison’s eyes shows you that you’ve succeeded. You got shaken because the microwave starts to beep, indicating that the popcorn’s done. You take it out and pour it into a large bowl. You pick up the popcorn bowl and take the gummy bears while Harrison takes his jelly beans.

You walk into the living room to see the movie Tom chose. The package. Before you sit down you flick off the light switch, the only light coming from the tv. You sit down in the middle, putting the snacks on the coffee table in front of you. You grab the blanket and sit down, draping it over you. Harrison follows suit and sits next to you, taking some of the blanket.

“You want some babe?” You ask Tom.

“I’ll take when I get cold. Thanks.” He says before pressing play. You lean forward and grab the popcorn. You place it on your lap so it’s available to the boys.

The movie plays on and you’re trying to think of what to do to get Harrison into a flirty mood without pushing it. You settle on just brushing your leg against his. You brush your knee softly against his, waiting for a reaction. To your relief he brushes his leg against yours in response. Progress.

As the movie played and funny scenes came on you find yourself hitting Harrison’s leg in laughter. He seemed to have enjoyed it by his arm stretching behind the couch, almost draped over your shoulders.  The subtle touches played out through the movie and once it ended you plucked the courage to ask Harrison the question. Tom stopped the movie once the credits start to roll. Now’s your time.  You feel Tom’s hand on your thigh, giving you and encouraging squeeze.

“So uh Harrison. Tom and I were wondering if you would be the third person for our threesome?” You ask, your voice soft and gentle. “It’s totally up to you. If you don’t feel comfortable that’s perfectly okay.” You add in, not wanting to make him feel pressured. You wait nervously as you see him pondering over your request.  

“I would love to be your third.” He says, a smile on his face. You let out a breath of air in relief, you hear Tom do the same. You can already feel wetness forming in between your legs. “When do we start?” He adds in.

“Right. Now.” You say before getting up off the couch and grabbing both his and Tom’s hands, leading them to yours and Tom’s shared bedroom.

When you arrive to the room you push Harrison down on the bed so he’s sitting at the edge. You straddle him without hesitation.

“Before we begin, what are the rules?” Harrison asks, between Tom and you.

“Her pussy, her rules.” Tom says, you give him a warm smile. Tom’s always been the dominant one in the bedroom and you being the dominant one gives you an adrenaline rush. You look at Harrison before saying.

“You can touch wherever you want and there will be no anal involved.” You instruct. You wait for Harrison to approve before leaning in and smashing your lips against his. It took him a few seconds to catch his bearing but when he did his hands rested on your hips.

Your hands move to the nape of his neck to play with the small hairs and by sheer curiosity you grabbed a hand full of his hair and gave it a gentle but firm yank. Harrison lets out a loud groan, you smirk at his reaction.

“You and Tom aren’t that different.” You breathe against his mouth. Your lips connect and your hands trail down to his torso, undoing the buttons as you travel further down. You pull away and stop to admire his toned body. He’s skinnier than Tom, Tom has a little bit of thickness to him but you aren’t complaining. You shove his shirt off his shoulders. You look over at Tom in the corner of the room. His hand palming himself through his jeans.

“I want it off.” You instruct, gesturing towards his shirt. He shreds it off in an instant.

You look back at Harrison, his eyes dark with lust. You reach the hem of your shirt and pull it off over your head. Your bra covered boobs on display for Harrison to see and touch. His hands come up to grab them but stop in mid air.

“You don’t need to ask for permission, just do what I know you’ve been thinking of doing.” You sass, giving him a small smirk, the look of surprise is enough on his face to confirm your hunch.

His hands skip your boobs and wrap around your back, going to the clasp to unclip it. You bra falls down your arms, you throw it across the room. Harrison doesn’t hesitate and immediately his mouth latches on one of your nipples. You let out a loud moan at this.

You look over at Tom again and see that his pants are fully off. His hands in his boxers, jerking himself off. You moan at the sight. You lock eyes with him and gesture your head to the bed, wanting him to sit next to Harrison. He instantly complies. You trail your hand down his torso, his muscles feeling familiar under your fingertips until you reach the waist band of his boxers. You slip your hand through and pull out his dick. You slowly start to pump it. You’re greeted by a loud, sexy moan coming from Tom. Your core needed some friction and you find yourself grinding against Harrison’s crotch. He moans against your boob, sending vibrations through your body. Your eyes flutter at the sensation.

You other hand travels down to Harrison’s belt, undoing it in a practised movement. You get up off his lap and undo your own jeans, sliding them down your legs, along with your panties. You gesture Tom to do the same. You feel as if you’re not giving Tom enough attention. You lean forward and capture your lips with his, giving him a deep kiss. You break away seeing that all of us are naked you ask Harrison.

“What do you want to do?”

“I wanna taste your pussy.” He growls, his eyes dark. His tone of voice sends a tingle to your core.

You walk to the side of the bed and lay down flat on your back. Harrison pulling you so your legs dangle on the edge.

“Come here babe. I want you to fuck my mouth” You call out to Tom. He kneels next to your head. You look up at him and take his shaft in your hand, guiding it to your mouth. He starts thrusting gently into your mouth.

You feel a pair of lips trailing on your inner thigh. Harrison wastes no time though and goes straight in. He licks a stripe up your pussy. You moan onto Tom’s cock sending vibration’s through his body. He moans out at the feeling. His hand coming down to run through your hair.

Harrison moved to flicking his tongue against your clit while inserting a finger. Your eyes flutter shut, your hand coming down to grab his hair.

“Suck on her clit. She loves that.” Tom pants out. Hand still running though your hair.

You immediately feel Harrison’s lips wrap around your clit, sucking lightly. You let out a muffled moan. You tap on Tom’s thigh twice, him already knowing the signal, reports back to Harrison.

“Suck harder.” He instructs to Harrison. Harrison sucks harder.

Your arch your back, feeling the warm ball forming in the pit of your stomach. You can feel that Tom’s close by his hips thrusting sloppily. You hollow out your cheeks and suck him harder, wanting him to cum down your throat. He does, feeling the hot liquid fill your mouth. He gently removes himself, leaning down to give you a kiss on the lips.

“You’re so fucking good.”

You feel yourself coming closer to the edge and Tom can sense that by the shaking for your body under his touch. His hands move to your breasts, massaging them roughly and pinching your nipples. That was the straw. You feel yourself let go, letting out a loud moan into to air. Harrison lets up on the sucking and laps up your juices. Small moans leaving your mouth.

Once done Harrison stands up, waiting for what to do next. You see his cock standing up, pointing towards the ceiling. He’s longer than Tom but not as thick.

“Where to next?” Harrison asks.

“I want you to fuck me. Raw.” You growl, propping yourself up on your elbows, spreading your legs wider, the light catching your freshly cummed pussy.

Harrison didn’t need to be told twice. You move yourself up the bed to provide more space. Harrison pumps his cock a few times but before he puts it in you ask Tom.

“You okay with watching?” He nods in approval, sitting in the armchair in the corner of the room.

You place your hands on Harrison’s biceps. You feel him slowly push himself into you. You feel yourself stretching around his cock.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.” He breaths out. You let out a moan at his words and the feeling of a different cock inside you. He was definitely longer than Tom, it seems like it’s just goes on forever. You feel yourself start to stretch inward.

“Hold on a minute.” You say and Harrison immediately stops. Tom sits up in his chair, concerned as to why you stopped.

“You okay? Did I do something wrong? Are you hurt?” Harrison starts rambling off. His face in pure terror. Tom was about to come to you before you let out a small giggle.

“I’m fine. You’re just longer than Tom is all. Need a few to get used to you.” You breath out. “Just go slow please and when you’ve bottomed out, stay there.” You say.

“Yeah, of course.” He says before slowly pushing into you again. A couple of inches went by and you feel him stop. You feel the pain lessen and you tell Harrison to move. He moves slowly, soon enough you feel the pain eradicate and pleasure takes over. Tom relaxes when he hears your whimpers. His hand goes back to his cock and starts pumping.

You let out soft whimpers here and there. He isn’t exactly hitting the right spots. Before you could tell him you hear Tom speak.

“Put her legs over your shoulders and lean down a little.”

Harrison does just that, them hearing your moans louden. His cock almost hitting your spot.

“Lean down a little more.” You ask. Harrison does just that and he’s greeted by your loud moans.

“Fuck, right there. Fuck.” You scream. Your hands move from his arms to his back, scratching down it, leaving red trails in its wake. Harrison seems to like it by the moan emitting from his mouth.

“You like that huh? Have a thing for pain?” You breath out. He nods his head, unable to talk. You grab a fistful of his hair and give it a strong tug. His eyes flutter shut.  You feel the familiar burning at the bottom of your stomach. Your moans progressively getting louder.

“Fuck, this is so hot.” You hear Tom say in the corner of the room. You moan at his words. You can tell that Harrison’s by the sloppiness of his thrusts, you however need a little more to get you going. Tom knew this and started to talk dirty to you.

“You like that huh Y/N? You like having another guys cock inside of you. My best friend’s cock. I bet you’ve been wishing for this day to come.” Tom growls from his seat in the corner. His words getting to you, you just need one last thing.

You take harrison’s hand and place it on your clit. He gets the message and rubs it roughly. Your back arches and your eyes flutter shut as you let out a loud scream. You juices squirting out of you and wetting the bottomhalf of Harrison. The intensity of your orgams brings Harrison to his. His hips still and you can feel the hot ribbons of his cum spill inside you as he moans loudly into the air.

He stays for a few seconds to gather himself before slowly pulling out. You hiss out softly as you feel yourself still stretched out. Harrison flops on the bed beside you and you two try to catch your breath. You look over at Tom to see him stand up, with cum on his torso, to walk to the bathroom.

He comes back with a damp towel. He spreads your legs gently and cleans you up. You hiss at how sensitive you feel. Tom walks over to Harrison and cleans him from your juices. He throws the towel in the washing basket and lays down next to you.

“I’m still not over the fact that you squirted.” Harrison whisper out in disbelief.

“That’s why I told you what to do.” Tom points out, knowing the level of ecstasy it makes you feel.

“Was I good?” Harrison asks, turning to face you.

“Yes you were, a rocky start in the beginning but you were good.” You reply, a small smile on your lips.

“Speaking of which, is he actually bigger than me?” Tom asks, not liking the thought that his best friend’s cock is better than his.

“I wouldn’t say bigger. It’s longer than yours but yours is thicker.” You say, trying to ease his insecurities.

“Which do you prefer?” Harrison daringly asks.

“Sorry Harrison by my boyfriend beats any dick that has come my way.” You explain.

“Fair enough.” Harrison shrugs.

You turn over to Tom, his lips lacking in the swollen department. You decide to change that. You lean in and lock your lips with Tom’s. His tounge entering your mouth. His hand moves to your waist and pulls you against his body. The familiarity of his body against yours sends shivers to your core.

“Hey guys seriously, I’m right here.” Harrison teases. Tom breaks away from the kiss.

“I let you fuck my girlfriend; I could at least have a make out session.” Tom shoots back before locking his lips with yours.

“I’m gonna go guys. It’s getting late.” Harrison says before standing up and getting dressed.

He walks towards Tom and gives him a fist bump before coming over to you and giving you a kiss on the forehead.

“Remember, this is a onetime thing.” Tom reminds Harrison before he leaves. He nods in approval before leaving. Once you hear the front door open and close you move on top of Tom.

“What’s this now?” He questions, his hands resting on your waist.

“I miss your cock.” You say whispering in his ear.

“well I can’t keep my girlfriend waiting, now can I?” Tom asks sarcastically.

Tom had you moaning and screaming his name throughout the night. The neighbours were not pleased in the morning.  

[celtics534]

Hanging by a Moment

And I present to you: Hanging by a Moment! An adorable (if I do say so myself) Half-Blood Prince moment. @gryffindormischief was awesome and help me make this chapter the best it could be!

Read on: FF.net, AO3, SIYE (soon), or right here!

Harry lay in his bed, his mind replaying the day’s memories like one of the Dursleys’ television programs. It had been like this for the last two weeks.Harry preferred his memories, to his dreams. What would make this teenager willing to give up a good night's sleep, one might ask? The answer was simple: a redheaded goddess named Ginny Weasley.

From the moment Harry had kissed her during the Quidditch victory party, Ginny had never left his mind. Sure, she had invaded his thoughts often before. The idea of her. Something funny she’d said, the way she flicked her hair out of her face when a question stumped her, or the way her flowery scent had engulfed him when she walked by. But now… Now he could include feel and taste to his Ginny senses.

He could swear his lips still tingled from her goodnight kiss. And there was no way he could ignore the way the back of his neck burned after her touch. No, Harry lost more sleep over Ginny than he would ever admit (especially to Ron).

Every moment seemed precious to Harry. Never in his life could he remember feeling this way. It was as if he was in an alternate universe. A universe where he was just Harry, a boy dating a gorgeous redhead. No looming prophecy or murders. Just a normal teenager getting to do normal things, such as snog his girlfriend.

Harry rolled onto his side, punching his pillow into shape as he went. If he didn’t at least try to fall asleep he would really hate himself in the morning. Sure it was Saturday, but his time with Ginny was already so limited (due to his detentions and her OWLs). He wanted to make sure he was awake for the little time they had.

A small creaking noise made Harry’s eyes shoot open. Quiet footsteps... soft breathing… coming from the direction of the stairway. He waited, feigning sleep. If someone was going to be attacked…

“Harry?” The voice was faint, almost inaudible, but it was one he immediately recognized from his dreams.

“Gin?”

“Yeah.” The curtains around his bed moved slowly, revealing a smiling Ginny. She leaned over and kissed him lightly. “How’s it going?”

“Uh…” Harry’s mind couldn’t process what was happening. Ginny was here… in his dorm… well past curfew… her brother sleeping in the bed right next to him.

Ginny pressed another kiss to his lips before, whispering, “Pull on a jumper and meet me down in the common room. Bring the cloak.”

Then she was gone as if she somehow had the power to apparate on Hogwarts grounds.

“What?” Harry murmured, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.   

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

“And I thought it took girls a long time to get ready,” Ginny teased as Harry stepped down the last stair from the dorms.

Harry snorted. “Well, it does take a couple of seconds to comprehend your girlfriend (the word still sent butterflies to his stomach) waking you well past midnight.”

She sent him a smirk that increased the fluttering wings in his gut tenfold. “Most people would appreciate such a romantic wake up call.”

“Oh, trust me.” He moved in close, his hand tentatively brushing a piece of hair out of her face. “I thoroughly enjoyed my new alarm, but I tend to prefer knowing why I’ve been woken up.”

“Ah.” Ginny tapped the tip of his nose. “Trust me, you’ll be glad I woke you.” She gestured to two brooms (one of which was his own Firebolt) leaning against the back of the sofa. “We’re going for a midnight fly.”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Harry stared up at the sky without truly seeing. Between the feel of the soft grass on his back and the sight of millions of stars, he could never remember feeling so content. Having Ginny’s hand intertwined with his didn’t hurt, either.

They had snuck down to the Quidditch pitch, using the cloak as an extra precaution (not that Harry minded having his hands on Ginny’s hips as they walked close together). It only took them a few moments to arrive at the dew cover field. They had flown for well over an hour, by Harry’s estimate. They’d raced from one side to the other (the winner presenting the loser with a commiseration kiss), then they’d taken turns with his Firebolt, and finally, they’d shared a slow glide on the aforementioned broom (Ginny had steered them as Harry held onto her waist).  He hadn’t needed convincing to give up controls if it meant keeping Ginny close.

It had been Ginny who suggested drying a patch of grass and resting for a bit before heading back to their beds. Harry had been more than happy to follow her suggestion.

“Harry?” Ginny was the first to break their quiet serenity. “Tell me something.”

Harry tore his gaze from the night sky to look at Ginny. The three-quarter moon illuminated her in a perfect glow, a look Harry would’ve assumed that only angels should be allowed to have. She was looking at him, her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Tell you what?”

Ginny shifted. “Anything. I want to know you, Harry.” He was about to protest, but she spoke again before he could say anything. “I know you, but I want to really know you.”

Her gaze held his, a look that he couldn’t quite place evident in her brown eyes.

“Okay,” Harry spoke slowly, trying to think of what to say. “What -- er --”

Ginny twisted entirely, now laying on her side. “What do you want to do after Hogwarts?”

In spite of the warmth of his jumper, Harry shivered; his mind automatically repeated “neither can live while the other survives.”

“Uh… don’t know. I never really thought about it.”

Ginny gave him a skeptical look.

“Alright.” Harry ran a hand through his hair. “I thought about becoming an auror.”

“Yeah, I could see that.” Ginny leaned forward, a sly smirk on her lips. “I can also imagine you in those auror robes.” She fanned herself. “Muy caliente!”

Harry’s cheeks warmed in the cool night air. Flirting. Something he was piss poor at, but Ginny didn’t seem to care. Really, she had enough wit for the both of them in that department.

Ginny laughed, clearly able to see his darkened complexion even with the milky sky being the only source of light. She closed the small space between them and pressed her lips to his. “Alright, Potter, your turn.”

“My turn?” Even though the kiss was brief (and by all considerations chaste), it still made his head spin.

“You ask me a question. Nothing off the table.” She smirked. “Do your worst, Potter.”

Harry locked eyes with her again. Neither could back down from such a blatant challenge. He needed to make it good.

“Uh…” The way she was looking at him, so confident… so beautiful. “What’s something you’re self-conscious about?”

Ginny’s brow raised in surprise. “Huh, I didn’t expect that.” She ran her hand through the trimmed grass, her eyebrows now scrunched together in thought. Harry couldn’t stop himself from watching her fingers slowly thread through the dark blades. The way those hands had been wrapped around his neck earlier… threaded through his hair.

“I’d say my freckles.” Ginny’s voice broke Harry out his trance.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I mean.” That confident look from earlier had vanished, replaced with a look of uncharacteristic shyness. “They aren’t the most appealing thing, now are they? Most people like skin like Phlegm...”

“I like your freckles.” Harry blurted.

Ginny gave him a curious look. “Really?”

“Yeah-- I -- I mean.” And now he was tongue tied… super. He took a deep breath. “I think your freckles look cute.”

The smile that broke onto Ginny’s face made Harry know he said the right thing. “My turn, then.” She rubbed her chin as if giving deep thought to her question. “When did you start to fancy me?”

This was a topic Harry hadn’t wanted to breach. He had no desire to tell her about that monster she seemed to create.

“Uh-- you know.”

“No, I don’t think I do.” That smile from earlier became wicked.

Harry sighed. He stood, offering Ginny a hand. She accepted it with a quirked brow. “I need to walk a bit.” He kept his hand in hers as they headed towards the entrance tunnel.

“If I had to put a day on it…” He thought about it for a moment. “I’d guess during the summer holidays.”

Harry kept his gaze in front of him. He figured an egg would fry on his face. “Seriously?” Ginny sounded stunned.

“Yeah.” He shrugged with one shoulder, their footsteps now echoing in the dark corridor. In for a penny, in for a pound. “I didn’t realize it though until I saw you and Dean.” Even the mere mention of the incident in that passage made the beast in Harry’s chest growl.

“That’s what I thought you were going to say.” She stopped their progress, tugging on his hand until he faced her. Harry could barely see anything aside from the outline of Ginny’s profile. “The way you looked at me the next day... “

“I was trying to figure it out. I was confused. On one hand, I was supposed to see you as my best mate’s sister, but then on the other, I really wanted to be the one behind that tapestry.”

“I’d be happy to take you to any snogging spot you’d like.” Ginny moved her body so it was tucked against his, Harry’s back to the wall, their breaths mixing.

Harry couldn’t resist leaning his head down to press his lips to hers. He moved his hands to cup her jaw. Ginny, for her part, let her fingers get tangled up in his perpetually messy locks. He was about to glide his tongue over her bottom lip when she pulled away.

Ginny’s breath came out in a deep sigh. The creature within him moaned rather pitifully at the loss of contact. “These are pointless right now,” she murmured as she took off his glasses and folded them into her robe’s pocket.  

It was a simple thing, something that benefited both of them, but Harry found it somehow just as intimate as her hands in his hair. Then Ginny’s lips were on his skin again. Across his cheeks, up his jawline, down to the pulse point on his neck.

“Merlin.” Harry could barely breathe. His hands moved on their own accord, trying to find any bare skin they could locate. Her robes present a challenge for his wandering extremities, but eventually, Harry’s fingertips touched an area around her hips where her shirt rode up.

Ginny hummed in approval as she trailed her mouth back to his. Harry’s mind couldn’t keep up, but he knew he never wanted it to stop.

Of course, that wasn’t possible. Stupid oxygen!

Ginny pulled away, her breath coming in gasps. “Well, this beats that corridor anyday.”

Harry couldn’t speak. It was as Ginny had taken his tongue with her when she stopped kissing him.

Though he knew Ginny couldn’t see his dazed expression, she seemed to know what he was thinking (or was aware of his utter lack of thought). She took his hand and guided them towards the staircase that led up to the Gryffindor fan stands.

They took seats halfway to the top (a height where no one would notice them unless they looked at the stands from the middle of the field).

Ginny guided Harry onto one of the benches so he straddled the seat. She mimicked his posture before speaking. “It’s your turn.”

“What? Oh! Yeah.” In all honesty, Harry had forgotten all about their little game while her lips had moved across his. “Uh… What’s a skill you wish you had?”

“Oh, good one!” Ginny beamed. Her thumb rubbed across his as she thought. “I wish I had my mother’s cooking abilities. I can’t seem to do anything in the kitchen, except burn things.”

“Really? I’ve always been pretty good at cooking.”

“Harry Potter the future chef?” Ginny laughed.

“If becoming an auror doesn’t pan out.”

“You would look adorable in a little chef’s hat.” Every time she kissed him, no matter how chaste, Harry could swear his IQ dropped five points. This time was no exception. “So, I have to ask the question everyone female at Hogwarts wants to know. How romantic is Harry Potter? What would be your ideal date?”

Harry didn’t know where the question had come from, but he figured what they were doing right now was damn good. “Doing anything with you seems perfect.”

“Well.” Ginny gave him an appraising look. “I would say Harry Potter is a hopeless romantic.”

He shrugged, hoping his face wasn’t as red as it felt. “Only because it’s you.”

“Merlin.” She scooted forward so she was close to him. His hopes for another kiss were crushed when she flopped her head onto his chest. This worked too.

“So.” Harry didn’t really know what to ask. “Who is your favorite brother?”   

“All of them.” Ginny pulled her face away from his jumper. “They all are my favorite for different reasons.”

Harry considered that. “Even Percy?”

“Even Percy the prat,” Ginny agreed. “Now, Potter, tell me something that you're embarrassed about. The first thing you think of.”

“Oh, Merlin!” Harry wanted to fall through the earth. The first thing that popped into his head… “You know all those bludger injuries I kept getting during practices?”

“Yeah.”

“I kept getting hit because I couldn’t take my eyes off of you.”

Harry heard the sharp intake of Ginny’s next breath. They were both silent until Ginny said, “Such a hopeless romantic.”

He snorted. “Alright then, Weasley.” He thought about his question. “If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?”

“Huh.” Ginny scratched her chin. “Well, Egypt was cool, but I would want to go somewhere I’ve never been. Maybe Spain?”

“I’ve heard it’s beautiful there.”

“Bill visited a while back. He went to a place called Tenerife.” Harry didn’t know if Ginny realized her fingers were playing with the hem of his jumper as she spoke, but he sure knew. “The sea is such a gorgeous blue. I think I would like to go there and just relax for a time… pretend there is no war…” Her voice trailed off.

Harry kissed her lightly. “That sounds perfect.”

Ginny smiled, but then her face contorted as she let out a huge yawn. “Okay final question, because I’m getting tired.” She looked up towards the stars for a moment. Harry kept his eyes on her, her freckles made up their own galaxy and constellations… “What’s one word to describe your first kiss?”

“What?”

Ginny looked back at him, an innocent look on her face. “What’s one word to describe your first kiss?”

Oh... this was worse than telling Ron and Hermione… “Wet.” He muttered.

“I’m sorry?”

“Wet,” Harry spoke louder. “It wasn’t… she was crying.”

Ginny didn’t say anything… she didn’t laugh. “That’s awkward.”

“To say the least.”

“What about your second?”

Harry looked at her. Her expression was curious. “Well…” His hand went to the back of his neck. “You should know. You were there.”

Ginny locked her eyes onto his and Harry could have sworn the sounds of the night disappeared. Nothing else seemed to register except Ginny and that look she was giving him, her parted lips looking so appealing…

Harry didn’t know much about love. It wasn’t as if his Aunt and Uncle kissed him on the top of his head before bed saying they loved him. No, what he’d learned about love happened after the age of eleven. First, there had been Hedwig, and odd as it might sound, she was his first friend. Then Ron and Hermione had become a part of his life. And he loved them, there was no doubt in his mind about that. But that was a friendship love.  

But the type of love he still couldn’t wrap his mind around was being in love. The kind of love his parents had. Harry had watched people like Roger Davies claim to be in love with a new witch every week, and it made no sense to him. But could he be falling in love with Ginny? When she looked at him like that, he swore there was more than moonlight shining around her.

His head was spinning again. Yet, when he looked at her… He had no idea where to go from here.

Ginny seemed to have an idea of what to do. She rubbed a hand over his cheek, that look that seemed to set his insides on fire still present. Her lips pressed lightly to his, after what they had shared earlier, this kiss barely registered as a kiss. And, yet, it sent Harry’s heart racing.

“I’d say your second kiss was bloody good. Not wet at all.” Ginny pulled back, a smile on her lips.

Harry nodded, breathing deeply.

They remained there, Ginny with her hand on his cheek and their eyes locked, for a while. Harry couldn’t care less about being caught, or the time. He just wanted to be there… with her.

“We best go.” Ginny was the one to break their intense gridlock. She took her hand away from his face and intertwined their fingers.

Harry stood, helping Ginny to her feet. He pulled his cloak from his front pocket and tugged it over them. When they were surrounded by the silken cloth, Harry drew Ginny into his chest. “Ready to go, Gin?”

She pulled away from his chest, giving him a final smirk.

Well, shit… There was that light again.

She pecked at his lips quickly before leading them back towards the castle. Harry moved behind her, his hand still connected with hers. He sped up his pace, so his shoulder was brushing hers. Yeah, this moment would be better than any dream his mind could come up with.  

[romaniassexdungeon]

No to conformity and yes to spoilers, a RoBul romance

I was having one of those phases where my desire to write was a little… lacklustre, so I thought I’d have a go with a little one-shot to get my inspiration back also I quite fancied writing a bit of RoBul again. This really is… well and truly ridiculous.

This is based on a conversation with, and therefore dedicated to @phyripo because I know how much you looooove soulmate AUs. Some adult humour but not a lot by my standards. Everything about the humour in this is completely and utterly stupid, I can guarantee. 

It’s also four in the morning and I cannot English.

Tsvetan – Bulgaria

Alin – Romania

…

 “Man, I can’t believe Dumbledore dies!”

Like with many people’s tattoos, it had taken a while to figure out the meaning of that curious string of words.

Even his parents had no explanation for it when he asked, as a pudgy little toddler, barely three years old and wanting to know why there was an omen of death written in black ink across his wrist. They were stumped. What the hell kind of name was Dumbledore anyway?

As a child, Tsvetan Borisov had been panic-stricken over the thought of meeting his soulmate possibly at a funeral, possibly over a dead body. What if he became an undertaker or a priest? No wait, how could he become a priest if he had a soulmate? Maybe a serial killer? Or maybe he just knew a strange man with a strange name who met an untimely death. The fact that his death was being referred to in the present was an added layer of confusion and worry. His family and handful of friends tended to blame this dour tattoo for the boy’s gloomy disposition.

Tsvetan felt it was too much of a burden for his young shoulders to bear.

As he grew older, he usually either found out or worked out the meaning of people’s tattoos. His mother’s, for example, was pretty simple: hey gorgeous. His father’s, on the other hand, was the more worrying: slap my butt again and I’ll put your head through that window. Given that Mr Borisov not only carried no broken glass related injuries but was married to Mrs Borisova with a son, Tsvetan was willing to bet he’d done the smart thing and not slapped her butt again.

He did, however, have to wonder how many butts his father had slapped in his quest to find his soulmate.

Then the Harry Potter series came into the world.

Something Tsvetan would forever kick himself for was the fact that he paid no attention to the books when they first came out. He didn’t pay attention as more and more people began reading the books, even though a few friends and classmates sent strange glares in his direction on occasion. He tried it once, but couldn’t get past the first few pages. It was a dull book, as far as he was concerned, and not worth his time.

A few books later, and the whole world seemed to be reading them, even reading in English because they couldn’t wait for the Bulgarian translation, and Tsvetan was now refusing to touch them out of spite. He was annoyingly stubborn at times, especially when it came to the petty things. And yet, it just seemed to make his friends insist all the more vigorously to read the damn things. When he asked why, they remained vague, something he took to mean that the books weren’t very good and they were just reading them because everyone else was, like every other dodgy trend to come out of the 90s and early 2000s. Harry Potter would soon fall into obscurity, just like Betty Spaghetty and those annoying square robot dogs that would not shut up for a good 10 minutes or something after you pressed the button on top of their heads.

It wasn’t until he found himself watching one of the films that his friends’ words all made sense.

He didn’t mean to. It had been Christmas 2004 and, after a filling dinner, the family had just been lazing on the sofa. His dad had turned on the telly and not bothered to even flick through the channels, despite Tsvetan protesting that he was boycotting the series for absolutely no reason other than pettiness and yes, father, that was a perfectly valid reason to cut something out of your life.

But his dad could not be bothered to change the channel. He was full and just wanted to stare blankly at moving pictures, and Tsvetan didn’t have the energy or will to get up and snatch the remote.

So he finally got a dose of Harry Fucking Potter.

And it changed his life forever.

Sure, there are many people in the world who claim Harry Potter changed their lives, but for none was it so true as for Tsvetan Borislavov Borisov. The moment Dumbledore rocked onto screen with his twinkling eyes and ridiculously long beard, Tsvetan felt relief like he’d never known wash over him.

Dumbledore was a fictional wizard in a fictional book about wizards.

That explained so much, he realised as he lay there and watched little Harry Potter do his magical thing. The glares, his friends begging him to read it, that one specky nerd yelling ‘fuck you!’ on the bus when they read his wrist.

He couldn’t help himself.

He laughed.

He laughed until he was on the floor in stitches, and his parents laughed too. It was such a ridiculous way to meet a soulmate! And such a ridiculous thing to have permanently tattooed on his wrist! But, hey, at least a real man wasn’t going to die before he found true love.

But Dumbledore didn’t die during the film. The two-faced turban guy, and some old bastard named Nicholas Flamel did, but not Dumbledore. He could well have, though, Tsvetan noted. He was certainly old enough. There were five books out though, if he could recall correctly, and this Dumbledore character seemed pretty important. Okay, he was going to stick around for a few more books/films then.

Something Tsvetan realised a few days later did put a dampener on his good mood: he’d have to read the Harry Potter books himself.

If his soulmate apparently liked them enough for it to be the first topic they discuss with him, then he might as well be able to hold a proper conversation with them. And so, with a heavy heart, he bought his first copy of Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone. But hey, he’d only been half-paying attention to the film and it seemed alright.

And, once he got into the books, they were alright too. Not the best, but the world was certainly interesting and the characters not bad. And maybe he wondered what it would be like to go to an ancient castle to learn magic. No wonder all his classmates had been obsessed.

He liked the second book better, and by the third he was hooked. Tsvetan actually liked fantasy, so once he got into them found they were very easy to read. He hoped his soulmate did actually like them, and wasn’t just going to mention one spoiler at a party or something and be done with it.

His newfound interest in the series was actually why he found himself standing in line at midnight on the 16th July 2005 outside some high-end bookstore in London with hundreds of other nerds waiting to get his hands on a copy of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. He heard murmurs from those around him, debating who was going to die, many suspecting Dumbledore but others throwing in their own suggestions. Tsvetan didn’t really care so long as it wasn’t Viktor Krum. He did try to keep his wrist hidden under a sweatband, just in case.

And then it hit him.

His soulmate, the hypothetical love of his life, his long lost other half, was about to walk out of this bookstore and spoil the end of a long-awaited book to about a thousand sweaty, tired hardcore Harry Potter fans.

And it was his, Tsvetan Borislavov Borisov’s, duty as soulmate and one true love to not only forgive this colossal asshole but presumably rescue them from being stabbed with one of the many fake wands in sight.

Why couldn’t he just spend his life slapping butts like his father?

When midnight came and the doors opened, Tsvetan waited with growing nerves as he watched every person leave with their copy.

...

Tsvetan had a fair idea it would be him who spoiled it.

Him. The weird one. The man with scraggly long hair and black painted fingernails. The idiot wearing a moulting fur coat and leather trousers. With more rings than fingers, feather earrings and a t shirt saying ‘it’s only illegal if you get caught’. He was going to do it.

Tsvetan dropped his cigarette, stubbing it out with his heel in anticipation.

He guessed right.

The One Who Did Not Conform had flicked to the end of the book, then with eyes as wide as saucers, puffed out his chest and gave a bellow.

“Man, I can’t believe Dumbledore dies!”

…

“Quick, follow me into this alleyway!”

As a child, Alin Radacanu had found his soulmate tattoo exciting. “I’m going on an adventure!” he would exclaim. His soulmate was someone magical! His soulmate would whisk him away from his mundane life to go save the world and fight evil! Or even become evil masterminds themselves!

As he got older, and puberty left him a perpetually horny mess, ‘adventure’ eventually changed to a hopeful ‘getting blown in an alley’. And then taken on an adventure like the ones in those YA novels.

He eventually realised that, in order for the first thing his soulmate to seriously say be ordering him into an alleyway, he’d probably have to be in some sort of danger, presumably on the run from something.

And with that thought in mind, Alin Radacanu then set out to cause as much trouble as possible. From that day on, he did everything in his power to constantly be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Or right time, hopefully.

It was that concept that freed him from the Confines of Conformity. The weirder the outfit, the more he’d stand out and therefore the more likely he’d be to get into trouble. It also freed him from following a lot of laws, and over the years he was arrested for everything from rioting to arson to public indecency, but none of those things lead him to his soulmate, only a weeping mother and a slim chance of ever making it into anyone’s will.

On the plus side, being a masochist certainly helped deal with the number of people who ended up punching him in the face for things he’d said or done. He hoped his soulmate wouldn’t mind that. Or his missing, broken teeth.

Maybe fixating on his soulmate tattoo was technically still making him a slave to conformity, as a lot of sad romantics tended to base their lives around what they could do to find their soulmate. Should he renounce his soulmate and the whole stupid tradition?

No. He already had a suspended sentence because of this hypothetical person. He certainly deserved an adventure after the lengths he’d gone to find them.

His stupid, self-destructive path was what lead him, on 16th July 2005, to proudly stride out of a high-end bookstore, flick to the end of the latest instalment of the beloved Harry Potter book series, and loudly exclaim “man, I can’t believe Dumbledore dies!” to a horde of furious nerds.

And this time, he was greeted with something other than pain or a police chase.

A figure pushed past the mob lurching forwards to tear him to shreds, a man with tired eyes and a resigned air about him. His one true love? His completer?

Yes, completer is a word.

“Quick, follow me into this alleyway!”

Alin was so stunned he could only let the man drag him away, this wonderful stranger that smelt of stale alcohol and cigarette smoke and wore a worn, brown leather jacket. The man who would apparently lead him towards a gritty, urban fantasy adventure, judging by the look of him.

He could dig. So long as one of them had magic powers.

And this knight in vegan-unfriendly armour did indeed lead him into an alleyway. And another. And another. Until a screaming stitch cut through Alin’s rose-tinted vision and eventually the angry shouts stopped.

The stranger stopped soon after, doubling over to hack tar out of his choked lungs as Alin leaned against the brick wall of the alley they found themselves in. What now? Was Tsvetan going to take him to a nightclub full of modern wizards? A vampire coven? Would they now go off around Europe to hunt evil spirits?

“So you – you’re,” the man huffed, “my assholemate then?”

Alin was in love.

“It seems so,” he agreed, “Alin Radacanu, a pleasure to meet you.” He held out his hand, which the man took.

“Tsvetan Borislavov Borisov.”

“So what now?” Alin looked around hopefully, giving a cheeky grin.

Tsvetan shrugged. “How ‘bout a dri-“

“We gonna blow each other or what?”

“I mean... I’m down for that too.”