#and you’d think he’d have raised Harry better or loved him better?

[v-a-l]

The worst thing about Wolfstar is that Remus’ mediocrity and negligence is blamed on Sirius to facilitate a false equivalence that hinges entirely on Remus having Sirius’ personality and Sirius having no personality.

[gurugirl]

The Handyman | a check-in*

Summary: You and Harry throw a housewarming party and your ex shows up with some advice for whoever built the kitchen counter. Harry makes sure to prove to you how well-built his countertops really are.

A/N: Based on this idea! Previously posted on Patreon. Read the original one shot here.

Word Count: 3,613

Warning: smut, the tiniest touch of jealousy/possessiveness

❊❊❊

You hadn’t intended for your little housewarming party to turn into a whole thing. Harry said he’d help you invite people from town, a way to make more friends and get to know some of the locals a bit better. But then when your dad told your cousin that you were throwing a small party she let it slip to someone from your past. Van, your ex. She apologized, saying she didn’t think he’d be interested until he asked for more details. But you weren’t going to be rude and uninvite anyone because the house was big enough for everyone. And you did say “open invitation” after all.

“Y/n, it’s so nice to see you again,” Van pulled you in for a hug when he arrived. You put on your nicest smile and attempted to act happy to see him. And it wasn’t that you disliked the guy but the awkwardness of dealing with an ex you hadn’t seen in a while was a bit daunting.

“Oh my gosh. You too! I’m surprised to see you here. All the way out in the middle of nowhere!” It truly was a surprise. It was an hour’s drive from the city to get to your house. And even though your cousin told you she told him and he seemed interested, you half expected he wouldn’t show up.

You made small talk with him before excusing yourself to go to the kitchen except he followed you.

“This house really does look nice, Y/n. Did you have help with all this?”

“Thank you. And yes. I had someone help with everything. Harry’s been so amazing. Listened to what I wanted but he already had his own ideas which I loved so much. Kept almost everything original.”

Van ran his palm along the butcher block island and ducked down to check the construction of the cabinets beneath, “Who’s Harry?”

“Harry owns a small company doing all kinds of work for people in town. He helped me restore the whole place and landscape. I mean, he basically did all the work but… yeah. He’s also my boyfriend.”

Van raised a brow at you, “Boyfriend huh?”

“Yep. Boyfriend. He’s actually here somewhere.”

He nodded as he inspected the window over the sink, “Not sure if you remember or not but I became an architect. Wish you’d have called me. I could have really done this place justice. Sort of feels like some of this could have been upgraded.”

“Oh? Like what?”

You caught Harry’s eye when he stood at the entry between the kitchen and the dining room as he spoke to a few people he knew.

“Well this window for example,” Van pointed, “I would have pushed this whole wall out, made a breakfast nook over the patio since there’s so much space at the front. Could have put in built-in bench seating and it would have given you so much more light in the kitchen and increased the value of the property.”

“I mean that sounds really nice but I wanted it to be original. Expanding the walls and windows like that sounds like too much. And I’m not planning on selling it so increasing the value doesn’t appeal to me.”

“I just hope he knew what he was doing. If someone’s not quite qualified you could have shoddy workmanship that shows later. Like all the cabinets and these new countertops,” he knocked on the surface, “might look fine now but give them a year and you’ll see if it’s up to par.”

Suddenly Harry was wrapping his arms around your front and kissing your neck as Van was then suggesting a rebuild of the staircase to expand the width. You placed your hands over Harry’s forearms and grinned at the feel of his lips on your skin. His distraction had almost made you forget that Van was still talking until he slowly got quieter as he looked between you and Harry and realized you were no longer listening.

Harry kept his eyes on Van as he pressed warm kisses to your neck. It was a signal to Van. You were taken and you were happy and Harry wasn’t some pushover. You were his girl and he was letting Van know.

“This the ex you were telling me about,” he whispered into your ear so Van wouldn’t hear it.

You nodded and giggled, turning to look at Harry when Van cleared his throat.

Harry stood up straight and put his hands on your shoulders, “Sorry to interrupt like that. I’m Harry, Y/n’s boyfriend. You are?”

“Oh, I’m an old friend. I’m Van,” he put his hand out to shake and Harry wrapped his big palm around Van’s with a nod.

“Nice to meet you, Van. Now, what were you suggesting I do differently?”

Van’s eyes widened slightly, “Oh… I wasn’t saying you should do anything different… it’s just that there were some ideas…”

You were no longer interested in what Van had to say at all when you felt Harry’s hand slide down to your hip. It felt like a possessive move. You’d never known Harry to be jealous or anything but that whole exchange had you seeing a bit of a different side of him.

“Definitely some good ideas, Van. But we’re happy with keeping things original. Feel free to have a look around at everything if you like. Only room off limits is our bedroom upstairs that’s locked, but otherwise, knock yourself out.”

Neither you nor Van missed Harry saying our bedroom upstairs.

“Okay. Well, thank you. Yeah, I mean I think you’ve done a great job here and…” Now Van was backtracking.

Harry nodded, “The most important thing is that Y/n is happy with how everything turned out and the quality of construction is the best,” he rapped his knuckles on the countertop, his brow raised at Van.

Van kept his distance until he left a couple of hours later, only hugging you quickly and telling you, once again, how nice it was to see you. You weren’t sure why he showed up in the first place. Maybe, being an architect, he was genuinely curious about the new house you bought and had help restoring. Or maybe he was hoping to rekindle something long gone but then was caught off guard by Harry.

“I can see why you love it here,” your cousin nudged your arm as she ogled Harry who was talking to a woman animatedly.

You laughed softly, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Your boyfriend, obviously. Damn. Who knew small-town men looked like that? You’re living your Lifetime movie dreams babe. Old mansion, aunt’s inheritance, hot local who helped you fix the place up falls in love with you…”

You laughed through your nose and shook your head, “I’m not saying I’m not agreeing with you but… I would have stayed here with or without Harry. He’s just the cherry on top.”

“Oh, I bet he’s the cherry on top. So…” she looked around the space and then back at you, “He’s living here with you then?”

You nodded, “Yep. When we started dating it was just kind of the natural next step. I think my dad thought it was too fast but I didn’t want to be away from him at night anymore and he didn’t like it either. I suggested that he just stay and… well that’s really it. He’s here for good. Plus he put so much love into this house. It feels like it’s just as much as his as it is mine.”

You could admit, everything looked fantastic. Harry had made your home into something you could see yourself living in until you were old and grey. Something you were proud to show off to everyone. It was a labor of love, for both of you.

. . .

When everyone had gone, you were wiping up the countertop when your sponge was plucked from your hands and Harry pulled you back into his chest, “So Van thinks the construction of this counter isn’t well done?”

You turned in his arms and grinned up at him, “You know the construction is fine. It’s the best. Don’t worry about what he said. I don’t think he could tell from just looking anyway.”

“Did you like him a lot when you two dated?” Harry pushed you gently back toward the counter, your bottom hitting the edge.

“Why? You’re not jealous are you?”

Harry licked his lips and squeezed your hips before sliding his hands up to your waist and lifting you to sit on the smooth surface you’d just wiped down. You laughed and grasped onto his shoulders.

“Of course, I’m not jealous of Mr. Architect. But I do want to demonstrate how sturdy everything is. I’m not the type to cut corners, you know…” he dragged his big hands up your sides and one up your spine until his fingers found the back of your neck, collaring you with his big palm as he bumped his nose into yours.

You giggled and pushed your arms over his shoulders, “Seriously, Harry. I know how sturdy everything is. No need to prove anything to me.”

“Mmm… I know I don’t have to prove anything,” he smoothed his lips against yours gently, and slowly with the poke of the tip of his tongue at your plush lips igniting the furnace in your tummy that always simmered with need for him. But when he got like this… with his hands on your body and his mouth prodding at yours… the simmer turned into a boil.

You felt one of his hands travel down your hips and then to your thigh where he bunched the material of your skirt in his palm until he’d pushed the fabric out of his way and teased his finger up and down along the edge of your panties next to your crotch.

Spreading your legs for him you leaned back slightly and parted from the kiss with a laugh, “We gonna do this right here, Harry?”

He splayed both of his hands over your bare thighs and squeezed. His eyelids were heavy as he roved his pupils from where he was holding your plush thighs then up to your face, “Wanna?’

You couldn’t help but giggle again and bite your lip as you nodded.

“Mmhmm… Thought you’d want to. Given how wet your panties are right here,” he pressed his thumb over the crotch of your knickers, “Bet you need it more than I do, sweetheart.”

He smeared his thumb around the material of your sodden panties, wetting the pad of his digit before finding your clit and pressing into it. A breathy pant fell from your lips.

“What got you like this, Y/n? What happened, sweetheart?”

“Nothing, just you.”

“Me? Are you sure about that?”

“Always you, Harry.”

He grinned and pushed the fabric of your panties aside as he kept his soft green eyes on you, “What about me does this to you, hmm? You just like me so much that you start dripping?”

You felt your face heat up. Harry often liked to ask you questions that got you a little shy or embarrassed when you had to answer. And even though you should be used to it by now you still got a bit antsy. But fuck if you didn’t love it.

“Yeah. I really just like you so much…”

Harry’s grin never faltered as he kept his gaze pinned to yours and pressed his thumb at the entrance of your pussy, taunting it open until he had pushed it all the way in and you gasped. He began slipping it in and pulling it out, “I know you do. And I love how much you need me,” he continued fucking you with his thumb, “How your body reacts to me. Look at you, Y/n…” he dipped his gaze down to where he was thrusting his thumb into you, “Letting me fuck you with my thumb on the countertop I installed. Making a mess of my palm and I bet the quartz under your ass too. Almost shaking you need it so bad.”

You grunted and rolled your hips up against his thumb, pressing him in further and Harry groaned at your little pathetic wiggle.

Releasing one of your thighs he hooked a finger into the bottom hem of your blouse and pushed upward, “Arms up.”

Raising your arms overhead harry pulled the shirt from your torso and then pulled your bra down, exposing your tits one at a time until you were pouring out over the stretchy material. With his thumb still inside of you, he ducked down and wrapped his lips over your nipple, tongue first.

You moaned and closed your eyes when Harry moved to your other breast, pumping his thumb through your walls until it was all gushy sounding. He stood back, pulling his thumb from you and then bringing it up to his mouth, wrapping his lips around it to lick off every drop of you while his other hand worked at his button to get his pants undone.

There you sat at the edge of the counter with your legs spread and your wet pussy on display. Your panties were stretched to the side and out of the way but you could feel the elastic digging into the back of your thigh and your bum.

Harry pulled himself out of his pants, his gorgeous cock already at full mast and ready to split you in half. He cradled the underside of his shaft as he stepped in toward you and held your thigh in place as he smudged his tip into your labia, spreading your arousal through your crease. The dirty look on his face was heated, like he was about to overtake every part of you.

“Hold onto my back, sweetheart. Gonna fuck you on this well-made countertop now,” he smirked at you cheekily.

You would have laughed but you were already feeling his tip at your pulsing muscle and the anticipation of him stretching you open was making your head spin.

He rocked forward, his thick crown penetrating you and opening you up as he stuffed himself in. It took a few pumps of his cock in and out to burry into the hilt. He gasped when he felt your pussy devour him whole.

Your fingers clung to his back as he began to thrust, long and languid, wet and hot.

“Fucking hell… Got me so weak for you, sweetheart. So desperate to feel you around me all the time. Wanted to fuck you on this counter right in front of your ex-architect so he could see who’s fucking you these days, who’s treating you right…”

You moaned with every deep nudge of his cock through your wet channel. But when he ran his thumb over your clit you croaked out loudly, “Fuck! Yes…”

“See? Look how good I am to you… give you the best don’t I?”

You nodded, “The best, Harry…”

He crashed his lips to yours as he worked your cunt with his cock and his thumb and the languid thrusts turned into frantic jerking motions with his tip nudging into your guts, a hint of pain spreading through your insides at the way he bullied his thick length into you. He rocked his hips against you, the sound of smacking flesh and muffled moans between kisses filtered out through the open window onto your porch. Luckily you had no neighbors anywhere near so no one would know the kinds of things that went on in that old house every evening.

Your thighs were trembling with every swipe of his thumb at your clit and every dip of his cock through your insides.

“Gonna come for me already? Yeah? Fuck, baby…” he was swollen and leaking as he shoved into you. The feel of you wrapped tight around him was always heaven. His favorite.

You whined loudly, the build-up of your orgasm was unable to be stopped as you let him ravage your pussy however he liked. Pat-pat-pat… the sound of wet pussy getting fucked was a typical soundtrack in your house just about every night.

Harry ran a big paw over your tits and squeezed as he pounded into you. The counter under you never budging.

When your pussy began to squeeze and flutter and spasm and your mouth dropped open wide you let out a pitiful cry and dug your fingertips into the taut muscle of his back as you gushed on his big cock.

He only increased his pace as he fucked into you and watched your pretty face twist up in ecstasy. He loved watching you come. It only fed his ego to see such a pretty thing with your face all scrunched and lips curled and wet as you quivered in your orgasm.

He hissed to hold himself back as he felt your pussy slobbering arousal all over his dick. He’d have loved to unload his come right then but he wanted to force another orgasm from you before he allowed himself the satisfaction of coming yet.

When you felt him slow his thrusts you could hear him cooing at you, “Good girl. Fuck baby almost made me come you look so pretty like this.”

You lulled your head up to look at him and he smoothed his lips against yours as he stilled his hips, cock lodged deep inside of your tummy.

“Gonna have you bend over now, okay? Put your feet on this stool if you need it,” he dragged the stool next to his foot toward the counter for you. And with wobbly limbs, you adjusted your seating, turning over so your hips were face down against the counter top and Harry quickly placed his big palms on the round of your ass, pulling you apart so he could see your pussy and anus.

He inhaled sharply as he ran a finger through your folds and you jolted from being so sensitive, “Easy, sweetheart… This is gonna feel good once I get going. You ready?”

You nodded into the crook of your arm and let out a muffled yes as he nudged his cock against you again.

His fingers dug into the meaty soft part of your thighs before he split you open, burying in balls deep on first pass.

You grunted and braced yourself as he began to plunge through your insides, wet strokes of his long cock filling you and then pulling back to his tip on repeat.

“Ooh… shit, sweetheart. So fucking pretty…” he pulled at your ass cheeks and railed into you. You knew he was sweating already, he was giving it his all, using his strong muscles to fuck himself into you and panting breaths every time his balls smushed into your pussy.

You began to feel that fuzzy little prickle spread over your core with every stroke of his cock. The ridges of his bare dick always fit into your crevices and little spots like he was made to snug inside of you and get you off just like that. Your g-spot was never left unloved with the shape of Harry’s cock, his tip always dipping right into it with every pass.

He began to grunt with every glide of his hips, his cock being massaged by your warm walls making his balls tighten and his heart pound the closer he got to his end.

The sight of your pussy sucking him in, lips wrapped around his thick shaft and leaving creamy arousal along his length was just as hot as the way you felt encasing him. But of course, there was the scent and the sound as well. It was lewd. All his senses were burning and singing as he fucked into you.

“Ahh!” You moaned and began to push back against his thrusts, desperate for your next orgasm as it was approaching fast.

Arousal dripped down your inner thighs as he rutted into you, his pace growing sloppy and erratic as he could tell you were about to come.

And the moment you gurgled a wet moan and he could feel you clamping down he gasped and gripped onto your hips, moving you over his cock like you were a toy to fuck, he pulled your ass against his hips and then upward along his cock before slamming you against him again, smearing your pussy juice on the countertop as he did so. You cried out and convulsed around him as Harry finally pumped into you, pulling you back against him until he was stuffed into you as deep as he could reach and released every drop of himself into you.

He groaned as he came into your warm, cozy pussy, pumping strings of his come through your slimy arousal-coated cunt.

Harry made getting off easy. You’d never been one to come so fast or so easy but you were convinced his cock was shaped exactly like you needed. You reached back to take his hand as Harry leaned over your back and kissed your neck, “Pussy fucked and stuffed and countertop sturdy as a rock,” he laughed.

You giggled and arched your back to attempt to move yourself, the position was not the most comfortable after all.

Harry helped you down and held onto you so you wouldn’t fall and you both laughed again when you turned to face him, knowing you had mascara down your cheeks.

He cupped your face and grinned at you, “This is the best housewarming party I’ve ever been to.”

You pointed at the counter he’d just fucked you on and chuckled, “And that is the sturdiest kitchen counter anyone will ever see.”

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[dearodair]

anything for you. theodore nott.

in a universe where voldemort won, you and theo risk everything.

reposted from my old account.

warnings: graphic death

pairing: theodore nott x ron weasley's twin sister!reader

“You can’t possibly love him, y/n. He’s a bloody Death Eater!” your brother had jeered at you. Hot tears ran down your face but you refused to wipe them. You wanted everyone in the room to see how deeply this was hurting you.

“I have never been more sure of something in my life. While you were gone – while everyone was gone – he was the only constant. He isn’t who you think he is.” The room broke out into a chorus of repulsed sounds. The Order of the Phoenix wasn’t much these days, the predominant members being the Weasley family. Harry Potter’s death loomed over everyone. Numerous other deaths piled on: those who died at the beginning of the war, but those who have died recently like your older brothers, Percy and George, and your father, Arthur.

“He thinks we’re scum! He would kill Hermione on the spot. How can you stand there and say this shit?” another brother had chimed in. Voices were starting to overlap the more trapped you felt.

“You’ve never given him or myself the chance to prove that’s not true! If you remember, Theo was the one who told me about everything Draco was doing back in school. He has already given us so much information. He’s climbing the ranks, but he is doing it for us!” you fell to your knees, exhaustion and frustration getting the best of you. “Can’t you see that even if he’s not doing it for all of you, he’s putting his life on the line trying to help secure a world that I feel safe in? You know how my beliefs align!”

“Has he stopped killing innocent people? Does he still partake in Voldemort’s plans that don’t necessarily target us? If he’s climbing the ranks, I can’t begin to imagine what he’s doing to do so,” your mother inquired, shooting daggers at you. You couldn’t look her in the eyes.

“He’s doing what he can to survive, too. If he dies, we will lose so much.” Without missing a beat, you added, “If he dies, I am as good as dead.”

This conversation, over a year old, still rings in your head every time you meet Theo. Your current setup in an old warehouse allowed these thoughts to amplify. The only sounds keeping you from spiraling were the rhythmic tapping of Ron’s foot and Bill’s pacing. You never got to see Theo alone, but that wasn’t a horrible thing.

Though you wanted nothing more than to have one evening alone with him, as selfish as that sounds given the climate of the world right now, the positive came in the form of the people who joined you on these exchanges and started to see through the cracks in Theo’s character. This hardened soldier who bears the Dark Mark turns into someone else in your presence. He is more patient and gentle, as compared to the man that numerous members of the Order have seen slaughter people in cold-bold, just to laugh at their frozen-in-death facial expressions.

You had noticed changes in Theo throughout the last few times you’d seen him. He was much more focused on you than the information they were there to exchange. He’d almost become frantic – dark circles that got darker every time you saw him circled his eyes, and his face had become much more caved in. He was starting to look as though he were actively being tortured. He didn’t look better this time around.

You sprang up from your spot when you heard the metal door grind against the floor, opening quicker than anticipated. Ron and Bill quickly put their wands up and took aim at Theo, refusing to put them down even when you yelled, “It’s just him!” Theo didn’t respond much better, raising his wand and aiming at Bill, who you knew Theo saw as more of a threat than Ron.

“Are you being followed? What made you come in here like that?” Bill growled, eyes flickering between Theo and the entrance. Theo narrowed his eyes at the older man.

“You think I would lead them straight here if I was? If it was just you two, sure. But, I would never do that with her here. Consider yourself lucky,” Theo spit.

“That’s enough. Are you alright?” you stated, briskly walking to your lover. Up close, you noticed faint bruising around his neck, as if he’d been choked. Theo didn’t say anything and instead, kept his eyes locked on the two men standing behind you. “Theo,” you trailed off, putting one hand on his cheek. You searched his eyes for any type of response, but you couldn’t find one.

“You don’t have much time,” he said, only loud enough that Ron and Bill were barely able to hear. You took a slight step back, still close enough that you could hold his hand – the hand that he couldn’t even bring himself to grasp in return.

“What?”

“The Dark Lord knows there’s a mole in his closest circle. He knows you are not dead, despite me telling him you were,” Theo said, finally making eye contact with you. Your mouth fell open and you held his hand tighter.

Theo lost his will to fight at that exact moment, letting his hand holding his wand fall to his side. He pulled you into him and rested his forehead against yours. “He knows you’re the mole?” you whispered.

“Not yet, but I can’t imagine it taking much longer. His eyes are set on Berkshire – thinks he’s gotten scared now that his mother died. I was able to ward him off me for the time being. I told him that I wasn’t the one to kill you, I just saw you get hit with a nasty spell.”

“Come with us before it’s too late, Theo. How many times do I have to beg you? Turn your back on it all. We can keep you protected.” you pleaded, looking back at your brothers for reassurance. Bill shook his head before Ron chose to speak.

“He is not coming back with us. Do you know what kind of target that would place on us? It would be a death sentence,” he spit. “With that Dark Mark, I’m sure Voldemort could summon you back to him at any given second,” he added. You spun around to confront him but Theo was quicker – he grabbed you by the arm and pulled you into him.

“I wasn’t planning on it, Weasley,” Theo said with such spite behind his words that it made you want to cower away from him. He looked down at you, asking you a silent question. You bit your lip in thought, looking over at your brothers. 

“Could you guys give us a minute to ourselves? Just stand guard at the door.” With a few grumbles, you were able to convince them to leave. As soon as the door shut, you wrapped your arms around Theo as tight as you could, reassuring yourself that he was here with you and still alive. For how much longer he would be alive, no one was certain.

“You can leave them. Even if you don’t take refuge with us, you can escape,” you pleaded. Theo softly shook his head and pressed his lips to your forehead.

“No, y/n, I can’t. I’m bound to him until one of us dies. I…” he trailed off. You frantically started shaking your head at him and he sighed. “We knew this was going to happen.”

“You might have known. I held out hope,” you cried. Theo grabbed your chin gently, using the other hand to wipe away the stray tears. “Promise me you won’t die.”

“Y/n…”

“Promise me, Theo.” 

His response never came. Theo pulled you into him and kissed you so tenderly, that it was beyond out of character for him. You knew this was the end. He softly ran his hands down your sides, over your back, anywhere they could grasp. It felt as though he was trying to remember the exact shape of your body. He eventually tried to pull away, but in return, you softly bit his lip and pulled him back in. 

Theo couldn’t bring himself to let go of you. You were intoxicating in a way that no drug or drink could replicate. Not breaking the kiss, Theo hoisted you onto a table that was just behind you. Laying you down on it, he kept kissing you. Along your jaw, down your neck – Theo kissed you anywhere with an exposed bit of skin. You couldn’t stop yourself from crying, to which Theo then kissed away your tears. When he was finished, he pulled you up into a sitting position.

“Love, you are the only thing in this short existence of mine that I’ve ever been sure of. When I die, I can die happily because I knew you. I got to love you.” Theo whispered, his voice cracking as he professed to you. You leaned your forehead against him, looking him straight in the eye.

“Try to survive, Theo, please. For me,” you pleaded. Theo nodded briefly but was interrupted by a banging on the door. 

“Hurry up, it’s getting dark. We need to leave,” Bill’s voice called out. Bill and Ron both reappeared in the room, looking at the two of you expectantly.

“We need to leave, and you still haven’t given us what we came for,” Bill sighed. Theo tensed and pulled himself away from you, putting his facade back on as if it were a costume. Part of you wished he didn’t, just so they could see the real him.

“The Dark Lord plans to raid Hogsmeade, again. You need to make sure everyone is evacuated. He doesn’t plan on ever having to raid them again. In two days, if you don’t create a plan, everyone still living there will be dead.”

“And will you be one of the Death Eaters killing those people?” Ron inquired.

“If it means that it keeps me alive, and keeps a steady stream of information coming to you, yes. I have never been unclear with my intentions.” Theo said. He was significantly taller than Ron, forcing the redhead to look up at him as Theo walked closer to him, slowly.

“We don’t have time for this,” Bill said, getting visibly anxious. “We’re leaving,” Bill added, grabbing you and Ron both by the arm. 

Everything happened so fast after that – you reached out for Theo, but he backed away from you and you could’ve sworn you saw a tear run down his face. Just like that, you were whisked away, Bill choosing that moment to apparate. You didn’t get to say goodbye; you didn’t get to tell him you loved him for the last time.

Three days later, after their failed attempt at raiding Hogsmeade, you and your family watched in horror as Voldemort was broadcasting yet another round of executions. This wasn’t the first time this had happened – the first time being with his son, Mattheo, a boy you had known in school. You can’t recall the exact reason for his death, but it set a standard. If Voldemort would kill his child in such ways, what would he do to others?

You held your breath as the camera view panned down the small row of people awaiting their death. You felt the wind get knocked out of you when you caught sight of him.

The boy you loved was there, his eyes already dead. His appearance was, somehow, much worse than when you had last seen him. The bruising around his neck that had almost been healed was now back in full display, accompanied by bruises all over his face. He had blood dried around his mouth and nose, and his left eye was so swollen that it looked completely closed. Something told you that death was merciful compared to what he had been put through.

Voldemort rambled on about the first three men, killing them quickly. His smile never failed, especially when he turned to the last victim: Theo.

“Theodore Nott, what would your father say?” He teased. He pulled a wand out of the box that a servant of his carried at his side. Raising it, you recognized it to be Theo’s. Voldemort snapped it in half, causing a slight flinch to radiate off Theo.

“Stupidly fell in love with a dirty blood traitor, one of those Weasleys. He’s acted as an agent for them this entire time, but of course, I knew from early on. We’ve played a brilliant game of cat and mouse, haven’t we, Nott?” Voldemort, again, laughed. Every muscle in Theo’s body was tensed up and he never lifted his face to look at the crowd that had gathered or the cameras broadcasting the event.

Noticing Theo's aversion to looking at the crowd, Voldemort ran his fingers through Theo's hair before yanking it back, forcing him to look up. Theo grimaced but finally looked straight at the camera. His good eye bore through you, sending your heart straight to the bottom of your stomach.

You started sobbing, sliding off the couch and crawling towards the hologram showing the entire scene. “Please,” you gasped. Hermione sat behind you, pulling you into her, but you fought her off. 

“You were special to me,” Voldemort sighed and raised his wand. You grabbed whatever was closest to you – in this case, a plate someone had been eating off of earlier – and threw it through the hologram. The sound of your sobs and the plate exploding against the wall ricocheted around the hideout.

Another one of your older brothers, Charlie, moved Hermione aside and restrained you. Without doing so, you would’ve hurt yourself or someone else. “Get off me,” you repeatedly screamed, thrashing around on the ground.

Charlie was able to hold you in place on the ground, holding you facedown on the carpet with your arms pinned behind your back. To your horror, you turned your head to the side just in time to see a green light encase Theo in its grip. 

The cry you let out was movie-worthy. Using all of your strength, you burst out of Charlie’s grip and jumped up, turning on your surviving family members. “He died for us. He died for us and our cause. You never gave him a chance and never wanted to offer help in return,” you sobbed. Hermione came back to your side and held you in her arms. 

You didn’t fight back this time. You sat in her arms and sobbed. You couldn’t stop sobbing as you looked back at the hologram and it was panned to Theo’s dead body. It zoomed in on his face as if to hurt you even more. You watched as Voldemort whispered a simple charm, and flames consumed Theo’s body.

“I hope the Weasleys watching this enjoyed the show. While you watched this we have surrounded your hideout. Even Nott’s Occlumency he worked so hard on for you couldn’t keep me out. Perhaps it’s good that you never trusted him with your exact location, or else this would’ve happened long ago.” Voldemort smiled, and the hologram shut off. There was no noise in the room other than your silent sobs. 

Then, the first window exploded.

[freedomfireflies]

Pillowtalk*

Summary: An extra for Mine*

Save a horse, ride a pillow.

Turns out, Harry isn't always so forgiving.

Word Count: 4.4k

(This one shot is separate from the events of the last extra!! Just something smutty for fun!)

*Contains Mature and Explicit content! Please only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞 You are so much more important!*

You know you’ve fucked up even before Harry walks through the door.

He’s normally a very patient man. Very forgiving. Understanding.

But you know today will be different.

See, you’ve done the one thing he absolutely hates, more than anything in the world:

You’ve lied to him.

Or rather, you’ve refused him. Refused his suggestion. His offer to help you relieve some tension. And not because you don’t want to or because you feel uncomfortable. Because you know if you’d used your safe word, he would have dropped it instantly, no questions asked.

But you know he’s been watching you for the past few days. Noticing how you rut against him in your sleep. Throw a leg over his thigh and grind down without even realizing. Whimper beneath your breath at the faint contact before curling into his side.

See, you’ve been fighting your subspace for weeks. You’re not sure why it’s kept trying to creep up on you. Maybe you’re lonely. Maybe you’re in heat. Maybe you just need Harry to fuck you into the mattress to set things right.

But he’s been incredibly busy. And stressed. And the thought of bothering him with this has been out of the question. So, you’ve kept it to yourself.

It wasn’t until Asher found you squeezing a pillow between your thighs earlier today that Harry became aware of how serious it was.

Asher had called him instantly and told him before Harry made him put you on the phone. He was anxious to fix it for you, asking if you’d like to come to the warehouse so he could help you out. He’d play with you, kiss you, cuddle you, and make everything better.

But you hadn’t wanted to be a bother. You’d brushed him off, told him you were fine. You’d watch some TV and get over it.

And he hadn’t liked this, instead suggesting that he leave work altogether and come home so he could dedicate the rest of his day to you.

Another proposition that you refused. Insisting once more that you didn’t want to take up any of his time. You knew he was busy, and this was nothing. You weren’t an animal. You’d be fine.

It was your second refusal that upset him. The way you lied just to please him. How you put his needs above your own.

You knew he wanted to chastise you over the phone, but he simply offered a solemn but chilling goodbye before the line went dead.

So, you handed the phone back to Asher with a sheepish raise of your eyebrows.

He tutted sympathetically as he said, “Oh, sweetheart. You’ve done it now.”

It became clear then just how badly you’d fucked up. And you could do nothing but wait for your boyfriend’s return as the anxious pit in your stomach began to form.

This is how Harry finds you a couple of hours later. You’ve been anticipating him, his driver having radioed to Asher about his arrival before he left.

And you’ve done nothing but pace the living room floor, practicing what you’ll say when you see him. Which will be any second now. You can hear him coming up the stairs, the heavy boots on his feet echoing in from the hall. 

He can’t be that mad. He can’t. Not after he hears your side. 

You’ll start with a string of apologies and then an explanation. And maybe he’ll understand because sometimes you don’t think when you’re in this type of headspace, and surely he’ll be able to see that. Surely he’ll listen to reason—

“Hi, mama.”

The normally loving nickname is murmured beneath a low strain of voice, and you look up from the carpet to find the man of the hour.

Shit.

He’s standing by the now closed door, eyes narrowed, and expression stern. His tongue is running over his bottom lip and he casually makes his way into the apartment just as Asher steps out of the room.

“Hi,” you call timidly, hands sliding behind your back as you wait for him to approach. “How was…how was your day?”

“Fine,” he replies after a long moment of pause. “Before I got a rather upsetting phone call.”

You swallow, lashes fluttering the closer he gets. “I know, I’m sorry. I…look, you’ve been under a lot of stress, and I know you were just trying to help, but I didn’t want to—”

“No,” he says simply, bringing your spiel to a halt. “No, I don’t want to hear you speak again until I give you permission to do so. Is that understood?”

Instantly, your lips press together as you nod once. Shit, shit, shit.

“Good.” He takes another step, and it feels as though he sucks the air right out of your lungs. “Do you understand why I’m upset?”

Another nod, wordless.

“Do you understand that I don’t like when you lie to me?”

Nod.

“Do you understand that if you’re struggling or floating away from me, I need to know?” He’s close enough now that you can smell the faintest whisper of cigarettes and cologne. An oddly comforting mix. “That if you lie to me when you’re in your subspace, it’s incredibly dangerous? And scary?”

You hadn’t thought of it like that. In fact, it never even crossed your mind to imagine how he might feel to be put in this sort of position again. Especially after the last time. 

 Guilt crawls up the back of your neck as you fight the urge to look down at the floor, forcing eye contact with the tall man before you. 

You motion your agreement once more before Harry’s hardened expression softens.

“Did you know you were slipping?” he asks gently, now reaching out to brush his palm along your cheek. “Because if this was an accident, and you weren’t sure, then I won’t be mad at you, sugar.”

You could say no. You could get yourself out of this mess with one simple word. Make him happy. Reassure him.

But…you knew. You had a suspicion even if you weren’t one hundred percent sure. And lying to him again will only make the damage worse.

You press your hand over his, keeping it against your face. Soaking up the contact and the few short moments of his relaxed demeanor you have left.

“Yes,” you whisper quietly. Bashfully. You don’t look at him. You look at the collar on his shirt, willing the tears to stay inside. “And I was scared.”

He takes hold of your other cheek now, grasping onto you with concern and love as his brows furrow. “Scared how, mama? What can I do?”

You whimper, fingers slipping around his wrists. “I didn’t want to take you away from your work. It was more important. And I didn’t want you to fall behind or feel like you had to help me. I thought I would be okay, that I could fight it. And I could wait until you weren’t as busy.”

He’s still frowning but it’s softer now. As though he’s in great pain. “My sweet girl,” he exhales, stepping closer until your chests brush. “I never…ever feel like I have to help you. I want to help you. I thought you knew that.”

And you do. But when you’re in that sort of mindset…

He sighs. “I never meant to neglect you. Or leave you here or make you wait. You are the most important thing in the fucking world to me. There’s a reason I have so many men working for me, and it’s so they can take over whenever I need them to. Whenever I have better places to be. Like here. With you.”

A tear falls but his thumb gingerly wipes it away.

“I worry about you all the goddamn time,” he murmurs, and your stomach flips. “It’s hard enough being away from you, but knowing you were in so much pain and so much frustration when I wasn’t here to fix it for you makes my fucking skin crawl. It’s the scariest thing in the world to me to know you’ve slipped when I’m not here.”

You nuzzle into his touch, remorse clouding your vision.

“It’s even scary when I am here,” he whispers, almost as if admitting a secret. “Because it proves how much you trust me. And all I want to do is keep you safe, keep you mine. Keep you. In any way I can.”

“I know,” you finally say. “I know, I’m sorry. I just didn’t want to upset you.”

He scoffs a bit beneath his breath, like it wounds him to hear you say this, and you can see the repercussions of it on his face.

“Sugar,” he breathes, “asking for my attention will never upset me. My attention belongs to you. It’s yours, always, every fucking second of every fucking day. Even if it’s just a headache and you need me to come home, I will. I will always put you first.”

Your heart feels as though it blooms in your chest.

“And if I can’t be there,” he continues, “I know there’s someone else here to keep you safe until I can be.”

With this, he glances over his shoulder toward his second-in-command, who’s now leaning against the doorframe, watching you both closely. 

Surprised, and a bit relieved, you and Asher exchange a small, knowing smile before you look back to Harry. “I know. I’m sorry. Really.”

And you can tell this hasn’t fixed anything, but he seems somewhat comforted by this as he leans forward and presses his lips to yours. His palms pressing hard into your cheeks to keep you close.

“I know,” he echoes, leaning back and releasing you. “But you still lied to me. When you knew better. And actions have consequences, don’t they, mama?”

Your blood runs cold as you nod mutely and watch him walk toward the couch. He’s relaxed yet firm. The air in the room shifting instantaneously while he nods at Asher who begins walking closer as well.

Everything is spinning, your head, your heart, your stomach. You have no idea what to expect next, and as Harry takes a seat, you decide that you probably aren’t going to like it.

“I promised I would always take care of you,” he begins, throwing an arm over the back of the sofa as his right-hand man comes over to sit beside him. “And I plan to keep that promise, even after you’ve been so disobedient.”

You notice now the large pillow in Asher’s hand, and a hundred and one questions flash through your mind as it’s handed to your boyfriend.

“So, that’s what I’m going to do,” Harry says, taking the object from him before tossing it toward the ground at your feet. “Gonna let you ride this pillow until you feel better.”

Oh.

It all clicks now. Makes perfect fucking sense and heat floods your cheeks as you look from the pillow to the two men in front of you. 

Harry nods his chin, the corner of his mouth curling up into a rather sadistic display of reassurance. “Go on.”

And you can’t refuse him again. Can’t argue or try to talk him out of it. He’s made up his mind. In fact, he probably decided on this the moment he hung up the phone earlier today.

Instead, you swallow thickly and slowly lower yourself onto your knees. You can’t deny that you’re slightly…thrilled by the idea. Something you assume Harry knew you would be. No matter how callous the man can be, he always puts your pleasure first. Even when he’s upset.

And yes, this is meant to humiliate you. Which it does.

But you like the idea of them watching you. Of them seeing the way you get yourself off with something as pathetic as a pillow.

“Uh-uh,” comes a warning tut, forcing your eyes up. Harry is frowning, head cocked to the side. “Panties off, mama. You know better.”

You do know better, and you nod mutely as you warily grab hold of your shorts to tug them down, your underwear following suit.

Now left in nothing but your thin tank top, you return to your position on the floor, hands on your thighs as you kneel before the pillow.

The men are far too relaxed as they settle back into the cushions, looking down at you with smug appreciation.

“Come on, Sugar,” Harry pushes, once more encouraging you to begin. “Haven’t got all day.”

And Asher smirks at this, arms crossing over his chest, focused eyes glued to yours.

So, with a deep inhale, you scoot forward, grabbing onto the pillow to angle it the way you need. Then, you straighten up a bit, pushing and fluffing the cushiony fabric just so before pulling it between your thighs. 

Once it’s in the right place and you feel comfortable in your straddle…you lower.

You can’t help but gasp as your cunt makes contact with the pillowcase, the soft yet somewhat rough material like ecstasy as it slides between your bare, silky folds. 

The boys are quiet. Far too quiet for your liking. Not even a hum of approval or a look of excitement. They watch you like they’re watching the daily news. Intrigued yet hardly fascinated. 

You suppose this is a part of your punishment, but it breeds something insatiable in your stomach. Making you want to earn their interest and admiration.

You begin to rock yourself back and forth. A steady rhythm, just to get started. The need you’ve been fighting for weeks returns tenfold, growing stronger with each brush of your clit against the side of the fabric.

Then, Harry speaks.

“Talked to Cal today,” he says to his partner, glancing over as if somehow, that conversation is more important than watching you soak the pillow between your legs.

It makes you frown.

“Yeah?” Asher responds, looking over as well. 

Harry nods. “He’s working on expanding the shipment. Said he found a way in.”

“Good. You think he can handle it?”

“Probably not, but that’s why it’s not the actual shipping container. I’m leaving that to you.”

Asher laughs, and the amused sound makes your stomach clench. “And what’ll you do if he finds out you’re testing him?”

“If he’s really on our side, he’ll understand,” Harry says simply. “And if he has a problem with it…we’ll take care of it.”

The ominous threat has you whining softly in the back of your throat as you squeeze your eyes shut and work your hips a little faster.

This time, Harry chuckles. “She’s cute, isn’t she?”

“Very,” Asher replies, and even without seeing them, you know they’re smirking at you. “Maybe she should disobey more often.”

“Maybe,” Harry agrees. “It’s more fun this way.”

Your head lifts, attention finding them as you plead with your boyfriend to have a little mercy on you.

But the second he sees you looking, he smiles and shakes his head.

The living room falls silent for just a moment as you continue to thrust against the material in search of more.

It’s building, slow at first and then really fast. A very prominent wet patch has begun to form and knowing you’ve most likely ruined this poor pillow makes you whimper as you arch your back.

Your knees slide on the carpet, spreading you open. Over and over and over you rut against the cushion, breathless and panting for air.

And it's nice. Tantalizing, in a sense. But it will never be the real thing. Never be able to satiate your appetite the way you want. Can't fill you, or fuck you, or leave you.

Yet, despite its faults, it helps get you there. And maybe you should have been doing this all along.

Harry’s focus glues to you now, eager to see you come, and it makes your heart soar as you sneak a glimpse of his handsome face. Punishment or not, having his eyes on you is like an honor. Knowing that he could be looking at anyone…but he’s looking at you.

Your orgasm rips through you like a tornado, tearing your insides apart as you practically collapse on the floor. Hips twitching while you attempt to ride it out.

Again, a certain quiet settles over the room, and you feel relieved to know you’ve completed this little exercise, no matter how degrading. You’re ready to jump up onto your feet, crawl into his lap, and bury yourself in his arms for the remainder of the night.

But it seems Harry has other plans, and he hums condescendingly when he sees you begin to sit up.

“Where you goin’, mama, hm?” he calls.

You blink.

“You’re not done yet,” he says, far too pleased for your liking. “In fact, you’re not done until I say you’re done.”

…shit.

“So, go on,” he instructs, once again nodding at you. “Give me another.”

With that, he leans back against the couch, leaving you to wilt under the stares of the two men above you. 

Shaking slightly from the aftershocks, you squirm a bit over the pillow and steady your stance. Then, with a deep breath, you lower yourself back down and drag your pussy over the side of the fluffy material. 

But you’re incredibly sensitive, and you instantly lift up with a mewl as you attempt to get away from the sensation.

“Sugar,” Harry warns, “s’part of your punishment, and you know it. You gonna make Daddy even more upset?”

It takes all your strength to whisper, “No,” before you begin again.

Pleased, they return to their previous conversation, allowing you to twitch atop the cushion as you whine and cry out pathetically from the overstimulation.

Your poor, puffy clit is rubbed raw against the pillowcase yet even through the slight pain, you feel relief. Because this type of ache makes you excited. Makes you want to find reprieve and drives you toward the end. 

So it’s not too difficult to work yourself back up, now grinding against the floor as though you’re a rabid animal in heat.

Your legs are sore, knees bruising from the harsh sting of the carpet. But you don’t mind. You can see how proud Harry is of you, even if he’s not always watching.

This is your punishment. And if taking it like a good girl will make him happy, you will. Take anything he gives you.

The second one is slower to form and unravel but it’s still just as potent. It forces a shudder to roll down your spine as you moan lewdly and tremble from your spot on the ground.

Hoping that this will be enough and that he’ll have a bit of compassion on you, you glance up expectantly.

However, he simply runs his tongue over his bottom lip.

With a slight sink in your stomach, you press your palms into the floor and readjust your straddle.

It aches a lot more now. And it’s so bad, it’s good. Tears are quick to slip down your cheeks as you writhe and buck against the fabric, joints strained, and pussy abused. It's damp between your legs. And while the idea is invigorating, you don't know how much more your body can handle.

“Please,” you whisper, glancing up through the water in your lashes to plead with the man before you. “Hurts.”

“Does it?” he coos, frowning some but it’s incredibly condescending. “Does it hurt as bad as you lying to me?”

You shiver again, choking on a soft, pathetic whimper as you continue to gyrate along the edge of the material. “Daddy, please—”

“No.” It’s so simple, it makes your stomach flip. “Keep going.”

“Please—”

“Mama,” he warns lowly, and a fresh wave of arousal seems to rush between your thighs. “Begging won’t help you today. You’re gonna keep going until I tell you to stop.”

So with a pitiful cry, you continue your thrusts along the pillow, chest heaving from the deep breaths you’re attempting to take.

Harry watches you closer now. Perhaps to make sure you’re all right, and knowing that he’s still worried about you, even when he’s dominating you, is all you need.

You try to make the most of your punishment. Try to get yourself to the next one the way he wants. And it almost kills you, but you carry on. Lowering your shaky fingers toward your cunt as you scoot up to make room.

You circle them around your clit a time or two, indulging in the way it feels. It’s not as teasing as a pillow and it makes you clench in a desperate flutter as you begin to thrust against your hand.

“Uh-uh,” he suddenly calls, a low bark of disapproval. “Did I tell you to touch yourself?”

And you could practically disappear through the floor from the chasting tone of voice as you glance up. “Need to—”

“No,” he repeats, just as unrelenting. “Move your fucking hand.”

“Please—”

“I said no. Would you like to make this worse?”

And that’s the last thing you want. Because the look in his eye tells you he’d happily leave you untouched for weeks on end if that’s what it took to help you learn.

And you’d rather this pain than that.

With a mangled gasp, you pull your fingers from your soaking pussy and instead raise them to your chest. Needing to please him somehow, and he’s always been privy to your breasts.

You take hold of the low-hanging neckline on your tank top and rip it down until your left tit is revealed. Then, you squeeze it in your hand—tight. Groping the delicate flesh as you rut atop the pillow. Exactly the way he asked.

You vaguely catch the way both men shoot you smug looks of approval, endlessly entertained with this little display as you’re left to your humiliation on the ground by their feet.

So, you switch your focus. Linger on the tent in your boyfriend's pants as you picture how hard he must be about now.

You're pleased that this degrading act of remorse is turning him on. And you wish, more than anything, that he'd take out his cock and present it to you.

You'd suck him into your mouth eagerly. Flick him with your tongue before dragging it along the underside. He'd be heavy and warm between your lips. His fingers would bury into your hair as he forced himself down your throat, making you swallow around him.

And he'd groan through gritted teeth. Praise you the way he loves to do. Or maybe he wouldn't. Maybe he'd tell you how fucking pathetic you look with spit dribbling down your chin. Tell you that you can do better. That you need to be better to make him come.

The mere thought makes you stutter, sucking in a sharp inhale as you work your tit and cunt faster to the thought of him.

Always to the thought of him.

“That’s it,” Harry says, tossing both arms over the back of the sofa while his legs spread apart. “What a cute, pathetic little bunny, hm? Look at you, humping your poor pillow just to get some relief. Bet you like it, don’t you? Like showing us how desperate you are?”

You moan again as his words instantly and expertly work you back up that peak.

“Should I start calling you Bunny?” he continues, and Asher grins. “Are you my naughty Bunny, baby?”

Your eyes roll back, hips stuttering through the pace you’d begun to set as you cry a little harder and fight to keep going.

“Please,” you whisper, head shaking quickly. “Can’t…can’t do it—”

“Yes you can,” Harry corrects, a bit harder but still laced with encouragement. “Know you can, sugar. Come on—”

“No…no, hurts. Can’t—”

“Keep going,” he says. “Make us proud, Bunny. Don’t you wanna make Asher proud?”

And you can’t even look at the man in question because you’re so humiliated and so overcome with about ten different emotions. Instead, your focus finds the floor as you suck in a shaky breath.

“You’re all right, sweetheart,” you hear Asher offer, and it makes you whimper as you force your head up.

He’s smiling at you. It’s incredibly proud although still haughty, and it does something to this desperation you’ve already begun to succumb to.

“Go on,” he adds, and you drop to your elbows.

You become deranged. Yearning for this release more than anything in the world. 

You’re a blubbering mess, practically collapsed on the ground as you roll your hips at a swift pace.

“Please,” you whine again. “Need…can’t—”

“Shh,” Harry murmurs, now leaning forward as he rests his arms over his knees to peer down at you. “You’re okay. One more, Bunny, come on.”

This praise and encouragement are nice but not nearly as nice as the smell of him as he gets closer. You’d do anything to feel his hands on you. In any capacity. Do anything to have him hold you. Or kiss you. Or just make it better.

“Think of it as my face,” he adds, and you whimper just from the thought. “Know you love to ride my face, don’t you, mama? So go ahead. Ride that pillow like it’s me, yeah? Make me happy.”

It shouldn’t work so well, but it does. You can already picture the glistening of his chin. The puffiness of his lips, all swollen and red from how he’s licked you clean. The way he’ll pull your clit into his mouth by his teeth before releasing it. How he’ll scratch down your ass to keep you stuck to his tongue.

He’s always so good. So fucking good to you and the moment you imagine it…it hits you.

The noises you make are loud and incoherent, and you feel as though your body is being ripped apart by the cruel hands of the sadistic men before you. Despite the fact that they aren't even touching you.

You begin to weep dramatically the minute it subsides, which is only a second or two later, and instantly, Harry is dropping onto the floor in front of you.

“Okay, okay,” he whispers, quickly pulling you into his arms as Asher crouches as well to pull the pillow out from between your legs. Relieving you of the stimulation. “You’re okay, sweet girl. M’right here. You’re okay.”

He tucks your head under his chin as he strokes your back and cheek for comfort. And it’s so perfect. All you’ve ever wanted, but you can’t stop crying. Even if you aren’t inherently sad. 

You don’t know what you are.

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” you gasp, nose nuzzling into his shirt. Comforted by the warmth of his chest. “I’m sorry. Didn’t wanna make you angry. I’m so sorry—”

“Baby,” he exhales, holding onto you tighter. “I’m not angry. Promise. Could never be angry with you—”

“I hurt you,” you whimper, and you feel his breath catch. “I hurt you, Daddy. I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to hurt you. Was trying to be good. Trying to be patient—”

“Oh, my darling love,” he whispers, pulling you away from his body only so he can shower your face with kisses. “I know, baby, I know. You are so good to me. So patient, so kind. You’re okay. We’re okay.”

Your fingers clutch onto his dark button-up as though he’s going to let you go. “I’m sorry—”

“Don’t have to be sorry,” he hushes you, eyes flicking to Asher as they exchange a certain look before Harry is nodding once and Asher is standing to his feet. “It’s okay. It’s over, yeah? I’m here.”

You sniffle as you watch the other man go, lashes filling with water again. “Where’s he going? Did I make him mad?”

“Never,” Harry tells you, nuzzling his nose against your cheek and snaking his arms even tighter around your frame. “Never, mama. He’s just getting the bed ready.”

You look back, blinking some of the wetness away. “Oh? What for?”

“I wanna hold you,” he says simply, leaving another kiss to your bottom lip to help it stop quivering. “Haven’t gotten to hold you in forever. Just wanna sleep with you in my arms for a bit. Is that okay? Can Daddy do that?”

“Yes,” you say quickly, nodding. “Wanna make you happy.”

“You do, sugar,” he chuckles but it sounds sad. “Always make me happy. You’re my favorite fucking thing in the whole world.”

It’s exactly what you’d needed to hear, making you blush the entire way to the bedroom as both boys help you get settled under the covers. 

Harry instantly pulls you into his chest the moment the two of you have laid down, but before Asher can offer you your privacy…you’re thrusting a hand toward him.

“Stay,” you call quietly, lips pushing into a pout. 

He freezes in the doorway.

“Stay?” you repeat, eyes pleading with him. “Please?”

He looks toward his boss, who frowns a bit before nodding once, allowing him to return to the bed.

Asher is gentle as he takes a seat on your other side. Almost as if scared to cause a rift in the dynamic.

But you simply smile and hum as you nuzzle back into Harry’s embrace.

“There,” Harry smirks, keeping you close. “Better?”

“Better,” you whisper, already drifting off. “Thank you, Daddy.”

“Always,” he whispers back, pressing his mouth to your forehead and keeping it there until you fall asleep.

And it’s better than any dream in the world. 

Next Part:

~ Red* (An Extra)

Previous Part:

~ Remedy*

~ Full Mine Masterlist

~ Other Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

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[innerempire]

{Starkercest}

“Baby, any reason why you’re here looking more in love with the hors d’eavours than your boyfriend who has been standing there in the corner looking like he’d rather be anywhere but here?”

Peter flinches, nearly dropping the champagne flute in his left hand, the other stealing another onion jam and cheese rugelach. He pops it into his mouth, sighing happily when he chews into it.

“Because these are fantastic. They’re my favorite.”

Tony plucks the empty flute from Peter’s hand and passes it to a service staff walking past. “I know, that’s why I specifically requested for the catering staff to prepare more of it. So-“ Tony flicks his gaze across the room. “Why are you breaking up with Briar?”

“I- how did you-“ Peter snags a napkin to wipe his fingers with. “It’s Brian, by the way.”

“I don’t really give a fuck, you know that.”

“Well, you should be concerned that your 21 year old son can’t seem to date anyone for more than 6 months.” Peter grumbles under his breath before he follows it up with a sigh. “I don’t know, dad. He’s so…” He gestures uselessly with his hands.

“Dull? Plebian? A tool?”

“Dad!” Peter feels horrible for even trying to suppress his laugh.

“Baby, I keep saying this and you keep ignoring me, but you’ve got to start dating someone of your calibre.” Tony reaches out and tucks an errant curl behind Peter’s ear, the affectionate gesture making the younger male smile.

“I dated Harry Osborne last year, and you still didn’t approve. He’s smart, rich and-“

“Uh, uh.” Tony warns, raising a finger to effectively stop Peter. “I don’t need you praising another man when I’m right here in front of you.”

“I was going to say that he’s smart, rich and as great as he is, he’s still not you.”

“Atta boy. No one can be me, because that’d be a problem.”

“Brian thinks it’s weird how close we are with each other. And he said some things about you which I obviously didn’t agree with.”

Peter really won’t stand for anyone talking shit about his dad.

“So you did bring him here so that he’d make up his mind to break up with you.”

“…yes?”

“Great. Saves me the trouble of giving him the shovel talk.” Tony looks all too pleased by the idea of his son’s breakup, just as he always had been with Peter’s past ex-boyfriends.

“There’s also another reason why I’m breaking up with him. You see, someone I’m really, truly in love with…” Peter reaches a hand out, delicately adjusting Tony’s bowtie. “…he’s turning 50 today. I’m also so tired of him pretending that he doesn’t want me, when it’s so obvious he does.”

“Huh.” Tony stills, and something in the air shifts. “Sounds like an idiot.”

“I wouldn’t say that. Sometimes, it’s more of him….biding his time. But I’ve been waiting for two yea and frankly, it’s not fun anymore. Hence, this conversation.”

Even at 50, Tony was so fucking ridiculously handsome. The whole bearded look was really going to be the death of Peter, and he figures that once Tony starts going for that whole silver-fox grey look, Peter is absolutely doomed for.

“So…I’m making myself available so that I can gift myself to him, because I know he’s a possessive man and sharing is…well, it’s not in his dictionary.”

“Peter.”

“Dad.” Peter fiddles with the lapels of Tony’s suit jacket. “I thought me going to college and creating some “distance” between us was going to spur you into action. Stop making me wait.”

Tony smiles. It’s fond. Indulgent.

“I was going to wait until graduation.”

Peter scoffs, “Waiting’s not exactly your strongest strength, dad. This is the last time I’m offering, so you’d better take it. Or else next semester, I’m going to bring home my really hot, older professor that’s been eyeing me since last year and-“

“Peter. Are you threatening me?”

“You know I don’t make empty threats, daddy, so-“ Peter pats Tony lightly on the chest, his smile entirely playful. “-you’d better buck up and do something.”

-/-

Half an hour later, Peter doesn’t even have it in him to feel remotely guilty when Brian accidentally wanders into one of the guest bedrooms. He really should have locked the doorF but maybe a part of him actually wanted this to happen.

The room is dark, blinds drawn and in their haste to undress and fuck, neither Peter and Tony had bothered with the lights.

The light from the hallway spills into the room, illuminating Peter’s blissed-out expression as Tony fucks him from behind. Their eyes meet; Peter’s gaze misty and half-lidded and Brian’s wide with the disbelief and betrayal.

Tony’s too far gone in his pleasure, eyes clenched and his forehead pressed against Peter’s shoulder blades to even register that they’ve just been walked on.

“Oh fuck-“ Peter doesn’t shift his gaze away, nor is there any semblance of regret as his (ex) boyfriend watches him pushing back against his dad’s cock. “Dad, fuck me, please. Want you to come in me-“ He lets out a high keening sound when Tony tugs at his hair, a muffled “christ, baby, you’re gonna fucking kill me” whispered against his shoulder.

[ashotofogdensoldfirewhiskey]

Want

“--and you’d think, after rereading the chapter twice that I’d have a bleeding clue what Vector was on about, but I haven’t. The OWL is going to be a complete disaster.”

“You could always fall asleep in the middle,” Harry suggests, smirking. “I’ve heard that’s an effective way to get out of OWLs.”

“Excellent advice,” Ginny snorts. “And anyway, what are you on about, ‘fall asleep in the middle'? I thought you had a vision?”

It’s odd to joke about what was arguably the worst evening of his life – the worst evening in a life already rife with horrific evenings contending for the top spot – but he finds that the twinge of grief and regret doesn’t come. Not while her warm hand is clasped in his. “I did,” he says airily. “After I fell asleep.”

“You’re a terrible influence,” she snickers, smacking his arm lightly with her free hand. They’re not taking the most direct route from the Library to the Gryffindor Common Room, choosing instead to meander lazily in the relative privacy of the nearly-curfew corridors. They’ve ended up somewhere on the fourth floor, somehow. “What’ll you do when I flunk out of Hogwarts, eh?”

“You won’t,” he answers.

“I might,” she says warningly, and then she heaves a great sigh. “I suppose I could stay at home and help Mum with the chickens, assuming she doesn’t murder me…” 

She’s joking, but Harry thinks he sees a glint of something resembling genuine worry in her expression. He’s reminded irresistibly of himself in the days leading up to his expulsion hearing, how he’d gone to Sirius, hoping desperately for reassurance that expulsion wouldn’t mean the end…

“If you do, we could always just move to France,” Harry says. “According to Fleur it’s better there anyway.”

Ginny raises an eyebrow. “‘We’?”

“Yeah,” Harry says, nonchalant. “You’re not ditching me here to do NEWTs alone.”

Ginny stares at him, and then a smile spreads across her lips. “Yeah, alright. But not France. I’m not going anywhere Fleur thinks is good.”

“Wherever,” Harry shrugs easily. “I’m not fussy.”

Ginny tugs at his arm so he’s facing her, and then she backs him slowly up against the craggy stone wall of the corridor, and he feels his heart quicken. “What about Siberia? Would you go there?”

She’s pressed herself up against him, her hands snaking up around his shoulders, and he’s finding it difficult to think at the minute. “Siberia could be nice.”

She presses her lips against his, so soft, and his breath hitches in his chest. Before he has the chance to melt into her, she pulls back, but only just. Her eyelids are fluttering, and her lips still ghost against his as she whispers, “The Sahara, then?”

“Sure,” he agrees, not caring where he’s agreeing to as long as she’s there, and then he’s kissing her. He wonders vaguely if he’ll ever get used to this: the feel of her pressed up against his chest, the way his life seems so much brighter now that it’s lit up with her fiery glow, how dangerous wanting has become now that all he wants is her. 

He kisses her, and pulls her in closer, and the want nearly swallows him whole - to touch her everywhere, to have her for more than just a fleeting moment, to escape the sword hanging overhead, poised to slice him open along the seams she’s only just sewn together. 

Siberia could be nice, really. No prophecy, or Horcruxes, or Voldemort. Just Ginny, her skin dappled with freckles, and the cackle of a laugh that he loves coaxing out of her. 

He might be free to want her and actually have her there. 

[ma1dita]

truth be told

can be read as a standalone, but part one can be found here: liar, liar

this was a request! here

words: 3k

summary: After everything, only the truth remains. A continuation of your life with Sirius. Loosely follows the events of the books. Sirius Black x fem!reader

warnings: one use of y/n, ANGST guys if i cried writing this you will too, non-descript smut for the plot, ending open to interpretation, Sirius deserved a better life. star-crossed lovers strike again!

a/n: it has been months but i wanted to get this right. Saddest shit I’ve written in a while, hope you enjoy! Let’s rant about how the Blacks have the saddest character arcs…. And this has an open ending, tell me what you think happened!! Tunes attached at the end for your reading pleasure.

(posted: 12/18/23)

—

There’s always a proper explanation for drastic life changes. Surely, there’s a reason this keeps happening to you.

At the very least, this time around you feel as if you owe it to your dead friends. You’d never thought you’d be the one to outlive all of them, with how much the world has gone to spite you, but then, you heard about Harry Potter. It was never fair, the way he lost loved ones that you loved too. Perhaps it was sympathy or your ongoing savior complex, but 12 years gives you a lot of time to ponder past transgressions.

So when Remus sent you an urgent letter about Peter being found alive, arranging your international portkey to meet them at Hogwarts immediately was a no-brainer.

Professor Remus, who is so eloquent with words, just casually had to omit the fact that your ex was also back in the picture. And that he was the most wanted wizard in Britain. Truthfully, your life has been much quieter since him. There’s truth in these details…

Now, as you follow Severus Snape to the Shrieking Shack under the guise of catching your ex red-handed, something about this scene feels familiar.

The seed of doubt that was planted back then still lingers as a big and scary thing, all twisted and it rips open old scars for those involved. It makes you stop in your tracks at the entrance of the base of the Whomping Willow and you can't help but be struck by the thought of how much things have changed since that fateful night all those years ago. And yet, somehow, it is all the same.

A pang of guilt stabs at you. The night was supposed to be about catching the big bad Sirius Black, but you couldn't help but be reminded of how important he had been to you back then, and how you loved him. Love him. It was almost as if you were playing the part of the traitor rather than looking for one...

You’re 33 now, after all. What else could go wrong?

—

You hesitate outside the entryway, listening to voices from your past and present intermingle, and the thundering in your heart drowns out the sound of your heavy breathing. Godric, and they said Harry has his life threatened every year? Isn’t Hogwarts supposed to be the safest place on Earth?

As Severus raises his wand to attack Sirius, you step into the light and wordlessly stupefy your colleague, his body dropping to the floor like a bag of rocks. Multiple pairs of eyes meet, some in fear and confusion, but you are immediately drawn to him, his presence calling something within your soul as it did 12 years prior. Sirius Black, your lost love, all covered in grime and more suffering than man. He has that look on his face, the one he’d get when he was about to make a point— and it irritates you so quickly that it’s almost debilitating.

The rush of emotions as you see him again floods you with a memory of a time like this long ago. It hits you like a tide that washes over your senses, the way one breathes in saltwater, all nostalgia and raging hurt, and as you gulp in oxygen, breathing heavily. For a second, the shadows in this dark room look like the friends you lost on a night this, one you no longer talk about.

Guilt, anger, and love all vie for your attention but your mind goes numb as Sirius steps closer, his face twisted in a wry smile as he meets your gaze.

"Hello, wife." He whispers, his voice tinged with affection and regret. He’s different now, older… starved. Sirius steps closer to you blinking slowly, hand grazing your wrist like he’s afraid you’re a figment of his imagination again. He’s spent a lot of time over the years imagining you. But then the anger comes back to the forefront of your brain before he can do anything about it.

You sock him hard in the jaw, and he crumples to the ground like paper. What a scene— Severus lying unconscious behind you, Sirius keeled over holding his jaw, and the Golden Trio stares at you with open mouths.

“Who even are you?” A ginger boy holding a ball of fur almost howls in disbelief. Is that…

“Good to have you back, love,” Remus says with a knowing grin, and then all you can hear is Sirius’s laughter. Despite the blood dripping from his lips he laughs, so filled with enjoyment that he hasn't felt in years.

“Someone’s gotta keep you two in line,” you huff, looking around quickly as you point your wand at the damn rat of a man hiding in the grasp of these children.

“Put him down so I can hurt him,” You spit, and Peter Pettigrew, ever the petty little man launches himself at you going down in a flurry of multicolored sparks and misfired spells.

“Kill him, baby, kill him! You knew it wasn’t me, didn’t you? I’ve been waiting for this… 12 years of it! In Azkaban!” Sirius chortles, almost rocking on the floor in glee, finding this hilarious.

“Quiet you git, or I’ll make sure you’re next!”

A low growl comes out of Remus, and you realize revenge will have to wait once more, pushing the Trio out of the shack. One thing is clear in your mind as you run for your life.

You have got to stop testing fate.

—

Tomorrow, you turn 34. What better way to celebrate than to pay a visit to your ex-boyfriend after he escaped from Azkaban? Clearly, Remus Lupin thinks it’s his best idea yet.

“He’s not doing so well, (Y/N). Can’t seem to adjust at Grimmauld Place and find a new normal…” Remus mutters over the floo network late at night.

“I don’t think normal and that place could ever belong in the same sentence,” you say with a furrowed brow. From one prison to another, you think.

“I just… I thought I’d floo you because I’m running out of ideas. You know… you knew him best.” The fireplace illuminates your face in the small apartment you’ve been residing in for the past month since your return.

“Does it matter? We’re strangers again, just bound together by hazy memories. I wouldn’t know what to do…”

“But I think you do, and he wants you there. Just doesn’t know how to say it. For some of us, memories are all we have.” The image of Remus’s head was getting licked at by the hot flames, and the idea of being in front of Sirius again, not for Order business, but to be even a friend, after everything…

You felt like you were on fire too.

“Isn’t it ironic that the happy memories hurt more than the sad ones, Rem?” Silence greets you from the other end of the fire, both of you knowing that it’s the truth

Sirius sees you approaching the house in the early morning as he watches out the window after another sleepless night. His body jerks up from his hunched position at the bay window, wiping at the corners of his eyes. You came. You’re here. For him.

He meets you downstairs, daybreak peeking in rays of blue and purple behind you, the frame of the doorway separating the two of you along with the realization that you’ve missed each other for longer than you’ve known one another.

You step back into his space, and he takes your coat quietly, scared to make another mistake, scared to push you away like he has many times before.

Something akin to grief holds you there in the foyer, staring at each other in a new light, faces changed by the life you should have lived together. For right now, there’s nothing more to hide, nothing less than the simple truth that you are two different bodies with the same souls. There is no struggle in the way your hand reaches out for his chest, to feel the steady beat of his heart, and for the first time in a while, you both feel alive.

“Sirius…” you whisper. No nicknames, because what do you call him after all that? The man who left that night with hushed promises and left you to handle the wreckage.

The world keeps moving and he’s still stuck there in that cell. In this house. Sirius can’t seem to walk away from what haunts him, but at the sound of your voice saying his name he smiles.

No one’s said his name that kindly to him in years. Not in the way that you do.

“Happy birthday, gorgeous.”

—

You’re 35 now, and you’ve realized that it takes time. Time is all you have when your love is in hiding. You’re caught again between the blurry lines of friends and something more, but the work that has to be done comes first before anything.

And it is driving Remus mad.

You moved into one of the many spare rooms at Grimmauld Place when Remus did, to keep Sirius company and organize affairs for the Order. But to watch you two dance around each other awkwardly makes him want to claw at his skin more than he already has.

“Friends stick together. We help each other out,” you say nonchalantly and Sirius’ head bobs as he helps you put the groceries away one day. Remus is not as amused.

There are a lot of things to fix here, with the house swarming with dark magic and cursed artifacts. You all spent weeks researching the combination of anti-sticking charms to tear down the family tapestry.

Wretched Walburga’s painting was almost one with the foundation of the building, so you found a way to magic it shut forever. To take down the bad memories brick by brick, hurt and shame—if that’s what he wanted, you and Remus made sure it was what he would get. It’s what he deserved. When you finally showed Sirius the closed-off wall, without the invidious glare of his birthgiver, he thought he could kiss you with the happiness it brought him. You have a way of doing that, so intentional with your words, and how you’ve been caring for him, giving him the room he’s learning to occupy again…

So he did.

Hesitantly, then desperately drinking you in like a man left starved, and he had years of a fill to catch up on. He could drown in you if you’d let him.

And you did.

You kissed in the middle of the living room he was once damned in, legs hoisted over his hips as you fall onto the sofa. Frantic movements, kisses conveying words left unsaid, and at one point you both cry in pleasure and relief at being in each other’s arms again. If everything’s gone wrong in life, dear Circe, was this finally right.

His thrusts are slow as he gazes at you from above, hair moved out of your face to properly see you. Calloused hands roam your body that he wishes to reacquaint himself with from the inside out, from your skin to your bones.

“It’s okay,” you sigh as you touch his jaw, “I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’m scared to ruin this. To ruin you.”

Your hips slow as you reach around to hug him. Sirius had long come to terms with the fact that he ruins everything he touches, and you’re not an exception in a long line of proof. You gently pull his body down before rolling over him, placing kisses everywhere you could reach. The crease in his forehead, his sunken in collarbones, the lean of his chest until your eyes and lips fall upon the dark etch of your name on his ribcage, under his heart. It joins the many other tattoos that grace his slender body, but it’s the only one in bright, devastating red. Your eyes meet again.

“I…they kept trying to take the necklace away. I had to remember you somehow. I’m sorry,” he says bashfully, eyes flickering to the ceiling in timidity, and the apology slips out from his lips. It makes you smile at how far he is from the arrogant man you once knew.

“Then ruin me then. Again. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Your approval stokes the fire in him, hands grabbing for dear life to feel you more underneath his fingertips and with the movements he makes from under you, striking hard like he has something he needs to prove. As you sigh into his neck and hold tightly onto his hand, you think of how loving him has always been red. Necklace or not, that has always been the truth.

Naked underneath a throw blanket that might scar Remus’ senses when he gets back from his mission and surrounded by the construction job of a house he once hated, Sirius breathes easily with you resting upon his chest. He hasn’t dreamed in a long while, but here, he can conjure images of finally marrying you and making this house a home.

“What are you thinking about? Tell me the truth,” you whisper, and he stops breathing, thinking you’re already asleep. Your fingers rub a mark on his neck lovingly.

“I want you to call me anything else. Baby, sweetness, darling…” he muses with a crackly voice.

“I don’t like my name. You’ve always known that. I don’t think it’s ever been mine. But I have always been yours, even when I didn’t know it. Even if you don’t want me.”

You press yourself closer to him, if that’s even humanly possible, gripping onto his soul.

“Husband it is then.”

—

At 36, you didn’t think you’d be having this fight with him again.

It wouldn’t be Sirius if he didn’t put up a fight. The man who’s spent his entire life fighting to get everything he wants or even a fraction of what he felt he needed. So why would loving him be any more simple?

He won’t easily admit that he’s never experienced life the way he wanted to unless he was with you, the only constant, his only calm. But there’s no way in hell you’re letting him rush out into the night again to never be seen.

“Harry needs me, my love. I need to protect him! You need to stay here,” Sirius bites back at the desperation writhing through his being, needing for you to understand that he wants you safe too.

“I’m tired of fighting you, babe, I can’t…” Your hands slam onto the dining table as he paces around it, running away from you again as he grabs things he needs. The lack of air in your lungs is making everything rush to your head, anxiety making you spiral as you chase him again, reaching out for him like trying to grapple with smoke.

“I can’t do this. I’m not letting you leave without me again,” you wail, and he’s not listening, hyperfocused on saving one of the few people he has left to live for. He laces his boots haphazardly, keys being thrown into his jacket pocket, and it all boils over.

“SIRIUS!” you scream. He stops in his tracks and looks at you in the moonlight, face illuminated by the kitchen window. You’re crying, shaking, with your hand still outstretched for him to hold. He pulls you into his arms and kisses your forehead with all the love he can muster.

“I...can’t lose you again. Could it be easy this once? I’m not the enemy here. Please don’t fight me on this,” you heave between soft sobs, hands crinkling his shirt to keep you grounded.

“You’re coming.” he surrenders, and you nod, both of you knowing it’s the truth. The blue light of a refashioned heart necklace lights the space between you. Fear fills the air again, and he silently grabs your jacket, zipping it up and tucking the pendant underneath your shirt. His thumb brushes over your jaw in an unhurried moment as he looks at you long enough that you wish to stay here forever.

“I love you.”

“I know, husband. I love you.”

Your hand grips onto his and you apparate to the Department of Mysteries.

—

The quiet tragedy of your love will never truly leave your ribcage, and Sirius’s quite literally etched in the skin and bones of him, under his heart.

One moment, he’s fighting for his life with you beside him, and the next, he’s falling. The love never disappeared, though it appeared differently the second time around. You couldn’t love each other the same way twice, with everything that’s changed since the beginning of it, but the love was there. It evolved with you. It endures.

You’re the only family he needs, and this point is further solidified when his cousin sends a killing curse his way, and his saving grace is you letting go of his hand to to blast her into oblivion. He trips backward to the Veil all the same.

“Wife…” he breathes out, being pulled in by nothingness. Your body turns slowly and your eyes meet, his hand out his hand stretches to reach yours. His eyes reflect the red glow of the pendant on your chest, and then you know what to do.

“Husband!” The sound of your voice brings a smile to his face and he shuts his eyes not needing to know how this will end because you’re here, and barely a breath away.

There wasn’t even a second thought to grab his hand, and the both of you are falling, falling again. Hands intertwined, both ringless, yet all the more secure and true. This is how it was meant to be.

—

“I can’t decide if time

Is my enemy

Or my friend

Time takes the pain away

But time takes you away too.”

-Whitney Hanson

taglist (OPEN): @jsjcue

love me some tunes! I listened to these three songs while I wrote: cedar by gracie abrams, adam's ribs by jensen mcrae, the alcott by the national (ft. taylor swift)

[chrisevansonly]

𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝐉𝐚𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐞𝐬

𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐲𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: what better way to celebrate your first christmas season together than by wearing matching christmas pyjama’s

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: none, just fluffy goodness

𝐚/𝐧: i am in such a december christmas mood now that it’s almost the holiday season and idk it’s giving me little bursts of energy to write so here’s a lil harry fic for you all! i know it’s been a while, don’t worry he’s not going anywhere and is still very much my boy❤️

🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄

“Okay sit down, I have something for you!”

Harry raised his eyebrows at your excitement, I mean who wouldn’t be excited it was the first Christmas season for the two of you as a couple, and you were about to share a tradition with him that you’d always loved from childhood to now.

“Should I be scared?”

“Maybe of how much I love Christmas, but this I promise, will not hurt you”

He couldn’t help but laugh, giving you a simple nod as he settled onto the couch, his eyes watching you with a gentle curiosity

“So I know it’s our first holiday season together, and I wanted to give you this…it’s a tradition that-well I want us to share it…but only if you want to, here..”

Handing him the tissue wrapped package he smiled, taking your hand to kiss it gently before unwrapping your gift. When he spotted the soft pyjama bottoms dark blue with snowflakes and little reindeer, a matching top only it was plain, leaving all the fun to the bottoms he smiled

“Thank you baby, I love them”

“Um do you know why I gave you pyjamas..?”

He nodded

“To be comfy of course!” he stated, enthusiastic as always

“Well yes but…” you paused, walking to the love seat across the living room and picking up the matching pair, and bringing them over.

As soon as Harry noticed his eyes softened and he patted the seat next to him

“You got us matching Christmas jammies baby?”

“I did…” your voice was shy, it almost made you want to internally cringe

“I just, I loved wearing matching pyjamas growing up and I wanted to share the tradition with you…but if you don’t like it then it’s okay!”

Harry was quick to pull you in for a kiss, the thoughts and insecurities melting away as his hand moved to cup your jaw, knowing just how to get you to stop talking

“I love this, and I love you, thank you m’love”

Your heart grew warm at the sheer amount of love he held for you always making you feel that special kind of warm and fuzzy

“I love you…so do you maybe want to put them on and watch Charlie Brown Christmas…? I made cookies earlier”

“You know what, I think that sounds like the perfect night to me”

Some might think it’s silly, not even December first and you’re already in the holiday spirit, getting ready to wear your matching pyjamas, watch a Christmas movie and enjoy yummy sugar cookies, but Harry didn’t care, and neither did you.

He’d do anything to make you happy, and he’d be a fool to skip out on the greatest holiday movie of all, especially paired with your famous cookies, he’d never ever turn those down.

With the snow falling outside, there was no better night to get cuddle up on the couch with his favourite girl, and his new favourite jammies…

[pyromaniacbibliophile]

Albus put down the book very slowly. Scorpius looked at him with mild concern. “Albus?” 

He didn’t listen, instead he got up, walked out of the library, and screamed. Then he came back in. Madam Pince looked down her nose at him, so he grinned cheerfully and sat down next to Scorpius. 

“Al, what was that for?” 

Wordlessly, Albus pushed the book over to Scorpius, gesturing at two consecutive chapters. Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, read the first. The second, Severus Tobias Snape. Scorpius read the entries quickly, the advantages of being a fast reader. He laughed. 

“Shut up!” Albus whispers, poking him in the side. 

“I mean you have to admit, it’s funny.”

“No it really isn’t! Dad’s the bloody Man-Who-Conquered, you’d think he’d know how to name a child!” He whisper-shouted.

“Would you like a quill and parchment?” Scorpius asked innocently. 

Albus glared. “Yes.” 

In the end, the letter read

Dear Mum and Dad, I’m in the library,  having just read a book about previous heads of Hogwarts Written by Uncle Nev and Auntie Luna And I would just like to ask one thing Are you fucking serious? I demand a name-change now please Anything, literally anything else Dobby Kreature Potter, for all I care Sorry for swearing, but just Bloody hell, what were you thinking Love, Norbert Fang Potter, or something

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ron laughed. “You have to admit, mate, naming your son after the bloke who raised you to die and the twit who bullied us for our entire school and told Moldy-wart the Prophecy was a little bit stupid, wasn’t it.” 

“It was symbolic!” Harry protested. 

“Your first son you called James Sirius. Alright, bit of a heavy legacy, but I can see the reasoning. Your daughter, Lily Luna. The same. But why, oh why, did you call Al, Albus Severus? Mate, honestly. It’s not like we have a shortage of slightly nicer dead friends and family to name children as, is it? Or alive, you called Lils Luna, after all! I despair. It’s a miracle that you didn’t name Teddy, or else he might have ended up as Remus Peter Lupin-Potter! Or why not skip the subtleties and call him Peter Bellatrix Scabbers!” 

Harry winced. In retrospect, true. “... Regulus Minerva Potter?”

“Alright, a little bit better, but just a small thought. This is your chance to give one of your children a name that doesn’t have a previous owner. Just a thought, mind.” Ron added.

“Tom?” 

There was silence. Ron seemed dumbstruck at his friend's utter idiocy. “Harry. Mate. Please, please, tell me you see the issue with ‘Tom’. Please.” 

“It wasn’t all his fault, really, Dumbledore was a bit of an idiot…” Harry trailed off at the look on Ron’s face. 

“Harry. Your wife was possessed by him for a whole year. He also, under a very stupid alias, did, oh I don’t know, TRY TO KILL YOU FOR YOUR WHOLE LIFE?” 

“And succeeded once.” Harry added helpfully. 

“No. Just no.” 

Harry laughed. That one had been a little bit of a joke, to tell the truth. “Ok. Er- hmm. Your lot and my parents seem to have the monopoly on names, to be fair… Aha! Fleamont Minerva Potter!” 

Ron sighed. “That’s the best we’re going to get, isn’t it? Check with Gin.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dear Norbert Fang Potter

We do apologise, it was all your Dad’s idea. I would have been entirely happy never thinking about either Dumbledore or Snape again, to be fair. Thanks to your Uncle Ron preventing Regulus and Tom, we have come up with a different idea. 

How do you feel about Monty Minerva Potter? 

Is school going well, how are your friends?

Mum

and Dad (Who says sorry and admits Albus Severus might have been a mite foolish)

inspired by this pin

[rolling-storm-writing]

I love your headcannons! Can you do some headcanons on how it be dating Thor (gow) pleasseee :3

Dating Thor (GOWR Headcanons)

A/N: Hey everyone! It’s truly been a while huh? Well here’s a Thor/Top!Male!Reader, I haven’t written for this guy before so any comments or criticisms are welcome!

>>>>>(A little smut so MDNI)<<<<<<

Depending on when you meet Thor your relationship could be very toxic or very sweet.  In his early days the young god was a glutinous, mead drinking, blood thirty monster.  He’d met you after his fight with a red harried warrior, stumbling back to the nearest tavern and drinking his wounds healed.

Your giant form was tucked away in a small corner nursing a light beer and enjoying a savory slice of pie.  Your serenity ruined when the chair infront of you creaked with its new added weight to it.  The smell of blood and alcohol surrounded the disheveled god as his hazy eyes found yours.

“You a giant” he grumbled with a drunken slur as his hand gripped the handle of his hammer.  Your brow raised at him but not a word came out simply returning back to your meal.  This young Thor was used to getting his way without question and using force to obtain it otherwise.  He wanted a fight something to keep him busy and your calm attitude only made him antsy.  His leg bouncing impatiently with each minute of this silent stand still between you.

Even long after you left the god thought about you from time to time.  Leaving to search for the giant with “a sweet tooth” as he coined it.  You knew he was searching for you and when he did you were more than prepared.  But instead of fight you got something much better…

It was a hate filled bitter sweet exchange of pleasure.  The two of you tangled in the blankets of your bed, his loud moans filling the room with each swipe of your tongue on the underside of his cock.

Deep in his heart he hated himself and what he was, a half giant who killed his own people for selfish manipulative gains.  You were everything he hated, a man who looked beautiful, a cozy home, surrounded by neighbors that actually liked you.

Things he never had… things he desperately longed for.

You didn’t rush him out but let him stay curled up into your bed until the sun forced you both out.  He left wordlessly and gave barely a nod before he shot off into the air.  He never told anyone of you or about what he had done with you, his visits would grow more frequent to your home whenever he craved some kind of company.

And for your years this arrangement would continue up until the night of his marriage to Sif.  While he loved her his heart still longed for you even after his sons were born, even when Thrud was fresh into the world he thought of you.

He couldn’t keep his two lives separate and when Magni and Modi were little he’d bring them to meet you.  Letting them run through the piles of leaves that you’d build up just for them.  Teaching the boys to read runes and tell them giant stories and legends from eons before their birth.  

A stark difference to the way they lived back on Asgard surrounded by the toxic and manipulative hold of their grandfather.  Their memories of you were fleeting now that they had grown up and became the lap dogs their grandfather pushed them to be.

Thor was growing more bitter and angry which led to the official end to this relationship that you both had built.  It was only after the death of his sons then divorce did he come back to you.  His broken eyes looking over you with such a glassy look to them as if he wasn’t there.

His days and nights were spent with you until the end of days was upon you…

—————————————————-

A/N: Ngl I really like Thor and this headcanon should probably be something extended on, it really turned it more of a story than a what it was supposed to be. I think I’ll make a separate smut fic to go along with it but we’ll see.

i am working on some more smaller things so if you have requests feel free to send them on, hope you enjoyed and don’t forget your umbrella.

[saiilorstars]

Ch. 15: The Petrified

Fandom: Harry Potter (Hogwarts years 1-7) Pairing: Draco x OFC

taglist: @ocappreciationtag​​​ @arrthurpendragon​​​ @anotherunreadblog​​​ @maaaaarveeeeel​​​ @stareyedplanet​​​ @foxesandmagic​​​

Story Masterlist // Romina’s Masterlist

If you’d like to be a part of this OC’s work/edits, let me know!

It was after Easter break that the second years started getting a reminder about what was coming next year. Almost every single class warned the second years that they would have to be choosing classes for their upcoming third year. It became the talk of the day; it had a lot of students going into a frenzy trying to decide what they would take.

"I didn't know Hogwarts had all of these classes..." Arden remarked during their study period in the Great Hall. She, much like the rest of the students there, was looking over the list of new subjects they were allowed to take for the next year.

Romina sat beside Arden and was looking at the same list between them. "I had some idea but now that it's here, it's...real."

Angel chuckled at the two. He sat opposite of them with Carolinha on his left and Draco on his right. All three of them had their individual lists in their hands.

"Spot the newbies," Theodore snickered with Blaise. It was actually amusing how Romina and Arden gave the two a simultaneous glare.

Beside the girls, Daphne and Pansy put their lists down on the table. Daphne sighed, looking very put out while Pansy was quite clearly disgruntled.

"Is anyone taking this seriously?" Angel leaned his head forward to catch the group's eyes. "These subjects could affect our whole future."

Draco snorted. "As if it matters."

"It doesn't?" Romina looked at him, confused. "Were we in the same class?" That's the big speech that Snape had given them before the lists were handed out. According to him, it most definitely did matter.

"Well, to some of us it doesn't matter," Draco said with a smile that Romina just couldn't figure out.

"It's all different for us, Romina," Daphne said abruptly, sighing. She understood exactly the point that Draco was trying to make. "You wouldn't know about it."

"What?" Romina's head flipped in Daphne's direction. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Don't get upset," Daphne said, raising her hands in front of her, "It's just, well, you didn't grow up within our social circle. Everyone knows that a lot of us already have our futures arranged for us."

"What's that mean?" Because Romina still didn't get it.

"Oh for Merlin's sake!" Pansy groaned. "It means purebloods don't have to worry about this stupid stuff!"

"Pansy," Daphne made a gesture to the girl that she needed to calm down. Romina wasn't liking what she was hearing already. "Many families choose the best career and path for their children," Daphne explained, "For example, my parents' marriage was arranged. My mother doesn't work."

Arden let out a snort. "Daphne, I love you, but that's barbaric."

"It's actually very common," Carolinha remarked, drawing both Arden's and Romina's gazes. "Our parents were arranged as well. Our dad's dad was a lawyer and so is our dad now. Our mother doesn't work."

"My mother doesn't work either," Daphne said, leading Pansy and Draco to say the same thing.

"What — so you're not going to work?" Romina raised an eyebrow at the girls. "None of you?"

Carolinha shrugged. "Dunno. Mom doesn't really mind it. I think a lot more families now are more modern."

Romina was progressively more horrified with what she heard, as was Arden.

"It's the dark ages," Arden whispered to Romina who hummed in agreement.

"It's normal for us," Draco said with a roll of his eyes. "Romina, you already know that."

Romina's face hardened. "You better not," she warned him to keep his mouth shut about those lessons he'd given her last summer.

Draco didn't regard it but he didn't slip either. "You're an Oswell. Pureblood family. You have options to continue your family name."

"What, am I supposed to marry and pop out a kid?" Romina shook her head. "No thanks. Let's see that list again." She picked up the subject list from the table and started reading through the classes again.

"Divination sounds kind of cool to me," Arden admitted, "Imagine being able to see a vision!"

"It's poppycock, Arden," Theodore said, but after a moment he seemed to think about it again. "But it would make for an easy class — Zabini, write that one down too."

Arden shook her head at the two.

"Romina, what's catching your eye?" Angel asked the girl curiously.

"Mm, I don't know yet," Romina replied, "Care of Magical Creatures sounds interesting. I'd love a class outside with some fresh air. Plus, learning about all the different kinds of creatures in the Wizarding world sounds cool. I'm not allowed to have any pets at home."

"I think you would do well in that class. You have a gentle touch," Angel said, earning a smile from Romina. When Romina looked at the list with Arden, Carolinha nudged her brother with a knowing smirk.

"I totally wish I could drop Potions," Daphne sighed, "I hate that class."

"You only hate it because you're horrible at it," Draco said dismissively, "So, yeah, drop it."

"Oh, and you're so great at it?" scowled Daphne.

"I am. Fantastic, actually," Draco grinned. "You can ask Oswell."

Romina pursed her lips, not daring to look up from the list. It was a pain to admit that he was absolutely right. He was gifted in the damn class but it would never come out of her mouth.

"It doesn't work like that anyways," Blaise remarked, "You keep all your old core subjects. You just add on to the list."

"Yeah, that sucks," Pansy said disdainfully, "I won't need these classes in my future. That's what happens when you're a pureblood and with good money. Arden, what are you going to do?"

"Stab you with my wand if you ask me that again," Arden said cooly while she studied the list with Romina.

"I hope that whatever classes you two get, they're not the same," Carolinha mumbled.

~ 0 ~

It was time Quidditch and everyone in the school with interest was running for the stadium. It was a long awaited match between the Huffelpuffs and Gryffindor. According to Harry, it was supposed to be their comeback.

"You're going to be late!" Romina shouted from the bottom of the staircase. She could see Harry making the first to run so that he wouldn't be late for his game. "Oh, Ginny," she caught sight of the ginger haired girl coming down the hallway. "You're not going to the game?"

Ginny seemed paler than usual. She shook her head fervently and rushed off.

"I didn't do anything, I swear," Romina said when Harry, Ron and Hermione had arrived.

"Don't worry about it. She gets weird and weirder by the day," Ron carelessly shrugged.

"You might want to look into it then," Romina remarked when they began to walk.

"Kill this time... Let me rip... Tear…"

Harry came to an abrupt stop. He looked around but unfortunately only found his friends.

"No…" Ron gulped, recognizing that face, "...don't tell me…"

Harry ran back in the direction they'd come from, leaving the others to follow. He cautiously ran his hands against the wall, something that caught Hermione's attention.

After a moment, Harry gave up with the silence around them. "It's gone," he informed them.

"Harry…" Hermione raised her eyebrows, "...I think I've just understood something!"

"That's great, care to share?" Romina asked, still bewildered as she scanned the walls in case something popped up.

"C'mon, I'll show you in the library!" Hermione reached for Romina's arm.

"What—I don't want to go!" but Romina yelped as Hermione yanked her in the direction of the library.

~0~

The Quidditch game between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff was a bit of a no pointer for some students since Hufflepuff wasn't know very well for their excellent team, but since it was a chance to forget about school no one questioned whether they would attend or not. For this exact reason, Arden King was perplexed as to why Romina had not yet met up with her and the others.

"She's probably just sitting with Ron and Hermione," Carolinha told her on an off chance.

Arden glanced at the other stand where she would easily be able to identify the ginger Weasleys. "Only Ron is there, Hermione and Romina aren't."

"Well maybe they're just late," Daphne Greengrass offered as another solution.

Something wasn't sitting well with Arden, but since she had no concrete evidence, she had to sit and be quiet. The game was about to start anyways.

Time ticked past the official starting time and no team ever came up. Instead, there was an official call for all ALL students to return immediately to their common rooms. The game had been cancelled. As each House returned to their respective common rooms, Arden and Carolinha kept their eyes peeled for Romina, but the girl never showed.

"What do you think happened to make them cancel the game?" Carolinha asked once they had taken a seat on the couch.

Her brother came by with a knowing smile. "What do you think, Carol? Isn't it obvious? Someone has been attacked."

"Again?" Carolinha shook with terrible fear. Angel just smirked and went on his way.

A full hour passed until Snape walked into the place with a roll of parchment. Knowing their Head of House, they wouldn't be getting a clue of what happened. He rarely showed emotion.

"Quiet," he ordered only once before he unfolded the parchment and began to read aloud. "In light of the newest attacks, all students will return to their house common rooms by six o'clock in the evening. You will be escorted to each lesson by a teacher. No exceptions. Unless the culprit behind these attacks is caught, it is likely that the school will be closed." And just like that, without intending to give an explanation of this 'attack', he rolled the parchment back up and started to leave.

"Professor," Arden spoke up, already looking paler than usual, "Who exactly was attacked this time?"

But for those who knew the only missing Slytherin, the answer was not needed.

"I would assume you are calculating enough to realize the answer Miss King," Snape stopped only to respond. "But I will also emphasize this was a double attack. Miss Oswell and Miss Granger were both found near the library earlier today."

A frail 'what' escaped through Arden's lips. She nearly fell back against the couch if Daphne hadn't gotten to her.

The following morning, no matter how troubling the idea was, a visit to the nightwing was quite in order. The only one who refused to visit was Pansy on the basis that it would 'creep her out'. Arden exposed her more colorful, muggle vocabulary on Pansy before storming out of the common room.

Romina's petrified form had been discovered holding something in her raised hand. It was rumored there had been a compact mirror in it once before Madame Pomfrey confiscated it after being brought in along with Hermione.

"This is wrong…" Carolinha appeared a shade paler than usual. She may have even shuddered.

"You're telling me, she's not even a muggle-born," Draco looked between Romina and Hermione, though spared Romina more of his attention.

"That's not the point," Angel stepped up beside him, looking worse for wear. "She was attacked by whatever is roaming this school. We should be searching for whatever did this."

"I think it's pretty clear what did this," Daphne muttered, "A monster. A monster that's still free!"

Carolinha squeaked and ducked her head as if the creature was about to strike now.

Arden ducked to be on the same level as Romina's bed and raised her hand exactly in the manner Romina's petrified raised arm was.

"What are you doing, King?" Draco raised an eyebrow.

"Isn't it weird how Romina was found like this? Exactly like this?"

"Don't girls like to look at themselves in the mirror?"

Arden rolled her eyes and straightened up. "When the hell have you ever seen Romina do something like that?"

On that, Draco had to concede. Romina was hardly the girl to stare at herself in the mirrors. That was usually more around Daphne's corner.

"What could she have been using it for?" Angel caught on to what Arden was trying to get at. "Something Hermione knew, no doubt."

"I hope they do something about this soon," Carolinha spoke quietly. "You heard what Snape said. If they don't catch whatever is doing this the school's going to be closed down."

"Well, I'm no Sherlock but I'm thinking this has got to do less with muggleborns now," Arden crossed her arms. She happened to glimpse at Hermione from her spot and squinted her eyes at something poking through Hermione's hand.

"Who's Sherlock?" Angel cluelessly asked. Draco and Carolinha seemed just as lost. "Look, I can't be here…" Angel looked at Romina for the longest of moments, "...it's just hard." He turned to leave.

"Well, even I'll admit I'll miss the predictiveness," Draco gave a light shrug of his shoulders and started to leave as well. Carolinha whimpered and rushed past him and her brother.

Arden's eyes flickered quickly to Madame Pomfrey before scurrying to Hermione's bed. "Alright, Granger, what are you hiding…?" She tugged on the slip of paper in Hermione's fingers.

"Young lady, what do you think you're doing?" Madame Pomfrey rose from her desk, suspiciously looking at Arden.

"Um...just looking…" Arden sheepishly smiled and began to leave, deciding it would be better to come by another time.

~ 0 ~

It proved to be much harder to go and see Hermione Granger on the basis that Hermione was only good friends with Romina, Harry and Ron. It was harder to even get to talk to Harry or Ron because both boys seemed to be on the opposite side of Arden's whereabouts. The only way to talk to either of them was to pretty much catch them in the night wing when they visited Hermione and Romina.

"C'mon, Angel, you're up there all the time…" Arden trailed after the boy one night in their common room. "Just pull the little slip of paper from Hermione Granger's hand."

Angel was rolling his eyes at the girl but keeping it polite at the same time. "I don't know her and I frankly don't care what she has in her hand. I'm more interested in seeing Romina."

"Why do you keep going?" Zabini looked up from his potions book on the couch. Though he hadn't been there to see Romina in her petrified state, he was more than glad to hear about it. "It's not like Oswell can hear you."

"I know that," Angel said defensively. "But unlike you, Blaise, I like to comfort my friends."

"Friends," Zabini repeated with a hint of amusement. "Right."

Angel glared his way and continued for the boys' hallway. "Arden, leave me alone!" he shouted when the girl tried to follow him again to plead on her case. "This is much more difficult than it needs to be."

"King, are you still shouting?" Draco came in with Crabbe and Goyle behind him. "You were doing that all dinner time. Frankly, if you think because Oswell isn't around that I won't shut you up, you got another thing coming."

Arden planted her hands together, pressing them against her nose to calm herself. She was so frustrated no one would listen to her. "You don't get it - none of you do! I know Hermione and Romina were up to something, alright? Romina doesn't even own a compact mirror so why would she have one when she was petrified? Plus, she was holding it up—" she raised her hand above her head, "—and that makes absolutely no sense. I know Hermione has something in her hand."

"Then go get it and quit bothering the rest of us," Draco pushed past her and headed for the boys' hallway.

"I can't! Pomfrey won't let me back in. She's suspicious of me."

"Then get Angel to do it," the blonde stopped midway and turned sideways. "Merlin knows he spends half his days up there. Nearly chewed my head off for making a visit."

Arden's eyes widened. "You visit Romina too?"

His little slip made Draco shift uncomfortably. "Well...one, two...times...I don't know…"

"You can do it!" Arden excitedly said and ran up to him. "Oh my God, you can do it for me. Take that little paper from Hermione, please?"

"Now why on Earth would I ever do that? I don't even like the fact Romina's within a ten feet distance from Granger."

"I can make it your worthwhile!"

Now interested, Draco turned fully to face her. "Like…?"

Arden thought about it for a moment. Money was something he had and something she didn't, so that was definitely out. What would be good enough for him? Arden looked around, obviously hoping to see something with an answer. Luckily, she saw Zabini reading from his potions book again and beamed with the answer.

"History!" she pointed once more. "You hate History and, frankly, you suck at paying attention in that class. I don't. I'll let you see my homework till the end of the year."

Draco raised an eyebrow, a little doubtful of the sweet plan. "All of it?"

"All of it," Arden nodded. "Right answers guaranteed. I'm a History wizz. C'mon, Malfoy, you know you want to."

"I'm never one to pass down a good negotiation. Deal. I'll take whatever Granger's holding."

Arden laughed with happiness and hugged him. "Thank you!"

"Gross! Get off me!" Draco pushed her right off him within the second. "Don't you ever do that again or I'll hex you into next Tuesday!"

Arden didn't care. She was just happy to get her plans moving. "Tomorrow, Malfoy. I want that paper in my hands."

"And I want that History homework tomorrow night," Draco reminded.

"Deal."

~ 0 ~

The next morning, following through with his word, Draco visited the nightwing on the grounds of seeing Romina - his friend - once more. He hated dealing with Pomfrey's excessive questioning. He was not surprised to find Angel once more visiting as well.

"What are you doing here?" Angel spared him a brief glance.

"Business," Draco glanced at Pomfrey to see her working at her desk. He discreetly moved over to Hermione's bed.

"Is Arden still bothering with that paper dilemma?"

"Yeah, and I'm getting something out of it." Now looking closer, Draco could see that Arden was right. A bit of paper was sticking out from Hermione's fingers. It was hard to detect at a simple glance which is why no one had seen it yet.

"I don't know why she bothers," Angel sighed. "It's Romina we should be worried about. I mean, no offence to Granger, I just don't know her. I keep wondering what Romina was doing with her the day they were attacked."

"Sticking their noses where it didn't belong, I'm sure. It's usually their prerogative." Draco was having difficulty taking the paper from Hermione's hand. How the hell did she even have a grip right now? She was petrified!

"Hey," Angel's voice sharpened. "It's just us, you know? You don't have to pretend Romina wasn't a friend."

"I prefer the term acquaintance. I can't say I care for her associations," Draco took a breath and glared down at Hermione. She was just making it incredibly difficult for him even when she was motionless. It was ridiculous.

"C'mon," Angel insisted, "You knows that if she had lived in the wizarding world, she would've been part of our social group. She would've been with the girls like they are now."

"That's true," Draco had no problem admitting. "And then maybe she wouldn't have made the friends she had. It's all about the people we choose to be around."

"But you still care," Angel said, having been watching Draco struggle to get the little paper out of Hermione's hand. "Or else you wouldn't be up here trying to steal whatever Hermione's holding."

"I'm doing this for my History grade," Draco scoffed. "I don't care what King is going to do with the paper."

"Oh come off it, Draco," Angel rolled his eyes. "You could easily take the answers off anyone else. You don't need to be here and you know it."

Frustrated, Draco turned to him with a glare. "Can you shut up and let me work?" He had to hold his shout back because of Pomfrey being in the room. "If you're so high and mighty about being good friends with Romina then maybe you should be doing this instead of me. But you're not. And that's ironic, isn't it? King begged you to do this and you refused. I might just turn out to be helping Romina instead of you who only stares at her like an idiot waiting for her to look back at you."

Angel gaped, mouth falling slightly ajar, but Draco wasn't finished.

"Yeah, it wasn't that hard figuring out you wrote the stupid Valentine's letter to Oswell," Draco sneered at him, very much smug when he saw Angel go red in seconds. "I think everybody knows except for Romina herself. My bet is that she'll either a) never notice you or b) end up dating someone else. Neither option benefits you, Angel, so you might as well move on now. I've known you my whole life and I know that you're not the type to say what you want." Draco turned back to Hermione and with one big pull, he finally yanked the paper from the girl's petrified hand. With a grin he marched out of the nightwing with it, never looking back to see Angel's reaction.

~ 0 ~

At lunch, Arden didn't even commence eating when the good appeared. She was much more interested in waiting for a certain blonde to appear. She tapped her fingers along the table, bothering Pansy to no end but not even her rude remarks could pull Arden from her thoughts this time. Finally, she saw Draco coming down to their table.

"Finally you show," she shot him an accusing look when he sat down. "You did get it right?"

"Yeah, yeah," Draco took the seat that was usually Romina's. "Here," he put the slip of paper down on the table between them. Before Arden could even touch it, he put his hand over it. "History homework every night."

"Yes, fine, I already agreed," Arden smacked his hand away and took the paper.

"What are you two doing?" Pansy eyed them suspiciously. "You two don't usually talk without your mutual mediator."

"Shut up, Parkinson, he was doing me a favor," Arden was trying to understand what the paper meant.

"I didn't do it for you," Draco gave her a sharp look. "I would never do anything for you." Arden rolled his eyes, not the least bit bothered by his words. "I suppose Angel was right in something. I miss Romina."

Now this was enough to momentarily take Arden's attention. "Woah, you just called Romina by her name. You never do that."

"What are you talking about, King?"

"That right there," Arden gestured to him. "I'm King, she's Parkinson," she gestured to Pansy, then moved a hand to Carolinha, "Paes. The only ones you call by their first names are Angel and Blaise."

Draco rolled his eyes, trying to seem as casual as possible. "Don't make a big deal out of it. It slipped." And it truly had. He didn't realize it and now he wasn't sure if he should continue calling Romina, well...Romina.

"I think I will," Arden, amused, went back to reading the paper for the sake of priorities.

It was a funny thing, the paper...it was nothing more than a description of a creature. Now Arden couldn't understand it but she was sure it would mean something to Harry Potter.

"What are you going to actually do with that thing anyways?" Draco's voice made Arden jump in the hallway; it didn't phase him at all.

Arden slowly continued to walk once her surprise wore off. "What, so we're admitting that we care now? In the open?"

Draco rolled his eyes at her. "You don't get these things, King."

"Get what?"

"You don't get where certain witches and wizards stand. You, a muggleborn, don't stand very high—"

"Funny, because where I stand, you look very tiny," Arden shot him a 'polite' smile.

Once again, Draco rolled his eyes. "Don't take it personal, but Romina stands higher. She's a pureblood witch. An irritating, strange witch but a pureblood witch nonetheless."

Arden let out a small laugh and came to a stop in the middle of the hallway. "You really can't just say that Romina's your friend and you want to see her back because you care? I mean, you already said you miss her too. Did you know there's nothing wrong with admitting that you actually like having friends?" She swore she saw Draco's lips twitch as if he were going to say something, but in the end he looked away. "Okay, I have to go find Harry. Thanks for helping me — Romina."

"You think Potter's going to do something with that?" Draco called after her, forcing her to stop a few steps ahead of him. "Seriously?"

Arden turned back to him. "Did you know that Romina and I live next to each other?"

"Unfortunately."

"And Harry lives down the block from us?"

"Unfortunately."

Arden rolled her eyes. "Well, we grew up together. Just like you, Blaise, Theo, Angel, Daphne and Carolinha—"

"And Parkinson?"

"Whatever," Arden waved her hand dismissively. "You guys have been your little group since you were, I don't know, five. Well, that's how it happened for me, Romina and Harry. We've known each other way before all this" — she flapped an arm above her — "Hogwarts and magic stuff. I know Harry will understand whatever this paper's about. So, if you'll excuse me..." She wiggled her fingers goodbye at the blonde and turned on her heels, walking off.

~ 0 ~

While Ron was surprised to have been pinned against the wall by the petite brunette, Harry seemed more or less used to the situation. When Arden wanted something, she used her hands.

"Something on your mind, Arden?" Harry carefully detached Arden's hand from his arm.

"We gotta talk, Harry," Arden stepped back and allowed Harry to come off the wall. "Now I know that you and Ron know more than you're leading on about Hermione and Romina and before you deny it let me save you the trouble by saying I don't care what it is. I just want to help get my friend back, so here." She slapped the paper into Harry's hand.

Harry blinked and looked between the paper and Arden. "Wh-what is this?"

"I got it off Hermione's hand and figured you would know it meant," Arden felt like lying about how she acquired the paper would be better for everyone's sake. "It's talking about a Basilisk."

Harry made a face as he unfolded the paper. Ron scooted to his side to see what it read.

'Of the many fearsome beasts that roam our land, none is more deadly than the Basilisk. Capable of living for hundreds of years, instant death awaits any who meet this giant serpent's eye. Spiders flee before it and only the crowing of the rooster can kill it.'

Arden recognized the looks of realization in the boys' faces and smirked. "I knew it. You know what it means."

"Arden…" Harry spoke in a hushed tone, "...you can't tell anyone about this. It could—"

"Save it Harry," Arden stopped him midway with a raised hand. "I only want one thing from you."

"What is it?"

"Get rid of whatever did this to our friend. Contrary to what everyone believed, I think you're the only one who could face that beast."

Harry smiled warmly at the girl. "Thank you, Arden."

Arden nodded and smiled back. "Bring it down, Harry. I trust you."

[lionizingheathen]

Please I need to see you writing something with dbf!James Potter (I would be so happy if you add some size kink too)

This is territory i haven't explored, so I apologize if it is not what you are after (All parties are 18+)

DBF!James Potter x fem!reader

Warnings: Smut, Age gap, Jealousy, Size Kink, Some Degredation, masturbation, oral sex male recieving

Bless Theodore Nott’s money and his want to date you, even if it would never happen… the money, the cars, they were both wonderful reasons to take little trips home to visit your little brother.

"I had a great time with you today, I'd love to see you again sometime." Theo said, and you nodded.  You’d missed him, he was such a good friend.

"Absolutely." You pressed a kiss to his cheek, squeezing his hand before you straightened up.  "I'll see you later."  You called over your shoulder, and you waited for him to speed away before you turned toward your house, making a beeline for your door.  You didn’t want anyone to see you getting in, this was a quiet visit, you weren’t wanting to get in any conversation-.

"Y/N.  I didn't realize you were home from University." You jumped, glancing over to see your neighbor, Mr. Potter, leaning on his lawnmower, sweaty from lawnwork.  God, he was so hot… you’d forgotten that, forgotten how hot he’d looked at your father’s pool party… that was the last time you’d truly seen him, you’d left for University the week after.

"Mr. Potter!  Hi, yes, I'm home for the weekend, just needed to see-." He raised an eyebrow, running his fingers through his hair with a frustrated sort of grunt.

"Some boy."  He finished, and you sighed, shaking your head.  No, going out with him was a chance to spend time with an old friend.  It was not the reason why they went home.

"My brother, is what I was actually going to say."  You said, and he nodded, looking skeptical as he straightened up, stretching up, drawing attention to his waistline, your eyes being drawn down to his crotch.  God, you wanted to ride his cock.

"Hm." He examined his nails, giving you a look. "Certainly seemed like you were here for someone else entirely." Why did he care?  This didn’t affect him at all, he’d barely paid you any mind aside from the times that you’d babysat Harry… Granted, he was a bit more reclusive since he lost his wife, so it wasn’t surprising.

"I can't hang out with an old friend from high school?" You asked, and he chuckled, shrugging as he wiped his face with the hem of his shirt. You tried to not stare at his exposed lower stomach, the tight abs, the line of dark hair that disappeared below his waistline... you clenched your thighs and glanced away, trying to cast any thoughts of your father's best friend out of your mind.

"A friend who wanted to fuck you." James snapped, his tone coming out a little bit rough, a little bit dangerous, making a shiver run down your spine. God, if you didn't know any better you'd think that James Potter was jealous... He probably wasn;t, but the bare idea of it was enough to make your knees get weak, thinking about him taking you right and now, making you scream his name and apologize for your attitiude.

"He does not-." He cut you off quickly, frustrating you with the way that he did that with ease, placing his large hand on your shoulder. Like he did it all the time.

"Oh, please. I'm a man, I know when someone wants that. I know it very well." He said, and you rolled your eyes, crossing your arms across your chest as he walked over to you. You looked up at him, setting your jaw. Yeah, he was hot, but why was he being so fucking cocky about this?

"How would you know? No one's fucked you since your wife passed away." You fired back, and he scoffed, dropping his hand from your shoulder as he took a large step back. Well, that was very telling, you knew you were probably right, but god...

"You have no way of knowing that." He snapped, and you smirked, shrugging your shoulders as you rested your hands on your hips. He was such an open book, it was no surprise you'd figured that out with ease.

"Except for perception. It's clear." You said, and James was silent for a moment before he looked down at you, raising an eyebrow.

"Is this how your father taught you to talk to his friends?" He asked, and you shrugged. Honestly, your father had never really given you any direction on how to talk to his friends because you rarely even thought of talking to them in the first place

"My father didn't ever tell me how to talk to his friends." You said, and he shook his head, grimacing as he took a step back onto his side of the lawn, walking away backwards.

"Stay away from that boy-." You cut him off, feeling frustrated. He didn't control you, he wasn't anything more than a man who was occasionally in your house... unless he was making you cum, he had no control over that, and that was simply a pipe dream.

"I don't have to do a single thing that you say. I'm an adult, I'll hang out with whoever I please. I'll fuck whoever I goddamn please. Goodbye." You walked up to your door, yanking on it. locked. And you knew your keys were on your desk. You shook your head and sighed, resting it against the door. "Shit." You hissed, and a moment later you heard someone walking up behind you.

"Y/N? Are you alright?" James asked and you turned around, giving him a small smile as you shook your head. All the frustration was draining from that situation now that you were locked out, now you were just angry at yourself for leaving your keys at home.

"No. I'm locked out and my father is out for the night." You sighed, and James raised his eyebrow, clearly not seeing the problem.

"Can't your brother come to the door?"

"He's at a sleepover tonight, so he's not home either." You explained, and James chewed on his lip for a moment before jerking his head towards his house.

"I have an empty guest room. It's getting late, come inside." James said, and you paused. While he was being nice, you still didn't feel you should come in unless the invitation was only a formality.

"I don't want to put you out-." He waved you off. Okay.

"Y/N. I offered. Please come in." He said, and you nodded, following him across his lawn and into his house.

"God, I haven't been in here for months." You sighed, taking in the house. It looked more or less the same, but it felt different. More like a house and less like a home... Lily had brought it to home status.

"It's a little messy." He said, and you shrugged. There were some empty bottles and a couple of things strwen about, but it wasn't dirty. Just... human.

"It just looks lived in, that's better than looking clincal." You said, and he nodded, sighing as he rested his hands on his hips. He had bags under his eyes, looking more stressed the longer you actually took in his frame.

"That's... thank you." He said, and you nodded. You meant it, it was still comforting even if it wasn't the same.

"Of course."

"Well..." He rubbed the back of the neck, both of you standing awkwardly for a moment. You could kiss him, no one could stop you... but if he didn't want that, that would be bad. "Guest room is down the hall. I'm going to go into my room, the door will be shut, just knock if you need anything." He said, and you nodded.

"Okay." You had nothing to wear to bed... that either meant sleeping naked or sleeping in jeans. "Shit." You whispered, and he paused, turning around to look at you.

"What?" He asked, and you waved him off. Truly it was such a small thing.

"Nothing, don't worry about it." You said, and he let out a chuckle, leaning aganist the wall.

"Well, now I'm more worried than I was before." He said, and you shrugged. No need for any of that.

"I don't have any clothing to sleep in." You said, and he furrowed his brow. Yeah, wasn't that big of a deal, excatly like you'd said.

"Oh, I'm sorry-."

"No, it's okay. I can just... sleep naked. I do it all the time, it's why my dad insisted that I get some curtains-." He cut you off.

"Ahem..." He disappeared into his room for a moment before thrusting a large shirt into your hands, not meeting your eyes. "Borrow this. But give it back." He said, and you smiled, crumpling it in your hands. You'd turned him on, you could tell from the look in his eyes.

"Thank you, Mr. Potter." James grimaced.

"James. You can call me James, it's okay." He insisted, and you nodded. That felt unnatural, but you would still do it... it was only right if he was asking

"James. Right." You paused, listening to the silence of the house. Where was he? "Where's Harry?" You asked, and James gave you a funny look.

"He's gone at school." He said, and you nodded. Right, that weird boarding school... He'd be back at Christmas then and so would you, you'd have to stop by, say hello.

"Right, I keep forgetting about that..."

"Come on, he's only two years younger than you." He said, and you nodded. Yeah, but he was always a kid in your mind, it just never left.

"Feels like he's a child to me..." You picked up the photo on his table, the last one taken before Lily passed. Harry was holding her hand and James was "God, sometimes I forget how bright his eyes are."

"Yeah, he's got her eyes for sure..."

"Does it make you miss her more?" You asked, and he nodded, a sad smile on his face.

"Of course it does. I miss her every moment of every day." James sighed, leaning against the counter. You placed a hand gently on his bicep, resting the urge to squeeze it. So strong.

"She was terrific." You said, and he was quiet for a moment, introspective as he tucked his hands into his pockets, jerking his head toward his room.

"I'm going to turn in for the night, if that's alright." James said, and you nodded. Yeah, you should too... Your dad would probably be freaking out when they got home.

"Of course." You said, and he gave you a small smile as he opened his door, pausing in the doorway.

"I'll see you in the morning, Y/N." He said, and his door was shut a moment later. You wandered down the hallway, looking at the framed photos of James and Lily with Harry before she passed, how happy they looked... you missed having her next door, she'd been a comfort. Inside the guest room you found a bed mostly made, but missing a comforter... maybe it was in the closet?

"Fuck..." You couldn't find the blanket. "Mr. Potter?" You called, but he didn't respond. Okay, so you'd have to go find him... You crept down the hall, knocking quietly on his door before opening it, hearing soft noises from inside.

"Mr. Potter, I was wondering-." You paused in the doorway, mouth falling open as you watched James try to cover his lap with a blanket. "Oh god." You gasped as the blanket fell, revealing his cock, the tip glistening. He was even bigger than you expected, thicker too, and you rubbed your thighs together at the thought of taking him all.

"Y/N! Close the door." He insisted, and you still stood there, drinking him in.

"I..."

"Close the door, please." He begged, and you shook your head, kicking the door shut behind you as you stood against it. You were fucking him. Tonight. There was no stopping you.

"Fuck, you're so big, James." You gasped, walking toward him. He was frozen, hand still on his cock, the tip leaking clear precum as you pulled James' shirt over your head, making his mouth drop open. You saw his cock twitch in his hand.

"What?" He asked, and you nodded, walking closer, watching the way that his eyes clung to your chest, chewing on his lip. He looked so fucking good.

"Do you mind if I... take over?" You asked, and his mouth dropped open as he blinked rapidly, like his body was trying to catch up to his brain. You leaned down and kissed him deeply, feeling him moan against your lips as he pulled you down on the bed. You slid your tongue into his mouth, tangling your fingers in his hair as you felt him grip your ass, grinding you against his cock. So hard. You sat up a moment later, slipping down to your knees in front of him with a large smile. He grunted, tangling his fingers into your hair as he looked down at you through heavily lidded eyes.

"Y/N, you don't have to-." You leaned forward, swirling your tongue over the tip of his cock, moaning around him as you gripped his shaft, jerking your hand up and down. He leaned his head back, gasping before he glanced down at you, looking slightly frantic.

"You taste amazing, James." You sighed, leaning forward again before he could speak, taking him as deep as you could down your throat, gagging as he hit the back of your throat, making your eyes water. You breathed through your nose, trying hard to ease him deeper. You wanted to die around him.

"Fuck, your mouth is so hot... God, you're taking me so well... You don't have to take it all-." You lifted your head, looking him in the eyes as you ran your hands over his large thighs. You wanted him to ruin you in every sense of the term.

"Make me take it all."

"God, you're such a whore, aren't you? Never knew I had such a good cocksleeve living next door..." He said, his voice sounding gruff, sending shots of electricity right to your clit. God, he was so hot.

"Mmm." You groaned around him, feeling his hand push your head further. He pushed you until you had him all the way down your throat, your nose pressed to his pelvis as you struggled to breathe around him.

"That's it baby, that's it... doing so well." He sighed, and you beamed at the praise, bobbing your head up and down as you worked with his size. He was easily the biggest you'd ever had, stretching the corners of your mouth as you continued to suck him off. You couldn't ignore the throbbing between your thighs anymore so you reached down, spreading your thighs as you rubbed at your clit. You heard him let out a small gasp.

"Touching yourself for me, baby?" You nodded, shivering at the pet name. God this was probably the hottest thing you'd ever done with anyone, and he wasn't even inside you.

"Mhm."

"Why don't you fuck yourself on your fingers, hm? You look pretty fucking desperate... so worked up over sucking my cock... Been a while since I've had someone as eager as you." He sighed, and you moaned around him, letting him fuck into your throat. God, it felt so fucking good to be used by him.

"That's it, baby. Fuck yourself faster, I know you can." He said, and you nodded, fucking your fingers in and out faster as you swirled your tongue around his cock again, making him jump.

"You sound fucking pathetic, Jesus... thank god you forgot your key." He gasped, and you nodded, reaching up to slide your hand up his chest, shivering at the feeling of his skin. He groaned above you, placing his hand over yours.

"I'm getting close... Fuck, I'm gonna cum." He groaned, and you trembled, feeling yourself reaching the edge too. God, you wanted to taste him.

"Mmm..."

"I'm gonna cum down your throat, baby. Gonna take it all?" He asked, his voice getting a little more gruff as his hips began snapping up, making you gag around him.

"Mhm." You let go, your thighs trembling around your hand as you tried to focus on taking his cum while working yourself down "Mmph!" You gasped, slumping onto his lap as you continued letting him fuck your throat.

"Oh... Fuck..." He stilled, pushing your head all the way down again, cumming down your throat. "Swallow it. Swallow. Good girl." He said as he pulled away, tracing a finger under your lips.

"Fuck, that was so hot... Seriously, Jamie." You sighed, standing up before you let him pull you back down on top of him.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah..." He brought his hand between your thighs, but you winced and batted it away. That'd been intense enough. "Mmm... too sensitive right now. And I know you're tired, old man." You joked, and his mouth dropped open in mock offense.

"You've got such a mouth on you." He looked you up and down and sighed, shaking his head. "God, I really wanted to be able to fuck you tonight..." He sighed, and you nodded. That would've crossed two things off your bucket list.

"Yeah, me too... got a little carried away though, didn't we?" You asked, and he smirked, pulling you down into a lingering kiss.

"Tell you what, you can ride my cock in the morning, I know you're dying to take it." He mumbled.

"Tired already?" You asked, and he shoved you lightly, opening one eye to glare at you.

"Leave me be, I've got work in the morning." James muttered, his voice filling with the sound of sleep. You nodded and sat up, searching for the shirt he'd given you on the floor, pulling it over your head before you stood up, pressing a kiss to his hairline.

"Okay." You whispered, and he caught your arm before you could leave, squinting up at you.

"Where are you going?" He asked, and you jerked your head toward the door. To the bed he'd told you to sleep in, obviously.

"Guest room?" You asked, and he grunted, furrowing his brows as he easily yanked you back into bed beside him, wrapping an arm tightly around your body.

"Sleep here. With me." He murmured, and you smiled to yourself, wiggling close against him, feeling the strength of him surrounding you.

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

If Angel was really sleepy so she got extra clingy it would make demonrry so cocky. Like imagine him trying to get out of bed to use the bathroom or something and she is not letting go she 🦥 while he walks to the bathroom hahahahahaha that mans ego would ⬆️⬆️⬆️⬆️

He’d go to grab a snack and she’d cling to his arm and let out the most childish whine he’s ever heard. “Where are you going?”

“Hungry. Gonna grab something to eat.”

“No.”

“Pardon?”

“No.” She repeats, and then proceeds to hook her legs around his waist and lock her arms around his neck, burying her face into the center of his bare back as she groans dramatically. “Stay.”

Harry casts his eyes towards the ceiling at her theatrics, the corners of his lips twisting smugly as he reaches back and squeezes the underside of her thighs playfully, where he knows she’s ticklish. Y/N squirms against his palms, but her ever-present stubbornness refuses to release him. He sighs tiredly as he confronts her antics, a cocky undercurrent sewn into his words. “So you want me starve to death, is that it?”

Her voice comes out deadpan, muffled by his smooth skin. “You’re already dead.”

“Doesn’t make starving any less painful.”

Y/N bites into the warm muscles of his spine spitefully, just hard enough to draw a low hiss from his lips. “Take me with you.”

“Why the fuck would I do that? You literally just mauled me.”

“Because.”

“Because what?”

“Because I said so.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Because you love me.”

“That’s debatable at the moment.”

“Just do it.”

Harry glances at her over his broad shoulder, one of his brows inching up curiously. “You really want me to piggy-back you all the way down the stairs and back just so I can grab a granola bar?”

She blinks up at him innocently, nodding her head as if the idea should be obvious. “You said we’d spend the day in bed.”

“And we have.” He reasons, pinching at her thighs again to try and wriggle himself free from her insistent embrace. His actions result in her calves tightening harder around his hips, her ankles crossing over his belly button as her forearms strain against his throat. Harry exhales through his nose in lighthearted surrender, but continues to plead his case nonetheless. “However, I think I’m entitled to a couple of breaks every now and then, for the sake of my stomach and bladder. Don’t you?”

“No.” Y/N grumbles bluntly, burrowing her face deeper against the curve of his spinal column. “I don’t.”

“So you’d rather my organs digest themselves? Or worse, burst?”

“Fine by me. They’ll regenerate, anyways.”

“Wowwww. Very selfish of you. Very unangelic.”

“Don’t care.”

“Babe, I’ll only be a second.” He stretches back and sponges a chaste kiss to the angry crinkles furrowing her forehead. “You can time it and everything.”

“Take me with you.” She reiterates firmly, one of her own brows copying his previous expression, raising slightly in challenge. “If it’ll only take a second, then bringing me along shouldn’t be a problem, right?”

The demon purses his rosy lips to ward off an amused smirk. He hums quietly deep in his chest, shaking his head in an absentminded afterthought. “You’re getting too good at out-witting me. That’s dangerous.”

“You’re losing your edge, Belphegor.”

“I’m not.” Harry argues haphazardly, shifting his hands to get a better grasp of her legs in preparation for their voyage down the stairs. “I’m just letting you win.”

“Mm, sure.” She teases, scooting closer to him until her chest is fully flushed across the expanse of his toned back. “Keep telling yourself that.”

He ignores her quip, leaning back against the mattress before rocking forward with all his strength, using the momentum to propel himself onto his feet. He stumbles forward a few yards as he fishes for his land-legs, zig-zagging towards the door with her in tow, shrieking and giggling at his risky motions. He teeters and jolts grandly, snickering along to her own laughter as she clenches to his body and warns him to be careful. She can tell he’s doing all of this simply to get on her nerves; he has enhanced strength, so lifting her weight requires the same amount of effort a human would put into lifting a piece of paper. He just enjoys fucking with her, in every aspect of the phrase. Thoroughly.

Harry— after a couple more wobbly steps and pretending to almost drop her— finally steels himself, hoisting Y/N higher around his torso with a soft grunt of exertion, his chuckles tapering off to an end. He suddenly makes an odd glitching sound effect that reminds her of a telecom system radioing in, and she can’t help but roll her eyes at his following monologue. And if it coaxes a goofy, smitten grin onto her face, that’s no one’s business but her own.

“Good evening, passengers, this is your Captain speaking. We had a bit of a rough take-off— some turbulence and a close call with a pair of trainers on the floor— but I’m happy to announce that our flight is now officially under way, and it should be smooth sailing from here on out! Please make sure to keep your seatbelt on at all times, and keep all arms, legs, and belongings inside the plane until we have properly landed. That means no groping or inappropriate caressing of any kind— we know the vehicle model is top notch and incredibly irresistible, but for your own safety and the safety of others, please refrain from any debauchery for the remainder of the trip. Our route will take us about two or three minutes total, depending on how clear the skies are, and our final destination is the kitchen. Hopefully. We might stop to refuel in the living room, if the co-Captain continues kissing across the back of my neck. Anywho, thank you for choosing Styles Airlines, we hope you enjoy the ride.”

[twelvegods]

touch

pairing/s; fred weasley x fem!reader

warning/s; periods, cramps, and one (1) suggestive statement

word count; -1k

summary; anon “can I request fred weasley x reader. fred being a caring boyfriend while his girlfriend struggles with studying for final exams at hogwarts while on her period? thank you in advance.”

a/n; thank you anon! aaa this was a really cute prompt and i really liked writing it. sorry it’s short! hope you enjoy!

"merlin, george, would you please shut up?" you snapped, rubbing your temples, your half finished muggle studies essay staring up at you condescendingly, as if scolding you for having waited until the very last moment to do it.

you were currently situated in the gryffindor common room late at night where you’d decided it best to study for your upcoming exams, only to remember the muggle studies paper you’d been putting off. george had come to accompany you since he’d admitted that he quite liked your company when you weren’t a soppy mess with his brother.

he looked up from where he was quietly sat next to you, his legs on your lap as he pored over the marauder's map he'd borrowed back from harry, blinking as though offended. "i wasn’t even—"

"yeah, george, shut up."

just then, your boyfriend fred comes from behind, leaning down to plant a kiss on your head while simultaneously flicking his twin's nose. his brother muttered a tiny ‘ow’ as he rubbed his nose and fred raised an eyebrow at his brother's current position, but wordlessly dropped onto the empty seat to your right and simply kicked george's legs off, effectively replacing him.

"cramps?" fred asked you, adjusting to apply pressure against your lower abdomen. you sighed in slight relief at the gesture, your boyfriend sympathetically pouting when you nodded in response to his question. "my poor baby."

dipping your feather into the ink pot you'd borrowed from hermione, you forced yourself to begin scribbling another sentence. "i had george do it since you weren't around to."

"it hurts that you think we're interchangeable, (y/n)." the twins spoke in unison, feigning hurt in varying gestures.

you fondly rolled your eyes at the two. "i still find that creepy, you know."

after finishing a paragraph on the marvelous muggle invention that is sliced bread, you finally dropped your writing instrument as your hand began to cramp, but you knew you were nowhere near completed. just as you were flexing your fingers, fred softly took your hand in his, making quick work to massage your wrist and joints. you shot him a grateful smile at which he retaliated to with a wink.

"oh, right!" fred exclaimed suddenly, your hand still in his as he turned to grab his book bag from where he'd slung it across the back of the chair before sitting down. from it, he pulled out an unassuming paper bag. "ta-da!"

george leaned forward in curiosity. "...is it going to help us defeat you-know-who?"

fred snorted at his brother's sarcasm. you laughed at their exchange, finding the situation and the punchline to be quite funny.

"even better." your boyfriend wiggled his eyebrows at you. reaching into the paper bag, fred revealed a large bar of chocolate. "professor lupin did say that chocolate helps you feel better a lot of the time and—”

you snatched the bar from his hands, unwrapping the heavenly dessert and immediately sinking your teeth into it. fred smirked as he watched “—and (y/n) loves chocolate.”

“yeah, but the sounds she’s making is ghastly.” george’s face contorted into that of disgust and you just stuck your tongue out at him childishly.

fred shrugged, reaching to rub the back of your neck now that you’d taken back your hand to grip the chocolate bar like someone might steal it from you. “you should hear the sound she makes when we—”

george pushed his chair back abruptly, gathering his things as fast as he can. “okay! i do not want to hear any more, thank you, so i’m off to bed.”

you and fred snickered as george huffed up the stairs leading up to the male dormitories. your boyfriend leaned forward to plant a kiss on your temple as he delicately took the now half-eaten chocolate bar.

“right, eat moderately. and finish your essay, meanwhile i’ve to figure out the right ingredients for this stink bomb i have planned to douse ron with.”

while fred took out his supplies, his left hand dropped to hold your knee and you leaned against him while you wrote, his presence particularly calming. as the night went by, you effectively forgot about your abdominal pain and headaches so long as some part of fred was touching you.

and he knew that, which is why he commented that any first year to see you two like this would surely hurl.

[harryfeatgaga]

you wanna know what i’m thinkin’ about paige? harry’s probably pretty sore..🙁 i mean we know he works out a lot but this is tour 🙁 he’s workin’ extra hard 🙁 and as his wife it’s kinda your responsibility to make him feel better 😌 im thinkin’ a nice little bubble bath for your boy 😌 maybe a few rose petals and some soft music in the background to really spoil ‘im 😌 “what’s all this lovie? 🥺” his voice would be soft and he’d start rubbing his thumb over your ringed finger, something he does whenever he’s feeling a little emotional and you’re holding hands 😔🫶🏽. “just a little somethin’ for my rockstar.” he’d pull you to him and press a kiss to your lips “you’re so good t’me, too good for me baby.” he’d whisper in your mouth. his hand would drop yours and they’d both come up to your waist, raising your dress up to your hips before he lifts you up to the counter. “harry! you’re supposed to be relaxing..” “this is relaxing to me.” he’d pull away smirking and slip his hands up your sides, pulling your dress off completely “a nice bath with my favorite girl, nothing could be more relaxing than this.” you’d smile at him, dropping your hands to his pants button and undoing it “i was gonna go set up your other surprise but i can join you for a few minutes..” he’d hum and kiss your forehead “there’s more? you’re spoiling me pet.” “you deserve it, don’t want you to think that just because you’re working that you don’t deserve to relaxing. and that i’m always gonna be here to make sure you’re good.” “god i fucking love you.” he’d pull you into a deep kiss, not letting up until you nibble at his lip needing to breathe. after that you’d both make quick work of undressing and getting into the tub, you’d have your back pressed to his front, his lips on your neck while his hands are running all around your body “i love you so much baby, mean the world t’me.” he’d mumble against your skin “i love you too harry.. cmon, waters cold honey.” you’d have to push him away from your neck, not without a whine though, and standing holding your hand out for him. he grabs your towels and wraps yours around you using it to pull you to him to kiss you again and making you giggle and kiss him back. you’d both dry off and you tell him you’ll get his underwear for him. “h, let’s go to the room.” he pulls his boxers up and follows you into your shared room closely, slipping one hand into the band of your lingerie and the other coming up to cup your boob and thumb at your nipple. he’d chuckle a little when he sees what’s on the bed, lotion and a towel “are you giving me a massage baby?” “only if you want me too.” “oh i definitely want that, absolutely. yes ma’am.” you’d just laugh at him and get on the bed next to the towel and pat it “okay lay down please sir.” he’d lay down, face flat, and you’d start warming the lotion in your hands “okay, you just relaxing okay baby?” he’d hum and nod letting out a soft okay. you’d start on his shoulders, digging into the tension knots. he’d tense up for a second before relaxing and letting out a soft grunt “i know, i’m sorry baby.” “s’okay.. feels good.” you’d hum in response and slowly move your hands down his back, you’d use your palms to dig in when needed. he’d go from giving soft grunts to humming every now in then as you keep working his back over. eventually all you hear is soft breathing and you coo “h.. baby are you sleepin’?” “not yet.. keep goin’ please?” “of course baby.” you’d lean down and kiss at the base of his neck making him shudder and whine softly. you’d rub from his shoulders to his lower back a few times more before he hums “okay, im actually falling asleep now. better stop before you have to pick me up to sleep.” you’d giggle and get off his butt where you were straddling and he’d sit up groaning “fuck that felt so good, im givin you one tomorrow baby. thank you, for the bath and the massage and just everything. you’re the best wife i could ever ask for, i love you so much lovie.” he’d cup your cheek and pull you into a soft kiss, no tongue and he’d hum against you “cmon, wanna hold you.”

OH MY GODDDDKFJCHBUIJRDFNCBHUJDNFCBHBV WHAT THE FUCKJKKCKVJ NFKVNJKM

[rockingrobin69]

Immeasurable

For the incredible @generalpizzaengineer​, who prompted me about a lifetime ago: an exact 1k of sweet, sweet fluff.

“I have a surprise for you.”

Draco took a moment to adjust his reading glasses before raising a suspicious glance. The look on Harry’s face made him swallow a little too sharply.  

“What… gods, what have you done now?”

The sheer audacity, to have such innocent green eyes in the middle of all that smirking. “Nothing. I just got something I think you’d like. Something small.”

“When you say small—” Draco had to stop himself from swearing. Harry didn’t know what the word small meant. He once bought an entire house because Draco complained his flat didn’t have enough room for all his plants; just like that, bought a house. They weren’t even dating then. Simply, here, you’re my friend, I got you a house with plenty of sunlight, because I’m an utterly disturbed person with too much money and not even a basic understanding of proportions.

“Small. Really small, this time. I promise.”

Rolling his eyes felt automatic, far from satisfactory. Harry spent weeks learning how to knit because Draco was so often cold. “Just tell me what it is.”

“It’s more of a come and see business, I’m afraid.” His smile was so soft. Damn it. Draco once made a passing remark about liking classical music, and Harry got an entire orchestra to play in the restaurant where they had their first date. He flew for thirteen hours straight just to see him when Draco had that conference. He memorised the entire Black bloodline, back to Draco’s great-great-great-great grandfather, just to try and impress Mother. Harry didn’t know when to stop. And Draco has made his peace with it, most days, could understand it to a certain point. That to love Harry meant keeping an eye out. Meant making sure Harry remembered to take care of himself, too, not to give away too much. Draco cleared his throat and closed his eyes; this had to be done delicately, or not at all.

“Why don’t you sit down? Let’s talk for a moment.”

The sound Harry made in response was so disconcerting, Draco’s eyes flew open. It was—not exactly a yelp, but something even smaller? “Erm,” Harry said then, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Oh, love,” Draco shot up, chest constricting painfully. “My darling, you know that I don’t mind. It’s just, I’m worried that you don’t know how much—”

“What? No, I know. Just, come out and see?”

That noise again, tugging on all of Draco’s heartstrings, orchestrating a terrible melody of ache. He buried his face into the crook of Harry’s neck, holding him close. “Dearest…”

“Draco,” Harry laughed, detaching himself. Those green eyes will be the death of him. “You numpty, just come on. Outside the door, the box, it’s for you. Well… us, really.”

“Oh.” Draco didn’t know what real fear was before stepping out of the sitting room. What will it be this time? A piece of the moon Harry’s flown to get him? A treasure chest from the depth of Loch Morar? What ridiculous thing has Harry spent his precious time on, in the futile attempt to prove something Draco knew better than his own name?

But the box was small, and, alarmingly, moving. Not a lot—just a quiver, perhaps. As if it were excited. Draco stared and stared.

“Go on, open it,” Harry nudged softly, and Draco took another step, when that voice again—but was it coming from inside the box?

“What on earth have you done?”

“Just open it,” Harry chuckled, resting his head on Draco’s shoulder, ironically preventing him from performing said task. “We talked about it for ages, but then it was never the right time, and now… now it is. Plus, he sort of had your name on him.”

Something big and heavy settled in Draco’s throat. Concern, maybe. Or something else. “He?”

“Well, when I say your name. They called him Orion, so I thought, he’d fit in perfectly.”

They went together, had to, because Harry didn’t move his arms from where they were wrapped around Draco’s waist. Together they crouched, and the box made that noise again, that heart-wrenching noise, and Draco’s fingers trembled so badly when he opened the flap—

And revealed the lump of fluff inside it, wiggling with all his little might, eyes like two black beads. When Draco sent a hand forward, a sneaky little slab of pink licked it.

“A puppy?” his voice cracked, barely making it out of his mouth. “You got me a German Shepherd?”

“I always liked them. I mean, we don’t have to—I could go back to the shelter and—”

Draco gave him a glare sharp enough to make him cough. “Of course we won’t take him back. Don’t be ridiculous.”

“So, you want to keep him?” Harry’s smile was so bright, Draco found himself panting.

“I… just… is this something you’re doing for my sake?” he didn’t know how to ask, exactly. How to make sure he was keeping an eye, how to make sure he was keeping Harry safe—

“Honestly? Not really. I always dreamed of having this huge, shaggy dog, the kind that’d make Aunt Petunia faint. Having a place that was completely my own, you know? Where I could be… me. And I can, with you. You let me be as large as I need, or as small as I want, so—is… are you okay?”

He wasn’t crying, just, well, weeping with uncontrollably huge sobs, which Orion took as his cue to leap out the box and ram into Draco’s knee, whining for an in.

“Baby? Are you alright?”

“I… yes. Yes. Thank you, Harry. I only… thank you.”

“What for?” Harry laughed, sitting down next to Draco, one hand on Orion’s fluffy head, one on Draco’s shoulder.

“For sticking to your word, at last. He really is quite small.”

Orion barked, a single woof, perhaps a touch indignant. All the love in Draco’s chest felt almost unbearable, uncontainable, too large to be quantified.