#but hurt seamus is amazing

[padfootagain]

Love in Verses (XXVIII)

Chapter 28: ‘You are neither here nor there, a hurry through which known and strange things pass as big soft buffetings come at the car sideways and catch the heart off guard and blow it open’

Hi! Here is a new chapter! Saoirse and Sean are back and… it’s an emotional one, so be prepared!

I hope you like this chapter! Tell me what you think!

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Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 4226

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

Postscript

And some time make the time to drive out west Into County Clare, along the Flaggy Shore, In September or October, when the wind And the light are working off each other So that the ocean on one side is wild With foam and glitter, and inland among stones The surface of a slate-grey lake is lit By the earthed lightning of a flock of swans, Their feathers roughed and ruffling, white on white, Their fully grown headstrong-looking heads Tucked or cresting or busy underwater. Useless to think you’ll park and capture it More thoroughly. You are neither here nor there, A hurry through which known and strange things pass As big soft buffetings come at the car sideways And catch the heart off guard and blow it open.

Seamus Heaney, The Spirit Level

“Y/N! Come on!”

“Andy, it’s fucking freezing!”

“It’s not! It’s almost spring, come one!”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

He gave you a cheeky, toothy grin, the kind you couldn’t resist, that made your heart melt into a puddle.

Damn Andrew and his cuteness…

You heaved a sigh, started taking your clothes off. It was a bad idea anyway, that morning swim. Andrew claimed that he came to this spot often, that the sea was so nice there, that he had seen seals a few times, that the water wasn’t that cold, that it was good for you anyway to swim in cold water. You still wanted to go back to bed, it was barely eight in the morning, you were cold and wanted a coffee…

Why had you let him drag you into this anyway?

Oh, yes, of course, because you had a very silly crush on him, of course.

A crush you denied, by the way. You still intended to get Frank back, to get your life back. Andrew was amazing, but everything in your life was complicated enough, being with him would be insanity. And anyway, he probably didn’t see you this way at all… He was falling for someone else, remember?

You didn’t notice though, how Andrew stared at your legs as you took off your jeans, standing now in your bathing suit. You didn’t notice the way he gulped at the sight of so much skin revealed to his eyes, the way he looked at the circle of skin revealed on your back, the way he blushed at your cleavage.

Instead, you were gathering your clothes in a pile, getting your towel ready for when you would run out of the freezing water.

Andrew had turned around when you looked up again, and you couldn’t help the way your heart sped up as you stared at his naked back, took in the white of his skin gleaming in the sunlight, studied the dip of his lower back and the long line of his spine…

He took off his jeans and turned around, you blinked at the sight of his chest, of the hair that coloured his torso, the happy trail that disappeared under the fabric of his swimsuit…

You averted your eyes, busied yourself with making an ordered pile out of your clothes, hoping he wouldn’t notice that you had been staring…

“Come on! In the water!”

He took your hand to drag you towards the sea. An infinite of deep blue against the paler hue of the sky with accents of gold. Waves crossed the quiet surface, tainted it with the white lines made by foam. Elwood was already swimming in the sea, barking happily every now and then. The rough sand tickled your feet, made your toes ache a little as you tried to avoid sharp seashells, seaweeds and pebbles stranded across the beach.

You shuddered as your feet were covered by the cold water brought by a wave.

“Holy shite! Andy! It’s too cold!”

He merely laughed at you, not hiding his bliss at seeing you so riled up.

“Come on! It’s not that cold. We don’t even need shoes or gloves…”

“Only you can think that not risking to lose my toes and fingers to hypothermia is reason enough for me not to think the water is fucking freezing!”

“It’s gonna be fun!”

You mumbled some curses as you moved further in the water, but Andrew wasn’t dragging you onwards now. Instead, he was still holding your hand, standing by your side and waiting for you to move further in the water at your own pace.

You shuddered again as water splashed across your chest, but then decided to simply dive fully under the water. It felt like being stung by needles, but the feeling was electrifying too.

You emerged gasping for air, while Andrew was chuckling next to you. And then he disappeared under the surface as well.

Once you had begun swimming, the cold was bearable, the effort to fight the waves and the current enough to keep your muscles warm. You had to admit that you had a bit of fun, until the wind started to get stronger and your teeth began chattering.

Andrew noticed, frowned at the sight.

“Alright, I think we’ve had enough,” he said, and you didn’t need him to say it twice before hurrying to the shore.

You couldn’t deny that it felt good, that you had fun in the water with Andy, swimming and playing together, and splashing him with water. You were so cold now though, you hurried back to your towel and clothes, and tried to get dry as fast as you could.

“You’re alright?” Andrew asked, his tone worried now.

You nodded, although your chattering teeth didn’t allow you to speak.

“Christ, you’re freezing…”

You were too busy rubbing the towel against your legs to reply.

Even after you had changed back into your clothes, Andrew holding up towels to hide you as you changed and looking away with a soft blush on his cheeks, you were still cold. You were surprised when Andrew started vigorously rubbing your arms to warm you up.

“You’re okay?” he asked once more.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just cold.”

“Didn’t know you easily turned into an ice cube!”

You didn’t think as you hurried into his arms. He simply seemed so warm now, wearing a green woollen jumper and a warm brown coat. He wrapped his coat around you, engulfing you into his warmth, holding you close.

You rested your ear against his chest, listened to the steady beating of his heart, although its pace was a little fast.

“You’re okay?” he asked once more, making you chuckle.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Don’t worry.”

“I’m sorry if you didn’t have fun…”

“I had fun. It was nice. Although, I don’t think you’ll turn me into a winter swimmer.”

“Apparently not.”

“I don’t trust you for anything else now, just so you know. You have lost my trust. When you say ‘fun activity’, I know now that you mean ‘trying to kill you with hypothermia’.”

He laughed at that.

“So… you won’t come to my place tonight, then? A shame… I’ve bought everything to make you a pizza.”

“You mean… you actually making a pizza from scratch?”

“Yep.”

“I will reevaluate my trusting issues because that sounds bloody delicious…”

He laughed, the sound bright and merry in the cold wind of morning. You didn’t know how he did it so often, coming here before work to swim several times a week.

You felt him resting his lips on the top of your head, but didn’t acknowledge the gesture, didn’t think about it too much. You closed your eyes, feeling much better already…

Until Elwood finally joined you, and decided to dry his fur right next to you, sending droplets of water everywhere.

“Elwood!” Andrew complained, but you merely laughed, hiding into Andrew’s coat for protection. ‘Christ… you have no manners!”

He started laughing as well, being careful to keep you close.

“What about we grab some coffee before heading to work?” he asked into your hair, the warmth of his breath contrasting with the cold wind.

“Oh yes! And I’ll buy a muffin!”

He chuckled at that.

“I’ll buy you one. My treat, for thanking you for coming with me today.”

“I hate you a little for how cold that was. But it was fun, and invigorating. I get why you like doing it. I will… let the swimming in the cold sea to you though. Next time you want company, I’ll simply wait for you on the beach and play with Elwood.”

“Giving up so easily,” he teased.

“Say that to my fingers, they’re still numb!”

He took your hands in his, you were surprised by his gesture. He made sure to fully enclose them in his hold to warm them up.

“Better?” he asked in a soft, tender voice.

When you looked up at him, his curls were still wet from the sea, droplets falling from them and catching the light of the young sun. His cheeks were flushed with the cold, or maybe with something else too, you weren’t sure. What was certain was that he looked so handsome like this, his lips reddened by the cold tempting you, while you wondered if you would taste the ocean on his mouth if you kissed him…

His eyes were fully green this morning, leaves caught in a midsummer sun. And his gaze was so tender when he looked down at you, you wondered if Frank had ever looked at you this way…

Slowly, you nodded, not trusting your own voice. But Elwood started barking, bringing you both back to earth.

You took a step back, freed your hands from his gentle hold.

And you tried very hard, but it was difficult to slow down the beating of your heart.

Saoirse was struggling.

H-B had proposed his students an exercise today. They had to analyse a text, and could use their laptop to make some research about it if necessary. They could work in small groups as well. At the end of the lecture, they would combine their ideas, and get their professor’s feedback.

And everything was going well at the beginning, so much so that their teacher had stopped wandering through the classroom and was now sitting behind his desk, clearly working on something else given how absorbed he was by his screen. Only, Saoirse’s group was now stuck and running out of ideas. Flann O’Brien really was kicking her arse. Even Sean was struggling, and he did better than her in this class.

Sean… Mary, that piece of shite… she was hitting on him so hard, it was indecent at this point. It made Saoirse nauseous. And Sean didn’t tell her to stop, that he wasn’t interested, which had to mean that he was, indeed, interested. In Mary? Really? She was stupid. The only conversation she could hold for more than two minutes were about like… two subjects. Besides, they had nothing in common. Seamus loved rugby and hurling, she liked basketball. He loved cinema, she hadn’t watched a movie in months. She loved fashion, and Sean didn’t care about clothes. She was a rich, privileged young woman when Sean didn’t have enough money to pay for a new pair of shoes. Last week, she had spent half an hour complaining about the temperature of the private pool in her house, because it was ‘too hot to stay in for longer than forty-five minutes tops’. She didn’t care about classes, didn’t study much and didn’t care whether or not she would pass this year, when Sean was studying all the time…

What could Sean find interesting in her?

She sent him another of her disgustingly sweet smiles, and Saoirse was this close from throwing up… or punching her in the teeth, both options seemed plausible reactions.

“I think we should ask H-B… I really don’t know what else we can get out of this section,” Phoebe sighed.

Saoirse looked up, but their professor was still absorbed by whatever task he was completing on his laptop, and had stopped paying attention to his students.

“I’ll go ask him,” Saoirse offered, happy to escape Mary for a moment.

What could Sean see in her? She was dumb, and pretty, and rich, and carefree, and funny, and…

Christ, would he go out with her? Would he have a girlfriend? Why did she hate that thought anyway? They were just friends, he could date whoever he wanted!

And yet her heart sank at the thought…

She stood in front of her teacher’s desk, but he seemed too busy to notice her. She couldn’t resist taking a quick glance at his screen…

… and she was surprised to find that he wasn’t working at all, but browsing in search of a projector. Why would he want to buy a projector?

“Erm… professor?”

Andrew jumped, looking up at his student.

“Yes, Saoirse? Is everything alright?”

He hurried to close his laptop, clearly embarrassed.

“We’re kind of stuck… can we have a little bit of help?”

“Of course… of course…”

He cleared his throat, getting up to walk towards the small group. He was blushing hard, and Saoirse couldn’t help but find the sight adorable.

With their professor nearby, Mary’s flirting subsided, at long last. But once the class was over, that Sean and Saoirse were about to leave to grab a quick lunch before going to the library, Mary was back at it again.

“Sean! We’re going to a restaurant nearby with a couple of friends. Want to join us?”

He looked at Saoirse, who merely kept on packing her stuff in silence. After all, Mary was not addressing the invitation to her. She clearly only wanted Sean to come.

“Erm… we have classes this afternoon…”

“Oh, come on! You can miss a couple of lectures! It’ll be fun! Besides, I’m sure Saoirse will give you her notes, won’t she?”

He frowned hard at that remark, and Saoirse thought that it was because of Mary’s offer to skip classes. But she was taken aback by his answer.

“Wait… you weren’t inviting us?” he asked, making Mary laugh.

“I was inviting you, obviously.”

He blinked, then gathered his things again.

“Sorry, but I want to attend our classes this afternoon,” he declined, and Mary’s face fell.

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. Hope you enjoy your lunch.”

He turned to Saoirse, who was slinging her bag over her shoulder.

“Let’s go,” he told her, and she nodded, following him outside the room without a single look back towards Mary.

“Sorry about that,” Sean mumbled under his breath while they started to walk down a flight of stairs.

“Why are you apologising? You weren’t doing anything wrong.”

“She was so impolite towards you… Christ, I knew she was hitting on me, but I thought she meant to invite everyone.”

“You could have accepted if you wanted to go out with her, I would have understood.”

“What makes you think I would want to date her? Have you ever listened to her? We have nothing in common.”

In her chest, Saoirse’s heart grew warm with contentment.

“Besides,” he added in a quieter voice, “I’d rather spend time with you, anyway.”

Her heart fluttered happily this time, and she pretended that their fingers grazing was just an accident as they both walked down the hall.

Dinner with Andrew was delicious.

The appointment with the tailor for Frank’s suit was approaching, and you were growing nervous, wanted to talk about it with him. Even if Andrew wasn’t so eager to get Sam back anymore, he still wanted to help you. You spent a long while talking about the upcoming wedding, about Frank, about Sam. By the time you had finished eating Andrew’s pizza and were slowly but surely emptying a bottle of red wine, your conversation had drifted towards other personal subjects. Your childhoods, your families…

You weren’t sure how you had found yourselves listening to one of Andrew’s jazz records, but you were now. You were the one convincing him to lie down on the ground to listen to it though. It heightened the experience, or at least, you claimed that it did. Elwood was unbothered by your antics, too busy playing with a plastic frog.

“I can’t believe you had to go through that.”

Andrew’s voice was quiet, barely audible above the saxophone of the vinyl playing. His ceiling had two long cracks running across its white, smooth surface. You studied their direction as you answered.

“Academic jobs are unforgiving for women.”

“They really asked you if you were planning on being pregnant in the coming months to accept you as a PhD student?”

You nodded, shuddering at the memory, at the humiliation that came with it.

“They didn’t ‘want to waste months’ if I got into the project and got pregnant. Also they considered that ‘if I wanted to have a baby, it meant I wasn’t prioritising work enough’. Of course, none of the male candidates had to answer any personal questions. I asked all of them. They were only interviewed about their knowledge in the field and their research project.”

“Fucking hell…”

“Yeah…”

You felt your throat tightening at the memory, at the sheer humiliation that came with being singled out because you were a woman, with being judged differently compared to men, with being reduced to a mother…

“What did you do?”

“I was too taken aback on the moment. I didn’t really know what to say, so I simply answered the question. I was chosen to get in. The same day, I had an interview with another team, one in Belfast. They were much nicer with me, didn’t ask me anything about me wanting to be a mother. So, I chose Belfast, left for Northern Ireland.”

“You were right to do so. Fucking pricks…”

He heaved a sigh.

“Did you report them?”

“They were the heads of department. They were the ones I should address the report to. What was the point? Besides, I was younger then, I didn’t know any better. I was worried about my career. I was scared.”

“The progress is too slow.”

“I can’t argue with that.”

“I’m really happy you didn’t give up, though. I’m really happy and proud to work with you.”

“Me too, Andy.”

You felt so vulnerable talking about this. And yet, you weren’t scared with Andrew lying next to you. The gentle music helped soothe you, open up pieces of your heart and soul that you longed to let out but had never dared to. Frank didn’t know about this story. You had cried so hard that night, on your own, and had never told him. You didn’t know why. Or rather, you did know why, but didn’t want to acknowledge that you shouldn’t have felt that way towards your partner.

You were worried he would not have cared…

“This is my favourite part of the song,” Andrew whispered, and you paid more attention to the music then.

There was such longing engraved in the notes, such nostalgia… you wanted to cry, or rather, tear your lungs apart, rip your heart out of your ribcage to make it stop yearning for a love you couldn’t have, one that you would likely never know…

On the cool tiles of the floor, you felt Andrew’s pinky finger brush against yours. You moved your finger to hold his.

There was a long silence, while you listened to the song. When Andrew spoke again his voice was shaking with emotion.

“Y/N?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you still love him?”

“What?”

“Frank. Do you still love him?”

You blinked, struggling to withhold your tears.

“Why are you asking me this?”

“I just… I just want to understand.”

“Understand?”

“Why he’s better than me.”

You frowned hard, turning to him.

“What do you mean?”

“Sam left me for him. You…”

He seemed to hesitate, change his choice of words.

“You still have feelings for him, don’t you? Despite everything that happened? I don’t really understand why.”

You set your gaze on the ceiling again, tore the words from your throat.

“You still have feelings for Sam.”

“I’m not so sure anymore.”

“Because you’re falling for someone else?”

“Yeah…”

“Who is she? The woman you’re falling for?”

He looked at you then, you felt his gaze on you. You kept your own eyes on the ceiling, though.

He didn’t answer. You heard him drawing a sharp breath, but then he closed his mouth again and said nothing.

“I don’t know if I still love Frank,” you answered truthfully. “But I still want the life I had with him.”

“You could have that with someone else.”

“I want Frank… I want my life back.”

Andrew’s stare disappeared, you felt it as he looked at the ceiling again.

“As you wish.”

“Andy?”

“Hmmm?”

“Do you think he could love me again?”

He didn’t answer, his silence spoke volume. You thought you would cry, but you didn’t.

“Someone else will love you, the way you truly deserve,” he spoke softly, his voice a little hoarse with emotions.

“The way I deserve…” you repeated the words to turn them in your mouth, taste their meaning and feel their weight, but he took it as a question.

“Deeply. Unconditionally,” he answered. “Religiously. Completely.”

“Do you really think someone could love me like that?”

He moved his hand to fully hold yours, intertwining your fingers together, and you let him.

“Y/N… I… I…”

He heaved a sigh. You heard him take in a shaky breath, but didn’t have the courage to look at anything but that crack running through the ceiling.

“Of course, I do, Y/N. Of course, I do. I know you are loved like that.”

Are…

You squeezed his hand, shuddered.

“I can’t wait to hear your poetry,” you decided to change the subject, feeling too vulnerable now.

“I’m so fucking nervous.”

“Don’t be! You’ll be brilliant. You were amazing that night, when you sang. You’ll be amazing at the reading too.”

“I’m really glad you’re coming.”

“I’m excited.”

“I hope I won’t disappoint.”

“You rarely disappoint, Andy.”

“That’s because you haven’t read my poetry yet.”

You laughed at that, feeling the atmosphere become lighter.

“I should go home, it’s late,” you reasoned yourself out loud.

“Hmm… or you could stay a little longer. We haven’t finished the album yet.”

You smiled, rubbed tender circles into the back of his hand.

“Besides… we might have a problem?”

“What problem?”

“I don’t think I can stand.”

You looked at him, at long last, frowning hard.

“There was a fight. My back vs the floor. The floor has clearly won.”

You started chuckling, but Andrew shook his head, although he was chuckling too.

“I’m not joking. I think I’ve thrown my back out.”

“Really?” you grew more serious.

“Yeah… really… I don’t think I can stand on my own.”

“Oh God! Christ! I’m so sorry, Andy.”

He chuckled.

“That’s alright, it’s not your fault. But… let’s not do that again alright?”

You got up, holding your painful back too.

“Oh God… are we really too old for this?” you joked.

“Imagine if you were my height?”

“I can’t, Treebeard.”

He chuckled, held out his hand.

“Please?”

You held his hand, carefully helped him up. He winced hard as he got to his feet, couldn’t stand straight.

“Alright, you should go to bed…”

“I’m okay…”

“Andy, you’re literally standing at a forty-degree angle!”

“I’m walking!”

“Go. To. Bed.”

“I was about to make a very dirty joke on that…”

“Thanks for sparing me.”

“You’re lucky I’m too much in pain to think of a proper comeback.”

He pointed at the kitchen.

“Third cupboard on the left. Painkillers… please…”

“Sure.”

You helped him to his bed, then went to seek his muscle relaxant and some painkillers along with a glass of water.

He was lying down again when you walked back into his bedroom.

“Stop feeling bad,” he admonished, reading right through you. “It’s not your fault. And it really isn’t too bad. I’ll be okay tomorrow morning. I just need my muscles to relax.”

“Alright…”

“Stop worrying. It happens all the time.”

“You’re in pain, of course, I’m worried!”

“You look cute when you’re like this.”

You looked away at his words, you noticed how he blushed before swallowing the pills.

“Do you need anything?” you asked him, but he shook his head.

“No… do you want to watch something with me?”

“It’s late, I should go home.”

“Oh… okay.”

He seemed disappointed, your heart grew warm at the sight, at the thought that he wanted you to stay.

“I don’t want to risk falling asleep behind the wheel.”

“You could stay. I have a spare bedroom.”

You pondered on the offer for a moment, but you yielded easily.

“Alright, I’ll grab your laptop. What are we watching?”

“Anything you want.”

“Something terrible then…”

“Why do you want to make me suffer? You’ve already broken my back…”

You laughed wickedly at him, but chose a nice movie instead.

An hour later, Andrew was less in pain, and you were fast asleep, lying by his side, in his bed.

He stopped the movie, grabbed his laptop, opened a word document. His back was still too painful for him to join you in Morpheus’s arms. Instead, he watched you as you slept, knowing that you would soon wake up again, apologise and be adorable in your embarrassment, and then you would get up and go to bed in the other bedroom; and he would regret feeling the bend of the mattress under your weight by his side, your warmth that spread through the sheets, the quiet rhythm of your breathing. But for now you were still there, asleep. Peaceful. Beautiful…

He could have said it. Tonight, he could have said it. Confessed it all. He hadn’t. He was about to let it slip between his fingers, but he was afraid to try to hold you and make you fly away instead. Just like a bird one would try to trap in a cage.

He stared at you for a moment longer, then set his gaze on the blank page before him.

He started typing.

I couldn’t utter my love when it counted…

[say-hwaet]

That's the Way it Is

Chapter Five: Confessions of a Wanted Man Previous Chapters: IV III II I Summary: Arthur meets up with Hosea on a job, but guns and a quick tongue aren't the only things that accompany him. Warnings/Key Items: Mature Themes, Foreplay, Language Word Count: ~7,000 words

“Now that we’re done with this nonsense,” Arthur grunts as he rolls his shoulders. “I have somethin’ I need to tell you.”

Hosea waves off Seamus as the blacksmith disappears into his barn. They had just finished delivering a stolen stagecoach to him, in hopes of gaining an alliance…and a way to make money. 

Arthur and Hosea have always worked well together, Hosea with his quick mouth and cunning, and Arthur with his strength and resilience. Brains and Brawn, working side by side to get the job done. 

It would have worked another time, had they had the chance in Blackwater. Before everything went to hell. 

He would have had the opportunity, the greatest opportunity he could have ever had…

“What’s that, Arthur?” Hosea walks up to Silver Dollar, his Turkoman, and gives him a good pat on the neck.

“Kit is alive.”

Hosea freezes, his palm resting on Silver Dollar’s neck. He turns to look back at Arthur over his shoulder. “Arthur, I know you want to believe that–”

“She’s at camp. I found her.”

Hosea's expression shifts from disbelief to a profound amazement, shadowed by caution. "At camp? How? When?" His voice lowers as he glances around Emerald Tanch, ensuring no other ears are nearby.

Arthur takes a step closer, his eyes intense but worn. "I saw her with some feller in Valentine—”

“Yes, Bill and Javier came back calling you crazy…” His voice trails off and he shakes his head. “I was beginning to doubt you myself.”

Arthur continues. “Well, I followed them when they left, trailed them a mile or two behind. I heard gunshots, and came riding up to find that they had been attacked by bandits.”

Hosea leaves his mount and steps toward him. “Was she hurt?”

Arthur shakes his head, almost smiling. “She fought her way through, like always.”

Hosea can’t believe it, as disbelief is etched across his face. “Arthur…” His voice softens as he lays a hand on Arthur's shoulder. "This is remarkable news, but we need to tread carefully. With everything that happened before the ferry robbery…”

Arthur's expression tightens, the fleeting smile disappearing as quickly as it came. "I know, but I also need to tell you…” He steps closer to Hosea, speaking in a hushed voice. “She doesn’t remember.”

Hosea blinks. “At all?”

“At all. She didn’t know who I was…” Arthur looks out into the Heartlands, his heart aching in places he thought were closed off. “She don’t know that…”

“She doesn’t know,” Hosea repeats, understanding what he means. “I’m sorry, Arthur.”

“It’s better this way,” Arthur clears his throat after it trembles at the beginning of his sentence. “Dutch seems to be watchin’, he’s on edge with everythin’ and everyone. It’s best that we lie low, like you said, and hope for the best.”

Hosea lowers his head, exhaling slowly. “We’ve been through worse, don’t get me wrong, but, I think that it is only a matter of time before…” He lets his voice trail off.

“I know,” Arthur says with finality.

Hosea meets his gaze. “Are you sure she doesn’t remember anything?”

Arthur nods. “Yes. If she did remember, she wouldn’t be behavin’ as she is.”

Hosea tilts his head, his brow pinched in confusion. “What do you mean, son?”

“She’s…she’s…” He doesn’t know how to explain it, not without telling Hosea everything. Everything he has been keeping from everyone.

Hosea must see it in his face. “What is it, son?”

And like a crashing wave, it overwhelms him.

***

“I’m scared…” you say as he holds your face in his hands, his thumbs caressing your cheeks. “I’m scared that this will destroy us all.”

Arthur looks into your eyes, those hazel eyes with pools of green, and how the tears flow out of them. He hates it, he hates to see you cry, for you rarely ever do, only for deepest reasons that you are too proud to acknowledge. That’s just your way. It’s who you are.

And he loves you for all of it.

“I know, Kitten,” he says softly, feeling free to speak your pet name. You both have snuck away once more outside of camp, to a secret spot beyond the river. Blackwater is a dry land full of cheek grass, rocks, and valleys. It’s the Great Plains, touching on the borders of New Austin.

It’s open, more open than the woods that you and the gang have been sequestered in. And in doing so, other things have come out in the open.

It has been developing over the last couple of years. The glances, small gestures of kindness, the flirtatious banter, and witnessing how you’ve been with Jack. All these things have drawn Arthur to you, and he has begun to think that maybe, just maybe, that he could have the chance at a new life that has eluded him twice before. With Mary, and with Eliza and Isaac.

You were there after the fallout with Mary, though you never met Eliza. Actually, you didn’t know why he had come back after a few days drunk and bitter and depressed, not until years later, under a canopy of stars, when he told you that he had loved a woman, fathered a child, and found their two crosses. You were sensitive to him, then, not expecting anything, and only giving comfort in return. For the longest time, Arthur had closed his heart off to love, hopeless and sour-faced as a result. 

But now…you’ve grown to love each other and it has given Arthur hope.

And now Micah, with his forked tongue, has been spinning ideas in Dutch’s ear. This ferry, promising money beyond their wildest dreams, is the way to paradise. And Dutch is buying it.

And what’s worse, is that they are recruiting you to help them.

“If I do this, it can go two ways…” you continue, your voice wavering as you gaze up at the endless stretch of sky above, "Either we get enough to leave here for good... or things go wrong, Arthur. Badly wrong." There's a tightness in your chest as you speak, the weight of the impending danger pressing down like an iron shroud. “I normally don’t worry about things like this, but something is telling me otherwise…” 

Arthur's eyes, usually so full of determination and quiet strength, now reflect your fears. He wraps his arms around you tighter, as if to shield you from the uncertain future looming ahead. "We'll make it through this, Kit," he murmurs into your hair, the rough timbre of his voice both comforting and resolute. “Hosea and I have been workin’ on somethin’. Maybe we can get to it before all of this.”

He feels you shake your head, stirring the fragrance of patchouli and bergamot oils that scent your hair. “I love you, Arthur, můj král.”

My King. After King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. It was one of the first books you had read in its entirety. He thought it was a little silly, at first, to be referred to as a king, but now, the title holds a different meaning for him. It is a vow, a silent promise between the two of you, wrapped in the words of your native tongue.

Arthur’s grip tightens, his lips pressing a gentle, firm kiss atop your head. “And I love you, Kitten. No matter what happens.” He whispers it, his breath warm against the cool evening air. The tension in his frame doesn't ease, though; if anything, it tightens.

You pull back slightly, looking up into Arthur's eyes, needing to see the truth in them. “Promise me, promise that no matter what happens, we won’t leave without each other. Tell me that we’ll find a way to be together, even when the world seems hell-bent on keeping us apart.” Your voice cracks slightly with the intensity of your emotions, each word a plea tethered to the core of your being.

Arthur’s eyes soften, crinkling at the corners as he gives you a small, sad smile. "I promise, Kit. Ain't nothin' in this world or the next that could tear me away from you." His words, spoken with such certainty, make your heart swell even amid the fear and uncertainty.

You nod, feeling a momentary peace settle over you. “I want it to be eternal, Arthur.” His eyes lower to meet yours and he can see the sincerity in them.

He feels it. He’s thought about it, considered it, but was always too afraid, especially after everything that has happened prior to all of this.

He takes your hands in his, rubbing your knuckles as he considers his next words. “Then will you…?” He struggles, swallowing thickly as the moon casts its glow. “Will you…marry me, Kitka?”

Your expression says it all. Surprise, but relief. Joy that he would feel the same sentiment. “Yes, I will…” And you pull him into a kiss, your softness and hunger teasing at hidden desires that you have kept inside all of these years. You run your fingers through his hair, and he hears a soft moan in the back of your throat as he continues to kiss you hungrily.

He leaves your mouth, tracing your jawline and neck with soft kisses, inhaling the smell of your skin. You arch your neck back, opening yourself to him.

“Arth…Arthur…”

He’s become intoxicated by your smell, his hands beginning to softly wander. His heart thrums steadily, anticipation running through his veins. “Mmm…?”

You place a hand firmly on his chest, pushing him away. “We’ve waited this long…” you say, your voice trembling as you fight your own desires. “We need to find someone to marry us.”

Of course. He knows how much it means to you, and he senses the urgency of it, for many reasons.

He nods, understanding the significance of making it official, binding it beyond just words whispered in the shadow of night. “Alright, Kit. We’ll do it right.” Arthur’s voice is steady, reassuring as he pulls you back into an embrace.

***

The next morning dawns with a crispness that hints at the coming change. You and Arthur told Hosea that you were getting some last-minute supplies, and would be gone for a day or two. Arthur can trust Hosea to placate Dutch long enough for them to return, even though no one knows the reason why you both only took your horses, not a wagon cart to wheel in supplies back to camp.

Arthur watches you as you ride side by side. The dark wisps of your hair flying wildly in the wind. Odliv saddled in the embroidered leather that you painstakingly made, looks like a horse fit for carrying royalty. You look like a vision from a dream, your hazel eyes alight with determination and excitement. Arthur can't help but smile, his heart swelling with pride and love for the strong, incredible woman you've become.

As the church comes into view, a mix of nervousness and excitement bubbles up within him. He knows this is it. This is when you and him will be man and wife, and he can finally put to rest the fear of losing you forever. With every beat of his heart, he feels closer to a future he once thought impossible.

A minister, Arthur deduces by his attire, attends to a small garden on the side of the church, a small, weathered building that has seen better days, much like the two of you. It’s humble but fitting, mirroring the simplicity and authenticity of your love. As he dismounts, Arthur’s knees feel unsteady, not from the ride, but from the magnitude of the moment about to unfold.

He strides over to help you down from Odliv, his hands strong yet gentle. You take a deep breath, exhaling softly as your eyes meet his. You chuckle, the giddiness clearly evident. “Let’s go talk to him,” you say.

Taking your hand in his, he smiles down at you. “Okay…” You both walk together, calmly approaching the minister as his back is turned. Arthur clears his throat. “Ahem. Excuse me?”

The man shoots straight up, turning around and upon seeing you two, looks afraid while also trying to maintain an air of calm. “Can I help you?”

You, in your blunt way, speak plainly. “We are wanting to get married. Can you marry us?”

The man looks at you both with suspicion. “You aren’t…running away from something are you?”

You both look at each other. That is one of the nicer questions that he could be asking. And you smile as you shake your head. “No, just…running towards something better, together.” Your voice holds a hint of defiance, a sparkle of your past challenges woven through the calm of your present.

Arthur’s grip tightens around your hand, reassuring and solid. His eyes, a deep marine blue, don’t stray from yours, affirming every word silently as he nods to the man of the cloth. “Yes. We just wanted to do it right.”

The minister seems to appreciate this, as his eyes soften toward you both. “You’ll need two witnesses.”

You frown. “Oh.”

Then he grins. “Don’t worry, I’m sure the groundskeeper and his wife won’t mind. They are inside now.” He brushes the dirt off his hands. “Please, give me a moment to ask them.” And he turns around to head inside the church.

When he leaves, Arthur feels you pull on his arm. He looks down at you and sees the goofiest smile on your face. “What?” he chuckles.

“It’s happening, Arthur,” you whisper as you nearly hop up and down. You are such a little thing, a precious thing, and he finds you adorable. “We’re getting married.”

He’s glad that you are so happy. Even with the loom of what will soon happen in Blackwater, he’s glad to be sharing this small time with you, without the prying eyes of everyone at camp.

He smiles at you and brings your hand up to kiss it, leaving his lips planted there longer than necessary.

The door to the church opens and the minister waves them over. “Please! Come in, you shall have your wedding.”

You giggle cheerfully, nearly pulling Arthur along. He nearly fumbles, but quickly falls in step with you once you reach the steps.

As you both enter the church, Arthur lets his eyes wander. It is clean, and even though it is old, it looks well-maintained. The stained glass windows cast a colored light into the small space, and turning his head, he sees the light casting a rainbow of colors on your skin.

You’re a beautiful sight.

The minister begins to introduce you both to the gardener and his wife. “Mr. and Mrs. Greene, this is…” and he turns to you two.

Arthur speaks for you both. “Arthur Morgan and Kitka Petrova.”

Mrs. Greene’s face lights up, looking at you. “Oh, you’re Russian?”

You shake your head, your brow pinching. “No, Czechoslovakian.”

The woman blinks. “Oh.” And after a moment, her eyes light up. “I will be right back.” And she steps quickly out the doors of the church.

You tap Arthur and he looks down at you. “I have something I want to change into…” And you turn to the minister. “Is there a place where I can freshen up really quick?”

He nods, pointing to a small door at the front of the church. “Right in there.”

You nod your thanks and let your hand graze Arthur’s arm before letting him go, taking your satchel with you. He can’t imagine what you want to wear, but it is your wedding day. Anything to make it more special, he is going to let you.

He wishes that he had something to wear.

The minister clears his throat. “So, Mr. Morgan, how did you meet your fiancée?”

Arthur knows the poor man is just trying to make conversation while they wait, but Arthur isn’t sure how to answer that. He thinks of the easiest answer. “We, erm…we grew up together. We met in California.”

“Oh? California is quite the distance from here.”

Arthur chortles. “Shoah is. Just didn’t think to ask her to marry me up until now.”

He hears the door open, and you step out slowly. Your skirt and blouse is the same, aside from the headdress and lace apron you wear. Arthur has seen you wear kroj before, the intricate floral embroidery all done by your hand, but as the years have gone by, you’ve worn the traditional garb of your home country less and less. To see you in the fěrtúšek and the Čepení , makes him feel something.

You pause by the door, pressing down the wrinkles of the fěrtúšek . “I don’t have a way to fix it.”

Arthur shakes his head. “You’re perfect, darlin’.”

Mrs. Greene smiles as she comes back in, with a bouquet of flowers in her hand. “Yes, dear. Just lovely.” 

You try to hide the blush on your cheek behind some of the fabric in your headdress, but it is a futile effort. You approach him, your eyes not leaving him and he takes your hands gently.

The minister beams. “I guess we are all ready now?”

With one more glance at you, Arthur looks at him. “We’re ready now, sir.”

The minister nods, a gentle warmth in his eyes as he motions for you and Arthur to step forward. You both walk in between the few wood pews worn smooth from years of use. Dust motes dance in the beams of sunlight filtering through the stained glass windows, casting vibrant hues across the wooden floor. The air is filled with a reverence and a whimsy that Arthur hasn’t really felt before, or at least he can’t seem to recognize it.

The minister gestures for Mr. and Mrs. Greene to come up, given that they are witnesses and all. They step forward and Mrs. Greene hands you the bouquet. You smile at her and take a moment to bury your nose in the flowers to drink in their aroma.

Now, you’re ready.

The minister goes through the words, and, of course, Arthur easily drowns them out. He’s never been a religious man, given his chosen profession, but in this moment, under the soft glow of the church’s stained glass, he feels something sacred. Arthur’s eyes never leave yours as the minister speaks of love, commitment, and the bonds that hold two people together. Your hands are clasped tightly together, his rough and calloused against your softer, delicate ones.

Then the minister’s next words require a response as he asks Arthur the question, “Arthur Morgan, do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife? To love and to cherish, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?”

Arthur’s throat tightens, and his voice is a gravelly whisper when he finally speaks. “I do,” he says, squeezing your hands as if to reinforce the promise. His blue eyes, usually so guarded and stern, now shimmer with unshed tears, a rare glimpse of the vulnerability he so seldom lets show.

The minister turns his benevolent gaze on you, your breath hitches, the weight of the moment settling around you like a summer breeze. “Kitka Petrova, do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband? To love and to cherish, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?”

And you do not hesitate, confidence emanating through the two most powerful words, “I do.”

Mrs. Greene emits a soft sigh, clearly enraptured by these two strangers. It almost bolsters Arthur’s resolve, a reassurance that they are doing the right thing.

Then, as though you had rehearsed it, you take out a ring, your father’s ring, and taking Arthur’s hand in yours, you slip it over his finger. You gasp softly. It fits.

And fulfilling his part, he takes the ring from his pocket, your mother’s ring, and it fits your finger perfectly.

And then the final words are spoken. “By the power vested in me, I pronounce you man and wife…” And the minister looks at Arthur. “You may kiss the bride.”

Arthur leans in, his eyes locking onto yours, the world around both of you fading into a distant murmur. His hands cup your face gently, a stark contrast to the usual roughness his life demands. “I love you,” he whispers, and catches your reply in his mouth. The kiss is tender, a seal on the vows you’ve just exchanged, filled with promises of a future that both of you have so long dreamed for.

***

“Are you sure you don’t want a hotel room?” Arthur asks you while starting the fire. You both have wandered further into New Austin, finding a body of water in a secluded spot. The canyon stands as a guardian, shielding anyone from coming by and seeing them. “It just don’t seem right to not get you a comfy bed and feather pillows on your weddin’ night.”

You are in your bare feet standing ankle-deep in the water as it laps waves into your legs. “I prefer this. It’s beautiful out here, and I find myself more at home in places like this.” You turn to look over your shoulder at him. “And no one is around.”

Arthur’s cheeks burn pink and he looks down. Here you are getting him more bashful when it’s you who ought to be.

The night air is cool, carrying the scent of juniper and the distant howl of a coyote. Arthur finishes setting up the small camp, his movements efficient yet gentle, always mindful of the world around him. The fire catches with a soft crackle, its glow dancing across his features, casting long shadows behind him. He rises to his feet and still finds you standing in the water. He smiles to himself and walks up to you, stopping at the water so he doesn’t get his boots wet.

“Are you ever gonna get out of that water, woman?”

You don’t turn around, but he can hear the smile in your voice. “That’s Mrs. Morgan, to you.”

Oh, does it ever feel good to hear those words. Never did he think those would ever be spoken near him. Bolstered by the thrill of it, he comes to you quickly, scooping you up in his arms. Water drips from your legs and you screech excitedly. “Mrs. Morgan, get out of that water,” he orders huskily. 

Your giggling simmers down quickly, and your eyes meet his as he carries you. “Okay.”

He leans in and kisses you hard on the mouth, and you sigh deeply. He feels his heart pound in his chest and your arms wrap around his neck.

Tonight, the desert's vastness seems to embrace you both, the stars twinkling like countless eyes watching over your newfound happiness. With Arthur carrying you back to the camp, the sand feels warm under his boots, a stark contrast to the cool water you just left.

He sets you down on a laid-out bedroll beside the newly kindled fire, close for the light to be cast on you but far enough where its heat won’t be a hindrance.

He remains hovered over you and even if he were to move, your arms hold him there as they are still around you. He looks at you, how the light of the fire casts its glow, burning a desire in him so deep that he feels as if it might consume him entirely. "I reckon I've been waitin' a lifetime for somethin' like this," he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. The firelight flickers in your eyes, reflecting the earnestness of his words.

You reach up, tracing the line of his jaw. Your touch is so tender, so soft, as though you are mapping out a path on a sacred map, each contour under your fingertips a treasure trove of shared secrets and quiet dreams. “And I,” you whisper back, feeling the heat of the fire mingled with the warmth of his body, “never thought it would happen.”

He snorts at that. “No, you?” His grip tightens around your waist. “I find that hard to believe.”

You nod. “It’s true. I saw how other men looked at me. Mesmerized one moment, and disgusted the next.” Your eyes cast downward, avoiding his gaze. “I thought that because of my background, no decent man would want me.” Then your eyes lift into his again, and your palm goes over his chest. “But…I don’t think that anymore.”

He knows you feel his heart pounding, beating against his ribcage.

Arthur softens, his face close to yours, his breath mingling with the chilly night air. "Kit," he says gently, the word a caress in itself, "you're more than decent. You're extraordinary." His words hover between you like the fine desert sand carried by a breeze. "And those fools who looked at you that way—”

You place a finger on his lips, stopping him. “Arthur…I want you to touch me.”

His eyes, wide with a mixture of surprise and longing, search your face for any sign of hesitation. But there is none. There's only the clear, deep need reflected back at him—a need that mirrors his own. Your breath catches as his hands, those large, calloused hands, move slowly, almost reverently, down the curve of your back. Each touch whispers promises and secret confessions, lingering in places that make both of your hearts skip and your bodies tremble.

You convey your impatience by taking his arms, guiding them to leave you for a brief moment before placing his hands on the buttons of your blouse, leaning up and kissing him at the same time. The kiss deepens, drawing out a sigh from both of your lips as if the very air you shared was laced with destiny. His fingers fumble briefly at the buttons, a testament to his eagerness matched only by his reverence for the moment. The fabric parts, and the cool night air kisses your skin, raising goosebumps across its milky whiteness.

Arthur parts for just a moment, looking at you as you help remove your blouse and begin to work on your chemise as you untuck it from your skirt. He leans away to remove his shirt, undoing each button one by one. He hears your fragmented breaths as you hurry, and he looks up to see that your chemise and skirt are now gone, your bloomers only remaining.

He freezes what he is doing, letting out a broken chuff. He knew you were beautiful, but this…this is nearly heart-stopping.

You move to cover yourself, but hesitate. “Do I…? Does this disappoint you?”

His gaze lingers on you, raw admiration etched into the lines of his face, transforming him from the rugged outlaw to a man utterly captivated by the woman before him. "Kitka," he murmurs again, and this time your name sounds like a prayer from his lips. “Never.” The moonlight dances across your skin, and it’s all he can do from not rushing forward. Instead, he takes a deep, steadying breath, and tries to calm the storm raging inside him. Every instinct in his body screams to close the distance, to claim every inch of your exposed skin with his mouth, his hands. But he holds back, allows himself this moment to truly see you, all barriers gone as you slip your thumbs underneath the waistband of your bloomers, leaning back and pushing them off.

Your movements are graceful, clearly putting your skills as a mesmerizing performer to work. Only, this type of disappearing act will ever be for his eyes only.

You seem to have more confidence, as you rise on your knees and move closer to him. You maneuver your legs to where he kneels in between them, and you take his hands as they remain on the half-unbuttoned shirt.

Your hands guide his to pull the shirt off completely, letting it fall away to join the pile of discarded clothing. The somber moon casts its silvery glow, highlighting the contours of his well-built frame and creating a tableau—a mix of shadow and light playing across his sinewed chest.

The cooler air causes him to shiver and you press your body into his as he remains kneeled in the dirt and you wrap your arms around him. He buries his head in between your breasts and you card your fingers through his hair, your long fingernails sending chills down his spine. You are so soft, so warm and welcoming.

“Make love to me, můj král,” you moan softly. “Make love to your wife.”

And suddenly awakening that deep desire, his arms wrap around your waist and he guides you down on your back. Coming up to kiss you, he presses his lips deeper into yours, as he works his boots and pants free. It is a noble task, and once his boots and pants are nothing but a pile on the dirt, you break from his kiss. You look at his naked body, his muscles glistening in the moonlight, carved as if by the harsh landscapes through which he'd roamed. His eyes, those deep pools of marine blue, are fixed on you with an intensity that sends a visible shiver throughout your body. It's not just lust that shines in his gaze but a fierce protectiveness and the tender vulnerability of a man who has lost much yet finds himself on the precipice of reclaiming a part of his soul. His hands, rough from years of labor and gunplay, trace the curves of your body with a reverence that speaks to his deep-seated need to cherish what he once thought irretrievably lost.

Your eyes on him, though full of love and kindness, make him feel nervous. It has been years since he has been with a woman, and the fact that you have never seen a man in this form before doesn’t change the way he feels.

“I’m sorry,” he utters.

You look up at him, after looking his entire body over. “For what?”

He chortles and shakes his head. “Nothin’.” Arthur’s eyes soften as he looks down at you, his gaze again tracing the lines of your face illuminated by the moon. "Just... never thought I'd deserve this," he murmurs, his voice rough like the gravel paths you both once tread in a life that feels both distant and painfully close. “Deserve you.”

You reach up, your hand gently caressing his cheek, your fingers tracing the stubble along his jawline. "Everyone deserves a chance at happiness, Arthur," you whisper, your voice as soft as the breeze rustling through the nearby trees. "Even you."

He hesitates, the weight of his past and the shadows in his eyes flickering like the dimming embers of a campfire, but then he nods slowly, accepting your words. Arthur lowers himself, his body aligning with yours as the coarse fabric of the blanket beneath melds with the softness of the earth. His breath is warm against your cheek, mingling with the cool night air, creating a symphony of contrasting sensations that reflects the complexity of the emotions swirling between you.

He takes his hand and gently grazes your inner thigh. “You want me to…?” He wants to ask if you want him to guide you through what he’s about to do, but he isn’t sure how to say it without making it come out awkward.

But you take his hand, gently, but firm, instincts taking over inexperience. “Just…” you hiss softly. “Take me.”

And he takes you like a thief.

***

The silence that envelops the night is punctuated by the distant hoot of an owl and the rustle of leaves, a natural symphony that seems to acknowledge the sanctity of this moment between outcasts. He can feel your heartbeat, strong and pure as his fingertips trace the contours of your spine, descending to the small of your back, pulling you closer until there's no space left between you.

Your body is misted in sweat and he tries to conceal his breathing as he tries to catch it. You intertwine your legs with his and leaning in close, you plant light kisses on his collarbone.

“Are you alright?” you ask innocently, reaching a hand to wipe his brow. “You’re trembling.”

He nods. “I’m fine, kitten,” he purrs, focusing on the feel of your flesh beneath his fingers as you lay beside him. 

“Did I do good?” you ask him, then chuckling at your words. “Never mind. I should not have said that.”

He kisses your forehead. To think that you are still concerned about pleasing him, when he should be the one ensuring your comfort, makes his heart swell with an affection so potent it nearly suffocates him. “Oh, kitten…” he murmurs into your hair, his lips tracing a line down to your ear where he whispers reassurances of his love. “You were perfect.”

The stars above seem to twinkle their approval of this union, and they match the bubbliness in your giggle as you hide your face in his chest. “Really?”

“Really.”

You go quiet for a moment, and he feels the soft heat of your breath on his skin as it slows. “I don’t want this to end, Arthur.” And your voice starts to tremble. “I can’t go back to camp pretending this didn’t happen.”

He couldn’t agree more. There has to be something that can be done. A way to make it last long after tonight, long when years have gone. Then something comes into his mind. An idea. He leans back to look at your glistening body, letting his forefinger trail down your neck, sternum, and to your belly. “It doesn’t have to.”

Your eyes look into his, as though searching for an explanation. “What do you mean?”

He decides to spare you any enigmatic airs, like Dutch or Hosea. It’s always paid to be straightforward with you. “We leave.”

The word "leave" hangs between you like a promise, tinted with both the thrill of the unknown and the weight of all it would mean to abandon the life you've known. His fingertips still hovering at your belly, his gaze holds yours, unblinking, as raw and open as you've ever seen him.

“Leave?”

“Yes.”

You rest a hand on his chest. “You’d do that?”

“It ain’t like I have never thought about it.” In fact, he tried it once, years ago, but it was too late then. You were there for that, but you never knew, he never told anyone. He pulls you tighter. “I don’t see how it could be a better time.” He begins to picture it. A house in the woods, a garden and maybe some horses. Maybe…even little feet running across the wooden floors, and you chasing after them.

But you, always pragmatic, ask the real question. “How?”

It would have to be when everyone is distracted. Busy. When they would least expect you to. “The ferry robbery.” The idea hangs heavily in the air, infused with fears and possibilities alike. "During the peak of the robbery," Arthur continues, his voice a low rumble against the backdrop of the night's serene silence. "We grab what we need beforehand, have it ready, and disappear before anyone notices. It’s going to be chaos — no one will see us go."

"But Dutch?" you interject, your voice a whisper tangled in concern. Dutch had been like a father to both of you, his towering presence weaving through the threads of your lives, binding you to the gang. The thought of betraying him prickles your conscience like thorns. “He needs me to act as a hostage, that’s right in the middle of it…”

Arthur's eyes soften, the lines around them deepening with understanding. “You can slip off the boat when no one’s lookin’. You’ll look like a passenger. You’ll be a woman goin’ to meet her husband. You’ve pulled off easier stories than that.”

You look at the ring on your finger and feel butterflies in your stomach. Then you realize something. “We will need money.”

Arthur nods. You’re right. If Dutch taught him anything, it is that everything comes with a price, and so will leaving the gang for good. He lets his fingers caress your body, its silky softness arousing passions deep within him again. “I have some saved. About thirty dollars.” His eyes, piercing and resolute, meet yours as he adds, "Plus whatever you can take from the ferry. It ain't a fortune but it’s a start. Enough to get us away from here, buy us some time to figure out more." He feels a swirl of excitement with the twinge of danger. And he sees how you look at him, study him.

“I need something until then.”

Need? Would that you would never want or need of anything again, as long as he’s alive and breathing.  “Anythin’, Kitten.”

Your voice is low and soft as you make your request. “I need you to call me your wife.”

He snorts. “I can’t in front of the gang, Kitten, they’ll know.”

“Manželka, ” you say. And it catches him off guard. He’s tried to remember all the things you say, and this one isn’t familiar to him.

“What?”

You repeat it again, only slowly this time. “Manželka. It means wife.”

He understands now, like a secret code, words that can be spoken out loud but no one will know otherwise. “How do you say, ‘I love my beautiful wife?’”

Your lips curve into a smile, finding amusement and warmth in teaching him. “Miluji svou krásnou ženu,” you whisper back, your voice a veil of softness in the firelight that is growing dim.

Arthur tries it out, the unfamiliar words rolling awkwardly off his tongue. “Miluji svou krásnou ženu.” He grins, his chest swelling like a child who has just begun to learn to read. “How was that?”

He sees your dilated pupils, and your hands begin to travel down his body. “I can get you to say other things if you want…”

His eyes widen at your brazenness, and he feels his cheeks burn. “Kit—” he coughs, clearly caught off guard as you touch him in the most intimate of places. 

“Why, Mr. Morgan,” you giggle, kissing his chin. “Did I make you blush?”

The flames of the fire dance in your eyes as you pull him close, his breath mingling with yours. He nods, the rough stubble of his beard brushing against your cheek. "You did, indeed," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that is suddenly caught in the pleasantness of your mouth, and soon he is a thief once again.

***

“My God,” Hosea breathes, as the weight of Arthur’s words sink in. “I suspected you two were sweet on one another, but...” He blinks. “You…”

“Please don’t tell anyone,” Arthur says, raising his palms. “I only told you ‘cause I…” His voice falls for a moment. “I just had to tell someone.” He did it. He shared the truth. That you and him are married. Sparing the intimate details, of course, but he feels a weight being lifted, relieved that he can find someone to trust and share in his plight.

Hosea nods. “I understand, son.” Hosea looks back at Silver Dollar, his eyes weary with sorrow. “I wish that you both made it out.”

Hosea's voice carries a hint of regret, one that twitches the corners of his aged eyes, making Arthur wonder if the older man ever regrets the path they've chosen, the life on the run. "But since you're still here," Hosea continues, patting Arthur gently on the shoulder, "you've got to try to find a new life for yourself. And for her, too." His voice is gentle, a stark contrast to the usual sharpness that life demanded of them.

Arthur nods silently, his eyes heavy with unshed tears, reflecting the glaring light from the sun. He feels a strange mix of relief and desolation. Your absence was like he was missing a vital organ, and now that you’re back, he needs to approach things differently now. And it’s the hardest thing he’s ever done. 

“I can’t tell her, Hosea,” Arthur says. “She gets to be in a lot of pain when she tries to remember things. It hurts me to see her like that.” He tucks his chin, weighing out his next words. “It could kill her if she knew.”

“Maybe that’s what happened.”

Arthur’s eyes lift to look at Hosea to see a steely gaze. “What?”

“Dutch said she drowned.” Hosea pauses, his voice softening as he watches Arthur closely. "But we both know Dutch can spin a tale when it suits him." Hosea's eyes hold a spark of something unreadable—a mixture of suspicion and hope. "You found her alive, didn't you? That means there's more to this story, more than we've been told."

Arthur's breath catches in his throat, a mix of fear and determination setting into his features. He shakes his head. “I don’t want to believe that,” he admits, the words heavy as stones.

“Think about it, son,” Hosea argues. “I am the last person to want to think of Dutch in that way, but…” He pauses. “But if what I’ve heard about that ferry robbery is true…If Dutch really did kill that girl in cold blood…” He studies Arthur for a moment. “Did you ask Dutch about it?”

"Yes." His voice is barely a whisper, afraid that speaking it louder might make it real. "I confronted him. All he told me that he didn’t see her, like he's weighin’ whether I should be told the truth or spared from it." Arthur's hands clench tightly into fists, a deep-seated anger simmering beneath the calm exterior. “Like he’s protectin’ someone.” Or, he fears, himself.

Hosea sighs, his breath calm and steady. “Just be careful, Arthur.”

“You know I will.” Arthur’s reply is gruff, edged with the resolve that has carried him through more than a few tight spots. “Could you talk to him? See if maybe he will tell you what happened?”

Hosea nods. “I will.”

Arthur nods. “Thank you, Hosea.” And he turns to head toward Montana. “Kit is back at camp. She’d be happy to see you, I told her about you.” He mounts Montana and takes the reins. “I need to meet up with Charles and Javier. Trelawny is supposed to have information on Sean.”

“Oh? Where’s that?”

“Blackwater.”

Hosea tenses. “Be careful, son. Remember, you’re wanted dead or alive.”

Arthur offers a grim smile, the corners of his mouth twitching with a mix of determination and rueful acknowledgment. "Ain't my first dance with danger," he replies, tightening his grip on Montana's reins. The horse shifts beneath him, sensing the rising tension. "I'll keep my head low."

With a nod, the gunslinger turns Montana and rides southward, leaving Hosea to watch his retreat, a blend of concern and pride etched deep into his weathered face. The sun dips lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the dusty road as Arthur disappears from view.

Thank you for reading! :D

Tag Requests:

@photo1030 @eternalsams

[basicallyahedgehog]

This Time

The wonderful, amazing, incomparable @phoebe-delia celebrated her 2nd fandomversary this week. It's also recently been a year since I fully crashed into her DMs and then just never left, and she's also been kicking absolute ass in her non-fandom life too and I just super proud of her.

So I found this fic that has been languishing in my docs for way too long, dusted it off and finished it, and Pheebs, I present to you the completed "Fic to Wreck Phoebe." It has 8th year party games, boys being idiots, non-linear narrative, break-up and make-up, and is inspired by a Glee song, because I just had to. (One of our earliest conversations involved glee gifs, this was a given).

I love you so so so much, this little thing doesn't even come close to communicating that. But I hope you enjoy this little thing.

Read Below, or on AO3

He walked through the corridors, fingers running along the stone walls, eyes bright and heart heavy. So much had happened here, so long ago. 

Ghosts of his past self were around every corner, young and bright-eyed, older and world-weary. Laughing with his friends, racing off on adventures, snogging in dark alcoves. 

In his mind’s eye he saw the bright flash of his alcove-mate’s hair. He didn’t need a ghost to remind him of that face, those eyes, the tiny smile that hid in the corner of his smirk.

It hurt more knowing he was here, in this building, unaware that he was being thought of. 

Harry shook his head and pushed through the heartache. He only had himself to blame. 

The eighth year common room was loud and warm, the crackling heat of the fire a comforting addition to the noise and press of bodies against each other, vying for attention. They were all pleasantly tipsy, draped across armchairs or sprawled on the floor, watching the bottle to see where it landed. 

A cheer went up when it finally landed on Harry. He had somehow avoided it all night, but his luck seemed to have run out. 

“Truth,” he yelled, much to Seamus’ chagrin. They had been playing this for too long for Harry to trust his body to any of his friends’ dares. 

It was Ginny who got in first, her quidditch-captain’s voice ringing out across the room. “Who is the prettiest person in the school?”

Harry smirked. “Gin, you’re my ride or die, but we all know that the prettiest person is…” He trailed off purposely, teasing his friends by keeping them in suspense. In the light of day he could barely get a word through the permanent lump in his throat. But in the dim common room, his head buzzing with cheap alcohol, he could say anything. 

“Malfoy.”

He let himself wander, switching off his mind and allowing his feet to take him all over the castle. In only a few short weeks the school would be overrun with teenagers, but right now the halls were eerily silent. 

When he finally took in his surroundings, he almost regretted his aimless wandering. Taking in the door in front of him, he stopped himself just before he could reach for the handle. 

If he asked for a safe space, would it be the same? Would he walk into the cozy little room they had spent so many hours in, or had he lost that right when he had left?

“Never have I ever kissed a boy!”

Harry leaned further into the sofa cushions, letting the silly atmosphere wash over him. He was probably the most sober one in the room — although more emphasis should be given to the most than the sober. 

He took a sip of his drink, mind casting back to dark alleys and hazy clubs. He ignored the ache in his chest, the little voice in his head that insisted that he should have waited for a boy, not just the first bloke he’d seen that night in Muggle London. 

He scanned the room, attempting to shake off his thoughts. He watched as Dean and Seamus drank from each other’s cups, as Blaise knocked back a shot with a “I’ll try anything once.”

He watched as Draco sat stock still, staring at the bottle in his hand as if it had mortally offended him. He didn’t take a drink.

Try as he might, he couldn’t ignore the sinking feeling deep in his gut. He was too sober for this.

Harry paced back and forth in front of the door, repeatedly calling up the Room but never entering. 

I need a safe space.

I need to see Draco.

I need our room.

The bottle spun and spun and spun, or was that the room spinning? Harry had been getting tipsier and tipsier during these parties, unable to bear the persistent ache in his chest any longer than absolutely necessary. 

At the beginning the ache had only appeared during these parties, watching Draco allow himself to relax a little, counting the tiny wisps of hair that escaped his normally-neat ponytail. Recently, however, the ache had followed Harry wherever he went, calling up images of Draco’s small smile when he got the right answer in class, the bags under his eyes after a night of no sleep, the sound of his giggles when he was tipsy. 

Harry didn’t know how much longer he could stand it. 

He didn’t know how long he stood outside the door before he finally turned the knob. He’d entirely lost track of his thoughts, and didn’t know what to expect on the other side.

Whatever it was, surely it couldn’t make the ache in his heart any worse. 

He should be used to it by now, he’d been carrying it around for so long. In his dreams — and his nightmares — at work, at the Burrow, at the pub with his friends. It was all his own fault, not even the person he was aching for was to blame. 

He’d been so young, so stupid, and he’d ruined his own life before it had even really begun. 

“Oi, Potter!” 

Harry lifted his eyes from his essay, turning towards the group by the fire. Yet another drunken games night was in full swing, but he had begged off, claiming he had too much research to do for his final Transfiguration report. 

In truth, he didn’t think he could handle the sight of a soft, silly Draco tonight — or any night. If he allowed himself to look he would do something stupid. Like kiss a boy he didn’t get to keep. 

“Get over here!” Pansy was bright-eyed, draped across Ginny’s lap as she beckoned Harry over. “Blaise just dared Draco to kiss you, and he said he’d do it!”

He steeled himself, stepping through the door before he could back out. He had done that once, he wouldn’t do it again. 

Even if it was only him, now.

“You don’t have to.” Draco’s face was downturned, but Harry could still make out the blush on his cheeks, the teeth biting into his lower lip. His eyes lifted as Harry made his way over — slowly, as if in a dream — pale blue peeking through blonde lashes, betraying all the uncertainty and hope that Harry himself was feeling.

Had Draco been wanting this, too?

“I want to,” he breathed, kneeling in front of Draco’s chair, leaning closer, closer…

The Room looked the same as it always had for the two of them. Warm fire, cozy armchairs, soft blankets thrown over them haphazardly.

The books were still there, torn pieces of parchment marking their places when they became too sleepy or too absorbed in each other to continue. Harry was pretty sure he could see an old Slytherin tie stuffed haphazardly into the corner of the couch.

He walked towards the fire in a daze, toeing off his shoes as he stepped onto the rug. The rug that Draco had been adamant about keeping clean.

The rug upon which Draco had told Harry that he loved him.

The rug upon which Draco had sat, alone, as Harry had fled.

They’d had one, blissful month. A month of stolen kisses and laughs echoing down the corridors as they ran outside, or to the Room. A month in which Harry didn’t have a single nightmare, a month of cuddles by the fire and gentle hands running through his hair.

He could feel himself falling, falling, falling. Falling in love, falling into a happiness he never thought he’d have.

Falling into a fear of all he could lose, a fear that threatened to engulf him, swallow him whole.

He pushed it aside, focusing on NEWTs and soft lips and softer giggles. He tucked each smile into his heart and tried not to think about how it would all end.

The night before graduation, Draco dragged him into the Room. “One last time,” he whispered, pushing Harry against the wall, into an alcove, against the door of the Room as it swung shut. 

“One last time.”

It echoed through his head, the finality of it stinging. And so, he hadn’t really heard what Draco was saying, not until hours, days, weeks later. Not until after he had already ruined his life.

“I love you, Harry.”

Harry dropped to his knees, head in his hands, as the sobs ripped through him. Sobs he hadn’t let himself have all those years ago. Sobs that he still didn’t deserve, even ten years on.

This was a terrible, awful idea, coming back. How could he have said yes, knowing what it would mean? How could he live here, work here, knowing that doing so would be a constant reminder to Draco of what they had had, what he himself had torn apart.

He was selfish, and heedless, running head first into a situation yet again, thinking only of himself, of his own need to see Draco one more time. 

Harry stood stoic throughout the graduation ceremony, staring resolutely ahead despite his brain screaming at him to look just a little bit to his left. He squeezed his eyes shut as Draco’s name was called, not deserving to watch as he graduated — second in their class only to Hermione.

Harry was so, so proud of him, of how hard he’d worked. But he didn’t get to feel that, not anymore. Not when he’d gone and ruined everything.

Because why would Draco still want him after he had run like a coward?

Time lost all meaning as he sat, doubled over, in front of the fire, finally allowing himself to mourn the last ten years. To feel the pain of them — his fault, all his fault — to feel the pain of his own — foolish, stupid — decision to come back.

Time stood still as arms wrapped around him, as he was pulled back against a strong chest. As he was rocked, as hands ran through his hair.

Only one pair of arms felt like that. Only one pair of hands knew just how to detangle his mess of curls.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“Sshhh, love. It’s okay. It’s okay now.”

Harry scrambled back, rubbing furiously at his eyes as he stared at Draco in disbelief.

“No, it’s not! How can you say it’s okay when I ruined it all ten years ago! How can you stand to be here, with me?”

Draco reached out, taking Harry’s hands in his own. “You hurt me, yes. And we will need to talk about it sometime soon. But Harry, don’t you think we’ve had enough hurt and sadness? Don’t you think you’ve beaten yourself up over that night enough?”

Draco laughed as Harry stared at him in consternation. “You forget that I work with Neville, and that my best friend is married to a Weasley.” He pulled Harry back into his chest, running a tender hand over his cheek. “And if you’d stayed around long enough any time they tried to talk to you about it, you’d know that I’m not angry, never was, really. Upset, yes. But I know you, Harry. I know you were scared, and taken by surprise. I’m sorry that I didn’t come after you, that night or any in the years since.”

“I don’t deserve you.” The tears had stopped, but his heart still ached with all the time they’d lost, all the questions he was too scared to ask, even now.

“Oh, love. You deserve everything.” Soft lips pressed tender kisses to his forehead, his cheeks. “I never stopped loving you, even when I tried to. It’s always been you, Harry.”

There was so much he wanted to say. “How did you know I was here?”

“My magic felt you.”

Harry didn’t know who moved first, all he knew was soft lips on his, and hands in his hair. All he knew was the rug against his back as Draco laid him down, gently, tenderly. All he knew was the feeling rising up in his chest. 

“I love you, Draco. I love you, I love you, I love you.”

[pebblysand]

Heyyyy Pebbles! Just read your latest chapter and believe me it's just so so so well written! You're a legend really. So i also had a few questions, about Dean. How do you think he felt once ginny and harry got together? Are there some underlying feelings for her still? Also I thought it was a bit rude on Dean's end to just asked harry if he's sleeping with her. Does he think Harry's just messing with her? Also how do you imagine the Weasley's to react to these two getting back together? I'm not sure they'd be a hundred percent pleased with this development since they don't know how how hinny was at hogwarts and have only got a glimpse of post war hinny.

I understand if these are a lotttt of questions, but uk I think you'll always be the best source for post war hinny metas ans headcannons. I love your works so much and as a non native English speaker I'm sooo in awe with your writing. It's of another level altogether. Amd yeah, I hope everything else is great, it's so amazing how you take time out of your busy schedule to write for us. Thanks so much for that!

hello!! thank you! that is so sweet! 🥹

.

okay, so to answer your questions, regarding Dean: yeah, he totally is being a bit of an arsehole there. i don't think he has feelings for ginny, necessarily. i think he likes her, as a person, and he is worried about her. you might not remember this but there's a scene in chapter 11 where this happens:

[Harry] keeps his thoughts to himself because he already got into a near-altercation with a couple of blokes at the Auror office the other day, and doesn’t need to get into arguments with her, too. They were walking down a corridor, bent over and laughing coarsely at a magazine held between each other - ‘Well, yeah she’s fit but wouldn’t fuck that you know, don’t know where she’s been -’ From behind them, Harry raised his arm without even thinking about it - Dean was quick, grabbed his wrist and held it down before he could aim. Thank Merlin, Ron was off work, that day.  ‘Leave it,’ Dean said. ‘Not worth your job.’  Harry set his jaw and bit his tongue and almost screamed that yes it was worth his bloody job, as a matter of fact, but by the time Dean finally loosened his grip, the two idiots had already turned the corner.  Harry didn’t ask, but he did wonder, later, what Dean thought of it all.

i think Dean feels about Ginny a little bit like Harry feels about Mia. the kind of relationship that didn't work out and it's probably for the best, but that doesn't mean he doesn't respect her or get angry when people disrespect her. the way he holds harry's wrist down in this scene, in my opinion, sort of shows that he's considered hexing them too, you know? and, i think he doesn't know what's happened to ginny during DH (obviously) but he's probably heard from seamus that it all wasn't butterflies and roses, so he feels protective. he doesn't like that people are saying shit about her, and he thinks she's clearly hurting through something. he likely reckons that harry and she being together the summer of 98 and subsequently breaking up didn't help so i think he's a bit hostile towards harry.

also, like, and this is more the fault in faulty manufacturing intertextuality so i appreciate this might not be something everyone on here has read, but harry and dean&seamus aren't, like, friends. they're acquaintances and their relationships sort of go back and forth throughout the years but they don't always get on (for various reasons, not all of them to do with ginny, obviously). and also, if you think of the timeline of both fics and where they overlap, this is happening just as seamus has basically told dean to date other people because he's not ready for a relationship, post-war. dean is obviously very much in love with seamus and so that sucks. and so he's protective of ginny and generally annoyed at life, and so i think that's what comes out in him "confronting" harry in chapter 16. he's being a bit of a dick, but it's sort of calming his nerves, you know?

.

regarding the weasleys, it's funny. it's one of those things where, when i was writing this chapter and decided to take h&g away from everyone the way i did, i knew people were going to come to me and ask lol. what do her parents think? what do her brothers think? etc. it's addressed in the chapter a little bit (what they've told her parents about their relationship, molly's reaction to them going to the US, etc.) but not that much, i agree.

i think there's two reasons for that. first, i already had 22,000 words on this monster of a chapter without addressing the question of the weasleys, and so frankly, there was no space. but second, i also think i'm not a massive family fluff/family angst person. there are people who write this kind of thing much better than i do.

there are personal reasons for this: i'm the only child of a single mother who basically has no family to speak of - writing about family drama and inter-familial relationships requires a certain amount of research and guesswork on my end which, whilst lovely, i don't always have much time for. the "found family" trope also isn't really my cup of tea. i love that harry has found the weasleys and i love that he gets on with them and finds a sense of peace in his relationship with them after the dursleys, but i don't think it's something that fascinates me in the way that i want to write about it all the time. i love harry and ron's relationship. i love harry and hermione's relationship. i obviously love harry and ginny's. but writing about the weasleys as a whole is a fun exercise, sometimes, and i do do it, but it's not something i want to spend most of my time on.

i think (and this obviously shows in the fic), my favourite weasley relationship to explore is ginny and molly. this interest actually stems from a quote from dirgewithoutmusic's the kids who chose themselves, which reads:

This Ginny had never met a diary. But she had still died once, though in a flaming home and not a cold, damp castle basement. She had still been reborn into something her mother would always love and never fully understand. 

this is obviously an AU where the diary doesn't exist, but this quote (and particularly the last sentence) has been engrained into my psyche for years since i first read that fic, and it's given me a lot of thoughts. tbh, i used not to really have a headcanon for ginny and molly's relationship before reading this, and that quote has now sort of become the foundation and the guiding principle of how i see them. i always gravitate back towards it when it comes to ginny and her mother (and, to a certain extent, the whole family). i think there's so much love between ginny and her mother, (and between all of the weasleys in general) but sometimes a lack of true understanding of each other. the love is somewhat unconditional (see how percy was welcomed back) but it's also imperfect. i think ginny's family have values with which, in light of her own personal experiences, she doesn't necessarily adhere to. as such, this creates a level of misunderstanding which doesn't eliminate the love itself, but makes the day to day harder to deal with.

having said all of the above (sorry for the long preamble lol), i think when it comes to harry and ginny's relationship, the truth of how the weasleys feel is also complicated (and diverse). i don't think there's a "how the weasleys feel", there's a "how each individual weasley feels". i think bill, imo, is the most adult of them all. he looks at harry and ginny with caution, but isn't necessarily opposed to it. i don't think he's keen on them going on the trip itself (for similar reasons as his parents - he's quite conservative) but i think he's generally alright with it. i think charlie is cool with everything, cause charlie is just cool and clearly also loves traveling. percy, i think, feels so guilty and conflicted about his own decisions that he wouldn't express any judgment. he might pass judgment in his head but he doesn't express it.

i think when it comes to george, he's actually the one who understands ginny best. the level of grief he's experienced personally has made him a lot more attuned to other people's experiences. i think george is the only one who, whilst not knowing the specifics, kind of has an inkling that "yeah, something happened in hogwarts that year." he doesn't know what that something is, exactly, but he can tell it exists. a little bit like dean above, he can tell ginny is working through something (because he knows what it looks like). so, when she gets together (again) with harry, it's like: please don't get hurt. i think he's, as such, probably quite cold towards harry at the beginning of their relationship, not because he doesn't like harry, or doesn't like harry with ginny, but more like he doesn't want her to get hurt. lastly, as we do see in the chapter, i think ron has been following this train for long enough, by then, that when they get back together it's not really a surprise. he knows why they broke up (sort of) and why they're getting back together (sort of). i think he very much doesn't like the thought of them having sex together, but yeah it's his best friend and his sister, i do agree with him that it's a bit weird lol.

regarding her parents, it's complicated. i think mr weasley sees himself and molly in harry and ginny's relationship a lot. he sees the fun they have together, how much they love each other, how much harry respects her (and obviously he likes harry as a person) so i don't think he really has a problem with it. he understands what it's like to be young and in love. you can kind of see that early on when he gives them the sex talk. i think his view would have been different if ginny has been like "harry was a dick to me and broke up with me," because he obviously wouldn't stand for his daughter being mistreated, but here ginny was the one who broke up with harry and she very much told the family it wasn't his fault. harry was clearly heartbroken, so i think mr weasley doesn't blame him for anything. i also think he has a very good relationship with ginny and trusts her to make her own decisions, knows that they "raised her well", you know? and, i think he's a bit like "well, they're adults." unlike molly, i reckon arthur understands a lot more what it's like to have adult relationships with your adult children. even when harry is a teenager, he never infantilises him. always treats him with respect and indulges his concerns and understands his eagerness to be involved. so, i think generally, he's quite happy harry and ginny got back together, because he can see they love and respect each other and hopes it'll last in the long run. he also understands that young people sometimes make mistakes, and that's okay.

molly... molly adores harry. she thinks he's a great boy who has been through terribly difficult stuff and she just loves him so much. she obviously sees herself as his mother, too. so, i don't think she sees him as a bad "option" for ginny, necessarily. but, by the time they get together, her relationship with ginny has become so difficult and strained, i think she just doesn't know what to do. if she expresses any sort of opinion (about them living together, about them going away together, ect.) she knows ginny is going to go off at her. ginny and molly have very different values when it comes to sex and relationships, and ginny obviously feels very insecure about her past, and feels judged by her mother, which doesn't help much. i think molly interpreted ginny's breaking up with harry and her partying streak as misbehaviour, rather than the sort of cry for help it was, and that caused a lot of tension. and, i think, even if she could tell something was wrong underneath the surface, she didn't quite know how to handle it. her only response was to tell ginny to "just stop," and send howlers, which wasn't much help. she is frustrated, doesn't know why ginny also quit school, doesn't approve of her decision to pursue quidditch, etc. i think what ginny needed, back then, was for her mother to pull her into a hug and rock her to sleep but molly didn't know that, and so she didn't do it. it's a whole misunderstanding.

so, i think molly has a lot of thoughts about harry and ginny, i actually think most of them are positive-though-cautious but she is walking on eggshells and so doesn't really say anything.

.

pfew, sorry this was so long, lol! hope it makes sense.

[sweetly-yours-and-mine]

i just stumbled across far from my eyes and holy shit??? one of the most beautiful fics i’ve read in a WHILE. perfectly captures the clumsy and beautiful connection that occurs between friends all too often and how naturally those people fit into each other’s lives. i love when writing feels quiet. like when i read that the voice in my head was whispering as to not disturb this precious moment between two characters. i have so many wonderful things to say about your writing but i don’t know how to put it all into words. that fic made me forget i was reading. i hope you continue the series because i feel like writing like yours is hard to come across in any fandom AND in published writing.

hi sweet anon! (so sorry for not responding sooner, i've been super busy these past few days but every time i thought of your ask i'd get giddy inside)

thank you, thank you, thank you! writing is hard, and it sends me over the moon when readers let me know that the effect i wanted to achieve was achieved, especially with 'far from my eyes' because that was exactly what i wanted, those awkward and fumbling little steps of young love even if javi and the reader both knew each other for so long

and that idea of whispering?? i never thought about it like that and i've always struggled in trying to find how exactly to articulate the action and my thoughts in my writing without intruding on the scene or the flow of the words but not rambling on and on for hours at a time, now that i have a name to it, i'll definitely know what to be looking for when i keep writing

as for 'Don't Tell Me', i do plan on continuing it for sure but i first really do need to finish my finals for this semester as well as Narcos s3 (lol typical me to write for a show i haven't finished), and i have ideas for two marc spector series as well as a dieter bravo series, so it's merely a matter of me buckling down to write these four

i do have another javi oneshot (that i may or may not be extending into a little oneshot universe) right: here

and since i want to spread the love, i do think that your ask could just as well apply to these fanfic writers on tumblr, since i really do look up to them and their writing styles are ones i think heavily influence mine:

@softlyspector - the absolute gold tier standard of writing, she's got some great Joel and Din stuff, and i quite literally throw myself of cliffs for her writing and characterization (especially of the moon knight system, i still need to get around to reading Tales Untold and giving it the full reblogs it deserves)

@pennyserenade - i consider miranda as the javi p expert, in terms of just helping me dive into characters and motivations, she's absolutely amazing (there's a reason she's studying this stuff and it shows) extremely talented, i would die to have 'scenes from a marriage' series with javi p in a published, bound book

@mourningbirds1 - 'don't look and it won't hurt' is just *mwah* i can't even articulate my thoughts about how much i enjoy this series (and hopefully you'll see how much i really do love her story sometime soon) (also the sweetest person around, ok?)

as for published authors i read and look up to (in the same levels as the writers and the works i mentioned above: Sally Rooney, Margaret Atwood, John Steinbeck, Seamus Heaney, Samuel Beckett

and if i could name 'a swift pure cry' by Siobhan Dowd as well

anways nonnie sorry if this was rambly and just grammatically horrendous and not the answer you were looking for, but i wanted to let you know ab how warm and fuzzy this made me feel and extend that feeling to the lovely souls here as well and give you a little sneak peak into my future plans

[pantstomatch]

I think you should help me finish this HP romance novel...

so deep in the archives of my WIPs I found this unfinished Harry Potter AU gem from 2005 (yes, 2005!) that’s got all my favorite tropes: adventure, hurt/comfort, angst, childhood trauma (tw for mentions of abuse), found family, guns, threats of bodily harm, good guys masquerading as bad guys, an obvious plot set up to have Seamus Finnigan swoon into Theodore Nott’s manly arms, idek guys, but NEVILLE. The truly tragic thing, as I was bemoaning to @lissadiane , is that I have NO IDEA where I was going with this. Absolutely none, except for end-game Seamus/Theodore, and add that on top of the fact that it’s proven I am TERRIBLE at writing straight-up harlequin romance, you all should probably tell me EXACTLY, with bullet points and possibly an outline, how you think this should end. And then who knows maybe I can cross is off my WIP list (twelve years, guys. TWELVE.)

Seamus cursed under his breath. Even through the heavy sheets of rain he recognized the black barrels of the guns, and he was probably imagining the resonating clicks of them cocking, levelly trained, since the cascading water was a muted roar in his ears, but. He slowly lifted his hands out and away from his body. “Hands up, Nev,” he said to the man standing next to him, frozen in palpable nervous fear. “This is not a good day to die.” “Is there ever one?” Nev joked weakly. The guns seemed to be getting closer, and Seamus blinked rapidly to keep his gaze relatively clear, the rain drowning his skin, plastering his canvas clothing to his body. They’d only been out there for three days, and Seamus was so unprepared and so terminally wet that he felt like his pores would break open and he’d melt into the black, rich soil. Shit. If by some freakish chance they got out of there alive, Snape was going to kill them. The first thing he noticed was the man’s cold scowl. All right, honestly, the first thing he noticed was the man’s clinging black t-shirt, but the second thing he noticed was the man’s scowl, and the reflection of it in his eerie green eyes. “Dr. Neville Longbottom?” he growled. “Yes,” Seamus said hastily, ignoring the sharp look Nev sent him and resisting the urge to send a commiserating one right back at him. Way to be obvious. The man’s gaze narrowed, flicking between the two muddy, bedraggled men, and in that moment Seamus knew he didn’t believe him, wouldn’t have believed him even if he was the best liar in the world. “Dr. Longbottom,” the man said again, more firmly, turning towards Nev. “Come with me.” Another cold glance toward him told Seamus that they didn’t really care about him. No way was he about to leave Nev alone, though, even if he thought he could make it through the forest by himself. Which he held no illusions about. Nev was the one who knew all the flora and fauna. Seamus was just a useless mouth and steady support. “Seamus,” Nev whispered hoarsely, eyes wide and dark on the rigid… soldier? in front of them. He groped toward him with an open hand and Seamus caught his arm, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Not leaving you, Nev,” he said fiercely, because damn it. Nev was the closest thing to family he had.

***

Seamus had been a skinny preteen when he left Ireland and his father’s heavy fists, and a scruffy, lean-hungry teenager when Nev had found him curled up in his Gran’s shed. He snapped when Nev pet him, a wary, shivering mess of hurt and loneliness and bone-weary fear. But Nev was persistent, if fidgety with nerves, and Nev’s Gran was a force of pure stubborn energy, and Seamus didn’t stand a chance. He was clean, dry and well-fed within the space of mere hours. And within days he was tamed and in love with a seventy-year-old woman and a plump boy with a hiccupy stutter and a tendency to weather his peers’ taunts with all the bend and sway of a young sapling. So Seamus, more brain than brawn—and even that was debatable, according to Gran—fought back for Nev with his tongue, lashed out unashamedly and more often than not got beat to a bloody pulp for it, but Nev’s rueful smile was worth everything; every bruise, every cut lip, every pinch-mouthed tsk from Gran. They were brothers in every way except blood. ***

“Seamus?”

“It’s all right, Nev,” Seamus assured him, walking as close as he could to him as they stumbled after the men with the guns, conscious of even more men with guns stalking behind them. “Everything’ll be fine.” Of course, he didn’t know that. And Nev knew that he didn’t know that, that he was talking out of his arse—like usual—but it didn’t matter. Nev wasn’t asking for the truth. Seamus curled his fingers over Nev’s wrist and held on tightly. *** Gran’s death had been like a kick in the teeth, because neither of them had been expecting it. Seventy-nine and still flashing her ankles at all the bachelors in town, still mowing the lawn behind Seamus’ back, still cooking and driving and laughing and doing all the sorts of things that were supposed to stop first. Stop before her heart gave out, stop before she grew cold in her sleep, stop and give them some sort of warning, sign, anything. Seamus didn’t cry at the funeral, but Nev did. Hard, frame-wracking tears that were plentiful enough for both of them. Gran had left them the house jointly and they sold it along with her ancient rabbit auto, and then they got the hell out of town. Nev took a laboratory job in Brazil, head botanist for an experimental firm, and Seamus didn’t hesitate to go with him. He held his own degree in journalism, squeaked by at uni, and he was relatively good with languages, so Dr. Severus Snape—a hook-nosed, dark-eyed man that Seamus didn’t trust as far as he could spit—agreed to give him a chance in research. Seamus was willing to do almost anything to keep close to Nev. But they shouldn’t have been out in the rain forest. They shouldn’t have stepped out of the lab, even though Nev had been openly hurting and raw and shocked. Seamus hadn’t been. What else could they have been doing, secretive and covert in a lab no one knew existed? Biological warfare or something very nearly like it. It’d torn Nev up inside, and though Seamus didn’t particularly care one way or the other, he’d followed Nev blindly out into the lush tangle of lianas, out into the unforgiving, dense and deadly landscape. And now they were caught, well and good, and even if the men weren’t drug runners or guerillas, even if they weren’t mercenaries sent out by Snape, they had guns and knew who Nev was, and the outcome wasn’t likely to be pretty. *** Nev and Seamus had been wandering around for days, packs heavy and minds weighted with dread, so it didn’t surprise them that the men made them stop just before nightfall. They set up camp, efficiently, silently, and Seamus stood next to a shaking Nev until the first man, the man with the cold scowl, came up and forced them apart. It was a smart move, Seamus acknowledged. Neither of them would try to escape without the other. The man was looking at him speculatively now, probably because he knew it’d been worth it to let him tag along. Worth it to keep Nev in line. Briefly, Seamus wondered if it would’ve been better to have hung back, swooping in and snagging Nev from under their noses during the night. He doubted, though, that he could’ve gotten in and out of the camp alive. Seamus was loud, not stealthy. He was brash and lively and was possibly the worst person to have near in a crisis. He vibrated with the effort of holding his tongue. Nev needed him whole and thinking, and that was just about the only thing that could ever shut Seamus up. “You’re Seamus Finnigan,” he said, and his voice was smooth, cultured, English. A shiver spiked up Seamus’ spine, because that probably meant Snape, and Snape was not going to be happy with his little rogue scientist and comedic side-kick. “Yes,” he answered thickly, trying to swallow his heart back down his throat. The man lifted a long-fingered hand and skimmed it over Seamus’ left brow, over the curve of his cheek, the scar at the corner of his lower lip he’d had since he was eight, and the gentle exploration belied the impassive set of his mouth and the ever-present coldness in his eyes. “We’ve been looking for you.” Seamus blinked. “You. What?” Weird turn. Utterly odd turn. Hadn’t they wanted Neville? The man cleared his throat, dropped his hand abruptly and said, “Seamus Daniel Finnigan, son of Cara Elizabeth Bannon Finnigan and Daniel Joseph Finnigan of Kenmare, Ireland.” “I don’t.” Seamus paused, eyes darting around, instinctively trying to search out Nev. “Finnigan,” the man barked, and Seamus’ gaze flew back to his face, something jittery and panicked rabbiting about his stomach, “we’re taking you home.” If Seamus had eaten anything at all substantial in the past three days, he would’ve vomited all over his boots.

“You’re shitting me,” Seamus breathed, words spewing out instead of bile, stomach clenching with dry heaves. “I’m. You,” he stammered, unable to line up his thoughts properly with his words. “Did they—No.” There was no way, no fucking way Seamus was going back to Ireland. He was twenty-five for gods’ sake. A grown man. No one could make him do anything. The guns were really persuasive, of course, but short of killing him and dragging his dead carcass onto an overseas flight, Seamus wasn’t going anywhere near Ireland. The man had the gall to look almost apologetic. “I’m afraid you don’t have a choice.” “You’re afraid?” He was shaking, deep down inside if not outwardly, and Seamus knew about being afraid. Scared shitless and helpless, and the idea of the cold bastard in front of him ever feeling anything remotely like that was laughable. “I’m not going back,” he said, choking on his rising panic. The man’s mouth tightened, but he just grabbed Seamus’ arm and tugged him further into camp, past men setting down arms to take up tent pegs, a man unfolding a small cooking stove and a communal pot, and Seamus dug his heels in stubbornly, gaze skimming over everyone and everything, looking for Nev. He stumbled and caught himself, stumbled and caught, stumbled and caught until the man brought him up short with a wordless snarl, and for a moment Seamus thought he was going to toss him over his shoulder. “They didn’t say I couldn’t hurt you,” he warned in a low voice. Seamus tipped his chin up, because it didn’t matter. Nothing did, if the result was going ‘home.’ A dangerous gleam flickered over the man’s eyes and he leaned in, nose pushing close to Seamus’, and rasped with perverse satisfaction, “And they didn’t say anything at all about your little science friend.” Pure anger flashed through Seamus, tinting his gaze and pooling hotly around his heart. “You harm one hair on his head and I will kill you.” “I could give him back to Snape, couldn’t I?” the man went on, dismissing Seamus’ threat, batting it away like an inconsequential gnat. “You don’t believe me?” Seamus growled, hands clenched. “The point, Finnigan,” the man said tightly, “is not what I believe, but what you believe.” And the point, Seamus realized, was that they had Nev, and as long as they had Nev Seamus would do whatever he needed to do to keep him safe. *** Seamus figured they wouldn’t have caught them at all if they hadn’t left the relative safety of the laboratory and compound. There was no way they could’ve gotten inside and gotten Seamus out cleanly. No, that wasn’t right; they could’ve gotten inside easily. They had gotten inside easily, slipped in far enough to slide an unmarked manila envelope under Nev’s door, far enough to know what kind of man Nev was and what kind of man Seamus was. Because they only had to lure him out, and what better way to do that than to use the horrible truth? Nev couldn’t stay where his work was possibly being used to harm others, and they’d played right into these men’s hands, whoever the hell they were. Seamus still wasn’t sure. He picked at the small bowl of stew they gave him, barely eating, chest tight. It was raining again, a steady pour, when the man made him get on his knees and crawl into a small, sodden tent. Then he crawled in after him, and there was barely enough room for him to crisscross his legs, large, menacing-looking gun lying across his lap, eyes sharply focused on Seamus even in the darkness. “Sleep,” he growled, and Seamus curled up on his side, determined to keep awake just for spite. His body was exhausted, though, and he didn’t last five minutes once his head touched the ground. *** When he was six, Seamus’ father gave him his first pony and his first broken arm. He’d been mouthy from the womb, a trait his mother told him he’d gotten from his grandfather, a cheerfully mischievous man that Seamus only vaguely recollected. He remembered the sweet tobacco smell of his pipe and his booming laugh and his lilting, teasing tone when he weaved stories, but he’d died before Seamus reached five years and, in retrospect, he knew that’s when everything had gone to shit. Seamus always thought the comparison to his grandfather was a good thing, great even, until his father knocked him into the doorframe for sassing him and left four finger bruises on the backs of each of his stick-thin arms. He was small like his mum, fine boned at the wrists and quick as lightning on his feet, so he’d learned to hide until his father learned to starve him out, and nothing went right for Seamus from then on. He started hating his mother a little bit more every time she turned away. *** Seamus jerked awake, a hoarse yell caught in his throat, a warm hand holding him down, grip tightening on his shoulder as he tried to squirm away. He breathed out, “Stop, stop,” harshly, and tears pricked his eyes as he twisted onto his side and puked up what little he’d gotten down at supper. *** Seamus was fine by the time morning rolled around—absolutely fine—and he forced down breakfast and tried not to make his breath of relief too audible when they let him near Nev again. Seamus was sure there’d be plenty of opportunities to dodge the men with guns once they were out of the rainforest, once he could get his bearings on more familiar land. Seamus was downright cheery. “What’s going on?” Nev asked in a tense whisper as they were herded side-by-side over the lush growth on the rainforest floor. “Nothing,” he lied, and his forced grin felt more like a grimace. Nev looked at him askance, like he’d lost his mind. “Nothing? We’re not headed back toward the compound, so do you—do you think they’ll ransom us?” “No.” Seamus took a deep, bracing breath, then said in a rush, “They’re from my father, Nev.” “Your…?” Nev paused mid-step, staring at him incredulously, and then one of the men prodded him sharply in the back with the tip of his gun, spitting a terse, “Move it,” in German. Seamus automatically flipped him off, and the man, large and ham-fisted, down-turned mouth seemingly carved from granite, pushed Nev forward again and grabbed Seamus’ arm. “Have anything to say to that?” he demanded in heavily-accented English. Seamus squirmed and the man tightened his grasp, biting into his pale skin, and that was familiar. He knew how that worked. “Seamus,” Nev said nervously in his patented don’t-taunt-the-bear tone, worried brown eyes bouncing between them. Seamus ignored him, grinning up at the German. “You don’t touch him anymore, and we’ll be just fine.” Thick brows furrowed to a point over his nose. “Are you telling me what to do?” “I’m merely suggesting,” Seamus went on blithely, “that you not touch him.” His amiable tone seemed to confuse the man, but his menacing stance didn’t change. “Suggesting,” he echoed, like he couldn’t quite believe his captive’s sheer stupidity. Seamus gave him a purposefully lazy half-shrug. “Advising.” “And what would you be able to do about it?” the man sneered. “Oh, I can be creative,” he assured him, nodding, a small, cheeky grin gracing his face. The man growled, yanking Seamus up on his tiptoes, but then a voice cut through the thick, muffled jungle and he abruptly dropped him. Seamus barely caught his balance when the man with the cold scowl and moss-green eyes strode up, the tops of his cheeks red from anger that was strangely not directed at him. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Krum?” Ah, Krum. The German meathead had a name. Seamus waited patiently for Krum to fling out the other man’s alias, because he was honestly getting tired of calling him the man with the cold scowl in his head, although he supposed he could’ve just made up a name. Like Lou. Louis. He darted his eyes to Nev, who was gazing at him oddly and yeah. Seamus was well aware he was on his way to hysteria-land. He had a first class ticket. “What does it matter?” Krum snarled. “You damage the merchandise,” the man said simply and with deadly calm, “you don’t get paid.” He jerked his head toward the men in front. “Go on. I’ll stay back here with them.” “So now I can’t be damaged?” Seamus said recklessly, pushing because he always pushed. “What about before? You said they wouldn’t care if I was hurt.” The man studied him, scrutinized him with intense, hard eyes that gave nothing away, and he slipped off his army-green cap, running a hand roughly through his damp, straggly blond hair before firming the hat back on decisively. Finally, he said with almost whisper-soft threat, “If you measure it right, Finnigan, pain doesn’t have to leave any visible marks.”

***

A twitchy bloke with fine brown hair and pale eyes shook Neville awake, but the night was still dark and heavy when he crawled out of the tent and blinked up at the man who’d been guarding Seamus so closely. Nott, he thought his name was, just as he knew they called the twitchy bloke Mouse and that one of the smaller ‘men’ was actually a woman. Neville had always been more observant than Seamus under stress. Nott had his gun slung over one shoulder and his scowl was more pinched than cold in the low-lantern light. “Dr. Longbottom,” he said, and Neville was struck, not for the first time, by how polite they’d all been to him. Waving guns, yes. And okay, sure, pointed threats were tossed about more than once, but. Besides the large German, no one seemed very intent on harming them, mentally or physically. “What’s wrong?” Neville asked, and Nott nodded across the camp to where a tall, gangly man called Boot was shifting drowsily on his feet. He yawned wide. Neville could practically hear the pop and grind of his jaw, and he rubbed his eyes in commiserating sympathy, swiping away the last of his interrupted sleep. And then he heard a low keening sound and snapped his gaze back to Nott, who visibly flinched, chased by a fleeting grimace before his face went stone-quiet again. All right. Neville knew what was wrong. Unsteadily, he stood up, keeping a wary eye on Nott as he crossed the camp and dropped to his knees again at the opening of Seamus’ tent. The flap was open, golden lamplight dimly outlining his restless form. Seamus was curled up on his side, arms tucked between his drawn up legs and his chest, and in the semi-darkness he looked exactly as he had as a boy, shivering cold no matter how many blankets he had, whimpers slipping past his lips no matter how tight his teeth were clenched. It’d broken Neville then, when they were barely thirteen, and it broke him now, seeing the dark jacket—Nott’s?—tucked over him, and the uncontrollable shivers that always grew more pronounced when his mind crawled desperately back toward consciousness. He knew what to look for in the moments before Seamus was going to wake up, the rapid shift of his eyes under thin-skinned lids, the panting breaths, a yell readying in the back of his mouth, but he never knew how to help. Neville sat on his heels and watched, hands fisted on his thighs. Nott was behind him, hovering. Neville felt his warmth at his back, his agitated movements, and finally Nott pressed against his side in the cramped tent and hissed, “Well? Do something.”

At Neville’s continued silence, he went to move past him, one hand already reaching out toward Seamus, and Neville caught hold of his forearm, clamping down hard with thick fingers. He shook his head slowly, mouth and lips and throat dry, making his voice just above a rasp when he said, “Touching him only makes it worse.” *** Seamus had been all bones and snarl when Neville first found him, skin pale and jaundiced under layered filth. Strangely confident, Neville had approached him exactly how he would a starving dog, palm out and up, unintelligible soothing nonsense spilling softly out his mouth, and Seamus had sat stone-still, growls dried up in his throat, large eyes watery, shoulders slumped in defeat. Neville had figured the boy thought he was going to toss him out on his rear, and it was pouring, a damp chill permeating the clapboard box. Neville could see all the hurt and acceptance and fear wrapped up in his dark hazel eyes. Gran made everything better, of course, because Gran had been stubborn and kindly firm from the first. She had Seamus doing chores by the end of the week. His eyes were bright, color a high rose, and he didn’t talk about the nightmares that stalked his sleep, the ones that kept Neville awake and helpless in the twin across their room. No, as soon as the sun hit the horizon, Seamus was… Seamus. Loud and laughing, with a flash-pan temper that was never once, in all their years as family, directed at Neville or Gran. And Seamus never, ever learned to shut up. He never learned control, never learned moderation, and it frankly terrified Neville to think of what would’ve happened if Seamus hadn’t run away, hadn’t curled up in a tense ball in Gran’s shed. There were so many infinitesimal ways Seamus’ life could’ve gone horribly worse than it had, and Neville… Neville felt guilty sometimes, because deep down he was selfishly glad that Seamus’ father had been so big a bastard. He couldn’t imagine living without him. *** Neville wasn’t stupid. Obviously. Twelve years was a long time to waste searching for a recalcitrant son, and by the look of things… these guys were professionals—efficient, spare, smart. They worked well together, worked good together. He eyed up his choices and finally approached Boot, long-limbed and shaggy with an easy grin that looked practiced, dangerous, but was a least overtly friendly…

[blushiinghoney]

"worth" | g.w

summary: it's a bet.

content: angst, gender-neutral (i never specified anything so it's okay i think), not house specific.

warnings: none, except my english (it's not my first language).

a/n: it's the first time writing for this fandom so... just wanted to put this out there i guess, let me know what you think!

pa r t 2 - "plan hea"

m a s t e r l i s t

[do not repost or copy my works to other sites - i did it myself, you can check it out on MY ao3]

Everything was going fine. You and George had started dating a couple of weeks ago, and you couldn’t be happier. I mean, how could you not? He was such a sweet person, so attentive, so funny, so charismatic. Or so you thought.

You still remembered the day he asked you out. A monday afternoon, after classes had ended and the both of you were just hanging out in one of the hallways. You were waiting for your friend, and he was waiting for his twin. The question had slipped out of his mouth so easily that surprised both of you, “I really wanna take you out, will you let me?”. The answer was an obvious “yes”.

That’s how it started, and it was great. Until you heard something that broke your heart. It was by mistake really, you didn’t mean to eavesdrop on the conversation between Seamus and Dean, but when they said your name your interest peaked.

“I can't believe he actually did it”

“I know right? To think George asked y/n out for 5 galleons, just to prove a point to his brothers”

“I mean they were drunk”

“And is that any kind of excuse?”

As you heard those words your heart was almost falling out of your chest. Everything was a lie. He didn’t like you, he just wanted to make himself feel good, feel superior. And to think you actually started to fall for him. How could you be such an idiot? By the time you reached your dorm you had tears running down your face, and, somehow, with all the pain you felt in your heart you almost felt numb to any kind of emotion.

But no matter how much it hurt you had to end his game. So the next day, when you went to the Great Hall to get breakfast you immediately went to sit next to George and his friends (like you’ve been doing for the past days).

“Hi guys”, you sat yourself at the table, “Hey George, I have something for you”, you smiled and reached for the pocket of your robe, taking out the galleons and extending your hand to him, “here, 5 galleons, because apparently, that’s all I’m worth to you”. Everyone looked at you, surprised. And as you were getting up to go to your friends George tried to say something “Darling, it’s not- it’s not what you think!” “Save it, George! How dumb do you think I am? This was nothing but a game to you, and now I gave you the victory. We have nothing else to do with each other, we’re done!”

And you left, because no matter how much it broke your heart, you are worth more than a stupid bet, and 5 stupid galleons, you deserve someone who cherishes you and loves you for the amazing person you are, not simply because they want to prove a point.

[thotsome]

Tell Them

Harry Potter x Fem!Reader

Summary: When Harry sees you getting a little too comfortable with his friends, he realises he doesn't want to keep you a secret anymore.

Warnings: Dom!Harry, Sub!Reader, nsfw, smut, penetrative sex, oral sex- female receiving, master kink, choking and size kink if you squint, angst start and fluff ending because :)

Word count: 1.4k

~♡︎~

As you sat on Seamus' lap and laughed at his stupid, sexist jokes, you spotted Harry Potter fuming about 15 feet away. You smiled.

Tonight was going to be fun.

"You're so funny, Seam" you said as you ran your hand up his arm. Seamus looked delighted

Harry looked furious.

His bad, you thought. If he doesn't want to tell people we're dating I'm going to act like we aren't.

Him and his stupid hero complex. He insisted that being the chosen one's girlfriend was going to make you a target. What he didn't take into account was that you could look after yourself just fine. You were a Gryffindor through and through.

And today you were wearing a Gryffindor red dress. It was working.

Poor Harry.

"Hey, um, you wanna come to my dorm to see my...uh... chocolate frog cards?" stammered Seamus.

Oops. You hadn't foreseen this. He obviously wanted to show you more than his cards.

But it would make Harry jealous. And if Seamus tried anything you'd just shoot him down.

"Sure", you said, getting off his lap and taking his hand, but not before you saw Harry glaring at you two.

As you reached the boys' dorm and sat on Seamus' bed, he began frantically hunting for his "prized collection". He was such a liar. You almost didn't feel bad for leading him on.

"I'm sure they were here, Weasley must've nicked 'em-" he said

You gave him a reassuring smile that said take all the time you need.

He sighed and went back to "searching".

Just as you were starting to regret coming upstairs, the door was flung open.

And there stood Harry.

"Get out", he said to Seamus, in a dangerously low voice. Seamus looked over his shoulder at you and left the room.

"Well?" You asked.

"I've changed my mind" and then he stode over the room and his mouth was on yours.

He tasted like butterbeer and wind. Like Harry.

You could never get enough of him.

His hands roamed all over your dress. You wanted them below the annoying material. But you couldn't let Harry get away with this so quickly. You pulled away.

"Changed your mind about what?" You asked.

"About telling everyone"

"Why?"

"Y/n" he breathed. His hands pressed your waist gently.

"Tell me, Harry."

He didn't answer. Instead he kissed your neck and snaked his way behind you. You couldn't bring yourself to think rationally when he was nibbling at your soft spot like this. Before you could turn around he picked you up from the back and set you on the bed on your knees while he positioned himself right behind you.

You could feel his hard on pressing against your ass. You moaned. Harry took that as an invitation and unzipped your ridiculously tiny dress and threw it aside.

He raised his eyebrows once he saw what you were wearing underneath it. See-through red panties and a push up bra.

As he ran his fingers lightly over your body, you shivered.

"You little slut," Harry said "Who's your master?" You didn't reply. You couldn't let Harry get the better of you. You pursed your lips.

"Is this how it's gonna be?" Harry asked "Y/n? You're not going to tell me who your master is?"

You shook your head. Not today.

Harry tutted and chuckled. You were such a Gryffindor. He bit your shoulder lightly as he unhooked your bra. You could feel his hunger even from behind you. He took your breasts in his hand and squeezed them.

You swallowed, trying not to moan.

Harry cupped your breasts and played with them, making them bounce and pinching your nipples lightly. You couldn't help it. You whimpered. You wanted him inside you so badly you could feel your walls clenching.

Harry growled at hearing the sound and ripped your panties off you. He wrapped his fingers around your neck lightly and pushed you face- first onto the bed, your ass in the air, your back arched, as he stood at the edge of it.

"Mm, so wet already" Harry said "you're such a good whore, y/n, tell me who your master is and I'll give you what you want."

And you did want. You wanted it so bad.

But all this was to teach him a lesson. You held your ground.

"All right then, if this is how you want to act"

Harry split your thighs with his hands and touched his lips to your now slick opening and you moaned. Very loud. It was so damn good. You pushed your ass onto Harry's face to create the friction you so desperately needed. Harry complied, tracing circles around your clit with his tongue and eating you out. You couldn't stand it. You gripped the sheets with your fingers tightly enough to tear them.

As Harry's tongue slipped inside you, an almost primitive sound left your mouth. . You could feel the knot in your stomach tightening, so close to your release. You were going to cum.

Before that could happen, Harry removed his mouth. You let out a frustrated whimper. Damn this. You were going to get what you wanted.

"Harry," you said in an innocent tone, your voice muffled by the sheets, "you're my master" You prayed to Merlin it would work.

And it did. Harry groaned at hearing those words finally come out of your mouth. He flipped you over and pinned your wrists to the bed as you opened your legs wide for him, your feet on the ledge and your knees in the air.

He removed his pants and underwear with his free hand and allowed you to admire him freely. He was really so gorgeous. You inhaled when his member sprang up, now free. He was huge. You'd done this with him before, but you always wondered how you could fit all that inside you. You weren't complaining though.

Harry smiled at you before lining himself up at your entrance. That smile still made your stomach flip.

As he penetrated you, you screamed and arched your back. It was so amazing every. single. time.

Harry went slow first, attempting not to hurt you. But you needed him to go faster and deeper. "Harder, master" you managed to speak between moans and gasps.

Harry released your wrists and hooked his thumb into your mouth. You sucked at it greatfully. He used his other hand to knead your breasts and you couldn't have been more euphoric.

But then Harry hit your g-spot, causing your eyes to roll to the back of your head. As he continued pounding you into the bed, you moaned and panted and gasped. This man owned you. You'd let him do anything to you. He took his now wet thumb out of your mouth and stimulated your clit. You closed your eyes. You could pass out of the pleasure.

"Open your eyes y/n", Harry said, "I want to watch you fall apart"

Your eyes fluttered open and you looked into his

Harry gave a particularly deep thrust and you could see stars as you moaned his name. After a few more of the same, your walls squeezed Harry's cock as you came over it.

"Oh fuck, y/n you're so beautiful" Harry continued thrusting into you and you felt his member expand. He fucked you through your aftershocks and made your orgasm last longer.

A few moments later you could feel his hot cum fill you up.

Heaven.

As you both lay panting on the bed, Harry turned your face upto his and said "You know why I changed my mind y/n?" You looked at him expectantly as he stroked your hair.

"Because I can't let anyone else do that to you. I love you, y/n."

"I love you too, Harry."

"Reckon everyone already knows that by the way you were screaming my name. I didn't use any silencing charms, you know."

As you mock punched him, you knew that it didn't matter if everyone heard you. You were together, and from how much you loved each other, you would be for a while.

[nilolol30]

Endangered: 6

_____________________

"And that's how you got into the slums? That must have been terrifying" Seamus looks like he's visibly shaking like I told him a the most scary horror story.

"Yeah it kinda was it was my first experience with zurks too before I was in the cryopod they were only just started to become a problem" they were only ment to eat trash right?

"So you don't remember much before you going in the cryopod or your name?" Seamus put his hand on his...chin? In thought.

"To be honest I don't even know if I went in myself I remember feeling really scared maybe I was forced in?" In no circumstances would I go into a cryopod I'd rather die when I'm supposed to.

"That's... worse. I remember when all the outsiders were here Zbaltazer used to say that meditation helps clear the mind and help you focus maybe you can try that?" meditation... haven't given that a shot yet.

"Well I don't have much options I'll give it a try later though when I'm indoors" soon the Guardian approched us.

"Hello soft one hello Seamus you seem better I heard that the little cat left through this door?"

"Yes they are looking for Papa we are just guarding it for when they get back" Seamus says I'm glad he's more confident about this now he looked really nervous before.

"I see well it's my duty to keep you all safe so I will stand guard here too" I don't see a problem with that.

It didn't take long for the Guardian and Seamus to start a conversation mostly the Guardian was checking on Seamus' health but suddenly the door opened.

Standing at the door was a companion with a coat and Stray! Seamus paused then slowly walked over Doc grabbed his arm and pulled him into a hug.

It caught Seamus by surprise but he hugged back his screen showing a red heart and let out the happy whirring sound Guardian tilted his hat down with a smile.

Stray ran over to me I happily picked him up and cuddled him all of them are safe and sound!

I wanted to give Seamus some time alone with his dad they must have a lot to catch up on and B-12 really wants to tell me everything that happened.

Momo said I could crash on his couch since he moved all the boxes on it and that he has prepared something for when all of us are ready.

"Then I popped the zurks just in time before the gate closed!" B-12 spun around I didn't think they could handle a powerful weapon like that.

"Amazing! That must have been pretty scary though" I gave Stray a scratch behind the ears as he lays on my lap.

"Oh absolutely! And don't get me started on malfunctioning... Anyway it's been a long day we should all recharge" I nodded shaking off my backpack and putting it next to the couch I moved to lay down.

B-12 tapped themselves on my head again and flew into Strays bag with a 'goodnight'

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Someone pushed me.

It didn't hurt but I'm scared.

"I'm so sorry-._

Wait I can't hear you.

"I'll keep you safe"

Who are you?

"Stay safe"

Hey wait.

Stop it.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

I can hear multiple people talking I can't make out much but I can feel that Stray isn't next to me.

Sitting up I wiped the sleep from my eyes and looked around right next to me was Doc, Momo, Seamus and Stray.

"Oh human you're awake! My son told me everything about you it's amazing how you are still here it's a pleasure meeting you" the Doc grabs my hand and shook it.

"I'm sorry I'm afraid if I didn't tell him he would have broken in to ask you himself..." Seamus laughed lightly.

"Uhh it's all good" honestly I just woke up I'm confused Stray jumped back onto my lap and nuzzled against my face.

"Oh human I was just explaining my plan to the others you see in the sewers I have this raft we can leave through their and both Doc and Seamus are joining us!" Momo clapped his hands.

"Really?" I suppose safety in numbers are good but I expected those two to want to stay here since Doc just got back.

"Yes originally I was going to stay here with my son but a human here? This must be a sign! And of course I'm not leaving my son behind never again" I don't know how Doc got me being here as a sign but I'll take it.

"I honestly can't believe where doing this but... We got weapons, transportation and now each other!" Seamus hit his fist in his palm.

"Perfect when do we leave?" holding Stray I stood up honestly the excitement is contagious.

"Whenever you two are" Momo says Stray jumped out of my arms and meowed at Momo and I quickly put the backpack on.

"Haha I take it your ready now?" I nodded where getting out of here!

.....

When Momo said he had a raft I didn't picture it like this...

I'm surprised if it would hold us.

I think Seamus agrees too.

"Okay I'll hop on the back to steer then Human you sit Infront of me then Seamus then Doc and then little outsider can sit in the front" Momo says while climbing onto the raft and motioned for me to follow after he got settled.

When I put one foot on it I freaked out and backed away quickly.

"If you're scared human I'll put you on the raft for you?" Doc offers with no pride I nodded he lifted me from under my arms and slowly sat me down on the raft Momo pulling me closer to himself.

"Ah sorry we just need to make room so we'll be cramped together" Momo says with a little blush on his screen.

Seamus had no problem climbing on same with Doc and Stray quickly hopped on Infront.

"Alright lets do this!" Doc yells holding his fists in the air.

"No need to yell Doc" Momo says laughing and began rowing us forward...no going back now.

[twilightdruig]

help?

pairing : george weasley x fem!reader

summary : “hi i’m your neighbor and while i know we’ve never spoken but you’re a single parent of two and my sister recently died leaving me to raise her infant and i have no idea what i’m doing, help?” au

warnings : swearing , mentions of character deaths , fluff , au where george lives alone with his two children in a cottage near the burrow , au where fred and cedric live.

words : 2.6k

a/n : this is my first fic so it’s probably gonna be shit (as you can probably tell i’m not good with titles either) but yeah hope you enjoy :> and i might do a little part 2 on this soon

holly l/n was loved by multiple. a sweet hufflepuff student who was favored by all the teachers and students. her sister, y/n was a scary and intimidating gryffindor who hung out in the library.

ever since the battle of hogwarts death eaters have been imprisoned in azkaban. but, that didn’t mean all harm was gone.

now here y/n l/n was, standing in the heat of the summer, her nephew connor l/n mourning the death of a family member.

the service was beautiful. a few hogwarts students came including luna lovegood and neville longbottom and professor sprout and professor flitwick decided to pay their respects. headmistress mcgonagall sent her condolences through a letter as well.

conner wasn’t old enough to go to hogwarts yet. there was no one else for holly to leave connor with. her husband, ronan died during the war, all connor’s grandparents died and the only appointed godparents were holly’s best friend cedric diggory and her sister y/n.

cedric diggory was now teaching first year flying at hogwarts and is married to cho chang.

y/n was currently doing nothing with her life. she wanted to live alone in a cottage, reading, stitching, picking apples and getting drunk on fruity cocktails. but now? she had to take care of her sister’s spoiled son.

y/n hated children more than she hated the people in her own hogwarts house. more so, she didn’t know how to take care of them.

she had to enroll her nephew in hogwarts, teach him basic life skills and other stuff like that. there goes her life goal on being that cool stoner aunt that hates love and children.

—

“shit, connor!” y/n exclaimed as her 3 year old nephew accidentally ate a ton tongue toffee made by the joke shop in diagon alley owned by the weasleys.

“sorry aunty y/n”

she was never close to the weasleys. all of them, stereotypical gryffindors, loud and chaotic and always the main characters.

the only thing she knew about them is that one of the twins live next to her. y/n didn’t know how to shrink his tongue and thought it was quite the convenience that he lives next door. he was a single dad with two daughters, maybe he could help her control her nephew and technically her adopted son, now.

she sighed. “put on your coat, we’re visiting our neighbors, ok con?” the little boy nodded in response

—

went the small cottage came into view, there were two little girls picking flowers on the front yard and a tall red-headed man on the porch watching them.

“hey! weasley!” she yelled with a small smile as she approached the small gate.

“l/n? what are you doing here?” george asked

y/n gestured to her nephew who was holding his now 3 foot long tongue. “he accidentally ate one of your products and i’m not entirely sure how to fix it”

“right, right” he laughed “come on, connor right? i’ll reverse that”

y/n felt a tug at her oversized cardigan. she looked down to see two identical ginger twins.

“hi there!” one smiled.

“hello!” y/n tried to sound as nice as possible. looking back at her teenage years she remembered laughing at kids who fell of their brooms their brooms when she’d watch first year flying. she remembered laughing at seamus finnigan when something blew up in his face. or when she’d laugh at any kid accidentally getting hurt.

“these are for you! they’re pretty just like you” the other twin exclaimed.

“i’m charlotte and she’s billie” charlotte giggled.

“how do u know our daddy?” billie asked

“oh! um, we went to school together and i live just next door” y/n replied

“do you know our uncle freddie?”

“i know all your uncles and your aunt ginny, aunt hermione and uncle harry. they were all famous when we were in school”

“wow!” they both exclaimed

george and connor came back out. “look aunty y/n! my tongue’s normal again!”

“aunty?” george questioned. “holly. she died quite recently.”

“oh! i’m so sorry. i heard about her. yeah. i believe mum sent some flowers for the service”

“yeah we received them”

“i’ll see you around?” george inquired

“yeah, yeah. and i might need some parenting advice? you knew how i was back at hogwarts”

“i am flattered, dear l/n”

“oh hush. and they get along.” she pointed to the three children running around.

“they do. and yes, i would love to help you tame that little rascal” george laughed.

“thank you, george. really.”

“i’m just next door, yeah?”

“yeah” y/n smiled “come on, connor. we’re going home. but we’ll definitely be seeing these lovely ladies soon.”

“bye pretty lady!” y/n heard two young voices call after her

“daddy, who was she?”

“is she gonna be our new mommy?”

—

george and y/n had been hanging out for the past weeks. he had given her advice on taking care of connor and how to deal with children. they also spent time talking about family and their time back at hogwarts. she was told about the attack of death eaters at one of his brothers’ wedding and how his daughters were named after his brothers bill and charlie.

a knock at y/n’s door interrupted her reading.

“oi, l/n!” she heard a familiar voice on the other side of the door.

“weasley” she muttered.

connor recognized george’s voice and the twins’ giggles, he decided he would take matters into his own little hands. connor knew how stubborn his aunt was at the young age of seven.

“hi billie! hi charlotte! hi uncle george!” the little boy squealed.

“hey there, con!” george ruffled his hair while billie and charlotte ran over to y/n.

connor and the twins were two years apart. connor was going to hogwarts the next year. no doubt would he be trouble to professor mcgonagall but everyone knew they were always her favorites.

“aunty y/n! uncle george brought cookies!” connor yelled excitedly. y/n was never the type to bake or cook. she did try to but it always ended in almost burning the house down. she usually fed connor fruits or store bought food.

“you didn’t have to” y/n responded while taking the plastic box.

“oh yes i did” he teased “i heard you’ve been starving this poor little fellow”

“daddy didn’t bake those cookies” charlotte stated “grandma did” billie continued

“oh” she smirked at george then turned to the twins “tell your grandma i say thanks!”

“uncle george! i wanna show you something outside! the twins can come too!”

“connor, what are you gonna show them?” y/n grumbled.

“your paintings! they’re amazing” her nephew jumped.

“paintings, eh?” george smiled “okay, let’s go, champ. see those paintings of your aunt.” the two scurried outside, two redheaded girls following after.

y/n groaned and fell back into the couch, finishing her book.

—

it’s been a few days since george and the twins came with cooking to y/n and connor’s cottage. she wanted to throw connor a little surprise birthday party.

connor has loved the twins and george so much, he thinks of them as blood relatives. y/n decided to call up cedric and cho to look after connor while she’d do some errands.

the two arrived exactly on time as y/n was preparing to go out. she had on a simple cardigan and loose denim pants.

“ced! cho! hi, how are you guys?” y/n greeted as she saw her old friends apparate into the cottage.

“hi y/n!” cho greeted “hey nerd” cedric snickered.

she sent cedric a small glare before connor jumped at the two.

“uncle ceddy! aunty cho! you’re here” he shouted.

“yeah buddy! your aunt’s gonna run some errands and visit your uncle georgie?” cedric winked at y/n. she had been owling cedric about george and how he’s been helping her with connor.

“are you going out with uncle george?” connor asked, eyes twinkling.

“i don’t know, actually. i might check him out next door.”

“george weasley?” cho teased.

“yes, cho,” y/n rolled her eyes “but on that note, i have to go”

“bye, connor! behave okay?” she crouched down and squished his cheeks.

“bye, ced! cho!” her voice faded when she dashed out the door.

—

y/n passed george’s cottage to see if he actually might want to come with her and do errands.

she was standing outside the small gate, hesitating. ‘maybe he was busy’ ‘he wouldn’t want to do errands with me’ ‘maybe he would if i told him it was for connor’s birthday’ she thought. y/n didn’t know why she was overthinking her choices. the first time she was standing right outside the gate she bursted in and demanded george to fix whatever happened to her nephew. now, she was nervous. her palms were sweaty and clammy.

she pushed herself in and walked to the front porch. she knocked a few times and was met with a head of messy brown hair.

“hermione?!” she squealed

“y/n!” hermione jumped to hug her old friend.

there were overlapping voices in the background and when they pulled away she was met with multiple mops of ginger hair, a head of blonde hair and another with black hair behind hermione.

“l/n?” ginny weasley asked, quite shocked what she would be doing outside george’s door.

“oh! did i interrupt something? i am so sorry!” she said feeling a bit nervous.

“oh! you must be the dearest y/n george keeps talking about!” an old woman she thought was mrs. weasley approached her from behind her children.

“hi there!” y/n said feeling a little embarrassed she might’ve barged in on a family reunion.

“ah! l/n? i have heard of your family! muggle-borns right?” arthur weasley joined his wife.

“uh, yeah!” she pursed her lips “i am so so sorry i interrupted! i should go. tell george i’ll swing by next time”

“oh it’s absolutely alright, dear” molly reassured her.

“george! there’s a really pretty girl! get your arse out here!” fred yelled to george who was probably inside the house.

“is she here?” charlotte and billie ran to the door.

“hi girls! tell you dad i was here yeah? say i’ll come by next time” most of the weasleys came back in. she took it as her time to go on with her day.

“oi! y/n! wait up” the voice she recognized as george’s called after her.

“george, hey”

“where’r you off to?” george pointed to the small bag that was swung over her shoulder.

“errands. connor’s birthday is coming up so i thought i’d prepare something for him. first birthday without his mum, you know”

“his birthday’s coming up?” george looked as excited as a child on christmas morning.

“yeah. why?” she smiled

“you’re talking to one of the best party planners there is. you also did talk to another one of them… i think”

“fred?”

“oh yeah”

“i wanted to ask if you wanted to come but seeing as to your family is in your house… i’m gonna take a wild guess and say you aren’t available right now” she giggled.

“maybe if you went another day” he said sympathetically. george really wanted to go and prepare connor’s party with her. he treated him like his own and boy did he remind him of how fun it was to be a kid. he loved his aunt so much it was adorable.

“george. seriously, it’s okay. spend time with your family” she laughed.

“yeah, yeah. i’ll see you when you get back” he waved.

—

connor’s small birthday gathering was in full swing. y/n became acquainted with george’s siblings. bill, charlie, percy (whom she was actually friends with back in hogwarts), fred, ron and ginny. hermione was a very good friend of hers and so was harry. she recognized fleur from that day in the cottage as beauxbatons triwizard champion.

connor had quite a bunch of guests for his birthday. cedric, cho, luna, neville, fred, percy, ron, harry, hermione, bill and fleur and their little victorie. of course, billie and charlotte helped george and y/n fix up the party. mr. and mrs. weasley sent a small cake for connor when they heard about y/n not knowing asingle thing about cooking.

fred offered to take care of the twins and connor while george and y/n ran off somewhere. the two found themselves near a small creek. y/n explained how the cottage was where she’d go off exploring and the only person who knew was holly. she was overjoyed when her sister got the cottage she used as a hideaway.

george was surprised when there were lights and blankets and everything. the soft sounds of running water was calming.

the two were pretty intoxicated when they sat down; stumbled onto the picnic blanket. y/n was sober enough to not spill her deepest darkest secrets. george on the other hand…

“have i ever told you how pretty you are?” george mumbled next to her. y/n only snickered and blushed.

“um, can i hold your hand?” he continued, taking a look at the girl next to him.

“sure” she winked.

“you know” he started again “i actually fancied you a bit back in school”

“yeah?” she rolled over to her side “i wonder… what did you like about me?”

“i don’t even know. my heart just felt so full with you. still does, right now, holding your hand, under the stars by a stream.” he had this glint in his eye when he looks at her.

“hey,” she brushed some hair out of his face “these past few months have been great. and you’re a huge help with connor. you know i’ll always be there for you, right?”

“yeah darling,” he yawned “yeah”

“wait, george!” she sat up “no. don’t fall asleep!”

“fuck” she groaned before falling back down on the blanket.

“i think i love you” she whispered.

—

morning rolled around and they were still lying somewhere in the forest behind the cottage. some childish chatter and laughs were heard from where they were still sleeping soundly.

until, a red ant bit y/n and george’s intertwined hands. “ah shit!” y/n woke up from the bite. her yell also woke up the sleeping man next to her “what?! what happened?” he jumped.

“oh. did i wake you up?” she asked.

“no. it’s honestly no worries” he said “but i do have a killer headache”

“an ant bit me” she muttered, wanting to scratch it.

“hey, no don’t scratch! i’ve had a lot if experience with insect bites” he explained “want me to kiss it better?” he teased.

“oh, ha-ha” she rolled her eyes but blushed.

“we should probably head back” he checked his watch while standing up.

—

“ah! there the lovebirds are!” fred exclaimed.

everyone was cleaning up from last night. there were children running around while chasing balloons and each other.

“yeah,” george started “we, um, fell asleep”

“sure ya did” this time ron teased the two.

“i’m gonna clean up here,” y/n offered “you guys should go home. you know, get some rest”

cedric gasped “y/n l/n! are you kicking us out?” he said in mock offense.

“technically, yeah. i doubt connor got any sleep”

“maybe we should,” fleur said with her accent “victorie was very excited for the party she is very worn out”

george snuck behind y/n “i think i love you too” he muttered under his breath. he wasn’t sure if she heard it. she did.

“i’ll see you later, y/n!” he yelled “come on, princesses, we’re going home. we’ll see connor and y/n later”

connor and the twins hugged while y/n said thank you’s to all the guests.

maybe it wasn’t such a bad decision to ask for help.

[theseusurus]

Lost in a Haze, Fighting Fate | Part 2

Summary: Y/N Raven has always suffered from their sight, From a young age Y/N could just always seem to predict the future however they just thought they were lucky, after attending Hogwarts and discovering their Seer Roots they began to trust it more and more however that can not be said for others. When Y/N fled Hogwarts they left everything behind, their teen love, their friends, family, and now with what seems like all sides against them, will they be ignored like seers before them and feed into temptation or will they fight for the good in the wizarding world and their love?

PART 2: THE PROPHECIES

Warnings: Mentions Bullying, slight hint at emotional abuse, and possible tw derealization (very short)

Pairing: Bill Weasley x Reader (Slow Burn)

Word Count: 2.4k

PART 1

When you arrived in Professor’s Trelawney tower to prepare your lesson for the day you didn’t expect her to be all over you introducing herself as Sybill and gushing about how she was excited to work with you and how it was an honor. You waved her off with a smile before you got a feeling, it was like your heart was being pulled out of your chest and you grabbed at your chest with only one thought in your mind, Moody.

You ushered Trelawney an apology and called that you would be back but with that, you rushed to where you remember Trelawney had shown you where the Defense against the Dark arts classroom was and sprinted as fast as you could before you slammed open the door.

“Professor Moody, that iz quite enough! What in the great heavens do you think you are doing? I can hear your class telling you to stop from down the hall and performing Unforgivable curses in front of children?! This iz extremely inappropriate!”

Your Cry caused the students who were crying for him to stop and Moody himself to be startled and stop the Cruciatus curse, before storming over to Moody and slapping him across the face. He jerked and placed the Spider down as you walked over to the student who he forced to watch the curse, he seemed obviously uncomfortable at the curse, looking Almost downright paralyzed you placed a hand on his shoulder, and the other on his arm, you whispered to him “Are you alright Monsieur?” He shook his head No and you sighed.

You began to lead the boy out of the door before turning to Moody and sneering at him, “You should be Ashamed, I have NEVER seen such a disgusting teaching method, expect to hear from me again, next time I see this display I will personally inform Dumbledore, Are. We. Clear?”

He cleared his throat and nodded at you before turning to A bushy brown-haired girl who was also obviously uncomfortable, You turned away from him and continued to help the boy out of the classroom before leading him into an Empty Hallway, he looked sickly and as if he was about to throw up or pass out at any second, staring blankly into the wall, You reached out and rubbed his arm.

“Monsieur? Are you okay? It was disgusting what he did in there and I am completely sorry, are you doing okay? Do you need to sit? Here let me help you..”

You helped lower him to the ground and sat beside him smoothing out your robes, you didn't say anything for a good few seconds before sighing and turning to him.

“I know it might be hard but please talk to me, are you okay? Do I need to take you to the Medic?”

He shook his head no again, “You know, my parents were tortured with the Cruciatus Curse, Moody knew that too.” You released a deep sigh before shaking your head in disbelief.

It was quiet for another pregnant pause before you whispered to him, “You know I was hit with a Cruciatus Curse once, it's why I can't hear too well in my Right Ear and can't see too well, one of the many reasons I wear this Veil.” “Really?” “Mhm, Teenagers can be Cruel, they didn't get much trouble for it either..” “Oh…” “Oh Indeed Monsieur..., what exactly your name I never quite got it, sir?”

“Ah, it's Neville, Neville Longbottom.” “Well, Monsieur Longbottom are you feeling any better?” “Just a little bit, not by much..” “Well Monsieur, you are free to join me in my Classroom until you feel better and You are always welcome to come in at any time if you feel like you need to do so, especially in Moody’s Class, now come on I'll brew you some Warm Tea.”

When the Fourth Years came in Professor Trelawney´s correction- Sybill and your classroom for their Divination lesson they certainly did not expect to see you sitting on a cushion on the floor with Sybill and Neville by your sides, you sat with your veil covering your face as you poured Neville and Sybill tea and shook your head and laughed.

“Can't be a hidden Seer and have an unknown identity if I lift my one concealing item for some Tea Now can I dears”

This caused Neville to blush before getting up and getting ready start to walk to his desk but you called out and he handed you his teacup before leaning over and watched as you swirled the cup and nodded, ¨Very promising Monsieur Longbottom, Very Promising Indeed, see that? Mhm, Indeed a Butterfly, Success, and Happiness are coming in your near Future.¨

Sybill stood up and smiled at you before turning to the class ¨Good Evening everyone, Let's take a Seat Please, Now today is a very special day! Thanks to the Triwizard tournament we are having a very special guest coming to visit us from France, This is the Head Seer at Beauxbaton and A relevant Figure in the Divination field, who was one of the best accuracy rates for Seers in Europe, This Is Professor Delphi¨

You nodded your head at her before walking over and standing at the front of the class, ¨Bonjour! My Name is Professor Delphi or Delphi, I have been a Seer for as long as I've been able to walk and Have been a practicing Seer since just about your age, Today I will be giving you all free readings however I will warn you all before my word is true and clear however if you choose to acknowledge fate and fix your mistakes you may be able to change it. Now, Any Questions?¨

Multiple hands shot up and you looked around the room before nodding at the Bushy Brown haired girl who you saw in Moody´s Class earlier in the day

¨Speak up for me Madame! Thank you, Now please say your name and your question?¨¨Hermione Granger Professor, How exactly are you ´Head Seer´?” ¨Wonderful Question Madam Granger! I am head seer as I have the most accurate Sight in my district let alone France and most of Europe, in my 24 years of living, and 13 of Being a known Seer I have gotten Two Predictions wrong, two out of thousands.¨

She seemed to be distrustful but nodded along anyway ¨Next Question?¨ More hands shot up this time, You called on a Brown haired boy and he responded with a thick Irish accent.

¨Name Monsieur?” ¨Seamus Finnigan Professor, Why exactly do you have a veil? Covering on?¨ You nodded and placed your hands down on the table for support, leaning down and feeling for a chair to sit in as the boy beside him knocked into, sighing ¨Seamus! That's rude!.¨ ¨Amazing Question Monsieur Finnigan do not be afraid to ask the hard questions!¨

You paused ¨However I wear this for multiple reasons, One to hide my identity being a professional seer can be hard and sometimes dangerous, Some people refuse to accept the fate and turn their anger towards me, some have threatened to hurt my family so this helps protect my identity and my family´s as well, even the name Delphi is a cover-up name Monsieur!¨”

Which got a few curious and surprised looks from the students, you looked around the room soaking it in before allowing yourself to continue. ¨Two, I use it to hide identifying features especially with my condition, A special someone in this class found out why today but for those who don't know I am Hard of seeing in my Right eye and almost completely deaf in my left ear.¨

You paused again before clearing your throat and swiping at your eye under the veil as you feel them begin to gloss up with potential tears, ¨it was due to an attack on me during my youth and while it did help me develop my higher senses it made me extremely vulnerable Physically, That is why I do not do big trips like this however I am here to teach the youth and inspire you all to look into the divination field so it is worth it.¨

Sybill patted your arm and asked quietly if you needed a break, you shook your head before turning back to the class ¨Any more questions before we continue?¨ A few students shook their heads no, hands sinking after the big questions were asked you nodded, ¨alright Madames, Monsieurs and all others let us begin! You all have a Teacup in front of you, I want ALL of you to drink your tea and come sit with me one at a time when you are finished if you wish, I assure all of you we have a lot to talk about.¨

You nodded at all of them, wishing them all good luck before sliding fully into the chair and feeling around for the teacup that you had left to your right, you heard someone sit to your right as they pushed the teacup in front of you.

You turned and saw A Blonde girl with fluffy wavy hair smiling at you. You returned the smile under your veil and took the teacup in your hands before sliding it up under your veil to inspect it.

¨Good Evening Professor, My Name is Lavender Brown! Divination is my favorite class. I've believed in it after Professor Trelawney predicted my poor rabbit´s death and predicted Neville would break a cup and it came true!¨

You smiled at her before giving a little chuckle ¨I'm glad dear so let's inspect this together, hmm oh yes that's interesting, you are going to be in love in the near future¨ This excited the Girl before you cut her off ¨However dear, do not force the love, let it come naturally or you will taint it and sweet child be safe, you will face danger in the future, never walk alone am I clear Madame?”

She nodded before turning to you and hugging you tightly, ¨Thank you professor¨ You returned the Hug and whispered ¨I believe in you child, let your heart soar freely but be smart!” she giggled at this and ran back to her friends that began to gossip to one another.

The Next student made you smile before he even sat down you could recognize that red hair anywhere ¨Monsieur Weasley, it is a great pleasure.¨ He sent you a look before you chuckled and ushered him to sit down ¨I knew your older brother Monsieur, you could say we were close when he attended here.¨ With a smile, remembering how Handsome Bill looked the last time you saw him.

¨You knew Charlie?” You smiled before shaking your head ¨Next one dear, but let's focus on you Monsieur Weasley let see this cup of yours.¨ You picked up the Cup and swirled it ¨Oh yes, hmm indeed, I sense self-doubt, You doubt you are worthy as those around you but oh how wrong you are. I see great things for you Monsieur Weasley, oh work in the Ministry it seems, oh how loyal you always return to your family hm?¨

Ron frowned at the mention of the ministry and smiled when you praised him for his loyalty especially to family, you extended your hand to him, ¨You may love your friends and they might be ´special´ but never doubt your worth Monsieur, I sense greatness in your presence doesn't let me be wrong due to jealousy.¨ With that, you placed your hand down and bowed your head to him ¨Do not forget my words Monsieur¨

You hear someone run over before whimpering out a sigh, looking up its Neville ¨Monsieur Longbottom, what do I owe the pleasure, hmm? Now let's see this.¨ The tea swirled before it cleared, ¨Oh how marvelous, Monsieur Longbottom you sure are meant to be a Gryffindor! You have an amazing spirit and loyalty, you have confidence under all that shyness, you must let go of your worries, I see greatness and passion in your future, A leader, hmm a teacher? We will see!¨

He stuttered and pointed to himself ¨Professor? Me? But I'm not brave!” ”Oh False indeed! You just haven't unleashed it yet, you are more than a house title anyways my boy, you are a son, a friend, a student, someone who brings light into anyone's life, you make your parents proud my boy, be you!¨ You wrapped his hand in your own and bowed to him ¨My word is truth, fate has foreseen your greatness my boy don't forget that. Be brave.¨

You didn't have to look up to tell who had shuffled up to your desk, you could tell by the voice having heard the same voice talk to Ron and call said voice harry.

¨Monsieur Potter, what do I owe the pleasure hm? From what I've heard you do not believe in my craft and often lie for a good grade hm?¨ He stiffened at the jab you made before you smiled.

¨Sit sit Monsieur I know how hard Seer classes can be for non-seers, this is no easy class Monsieur however you are special in other ways and it shows, you have a great burden on your shoulders, Fate will be cruel to you but you have great friends and a family, hmm protect those around you good sir, and Monsieur tell your godfather to find me for me, the oracle needs him, Oui?”

He seems shocked at the final statement but you merely smiled to yourself and bowed your head to him which he stiffly returns before hurrying over to Ron and Hermione, ah they are friends you remark to yourself and smile at the trio as they began muttering to each other quietly as soon as he returned, Oh how fun this trip will be.

PART 3

[kaletalecowboy]

the way varka seems like such a laidback, kind-hearted, good-spirited guy just hits harder when you realize that most of the playable knights are missing a father. if you think about it, since jean grew up training to be a knight and became one when she was still quite young, she probably has a much closer bond with him than she does with her father, seamus. and after crepus died and kaeya and diluc had their big fight, varka would have been the one to be there for kaeya when the rest of his life was falling apart. in a similar way, he would have been there for amber when her grandpa left. even when the outriders fell into obscurity, when they weren’t admired the same way they used to be, when amber was the last one… varka would have been one of the only people there still cheering her on. oh, and his strong arms are definitely made for big group hugs with all of the knights :] (i’m sorry this is all out of nowhere, i just saw your tags and got brainworms skjskssnbsmsnsj)

BJHSD im sorry but i started laughing at the part where you said they're all missing fathers 😭

I MEAN they are all peak fatherless behavior you're not wrong-

You're right about jean being closer to varka than seamus but jesus that hurt. I mean especially considering jean has such an amazing track record of keeping up with family

i like to think amber and varka had a dynamic kind of similar to jean and klee so I definitely agree about varka being one of the people that were still there for amber when her grandpa disappeared, even though i do think she must've been a bit bitter towards well. everyone back then. But the idea of varka helping her move past all that bitterness is just ough

[graceilia]

[queer-and-dear-books]

Title: Honestly Ben

Author: Bill Konigsberg

Genre: YA Fiction | Romance | Friendship | Drama | LGBTQ+

Content Warnings: Homophobia

Overall Rating: 9.1/10

Personal Opinion: Openly Straight’s ending, while adequate, still left a lot to be desired. Mostly, in the Ben front. So this book, centered around Ben immediately after the events of the first book, feels like a gift. It’s funny and wholesome and if you already loved how sweet Ben is in the original book, then you’ll absolutely adore him here.

Couple Classification: Seamus Rafael Goldberg X Ben Carver = Nerd/Jock X Nerd/Jock

Do I Own This Book? Yup. I remember the day I found out about the sequel, I purchased it online and had to read it immediately.

Spoilers Below For My Likes & Dislikes:

Likes:

- Ben, sweet fucking Ben. He really is Magenta and the way everyone else saw it but him is so special to me. He’s such a good person and people just naturally like him because of that. Rafe, Hannah, Toby, his teachers, and even Steve. He works so hard to be where he is and he does so while also being fundamentally honest and genuinely kind to others. That’s the kind of king behavior that I can get behind.

- Something that truly makes my respect for Ben soar is his speech after receiving the Pappas Award. He decided to tell the truth about his cheating but also, he told the truth about Peter Pappas. That takes a lot of courage and the fact that he admitted to loving Rafe and then holding Rafe’s hand on campus in front of everyone, that boy is braver and stronger than he knows and I love that.

- I also can’t forget when Toby came out as genderfluid and while the baseball team was all being douches, he went up to hug Toby in the middle of the cafeteria. That scene almost made me tear up. Toby truly deserves that support and it made me so happy when Ben called him brave in his speech.

- Yet more scenes that made me respect Ben more is when he owned up to his mistakes. When he apologized to Rafe for writing, “Alcohol is bad for me. Rafe = Alcohol” on Rafe’s note. Or when he apologized to Hannah for accidentally leading her on and putting her through all that confusion and anger. Or again, when he exposed himself for cheating (on a test). I cannot stress enough just how good of a person Ben is. And I think it’s amazing because he was raised by such a shit dad.

- Rafe rubbed me the wrong way in a lot of scenes but he also did good here and there. Nursing Ben back to health when he got food poisoning even after reading that note was sweet of him. Trying to be friends with Ben even when it hurt to see Ben moving on was respectable. And like before, I adore all of their conversations. They talk on such a deep level that it’s really no wonder they fell in love.

- The most romantic scene for me though was when Ben took Rafe away from the dance. He saw Rafe being depressed at the bleachers and he decided to cheer him up. They went to the beach and they screamed at the ocean and Ben tackled Rafe to the sand in a dumb game that only they (and Toby and Albie) understood. Ben was so stressed throughout the book that every time I saw him having fun with Rafe, Toby, and/or Albie, it just made my heart soar.

- I love Rafe’s parents too. As I said before. They’re so dorky and hilarious and I love that they were about to adopt Ben if he had nowhere else to go.

- I love how the story began and ended the same way. With a swimming lesson. Except instead of wanting to vanish like in the beginning, Ben saved himself.

Dislikes:

- Fuck Tommy Mendenhall. I did not think there could be someone worse that Steve and Zack but this dude is out here hazing the freshmen by humiliating them and also making rape jokes. If I could decapitate him, I would.

- I kind of wish we saw how the baseball team reacted to Ben and Rafe being together. How many saw this coming? How many are shocked? How do they feel about their captain being not so straight? Where is Robinson and how does he feel about any of this seeing as he is actually gay and a jock? I know Robinson probably hurt Toby but I so wish I knew what was going on with him. Last we saw, he was the target of homophobic comments from Steve and Zack, he did not deserve that.

- I get that Ben and Rafe are from two different worlds so they won’t always see eye to eye on things but I hate how callous Rafe was and how casually he joked about Ben’s spending habits. Like that is so rude. Even worse was when Rafe seemed to refuse to accept that Ben didn’t identify as queer in any way. When I was young, I definitely sided more with Rafe on this. I still understand where Rafe is coming from. I mean, if I was told by my partner that they “are attracted to girls and also me,” I’d feel emasculated. I wish Rafe had worded it that way though instead of constantly insisting (even if he was joking) that Ben was in denial.

- That being said, it does feel like bi erasure that Ben won’t admit he’s queer in any way. Being attracted to Rafe automatically means you’re not straight! I know a guy who was dating someone pre-transition and when they transitioned into a boy, his attraction didn’t change. And instead, he just changed his identity from straight to queer because he still liked his partner. It’s that easy, Ben.

- Also, where’s Bryce? I know he was pulled out of school and he was mentioned throughout the story but considering he was Ben’s best friend at some point, I feel like some phone calls or like, a letter, would be warranted? Ben mentioned not having anyone to talk to after the Rafe debacle but what about Bryce??? Unless, Bryce’s whole thing in Utah meant no contact with the outside world for a while. In which case, that would’ve been nice to know.

[desencante]

oi, march reads! I read a lot this month.

Please, don’t forget to leave a comment or kudos for the authors of these fics!

(The texts aren't the summary, just my ramble thoughts.)

Loving Cannibalism by glittering_git/@glittering-git (Mature, 2 works, 952 words) | Post-War, Angst, Established Relationship

Two marvellous and poetic histories about (loving) cannibalism. This is such a dark and heavy theme but the author does a great job writing and makes me enjoy reading them. (And I'm definitely here for more.)

(Please, read the Author's Tags.)

don’t say you love me, that’s extortion by LowerEastSide/@lower-east-side (Explicit, 1k) | Post-War, Angst, Fluff, Established Relationship

It is a domestic and loving and little sad history – about not saying 'I love you' but acting in that way.

The Pink Paradox by vina_writes/@dracothecupcake (Teen and Up, 1k) | Post-War, Humor, Auror Harry, Unspeakable Draco

Harry Potter Is Obsessed With Draco Malfoy TM. And Draco has pink hair. Have a fun time!

Harry's Promise by JosephineStone (Teen and Up, 2k) | Post-War, Angst, Reunion, Established Relationship

This one it's kind of part two of Circumpolar. The history continues the consequences of Draco's change, after the war – left me with a warm heart.

Burnt Casserole by Samunderthelights/@samunderthelights (General Audiences, 2k) | Post-War, Fluff, Established Relationship

Nervous Draco for Meeting Ron and Hermione. Getting back together and meeting your boyfriend's friends (who may hate you) showing them your (not) great cooking abilities.

Magical Homes, and Where to Find Them (in the arms of your lover) by Erebeus/@erebeus-roxy (General Audiences, 2k) | Post-War, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship

Who doesn't want some fluff established relationship sometimes? Harry has a painful case at work and then comes home to a calm and domestic night with his husband.

Together Like This by shealwaysreads/@shealwaysreads (Explicit, 3k) | Post-War, Getting Back Together

Draco Malfoy in the Muggle World TM. I find it so interesting reading stories where Draco denies Harry's love because of the war, and Harry is there to change his mind. Here we have that and it's written the super talented shealwaysreads.

For Old Times' Sake by thestarryknight/@the-starryknight (Teen and Up, 3k) | Post-War, Drugs, Potioneer Draco, Artist Harry

This one gives me such a cosy and domestic vibe. "'It's Complicated' is their relationship status" resume perfect what this fic is. (There're some cool references too, so pay attention.)

Like Gold by The_Sinking_Ship/@the-sinking-ship (Explicit, 4k) | Post-War, PWP

(It's always good to see.) Harry Has a Motorbike Just Like Sirius! Harry rides a motorbike and Draco rides him.

Harry and Draco's Little Talk by Ladderofyears (Teen and Up, 5k) | Post-War, Angst, Established Relationship, mpreg

Who doesn't hear 'I need to talk to you' by someone you like and run with? Harry thinks Draco will break up with him and freak (a little) out but maybe the subject of Draco's conversation is quite the opposite.

Sugar Sweet by The_Sinking_Ship/@the-sinking-ship (Teen and Up, 5k) | Post-War, Humor, Fluff, Auror Harry, Healer Draco

It is a very sweet story with a surprise party for Draco and Harry getting late but not so late.

Show them the night that they dreamed about before by fluxweed/@fluxweeed (Explicit, 6k) | Post-War, PWP, Threesome, Boss/Employee Relationship, Dubious Consent

(Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter/Percy Weasley)

All I have to say is: 😳😯🤫😈🔥🥵🔥🥵😈😏!

This Is How by bixgirl1/@bixgirl1 (Explicit, 6k) | Post-War, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, a/b/o

Omega Draco has an incident in the ministry Alpha Harry is there to help. After they fall in love! (One more reason to read: it's written by bixgirl1!)

It Never Occurred to Me That I Would Fall in Love With a Frenchman by lamerezouille/@elsalapizza (Teen and Up, 6k) | Post-War, Angst, Humor, Established Relationship

OMG, I never read something like this! The plot was so surprising – you will ever think about the Malfoys meeting the Dursleys? BOOM! Here it's a very awkward dinner that looks funny but has some depth stuff going on.

Litany by thistle_verse/@thistle-verse (Mature, 7k) | Post-War, Angst, Pandemic, Isolation, Touch-Starved, Ghost Draco

Ghost's story isn't my cup of tea, but I give this one a chance and don't regret it. The magic world is passing through a pandemic (just like us!), Harry is doing quarantine at home alone until ghost Draco, directly from Azkaban, shows up. Then, we have fluffy and sad conversations between the two and a turn of events in the end. (And lots of lists.)

As the Crow Flies by thestarryknight/@the-starryknight (Mature, 7k) | Post-War, Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Animagus Draco, Werewolf Harry

Draco helps Harry on a full moon night. Domestic vibes with some angst. 10/10!

Circumpolar by LowerEastSide/@lower-east-side (Teen and Up, 8k) | Hogwarts Era, Angst, Sectumsempra Scars

I see an amazing fanart and spend some days obsessed with Draco having worse scars from Sectumsempra. (There's, in this list, another two fanfics with this concept.) In this one, because of the pretty bad scars Draco's plan about the war change – is interesting to imagine how one incident could put another thing in perspective for him. And Draco and Harry have a touching conversation on the Astronomy Tower! (I'm a sucker for long expressive conversations about feelings.)

if somebody’s there, then tell me who. by kryptidfox/@kryptidfoxwrites (Explicit, 11k) | Post-War, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Housemates

Much more like Idiots to Lovers! Draco has a disastrous way to make Harry notice him – bring every man possible to a one-night stand then call their name very loud – until things go wrong when he brings a guy named Harry. I constantly have a good time reading these two making dumb thing in their path to be together.

Commander by Cassiopeias_shadow/@cassiopeiasshadow (Explicit, 14k) | Post-War, Horror, Suspense, Drugs, Animagi, Auror Harry, Light dom/sub

Almost a case fic with dark things in the plot. Draco is addicted to potions and in a pretty bad place when he has a chance to help the auros in a big case. It turns out that Draco got so much involved with the case he needed Harry, to make him put his feet on the ground – the fine line between doing everything to make up for your past or lost yourself doing things for the great good. Featuring: Harry as a snake and parselmouth kink.

(Please, read the Author's tags.)

Fire and Wonder by Lomonaaeren (Mature, 15k) | Post-War, Dark-ish, Veela

Lomonaaeren written dark Harry, I'm here for! After the war, Harry get wing and has some controversial ideas about The Great Good. So, we see him put these ideas into practice with his mate Draco.

Hold what's dear in your hands (and never let go) by Fae_vorite/@faevorite-main-blog, PollyWeasley/@polly-weasley (Explicit, 16k) | Post-War, Arrange Marriage, a/b/o, mpreg

I was always here for some a/b/o and this story is a chef kiss! Harry can't find a partner; So he goes to an upgrade tinder and matches with Draco, then they live happily ever after. Featuring intersex Draco and a lot of sex kinks.

Keep Me Close (I Need Your Faith) by aviforsrose (Explicit, 23k) | Post-War, Angst, Friends with Benefits, Light dom/sub

Idiots in love! The old same GOOD story: I love him but he loves me? Yes, of course! Man, you two have been pinning each other for years now. Let's do some love confessions.

The Critiquer by dysonrules (Explicit, 24k) | Post-War, Humor, Romance, Secret Identity

Drunk Harry doing dumb stuff with Seamus and Dean, take him a very funny drive to Draco's hearty. Draco and his assistant interactions was another very humorous part. Can't forget to congratulate who made all of the edits, principally the text divisors.

The Nobility of Ascent by Lomonaaeren (Explicit, 27k) | Post-War, Angst, Politics

I love reading Lomonaaeren stories with dark-ish Harry. This is another great example of just not the good or evil side. Harry can't Make a Better World because of pureblood politics so he goes to Draco for help.

Can I tell you something? by GallaPlacidia (Not Rated, 33k) | Post-War, Angst, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Sectumsempra Scars, Drugs, Auror Harry, Burlesquedance Draco

What I can say about this one? It's by GallaPlacidia, go read! The story takes place during a few years, after the war, Harry collides in parties with a drugged Draco, things happen – they lived a very real journey of connecting with someone, learning to love and to be loved and understanding the mistakes of the past... 10/10!

Says The Magpie To The Morning (Sorrow, Take Your Own Advice) by Femme/@femmequixotic (Explicit, 33k) | Post-War, Angst, Getting Back Together

Draco Horrible Sad TM after a breakup with Harry. Featuring so much PDA by Pansy/Ron, angst, miscommunication, angst, sharing a house with your ex and angst. If you are up to a sad time before a happy ending this nice story is here.

Eight Days (to Save the World) by gnarf/@gnarf (Mature, 47k) | Post-War, Friend to Lovers, Housemates, Case Fic, Auror Harry, Unspeakable Draco

Shit happens in The Wizard World again so Harry, Draco and company get together to Save The World Again. What will you do if you receive an order not so right by your superior? A very interesting story begins with the ministry's haunted easy target to blame for the new conspiracy. Enjoy too Protective Harry.

Turning Leaves by Kbrick (Explicit, 112k) | Post-War, Angst, Fluff, Time Travel, Auror Harry, Unspeakable Draco

Draco Tries to Concert His Friendship With Harry by Time Travel. This gives me The Cursed Child vibe but so much better, Draco goes to several scenarios trying to change one important moment in the past to make Harry like-like now. A great story who think about what will happen if Draco acts differently in the Hogwarts years.

Cannot Save You Now by tigrelilje (Mature, 132k) | Hogwart Era, Angst, Horror, Dark, Vampire Harry

Harry dies and comes back (as a vampire) for revenge! If you want to see Harry hating almost everybody this fanfic this here. Featuring: Slytherin Harry.

[lucky-katebishop]

What I Read in September 2021

It's been a stagnant month, but I did find a couple favorites :) as usual, composed of mainly Harry Potter fics but there's a spare Modern Family fic in there and a couple crossovers. I think I read about 27-28 fics :)

Harry Potter

Family Relations by OxfordOctopus

Plot: In which Harry realizes that not even he's exempt from how interconnected magical families are.

Characters: Harry, Pavarti, Hermione, Ron

Relationships: Hermione & Harry & Ron

Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse

Tags: Desi Potter Family; Desi Harry; Hogwarts third year; red-haired Harry Potter

*complete*

Talking to Thestrals by OxfordOctopus

Plot: In a world where Voldemort well and truly died in ‘81, where there are no Horcruxes, where Harry is sequestered off by a man in a flying motorcycle when he's six, and where the only legacy the most feared Dark Lord left behind was his politics and a heavily scarred child, nobody quite realizes that Harry isn’t okay. Nobody but the leathery creatures at the lake, and the girl who looks at them.

Characters: Harry, Luna

Relationships: Harry & Luna

Warnings: anxiety, dissociation, suicidal thoughts, bullying, implied/referenced child abuse, child neglect

Tags: Sirius Black Criticism; Hogwarts second year; Sirius Black Never Went to Azkaban; AU - No Voldemort;

My Notes: Now, I love Sirius just as much as the next girl, but this is such an interesting look at a man raising a kid when he wasn’t ready and the consequences of that (I relate a tad too strongly)

*complete*

Slytherin Politics by OxfordOctopus

Plot: Abused children don't respond well to power plays.

Characters: Harry, Draco, Theodore Nott, Daphne Greengrass

Warnings: graphic depictions of violence

Tags: violence, broken bones, Slytherin Harry, bullying

My Notes: Harry is so truly terrifying in this fic, it’s wonderful

*complete*

rotten on the inside by cassiopeia721

Plot: Harry's boggart isn't Voldemort, or even a dementor. It's something much worse.

Characters: Harry, Snape, Hermione, Ron

Relationships: Hermione & Harry

Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse

Tags: Hogwarts third year; boggarts; angst; protective Hermione; Hermione is a Good Friend

*complete*

Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell by IamShadow21

Plot: Questions asked, questions unasked, secrets told and secrets kept, trust, devotion, empathy and love. Ron and Harry's friendship, from that first day on the Hogwarts Express, right through until after the Battle. Can be read as a friendship fic, or a ship fic. It's open to interpretation.

Characters: Harry, Ron, Fred, George, Hermione, Arthur

Relationships: Harry/Ron

Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse

Tags: canon compliant; canon-typical violence; friendship, hurt/comfort; protective Ron; Protective Fred; Protective George; gen or pre-slash; platonic cuddling; POV Ron

My Notes: now this could be read as pre-slash, as a relationship, or just good friends, but I am so completely head over heels in love with the idea of Harry and Ron! Best friends to lovers!

*complete*

Best Served Cold by enchantedsleeper

Plot: “C’mon, Freddie,” George says suddenly, sotto voce. “Sooner the four of us get out of here, the better.” It hadn’t been the right moment, as they were exploring the Dursleys’ comfortable house in the dead of night, to plant a well-timed trick or a trap and risk blowing the whole operation – and getting Harry into even more trouble with his sadistic relatives. Better just to get Harry out and away from that place. But two years later, Fred and George got their chance for revenge.

Characters: Harry, Fred, George, Ron, Arthur

Relationships: Harry & Ron; Harry & George & Fred

Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse

Tags: Book 4; Harry is an honorary Weasley

*complete*

east, west, home’s best by taizi

Plot: You can never have too many brothers, Ron decides, for the very first time in his life. And there's always room in the Burrow for another Weasley, even if only an honorary one.

Characters: Harry, George, Ron, Fred

Relationships: Harry & Ron

Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse

Tags: Chamber of Secrets; families of choice

*complete*

live for today, hope for tomorrow by Vennat

Plot: Professors are Hogwarts are a little more observant and a little less likely to allow their students to be in harms way. OR A canon rewrite starting from book two, featuring friendship, angst, and a severe lack of oblivious characters.

Characters: Hermione, Harry, Ginny, Ron, Luna, Fred, George, Snape, Draco

Relationships: Hermione & Harry & Ron; Harry & George & Fred; Harry & Ginny; Luna & The Golden Trio; Harry & Snape; Draco & Harry

Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse; PTSD; panic attacks; blood; vomit; injury; food issues; depression

Tags: friendship; Harry has a saving people thing; mentor Snape; BAMF Harry; Smart Harry; canon rewrite; angst; Dumbledore bashing; Book 2; Harry is a Good Friend; Harry is Bad at Feelings

*complete* [part of a series; hasn’t been updated since 2020]

The Closest Distance Between Two People by StartledStarfish

Plot: In Harry's third year, no dementors boarded the Hogwarts Express in search of Sirius Black. Remus Lupin, the new defense professor, slept the whole way there. He did not wake to cast a patronus. Harry never passed out. Never heard his mother scream. Never saw the flash of green light. Never felt the unspeakable cold drain all the happiness out of him. So when Harry’s turn came to face the boggart, his greatest fear could not be a dementor. Harry blinked and looked up into the smiling face of Albus Dumbledore.

Characters: Harry, Ron, Remus, Dumbledore, Vernon, McGonagall

Relationships: Harry & Ron; Harry & Remus

Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse; childhood trauma, child neglect

Tags: boggarts, dementors, Dursley Family Bashing; Dumbledore Bashing; healing; angst with a happy ending; Ron makes sure nobody’s sad for long; friendship; laughter

*complete*

Grey Space by noaacat *favorite*

Plot: In 1991, Harry Potter begins his time at Stonewall High, unaware that he is anything more than a boy prone to freakish accidents. When he turns fourteen, he will receive a letter that will change his life. He will learn he is Harry Potter, and be invited into a world where belonging is his birthright. Until then, he stumbles on, two steps forward and one step back, out of the cupboard and into the life he was never meant to have.

Characters: Harry, The Dursleys, Dumbledore, lots of muggle OCs

Relationships: none

Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse; implied/referenced homophobia; child abuse; child neglect

Tags: AU: Hogwarts Starts Late

My Notes: This one! Is so good! The worldbuilding alone is amazing and the author really did make me immersed in the small sleepy town of Little Whinging. Please, if you read any fic on this list, read this one! It’s so good! Instant favorite!

*complete*

Iron by belleslettres

Plot: Draco also has a penchant for shirts with fiddly collars and cuffs and will not even entertain the notion of going anywhere looking like anything less than perfection. But Harry, who will do almost anything for Draco, refuses to iron them. “My aunt used to make me do all the ironing,” Harry says. “I hated it.”

Characters: Harry, Draco

Relationships: Draco/Harry

Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse

Tags: fluff and angst; post-war; Epilogue what Epilogue; fluff; domestic fluff

*complete*

All That Stands in its Path by thebiwholived

Plot: "An old soul, people might say, and Molly has never quite been sure what such a person would look like, until the day her family meets the Boy Who Lived in a dingy train station on the way to school." Molly Weasley's perspective on the summer Harry Potter comes to stay.

Characters: Harry, Molly, Weasley Family

Relationships: Harry & Molly Weasley

Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse

Tags: canon compliant; book 2

*complete*

To See More Clearly by JellyShark

Plot: Harry didn't make it out of Privet Drive after blowing up Aunt Marge. He is alone, locked away, forgotten. To make things worse, his magic is changing, morphing into something unknown and terrifying. Harry returns to Hogwarts a changed boy, unable to hide the effects of his time with the Dursleys. His Third Year dawns, bringing with it a man who feels like home, a Hufflepuff Prefect, and a dog who reminds Harry of a time when he was loved.

Characters: Harry, Remus, Ron, Snape, Sirius, Hermione, Luna, Cedric, Neville, McGonagall

Relationships: Sirius/Remus; pre Cedric/Harry; Remus & Harry; Hermione & Ron & Harry; Cedric & Harry; Sirius & Harry

Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse

Tags: Harry Needs a Hug; Harry is an Empath; Smart Harry; Magically Powerful Harry; Mentor Remus; flawed but well-meaning Dumbledore; book 3; book 4; Snape gets worse before he gets better; angst; hurt/comfort

*incomplete* [last updated August 2021]

Holidays by diogxnes

Plot: While his housemates discuss the upcoming holidays, Harry cannot help but think of how he never experienced a real Christmas with the Dursleys. Ron notices.

Characters: Harry, Ron, Lavender Brown, Seamus Finnigan

Relationships: Harry & Ron

Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse

Tags: book 1; missing scene; canon compliant; emotional hurt/comfort; hurt/comfort; Ron Weasley is a Good Friend

*complete*

Closing In by silver_fish

Plot: Harry supposes he’ll never know how they learned about the cupboard under the stairs. He also supposes he’ll never know how they managed to make him so afraid of it, all these years later.

Characters: Harry, Hermione, Ron

Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse, claustrophobia, implied/referenced torture, codependency, trauma, panic attacks, PTSD, therapy

Tags: post-war; hurt/comfort; touch-starved; guilt; Harry centric; false memories

My Notes: This one made me emotionally exhausted but it’s written super well

*complete*

Adjustments by Velvet_Riptide

Plot: With the Second Wizarding War over, Sirius is more than excited to put everything behind him and raise Harry as his own. However, he and Remus begin to notice odd and troubling behaviors from Harry. Without answers from the source, Sirius turns to Harry's previous guardians--Molly and Arthur Weasley--and learns Harry is still making adjustments from his time with the Dursley's.

Characters: Harry, Sirius, Remus, Molly, Arthur, Hermione, Ron

Relationships: Sirius/Remus; Hermione/Ron; Remus & Harry; Sirius & Harry

Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse; childhood trauma; PTSD

Tags: hurt/comfort; coparenting; Harry lived in the Burrow for several years with the Weasleys before moving to 12 Grimmauld Place;

*complete*

Two Things by TheDivineComedian

Plot: Harry is only four years old and the Dursleys are already mean.

Characters: Harry, Petunia, Vernon, Dudley, imaginary Lily, imaginary James

Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse

*complete*

How to be happy by TheDivineComedian

Plot: The Patronus charm requires a happy memory. Harry Potter doesn't have many, and the Dementors get Sirius, after all. But the story is far from over.

Characters: Harry, Remus, Sirius, Ron, Hermione

Relationships: Harry & Sirius; Harry & Remus; Remus & Sirius

Warnings: major character death; implied/referenced child abuse

Tags: creepy; heartwarming; dementors; Hogwarts third year

My Notes: this one is a fucking doozy good lord (the tags say heartwarming but w h e r e)

*complete*

Knowledge is a Rose by Magi_Silverwolf

Plot: When Harry discovered that he had a name, he clung to that information and all that it entailed. After learning more information about his past, nothing and everything changed.

Characters: Harry

Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse; physical abuse; verbal abuse; mental abuse

Tags: emotional hurt; identity issues

*complete*

No Love for the Wicked by VigilanteVampire4311

Plot: Harry Potter was the Boy-Who-Lived. The Golden Boy. The Chosen One. But it turns out when you run head first into an unknown magical artifact and end up in a void, none of that matters. Now he's in a different time with familiar strangers who just can't seem to understand the new transfer student, Harrison Miller. With a Defense teacher he can't let his guard down for a second around, the Marauders hounding the 'mysterious' new Slytherin, and his housemates who cannot fathom a muggleborn being among them, Harry has to wonder whether fate hates him or if he is really a trouble-making freak like the Dursleys always said.

Characters: Harry, James, Lily, Sirius, Remus, Regulus, Snape, Tom Riddle, Pomfrey

Relationships: Harry & James; Harry & Lily; Sirius & Harry; Remus & Harry; Regulus & Harry; Harry & Tom Riddle; Pomfrey & Harry

Warnings: graphic depictions of violence; implied/referenced child abuse; possessive behavior; depression; non-consensual touching

Tags: The Veil; Slytherin Harry; Marauders are kinda assholes; Tom Riddle is not Voldemort yet; Severus is so done; alternate universe; angst; hurt/comfort; bullying; time travel; Marauders Era

My Notes: so far with 7 chapters in, we haven’t yet gotten to Harry interacting with anyone from the past but it’s still written really well

*incomplete* [last updated September 2021]

The snake in the daffodils by SpicyReyes *favorite*

Plot: Harry follows Sirius through the Veil of Death, and stumbles out on the other side of the Mirror of Erised, under a strange spell and stranded in an unfamiliar Hogwarts.

Characters: Harry, Remus, Regulus, Harry, Ron, James, Lily, Sirius

Relationships: Regulus/James; Sirius/Remus; Draco/Harry

Warnings: graphic depictions of violence; discussions of suicide; discussions of self-harm; suicidal ideation; implied/referenced child abuse

Tags: universe jumping; Hogwarts fifth year; misunderstandings; miscommunication; basically everyone thinks harry wants to die but he is actually just hella confused

My Notes: so, so good! And if you like this one I recommend The Devil’s White Knight which is really similar in concept

*incomplete* [last updated 2020]

been waiting a lifetime (to be with you) by justprompts

Plot: The next time he woke, Potter was shaking him awake. Just, just not the right one. He had hazel eyes for one, and class. This was not Harry Potter. This was - Well, he had just woken up and who accepts the delightfully altering time-related facts of life right as they wake up?

Characters: Harry, Dumbledore; Peter Pettigrew; Prewett Twins; Marlene McKinnon; Sirius; Remus; Lily; James; Draco; Alice & Frank Longbottom; Regulus; Draco

Relationships: Draco/Harry; James/Lily; Sirius/Remus; Marlene McKinnon/Dorcas Meadows; Alice/Frank Longbottom; Regulus & Sirius; Regulus & Draco

Tags: time travel fix-it; Marauders Era; Horcrux hunting; everyone lives/nobody dies; master of death Harry; light-hearted; POV multiple; Harry doesn’t need to be dark/evil to be master of death; irregular and slow updates; mutual pining

*incomplete* [last updated May 2021]

The Gospel Truth by twentysevensummers

Plot: When Harry arrives at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place with a black eye, he has more trouble than expected keeping the truth from Sirius.

Characters: Harry, Sirius, Remus

Relationships: Sirius & Harry

Warnings: referenced/implied child abuse; child neglect

Tags: book 5; hurt/comfort; angst; Harry needs a hug; good godparent Sirius Black; number 12 grimmauld place

*complete*

o children, lift up your voice by orphan_account

Plot: "i don't know if they could've put a flap in the door of the cupboard, now that i think about it," harry laughs nervously. "dunno if it would've fit onto it. since it's smaller than the bedroom door." hermione and ron's heads both shoot up. "what?" ron asks. "excuse me?" hermione says.

Characters: Harry, Ron, Hermione

Relationships: Hermione & Harry & Ron

Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse

Tags: friendship; slight canon divergence; character study; second war with Voldemort; physical affection; lots of hugs

My Notes: this one is so good and if you can get past the fact that the author doesn’t capitalize anything, you’re good to go (although it was difficult to get past that at first for myself)

*complete*

Muggle Management by LadyWinterlight, NerdyKat

Plot: What happens if Hermione notices signs of abuse in Harry during first year? The Wizarding World may not have laws against it, but the Muggle World certainly does...

Characters: Harry, Hermione, Mrs Granger, Mr. Granger

Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse

Tags: family

*complete*

Harry Potter & Other Fandoms

Masked Men and Where to Find Them by tinyrose65

Fandoms: Harry Potter & Daredevil & MCU

Plot: Harry Potter moved to Hell's Kitchen because she wanted a fresh start: time away from the spotlight, where she could focus on being the best Healer she could be. Trust the unconscious man in her dumpster to go and complicate things.

Characters: Harry, Matt Murdock

Relationships: Harry/Matt; past Harry/Draco

Warnings: past domestic abuse; implied/referenced child abuse

Tags: female!Harry

My Notes: this is the first in a series and the second one is also incomplete but they’re both very good and the second one has Jessica Jones!

*incomplete* [last updated 2016]

Magic and Masks by Akoia

Fandoms: Harry Potter & DC Comics

Plot: Harry Potter is anything but normal, thank you very much, he just didn't hold such nonsense as that. Follow him on his adventures through the Wizarding world and muggle world as he struggles to understand who he is, and fight the destiny that's been chosen for him.

Characters: Harry; Dick Grayson; Jason Todd; Bruce Wayne; Alfred Pennyworth; the Dursleys

Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse; canon typical violence

Tags: fluff and angst

My Notes: this is a series with six parts!

*incomplete* [last updated 2020]

Modern Family

Breaking & Entering: (The Start Of) A Love Story by dollsome

Plot: "Oh my God," Mitchell says, "this is insane." It is, for the record. It is actually ... insane.

Characters: Mitchell, Cameron

Relationships: Mitchell Pritchett/Cameron Tucker

Warnings: none

Tags: none

*completed*