#harry really has us on the floor over his shins

[bloodiedrogue]

IN ANOTHER UNIVERSE, MAYBE (2)

SUMMARY: It's always been hard being the sibling of a superhero. Lately though, it feels next to impossible.

PAIRING: Miguel O'Hara & Female Reader

WORD COUNT: 5,136

WARNINGS: Angst, enemies-to-lovers adjacent, descriptions of a panic attack/dissociate behaviours, inappropriate use of medication/alcohol consumption.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, first of all, the amount of love I've received from this fic has been insane??? Like, y'all really knocked it out of the park, both here and on AO3 and I'm absolutely astounded? Thank you so much! You guys have literally motivated me so much so hopefully this chapter lives up to the hype of the first? :)

CHAPTER LIST / LAST CHAPTER / MASTERLIST

-

“God, I am never drinking again.” 

You stumble into the living room with your hands against your eyes, palming the sockets roughly. It’s morning, maybe even early afternoon, and already the sun is pushing through the blinds, coating the apartment in enough light that it makes you squint. On the couch Miguel grumbles under the covers as you walk by, pulling the fabric over his head as he readjusts his position, directing himself away. 

You’re surprised to see him there but say nothing, opting to wander into the kitchen to pour yourself a glass of water, noticing a fresh sticky note on the fridge: Call me when you’re up —Pete!

Hm, he must’ve gone over to MJ’s for the night.

Peeling the note away, you continue your trek for hydration, grabbing a glass that you fill and chug down twice before feeling satisfied enough to continue. Or at least, enough to survive considering just how sore you are. From your knees down you can feel the leftover aches from walking home; the many miles you’d managed to travel in your drunken state now heavy on your mind. There are at least one or two blisters on each foot thanks to your poor choice of footwear while the muscles surrounding your shins feel like they might actually be burning through your flesh.  

As you walk back through the living room you try not to groan at the pain, turning your attention to Miguel who’s now reluctantly awake. 

“Morning, grandpa.” 

You walk over and press the sticky note to his forehead, ignoring the way he swears under his breath and looks at you with narrowed eyes. 

“It’s not nice to assault people with sticky notes before they’ve had coffee.”

Shrugging in response, you walk back to your bedroom to grab your phone, listening to the creak of your couch as Miguel shifts out of place. 

It’s weird that he’s still here. After everything that happened last month, you were certain you’d never have to see him again. Being Peter’s boss and not much else, he’d become nothing more than a disdainful memory as time went on. A poor impression from the past that Peter never talked about. If you were honest, you weren’t expecting to hear about him so soon, much less see him, especially without his mask. 

So seeing him here, sitting so nonchalantly on your couch is a bit strange. Off-putting in a way that leaves you emotionally winded as you sit on the edge of your bed, staring at your notifications. 

There’s about half a dozen apologies from Peter alone, each variation more extreme than the last. Mixed between there’s a few memes and a picture of him pretending to cry on MJ’s floor with the caption sorry for being the worst brother, which you immediately save for future use. There’s also one from Harry asking you to send him a work email that you ignore and another from Gwen once again asking you to come for brunch. 

You glance at the time, noticing that it’s nearing eleven. She and Harry are probably already at their usual spot, munching away on overpriced, organic eggs and inhaling mimosas. (Something you'd normally enjoy but can’t quite fathom doing thanks to the pain currently rippling through your body.) 

Groaning, you curl further into the bed, feeling your head shift like an ocean wave that sends you flying across the room. In response, you shut your eyes as tight as possible, hoping that if you roll with the movements you’ll get used to them faster. 

Immunity through the power of will and all that. 

“I see you’re still alive.” 

You refuse to open your eyes. You need to focus on getting better ���on pushing through the swirling motions that attack your brain because if you don’t you’ll be stuck here all day, helpless and in pain and way too dizzy. No longer will you be a person, but instead a shell. A fragile casing of sensitive flesh stretched over bruising bone that will slowly but surely deteriorate over time. 

“Are you always this dramatic?” 

The urge to argue persists, flowing through you just quick enough that you find yourself opening one eye, noticing his stance. 

He’s standing nonchalantly in the centre of your room; hands placed neatly on his hips. On his face, the tiniest of smirks pokes out of the corner of his mouth, prompting you to lift your head, blinking at what feels like a rare sight.

“Are you always this hostile?”

“Only in the morning.”

“Even towards complete strangers?”

“Especially to strangers.”

“Makes sense why you don’t have many friends.” 

“And how would you know that, stranger?”

He’s got that teasing tone that Harry always has. The one that sounds so condescending that it borders flirtation. Immediately it makes you roll your eyes and direct your attention back to your phone, realizing just how little you want to continue this conversation. You’re too hungover. Too sick and tired to do this whole back-and-forth thing, so instead you call Peter, putting the call on speakerphone with a sigh.

It rings twice before the other end clicks to life, a very joyful and awake Peter greeting the both of you. “Good morning friends, how are we doing on this beautiful morning?”

Almost in unison both of you grumble out a quiet fine that makes Peter laugh, prompting you to look at each other with shared disgust. 

“Are you hungover?”

“What do you think?”

“Gwen called me this morning,” he says, changing the subject. “She wants to go for brunch.”

“That’s nice, but I will not be attending on the account of the fact that I’d rather die.” 

“So dramatic,” Miguel chimes in.

Ignoring him, you place your phone onto the pillow next to you and tighten the covers around your throat.

Your head is still spinning but less so, the waves feeling more like lakeside tides than oceanic swells, leaving you thankful. There’s nothing worse than the spins after a night out. You can handle the stomach aches and even the vomiting but the second you can feel that mental drift you’re a goner. 

“Okay well, MJ and I are going to go if you change your mind. Miguel, you're welcome to come too.”

“No thanks,” he says, unsurprisingly. 

There’s a pause after that. One that lasts a solid five seconds but feels like a lifetime longer thanks to the way Miguel continues to stand there, staring at your pathetic frame tucked haphazardly beneath the covers. 

“You know staring is rude, right?”

“Is it?”

“Yeah, and weird too considering I barely know you.”

“You saying it’s weird for strangers to stare at strangers?” 

“A little, yeah, so knock it off.” 

He gives in, his eyes diverting towards the window before they move to the door, motivating his body to leave the room without another word. Once he’s gone you let out a sigh of relief and listen to his footsteps, hearing the way they move through the living room and into the kitchen. 

It makes you wonder why he’s even still here, taking up space in a home he isn’t really welcome in. You figured it was obvious from the beginning that he was nothing more than an overnight guest. A protective stand-in meant to slip away in the dead of night with no word or note. He was never meant to linger the way he is now and a part of you wonders if he already knows. If instead of picking up and applying said social cues, he’s opting to ignore them for some higher purpose. 

It wouldn’t make much sense but then again, you don’t really know Miguel so maybe he’s just a lingerer. Maybe he’s socially awkward and doesn’t understand that when you’re being mean to him it means you want him to leave your house so you can vomit in peace. 

“I see you guys are getting along.”

“Swimmingly.”

“Did you two have a good night?”

“Yes, oh my god it was amazing!”

“Really?”

You offer a fake laugh that Miguel walks in on, raising his brow in confusion. “No, we had a terrible time. Your boss is mean, Peter.” 

Offended, Miguel opens his mouth to speak but quickly closes it, watching the way you smirk beneath the covers, watching his brows knit together.

“How am I mean? I walked you home didn’t I?”

“Sure, begrudgingly.” 

He scoffs, his palms moving to encompass his hips again. “I didn’t realize I was supposed to enjoy walking you home. I’ll remember that next time.”

Next time?

You narrow your eyes and stare directly at him, noticing the way he mirrors your expression. It’s subtle at first, the way the crinkles of his eyes sort of deepen to match the lines across his forehead. His skin is rough —aged looking most likely due to the fact he probably slept terribly— and the bags beneath his eyes are the heaviest you’ve ever seen, even rivalling Peter’s on some of his rougher days. Like you, he looks more like a corpse than a person, his face devoid of anything other than the sickened frustration of having to deal with your attitude.

“I’m gonna be honest if you’re ever running late again, please call someone else.”

It’s obvious you’re talking to Peter but as you speak you continue staring at the man in front of you, glaring at the way his weight shifts beneath your gaze.

You hope he’s uncomfortable. You hope he’s embarrassed or at least feeling a little self-conscious for acting like such a child in a space that he hopefully never feels welcome in. If you were him you’d certainly be.

“Yeah, so, anyway, is that still a no to breakfast or…?”

-

You’re beginning to regret ever wanting to get involved in Peter’s double life. Or at least, its most recent developments. Up until last month, everything was fine. Simple and controlled and not at all hectic like it is now. Back then, everything was smooth sailing when it came to helping. Your only responsibilities being lie to May and make sure the window was always unlocked before you went to bed. Two very mundane tasks you could practically do in your sleep. 

Nowadays, it feels like an endless loop of stress. Kind of like when you were eighteen and just finding out that your brother was a superhero for the first time. Everything is complicated again. The stakes feel higher than ever before knowing the truth that there’s a world out there just like yours, endlessly repeating. That instead of just one Spider-Man there’s probably a million variations doing the same thing Peter’s doing. 

You’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you look at everything differently —intensively. With each new person you pass you wonder what their version is like somewhere else. Are they still male or female? Are they younger? Older?

As you walk into brunch alongside Peter and MJ, it’s all you can think about as you stare at Gwen, remembering her counterpart. How she looked so familiar but you couldn’t quite place it. 

You realize now that it’s because she’s your Gwen, but not. A direct copy but a good decade younger. They have the same hair colour and eyes and that little gap between their front teeth and upon seeing her it makes you wearily shift into your seat, putting on your fakest smile. 

She’s already a bit tipsy when you arrive, you can tell. Her eyes are half closed and the grin plastered across her face is hazardously wide. 

“Oh, my god, hi! I’m so glad you came!”

If it weren’t for the table between you she’d be pulling you in for a hug, tightening her grip around your shoulders until the air inside you was gone. You inhale nervously at the thought, wondering if other Gwen would do the same. 

It’s hard to tell what traits transfer over. Considering she’s a spider person in her universe it’s more than likely she’s completely different, right? Perhaps relating more to Peter. It’d make sense that all spider people kind of have the same vibe. Perhaps like your brother, they’re nerdy and into photography and have partners with nicknames that double as their initials. Like him they'd live double lives, trying their best to find the balance between being crime-fighting arachnids and regular civilians with the help of their sisters. 

Or brothers. You figure in other universes you’re probably a guy too. Hell, maybe even in some you're the spider person having to navigate through life with the help of your brother. 

“Sorry we’re late,” Pete grins, pulling out the chair beside you so that MJ can sit down. “Somebody had a bit too much to drink.”

You shoot him a look as he sits at the head of the table, sticking out his tongue for good measure. 

You hope in the universe where you have superpowers you give him a hard time. 

“It’s fine, we overdid it too,” Gwen says, looking at Harry who rolls his eyes and looks at Peter, the two of them sharing a knowing glance. 

“Hope you wore a condom,” you say, at which MJ and Gwen gasp, both of their mouths curling into cheeky grins that you can’t help but share. 

Its always been obvious that the two of them are together, even though neither of them would ever admit it. It’s weird but Gwen says it’s a part of the intrigue, having this unlabeled relationship that she can just ride without the responsibility of making it a bit deal. 

Both you and MJ think it’s because she secretly likes the drama of it all, but knowing how she’d react to such a claim, neither of you says that out loud. 

“Did you make it home okay?” Gwen changes the subject before anyone can even join in, making you sort of sad because you love to tease. 

“Relatively. Threw up on the walk home but that’s New York, baby.” 

“Walk home?” Harry questions.

You freeze, remembering Miguel. He doesn’t exist in this world. At least, not to anyone other than you and Pete and maybe MJ. You’re not entirely sure what he’s told her but you figure she knows in some capacity because he wouldn’t have called you otherwise. 

“I mean drive, sorry, drive home. I’m still hungover.” You try to laugh it off but Harry and Gwen share that look. The familiar one where they think you’re lying but know better than to actually bring it up. It’s the same look they give you sometimes when you’re covering for Peter and you hate it, feeling your chest tighten every time it’s shared right in front of your face. 

It reminds you of how you felt having Miguel around. Something about the way he looks at you every time you talk fills you with that familiar twang of insignificance. Like whatever you say isn’t good enough. 

With your friends you know it’s because you’re insecure about your lying capabilities. With Miguel though, it’s different. Yes, it feels the same physically but emotionally it’s an entirely new set of feelings. Ones that have you second-guessing their origins, remembering the way your stomach would twist each time he’d insult you. Each time he’d look at you with those dark eyes and pouting mouth. 

Thinking about it now, he reminds you very little of Peter. Aside from the moniker of Spider-Man the only similarities (so far) you can confidently say that they share is the art of sarcasm and deflection. The way their voices can become so monotonous at the drop of a hat is unparalleled, even with all the tension, and it’s frustrating. 

It makes you wish you didn’t wear your emotions on your sleeve. Like Peter and Miguel, you wish you could box it all up in the form of calm words so that nobody even got the chance to look at you the way Harry and Gwen still are. 

Secretly, you wish you were the spider person of this universe. Not because you want to save lives, selfishly. No, you mostly just wish you were stronger like them. Less like yourself and more like your brother who sits at the head of the table holding MJ’s hand with the biggest smile you’ve ever seen. 

And not so secretly, you want what he has. You want to be confident and to have people look at you in a way that’s filled with adoration. To have them survey you and conclude that you’re decent rather than picking out your flaws. You want May to look at you with fondness. You want her to be proud of you in the same way she’s proud of Peter and to affirm your belief that you’re doing alright for yourself even without filling her desires for grandkids. 

You want Harry to look at you with respect. To stop looking through you just because you’re Parker’s sister who just so happens to be smart too. You want him to take him as seriously as he takes Gwen without the sex. Without the implication that to be valued, you need to provide him with something worthwhile. 

You want Gwen to appreciate everything you do for her. To stop taking advantage of you at work and in life —to provide you with the comfort of an actual friend. 

You want value, you decide. Whether that’s through the gain of superpowers or not. All you want is a little bit more than you’re given and you wish you could express that as you sit at the table, watching everyone talk and laugh as if you’re not really there.

Beside you, MJ leans into Peter as he talks, resting her chin on her hand in longing silence while the two across the table sit, completely engrossed. You try your best to listen in too, picking up that the story involves his boss over at the Bugle. Something about how his last few pictures of Spider-Man were so good he nearly fell off his chair. 

You fight the urge to roll your eyes and pull out your phone, scanning the screen mindlessly, clicking on apps and profiles over and over again until the waitress shows up and asks for your order. You get a mimosa regardless of your hangover and a bagel breakfast sandwich with all the extra fixings, knowing you need it. Then you wait. Wordlessly exhausted, wishing that instead of deciding to tag along you’d stayed at home under the comfort of your covers.

-

Once you step over the threshold of your apartment you let out a sigh of relief and sink into the couch alongside Peter who rubs his face. By now your social battery is running at a negative ten, making your mind fill with nervous thoughts that have you frowning as you curl into yourself, clutching your knees to your chest.

You shouldn’t have gone, you decide then. Regardless of the extended invitation, it was obvious you were only invited because Gwen was drunk and felt bad. That’s usually how it went nowadays. 

“They’re a lot, aren’t they?”

Peter’s always known how much you struggle with people —how you overthink every interaction after it’s happened. It’s how it’s always been and he’s used to it. 

As you nod, you feel his hand against your shoulder, tightening. It’s a gesture of understanding but at the moment it feels like pity so you brush him off, frowning even harder. 

“You okay?”

You aren’t. You’re overstimulated from the amount of interacting you’ve done in the last twenty-four hours. From Harry and Gwen to Miguel and back you haven’t had a break all day and you can feel your mask slipping. Physically, your chest is aching for a breath you can’t quite get, the realization of your interactions pushing you over the edge and all you want to do is scream.

You were such an asshole today. Sure, you’re always kind of mean but this morning specifically felt like a step above the rest with the way you argued with Miguel as if you knew him. As if last night was just another night between you, adding to countless others. You were brash and unwelcoming and rude, and despite how you feel about him sometimes, you still feel pretty shit about it.

“Do you need anything?”

“No.” 

Your tone is stubborn, dripping with an arrogance that has Pete sighing because he knows he can’t do much. When you’re in these moods all he can really do is let you live through your anger —to explore the hate you feel inside in private. It’s how you’ve always done things. So when Peter looks at you with sympathy you can know that’s it. He won’t press the matter further. He’ll just get up and leave and go to MJ’s for the night. Check-in in the morning like he usually does.

As he stands you’re met with feelings of both relief and regret, watching the way he carefully pats your head and steps over your legs. Inside, your stomach drops as he wanders to the doorway, slipping on his shoes and coat without saying a word, knowing that it never solves anything —just makes it all messy. 

Again, like always, you wish you were like him in these instances. Because maybe then you could have a normal relationship that doesn’t rely on boundaries you wish didn’t exist. Instead of pushing everyone away you could sit with them —talk to them. Express instead of repress. Prove to them that the love you want is the love you deserve. 

If you were in any other universe you’re certain you could do it. In this one though? 

You’re too scared. 

-

When you’re alone, it happens, the calm before the storm. 

As the hours move and you lay exhausted on the couch staring at your phone, you find yourself scrolling. Distracting yourself from the inevitable breaking point by watching YouTube video after YouTube video. First, you start with your usual poison, simple documentaries about things like haunted houses or murder cases that remained unsolved. Lazily, you click thumbnail and thumbnail, half absorbing all the names and dates and details as you lie prone, trying not to think about it. 

It takes hours for you to fully accept your emotions and when you do it’s a mess. Now lying in bed, it’s nearing eight and your deep dive on unsolved mysteries has turned into videos discussing the topics of the multiverse. You’re not sure why you decided to delve into all that but regardless, as you do you’re in your head again, clutching a pillow tightly against your cheek as you try to steady your thoughts. 

You bet Miguel’s world has a version of you that’s nicer. One that treats him with respect. They’re probably a spider person too which is why he looks at you with such disdain every time you argue. You’re a lesser version of them —no comparison. They’re better and it drives you insane, thinking that the approval of a man you hardly know is important. 

Aside from Peter, there’s absolutely nothing connecting you. You’re from different worlds both literally and figuratively, so it doesn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter.

Except that it does, doesn’t it? Deep down, regardless of how well you know one another, this man has managed to find his way inside your skin. You’re not sure when or how or why but somehow he’s always there, lingering at the back of your mind like a memory. Like he’s absent until he’s not —until something reminds you that he exists and that he thinks you’re too inexperienced to understand that he doesn’t like you. 

You figure he doesn’t like you because you’re stubborn. You’re sure there are other reasons but that’s the only one that really jumps out. The way he speaks to you is a direct example of that. Changing subjects often, he doesn’t like when you push his pull. Doesn’t like when you defy his authority or pry. He wants complete and total control and when you’re around he knows he doesn’t have that. You don’t trust him enough to give it.

His version of you probably gives him whatever he wants. Probably spoils him by following him around like some lost fucking puppy. They’re probably older than you —experienced— and have the backbone of an earthworm. 

He probably loves it. 

Shoving your face into your pillow you let out a loud groan, letting the tears well and overflow against the fabric of your pillowcase.

It’s sudden, the storm. Erupting out of nowhere over something that shouldn’t matter. Quickly, there’s a rage that fills inside you, quietly creeping from the depths of your soul in the form of breathless gasps and shaky hands. 

You turn upwards to face the ceiling, the tears coating your eyes in a layer of disarray. You can’t see anything but the blurred beige above you. Everything moves like brushstrokes across the canvas, thick and liquidy and not quite good-looking. It makes you blink in annoyance and throw your forearms over your head, trying to stop the world from letting you see or shake or feel anything other than regret. 

It’s painful, the storm. It feels like a deep wound being opened back up again. All the build-up of scar tissue is there, shoved amongst the perfectly good parts. Usually, they linger there together but as the wound is peeled open by your own hand, you can feel the worst of it start to push. 

As it surfaces, you can feel the catalyst begin to wake. The rate at which the chemicals in your brain begin to increase, pushing you over the edge.

It fucking hurts. 

By now your wound is gaping, ripping at the base of your chest. It’s hard to breathe under all the pressure of the damaged flesh. Under all the memories of a life you once thought was good. Decent 

In another universe, you hope to god you feel just like this. Like the world is caving in and you’re the last survivor. At least then you wouldn’t feel so alone —so beside yourself while everyone else so carelessly continues moving. 

It helps calm the storm. Thinking of you —another you. Regardless of if they’re better or worse or completely equal to you, the thought of this feeling extending across the expanse of a place you don’t quite understand fills you with ease.

It closes the hole in your chest —pushes all the tainted flesh back inside for safekeeping. Slowly, it settles into something you can handle again, sewing up the edges that’ll inevitably leave a new scar. 

As you sit up from your bed, brushing past the tears to clear your vision, you feel your breath begin to steady. A slow one-through-five inhale, followed by another one-through-five exhale, each one becoming stronger than the last as you look towards the window, noticing the familiar blue and red spandex standing silently on your fire escape. 

He doesn’t move when you notice him. Doesn’t fly through the air or duck out of sight. Standing there, it’s as if instead of flesh he’s made of stone, unwavering in his attempts to watch you carefully through the window. It’s scary if you’re honest. The way he looks so detached from the world. Even without seeing his face, it’s as if there’s nothing behind the angered design that adorns his features below. His emotions feel completely blank underneath the fabric, making you wonder. 

What’s he thinking about?

As you inch toward the edge of the bed, you see him twitch. It’s subtle. The fingers of his right hand sort of jolt lightly in the air, and it’s over before you can even think about it, so you don’t. Instead choosing to forget as you move towards the window. 

Surprisingly, he still doesn’t move. All he does is breathe, letting the rise and fall of his chest ruin the image of his fixed stance. He’s nervous, like you, you determine. Scared, like you.

It motivates your movements, pushing you through the room until you’re standing in front of the window, reaching for it with shaky hands.

Why hasn’t he left yet?

You push open the window, slowly, watching his body begin to move towards it, his leg pushing through the moment you step away.

“What are you doing here?”

He doesn’t respond. At first, you assume it’s because he’s embarrassed and doesn’t know what to say but then he moves. Lifelessly, he brushes past you and wanders into the living room, forcing you to follow as he drops onto the couch with a groan. 

Seriously, why is he here?

You open your mouth to repeat your previous question but are interrupted by his mask. Almost instantly, it disintegrates before your very eyes, revealing fresh injuries that have you holding your tongue because laying there, he looks like Peter after a rough night. Maybe even worse thanks to the shiner that takes a good portion of his left eye. 

“Do you have any painkillers?” 

You don’t even respond before you leave the room, wandering into your bathroom to grab the usual meds you give Peter. They’re prescription, originally given to you for period cramps, but they do wonders on a battered body.

When you reenter, Miguel’s face is scrunched in pain, struggling to find comfort. Because of this, you practically run to the kitchen, grabbing all the usual items: water, ice packs, scotch, carrying it all in one go. 

“What’s the scotch for?”

You untuck a glass from the crook of your elbow and settle on the floor beside the couch, pouring it halfway to the top before downing it.

“None for me?”

You pour another one. “You’re not meant to take it with pills but Peter always says it makes him sleep better.”

“Okay.” 

You’re no doctor, but you’ve experienced this same formula countless times. If he takes one pill with one full glass of water then drinks the scotch, followed by another water he’ll be out like a light in no time.

“Pill, water, scotch, water,” you instruct, watching him closely as he follows suit, chugging back everything in under a minute.

After it’s done he settles into the couch again, tucking ice packs against his face and chest before glancing your way with a grin. “Stuff’s nice. Goes down good.”

He sounds like he’s been hit by a bus, his voice rubbed raw, scratching your brain in a way that makes you squint as you pour yourself another glass.

“Good cause it cost a pretty penny.” 

“Yeah?”

You nod, opting to sip this one, still feeling the burn of the other radiating throughout your chest. “Ben bought it for me. A graduation present or something.” 

“Wasn’t that ages ago?”

“Your point?”

All he does is grin and close his eyes.

-

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[erodasfishtacos]

could u write something where yn takes ivy to visit harry at work but they catch him shouting at a worker and ivy get scared of him but then he goes all soft <3

love this concept; thanks for the request.

Last blurb until one shot.

A Natural (mini blurb)

Ivy had just got done with preschool and insisted that they pick up her father lunch and deliver to the office as a surprise.

Knowing he could probably use a pick-me-up in the form of his daughter. It always made his day a million times better.

The toddler is carrying her father’s plastic bottle of sparkling water they’d bought him protectively in her arms.

Ivy giggles when she pressed a few too many elevators buttons and the annoyed workers would have said something but knew who little Miss. Ivy Styles was and stayed silent.

YN did apologize, which they were surprised that Styles’ wife had manners unlike him, as well as his curly-haired baby who squeaks, “This is my daddy’s!”

Referring to the bottle she’s holding tightly.

They nod, not risking getting screamed out by their boss for talking to his kid.

Harry didn’t yell, cuss, use rude tones at home. He was the opposite of everything he brought into the office.

He could be firm with Ivy when she was misbehaving but she’d never experienced the angry booming bravado of his voice when he’s nearly yelling.

When they exit to the top floor, Harry is actually a bit down the hallway with a few men.

YN can already hear him furiously scolding the men in front of him and goes to stop Ivy but she’s already taken off towards her father excitedly.

“Y’nearly lost me two million fucking pounds over a typing error! I fuckin’ pay you to do what all day? Fuckin’ twiddle your thumbs!” Harry snaps at them, he has his tall stance and arms crossed.

His face is twisted into an expression Ivy doesn’t know, he’s features dark and uncaring. His voice thick and precise.

“N-no, it wasn’t double-check-“

“How many god damn times to I have to tell grown ass men to check their work? I feel like a fuckin’ primary school teacher!” Harry’s shakes his head, the little girl has never heard her father be so loud.

She stops right behind his legs and a shiver of fright runs through his daughter - she drops the bottle she worked so hard on protecting and looks at her father’s back.

“Now what,” Harry hisses when he hears the noise, the furious expression on his face falling when he realizes it’s his baby.

Ivy’s matching green eyes are wide in fear, when he strides over to comfort her - she runs back until she’s bumping into her mum’s shins and begging to be picked up.

YN has a little humor mixed with concern playing on her face when she looks at her husband, their daughter digging her face into her mum’s neck.

Harry’s frowning, meeting them in the middle and putting his hand on his daughters back, “Daddy didn’t mean to scare y’little dove.”

After a moment her head pops up, teary eyes looking at her favorite man on earth, “Too loud.”

He gives her a small smile which widens when she lets her mum pass her over into his arms, “Yeah, daddy was t’loud, huh?”

Ivy nods and snickers when Harry rubs his nose against hers. People are really trying not to stare as Harry gets scolded by his toddler.

“We brought lunch,” YN huffs belatedly, nodding to the paper bag in her hand and gives his jaw a quick peck.

Before they head into the office, Ivy wriggles down and rushes down the hall to retrieve the water bottle and the men are still standing there in utter fright.

The miniature version of their boss with the same hair, eyes, and dimples smiles at them widely and tells them, “I bring f’my daddy!

They look over to Harry and he glared at them, his eyes telling them to respond to his daughter and not ignore her.

“O-oh? That’s very nice of you,” Henry stammers, intimidated by a toddler in a frilly bright outfit with a bunny on it. **

“Ivy say ‘get back to work or you’re fired,’” Harry smirks, YN smacking his arm and giving him a shove towards the office.

As the little girl trails back to her parents, she brightly parrots her father, “Get back or you’re fired!”

Harry beams proudly as he picks her up and delivers a kiss to her cheek.

“Y’a natural,” He tells her proudly.

[stuckwith-harry]

cried out to you alone

“It becomes a part of who you are”, Harry says, some sort of clarity coming to him. “Death, I mean. Grief. It doesn’t have to swallow you whole, but there is a little bit of it in every part of you.”

Impossible, is the only thing Harry can stand to think. That there is still sunlight in the world after everything.

Still, it pours out over the Burrow’s kitchen table in bright, luminous yellow, warming the veined wood. Harry and the Weasleys watch it creep over the tabletop, sitting elbow-to-elbow. Molly and Arthur are touching shoulders and brushing through hair as they pass around steaming mugs of tea, as they pour milk and stir in spoonfuls of sugar, the bags under their eyes swollen and purple like figs.

When Harry tries to open his mouth, to offer help, Molly quickly shakes her head at him; pleading. Like she wouldn’t know what else to do with herself.

So Harry stays, cramped between George and Ginny, and lets her place her palm on his back as she places his tea in front of him. Through the open window, a sweet-smelling breeze comes pouring in, the smell of warm soil and flowers and summer rapidly approaching, which seems impossible, too.

Tomorrow morning, they’re going to get out of bed and make breakfast. They’re going to feed the chicken in the yard, do the dishes and read the newspaper. Still, the sun is going to come up.

For a moment, he catches Ron’s gaze; Ron, whose face is oddly contorted and whose eyes are glassy and bright red. Harry can’t bear the sight of it: he stares at the old mug in his hands, examining the faded red dots, hand-painted. Anything that soothes.

Poppies, he realises. On the inside, near a chip at the rim, he can make out the small letters spelling out Ottery St. Catchpole, and below that, half-drowning in sweet tea: Flea Market, 1988.

A memory, then. One he wasn’t a part of, but one he can envision, anyway, the bright red summer day, the bustling and shuffling of the little village, the shrieking of children, strawberry ice cream rapidly melting and dripping on bare knees; a younger, happier Ron –

The scraping of a chair yanks him back, as Ginny abruptly gets to her feet and walks out without a word. No one tries to stop her, and the small, pathetic sound of her bedroom door closing from atop the stairs sounds down to them as though she slammed it.

After that, only silence. No pots stir in the kitchen sink, no footsteps thunder from several floors above, and no chatter, no yelling, no laughter holds the walls of the house together. No explosions sound from the twins’ room.

Death is an awfully quiet affair.

One by one, as the stripes on the tabletop grow long and orange, the Weasleys crawl into their hiding places. Harry knows he’s intruding, so he wanders outside, following the soft clucking of the chicken pecking away at the dirt behind their wooden fence, the only things alive and making a sound.

The solitude is a relief: he has never wished to flee the walls of the Burrow so desperately, only stayed long enough to change out of the black funeral robes and into an old Quidditch jumper. Then he pushed Ron’s bedroom door open far enough to slip out and disappear, and mercifully, Ron didn’t try to stop him, either.

The jumper is Ron’s, technically. It feels like being held, Gryffindor red and worn and entirely too large for Harry. Somehow that only makes him feel worse.

The Weasleys did not hesitate to take him home with them after the battle, because that was their way. They put up the old camp bed in Ron’s violently orange bedroom like they always had, and Ron silently handed him a pile of hand-me-downs so Harry would have something to wear other than the clothes that still reeked of the tent, of sweat and of blood.

Harry props his elbows up on the weathered fence and buries his face in the soft sleeves, breathing deeply. For a while, he simply listens as the hens, who do not know or care about anything, cluck away happily, as the urge to slip under the invisibility cloak, to disappear and never make a sound again, keeps on rushing over him.

“Hi.”

His heart jumps painfully into his throat at the quiet greeting and the sound of footsteps on dry grass that preceded it, and when he turns around to face it, he’s looking at Ginny. She’s changed out of her black dress robes, too, back into worn-out denim dungarees and a striped t-shirt. Scarlet and yellow. Her hair has come out of the braid from earlier and falls wildly to her collarbones again, no longer to her belly button, like it used to.

“I couldn’t stand the silence anymore”, she says, voice oddly throaty.

Harry wants to say, you don’t have to explain, but before he can, she pushes out: “And then I was in my room and it was just as fucking quiet, and I just – I didn’t know what to do with myself.”

She looks older, Harry thinks wildly. He hasn’t let himself look at her, not really, doesn’t even know why, just that he’s been avoiding her most of all. Ever since May 2nd, the quiet between them has stretched and stretched over miles and oceans and continents of wasteland. Harry knows it’s his fault, that he should say something, but he has no words, no words at all.

The first morning after the battle, when he came stumbling into the common room and found her there, they just held each other, and he had no words then, either. There was sunlight there, too, he remembers suddenly, poking through the shattered windows and lighting up every particle of dust floating around the empty room.

“Can we go somewhere else?”, she asks, pulling him out of his thoughts. “Anywhere else?”

Harry nods, mouth dry. For a moment, her eyes seem to linger on him, but then she turns away without another word, and he follows her lead without question or objection. They don’t speak again until they reach the old broomshed, and Ginny suddenly turns to look at him again, face unreadable.

“Any chance you wanna go for a fly?”

“Wh-What?”

She shrugs. “Do you?”

It’s a strange time capsule, the shed. Ginny pushes the wooden door open and sends flurries of dust into the air, catching sunlight; Harry, who is standing behind her, catches a glimpse of Arthur’s old Muggle trinkets and the old brooms lined up against the wall. Ron and Ginny’s are closest to the door; the twins’ brooms are up on a shelf opposite the square window.

For a moment, Ginny is perfectly still, and Harry knows she is looking at them, too. Then she reaches for her broom and silently pushes past him. Harry grabs Ron’s and closes the door of the shed behind him, and together they wander away from the Burrow, over the hills that surround it, where wild poppies are peeking through the unkempt grass and weeds.

Harry thinks he knows where she’s going: their makeshift Quidditch pitch hidden between gnarly old trees from summers long lost, where they used to chuck apples and tennis balls at each other, during all those afternoons spent playing Quidditch two against two.

Tall, sweet-smelling yarrow brushes along their bare shins as they walk, and pink clover, the soft heads bending back to the earth under the weight of bumblebees passing by, thick dandelion leaves spread all across the ground amidst the weeds; and everywhere poppies, peeking through the tall grass, the paper-thin petals fluttering in the breeze.

Tucked behind another hill, Harry remembers, a few minutes on foot further north, is the lake where they whiled away happier summer afternoons than this. The image comes to his mind in bright, sunny colours, Ginny’s wide, toothy grin as she sneaks up on Ron, the thundering splash and Hermione’s piercing shriek, and Ron, emerging, spluttering and yelling, his sopping hair plastered to his face.

But that was centuries ago, and their full-bellied laughter seems miles and countries away already. Here, only silence. Harry wants to ask, are you okay?, or say, it’s going to be alright, but what good would it do?

The poppies are early: they’re not supposed to bloom for another month. There’s no end to them, no matter how far they walk, a sea of red stretching out all over the soft hills. Harry can’t tear his eyes away until the first beech trees they used to climb, black pines and yews throw cool shadows over their heads.

Strange, that it looks the same. The leaves up above their heads rustle softly as they mount their brooms, and Ginny shoots into the air, a quiet cannon. For the better part of an hour, they zoom in circles through the rapidly cooling air, chucking an old Quaffle back and forth at each other. Ginny’s throws are hard and unrelenting: they’re not keeping score, but she’s playing like it’s the last game of the season, like the House Cup depends on it, so Harry lets her exhaust herself. By the time they sink back to the ground, the sky over the meadow is dotted in shades of pink and red.

Ginny hits the ground with such force her knees buckle under the impact and hit the dry grass. Harry gasps, but she is already getting up again, brushing off the dirt without comment.

They find a spot at the outer edge of the pitch and slump into the tall grass with their backs leaning against an oak tree, where they can see the sunset falling on the soft hills and the Burrow in the distance, bright red like poppies. Ginny’s hands are uselessly holding her ribs, her warm eyes staring off into nothing.

“Feel any better?”, Harry asks after a while.

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

She shifts next to him, tucking her scraped knees to her chest. They look like she’s spent all summer climbing trees and rolling down the grassy hills around the Burrow and crashing her broomstick into her brothers in a spectacular grab for the Quaffle.

“At least I feel a little less like I was buried with him”, she mutters.

I’m sorry, Harry wants to say, but that seems useless, too.

“I wanted to leave, too”, he says finally. “It was so quiet in there.”

“I hate it”, Ginny says softly. “It doesn’t feel anything like home when it’s like this.”

“I’m sorry”, he says despite himself, for what feels like the thousandth time since everything. “I shouldn’t be here.”

Ginny's brows furrow slightly, as if to say, yes, you should. “If you weren’t, I’d still be shut up in my room right now. Going mad, probably.”

After a short pause, she adds: “I wouldn’t know who to talk to.”

It strikes Harry like lightning: she was looking for him.

She looks over at him as though searching for something. Her brown eyes glow golden in the warm light, like honey, her whole face painted in reds and oranges and pinks.

“How do you do it?”, she asks finally, voice quiet, but steady, as the soft breeze continues to rush through the trees. “How do you lose everyone you’ve lost – and go on living? How do you live with the dead?”

Harry looks at her, the way she sits cross-legged and hunched over in the grass next to him, arms hugged to herself, and it sinks in, what she’s searching for, what she’s asking of him.

“It’s not the same”, he says softly.

She scoffs quietly. “How is that not the same?”

Harry looks around their hiding place. Maybe it’s the creaking of old branches around them, almost a murmur, the smell of the trees, that brings them back: his parents in the Forbidden Forest, walking towards him, Sirius’ bright grin, Dumbledore at King’s Cross Station.

The thought of them cuts through him, every beat of his heart sharp and stinging as they remain dead and he does not.

“Your speech”, he says finally, and watches her jaw clench. “I couldn’t have said anything like that about my parents – or Sirius …”

“I can’t believe I wrote him a fucking eulogy”, Ginny mutters, staring at the weeds to her feet, the patches of moss creeping across the earth under the wild, entangled grass. “It makes it feel so fucking final.”

“You did really well”, Harry says. “It was beautiful.”

She merely shrugs, and he doesn’t blame her.

“I’m glad I got to say something, I think”, she says after another stretch of silence. “But, Merlin, he was walking and talking and making jokes just a week ago, and now he’s six feet underground and I’ve written a double-sided page on how sorely he’ll be missed.”

She wipes her nose on the back of her sleeve.

“Up until today, I really thought he might jump up and laugh it off and make fun of us for falling for it.”

You made it feel like that today, he wants to say, but doesn’t.

“I’m so sorry, Ginny.”

She read it out with a completely steady voice, both fists clutching the slip of paper in her hand. She did not bother to find a silver lining this time, or to look for meaning at all; but every word seemed to bring Fred back to life a little, even earning a few teary chuckles from the other Weasleys. Every anecdote and every prank she recounted was a testament to the fact that Fred Weasley had been alive, that he had mattered, that he had left an impact on her, on all of them.

“You know my Mum had brothers”, Ginny says suddenly, looking over at Harry’s hands. “Fabian and Gideon Prewett.”

She points, and Harry realises what she’s really looking at: Fabian Prewett’s battered old watch on his arm.

“They died in the first war. Bill, Charlie and Percy say they remember them a little, but the rest of us just grew up hearing stories.”

She picks at the shallow wound on her knee, where droplets of bright red blood have pushed to the surface through the cracks in her freckled skin. “It’s why Fred and George are named after them. A little bit, anyway – you know, Fred and George … Fabian and Gideon … Mum was pregnant when they died.”

Harry swallows. “I didn’t know.”

Ginny smiles sadly. “I liked the idea that they got to live on in the twins a little. I never thought to ask Fred and George how they felt about it, actually. I can’t imagine … how Mum feels.”

Harry watches her wrap her arms around her legs, watches the strawberry blond hairs on her shins stand on end as the air cools around them. She looks tired, but her eyes are dry.

“I never made that connection”, he says softly.

“I don’t know why I’m telling you”, she says. “It seemed important.”

Even over the rustling of the trees, the chirping and creaking all around them, he can hear her clearly, her voice steady, unwavering.

“Do you miss him?”

“Yes.”

She looks around at him. “Do you not miss your parents?”

“I don’t know how”, Harry mutters. “Your speech … it was full of memories.”

She doesn’t respond, understanding silently. Then: “What about Sirius?”

Harry shrugs. “He never really got to be my godfather, did he? Not the way he was supposed to, anyway … there wasn’t time. And I don’t remember when my parents were alive – I’ve never known anything else.”

He looks at her, the way she’s quietly watching. “I’m sorry. I know that’s not what you were hoping to hear.”

Ginny dismisses it with a half-hearted gesture, lost in thoughts somewhere else.

“Do you think grieving someone is the same thing as missing them, then?”

“No … do you?”

She seems to consider it for a moment, then shakes her head.

“I just – I just want to talk to him and tell him what’s going on, and I think about how long it’s been since I’ve talked to him and how much I wish he were here and how I’m not gonna get to talk to him –”

She pauses mid-sentence, as though looking for words, and doesn’t find any.

“And then I think about the fact that he’s dead. That his life is over. And that I helped bury him today. And they’re both – awful, but it’s different, I guess.”

Harry nods, more to himself than to Ginny this time.

“And now, I just – I need to know what to do. So it doesn’t swallow me whole.”

Harry is still watching them walk towards him before his inner eye, his parents in the Forbidden Forest, his mother’s hungry face.

“I forget, sometimes”, he says. “For a moment, I think I forget they’re gone. Or I’m – I don’t know, distracted, and I’m not thinking about it – it slips away, and then it hits me again.”

Ginny’s teeth dig into her bottom lip. “I … honestly can’t fathom it right now.”

Harry looks over at her, the way she sits next to him, curled into herself, her hands still uselessly holding her ribs. Like it is physically hurting her.

“I dunno. Maybe forgetting is the wrong word. But when it happens, it always feels like it’s happening to someone else, like I am someone else.”

Ginny watches him intently as he stumbles to the end of his sentence: it feels pathetic already, having said it out loud like that.

“Like you are who you would’ve been if they hadn’t died?”, she asks, in that quietly remarkable way of hers, where she doesn’t treat him like something delicate, but she doesn’t ask for more than he can give, either.

“Yeah, I reckon. But I don’t recognise him at all.”

Ginny hums in understanding. She leans back against the bark of the tree and pulls her knees to herself again. “You would’ve been happier, anyway.”

Harry turns away at that, suddenly not trusting himself to speak.

“I know it doesn’t make sense or anything –”

“No, it does, Harry.”

“I mean, I know they couldn’t have lived. Everything would have to be different. We probably wouldn’t be here.”

Ginny sits in silence for a while.

“Do you ever wonder?”, she asks finally. “What you would’ve been like?”

“I guess … more like them. In ways I can recognise, anyway.”

He gestures helplessly at nothing, and Ginny takes that as a sign to push no further.

“I don’t recognise Ginny a week ago, either”, he hears her say, and the muffled sound of her voice tells him she’s wiping her nose on her sleeve again. “Every time something terrible happened, I guess I didn’t. It’s like remembering an old friend. One whose address you lost or something.”

“It becomes a part of who you are”, Harry says, some sort of clarity coming to him. “Death, I mean. Grief. It doesn’t have to swallow you whole, but there is a little bit of it in every part of you.”

“Cheery”, Ginny says in a hollow voice.

“It gets less all-consuming”, he says softly.

“Good”, she mutters. “Right now it’s pretty fucking all-consuming. It’s there when I wake up in the morning, and it’s – in my tea, and on all my clothes, and it’s in everyone I talk to and everything I say.”

Harry stares at the sky overhead, the red rapidly paling. Still, there is that whispering in the treetops, the feeling of being transported back into the Forbidden Forest. Still, his parents, reaching out for him.

“I’m sorry”, he says truthfully. “That’s all I’ve got.”

Ginny shakes her head. “It’s all I needed.”

He watches her tug at a poppy near her feet, struck by how long he’s managed to stay away from her, when her company is so comforting. The resolution comes to him all on its own, that he’s going to tell her everything. The Forbidden Forest. King’s Cross Station.

“Do you want to head back yet?”

Ginny looks at him, and she seems calmer somehow. For the first time since they got here, she doesn’t seem to be searching for anything – just looking.

“In a little while”, she says.

Harry looks back at her, really looks at her, and for a long time, neither of them speak, having arrived at some quiet understanding. Still, there’s a murmur in the trees around them, but they pay it no mind, and they don’t turn to look.

[sirisuorionblack]

Hey lmao how are you? I was wondering if I could have a Draco x Fem!Reader where someone is having a party on the lake of Hogwarts and the reader usually is really sassy and energetic, but she's really scared of water and doesn't know how to swim?

Best friend

Draco Malfoy x Slytherin!Fem!Reader

Summary - Hufflepuffs, the kindest of all four houses, has hosted a lake-side party for all the houses and the beautiful result out of it is understanding of friendship and perhaps love.

Warnings - Speak of trauma, near-drowning experience (like once) and fear of water. Cursing. And lmk if anything else!

A/N Hello!! I am great. Hope you are having a good day/night! I really hope I stuck to the description of the reader cause I am not sassy and energetic so...the reader wasn't much of those. Anyways, have a happy read!

"Did you know?” Your friend, fretted as she sat down at the Slytherin table for breakfast, “the Hufflepuffs are hosting a “party“ near the black lake. It’s going to be like a day where you just “enjoy“ and do things near the lake? Whole Hogwarts is invited,”

“What is up with you and your finger quotes?” You chuckled, taking a sip of your pumpkin juice.

She rolled her eyes, “Just- are we going?”

“Do you want to go?” You asked her back.

“I mean,” she shrugged and frowned, “If you are going,”

You giggled shaking your head, “Even a frog is more decisive than you,”

”I am not being indecisive, I just have a tough time weighing the pros and cons,” she said and blushed as you burst out laughing, “Oh, shut it,”

“I can’t,” You said among your giggles.

She rolled her eyes and tugged you by the arm, “We are getting late for class, come on. Stand up, you twat!”

You stumbled to your feet and allowed her arm to link around yours. “Now, tell me - are we going?”

“You said the whole Hogwarts is gonna be there,” you said, looking at her pointedly.

She rolled her eyes and slapped your arm, “You know that was an over-exaggeration,”

”Who all are gonna be there?” You asked, “Answer honestly without exaggeration,”

”Fifth year and above in all houses,” She mumbled, monotonously.

“Alright then, you reckon we can go?” you asked again.

“Oh, I don’t know, you say!”

“Fine, fine. Merlin, calm down,” The two of you reached the Potions classroom and took your seat on the opposite ends of the classroom. You, next to Malfoy and your best friend next to Potter.

Draco moved his textbooks that were scattered across your shared table to his side, giving you some space. He then proceeded to lean against his arm and idly flip the pages of his textbook, completely ignoring your presence.

You took a seat next to him. Looking around the classroom you realised, Professor Slughorn was nowhere to be found, “Where is Slughorn?” you asked him.

He shrugged, “How would I know?”

“Right, my bad,” You said through gritted teeth, turning to face the empty blackboard the thought of the party your friend had mentioned surfaced your thoughts. You masked the scare for water as hatred. The trauma those had given you were a bewildering amount, the near-drowning situation you had been in was not something you would like to experience again. The mere thought of water made you shiver in fright and consequently, you had never learnt swimming.

But you had to think of your best friend, she was a lover of water - lake, sea, beach, all of them - and the black lake was her comfort spot and a party right by it was a gift to her and the all houses thing was something she could condemn as heaven.

Letting out a deep breath, you tore a tiny piece of parchment and roughly scribbled ‘Should we attend the party?’ and hissed for Draco’s attention.

Rolling his eyes, he turned to look at you, “What do you want?”

You gritted your teeth to stop yourself from saying anything, “Can you pass this to the girl sitting next to Potter?”

He looked around to spot Harry and after finding he whipped his head to look at you, “You want me to pass a tiny little note to someone across the class?!”

“Use your brain, Malfoy, just pass it, you know,” you motioned with your hand.

He glared at you with a clenched jaw but did it nonetheless. He whispered in a hushed voice to the next girl and you watched as the note reached your friend, who narrowed her eyes at you and then determinedly scribbled something.

She took out her wand and levitated the note to reach you. Draco, who watched the scene intently with crossed arms, scoffed.

“Piss off, Malfoy,” you mumbled, unfolding the note that read We are going and that’s final!

You grimaced, oh shit.

“What are you gonna wear!?” Your friend yelled as she burst into your dorm, startling you.

“Merlin’s underpants!” you yell, clutching your chest and taking deep breaths.

“That’s a weird one to wear,” she scrunched her nose in disgust, “Now tell me what are you gonna wear?”

Fetching the book you were reading that laid open at the foot of your bed, you said, “Is wearing a hoodie a choice?”

“No,” she said, sternly.

You grinned at her, “I am wearing that. Especially that black hoodie with the skull design,”

“I don’t even know why you like it,” she said, taking a seat on the edge of your bed, pushing your legs.

“Because it suits my aesthetic,” you said, flipping your messy hair dramatically.

She scoffed, “You are like a golden retriever that’s high,”

You blinked twice, “I love how you are trying to tell I am cute without telling I am cute but no,”

She rolled her eyes, “I will get you a dress,”

Two days later, your friend never showed you the dress, always smiling cheekily and shaking her head saying “it’s a surprise”. On the day of the party, she rushed to you, with a bag behind her back. She ushered you to stand in front of the floor-length mirror and asked you to close your eyes.

“I trusted your fashion sense so that dress better not be looking weird,” you said, your eyes still closed as you heard some ruffling behind you.

“Open your eyes,” she gushed. You chuckled when you saw the excitement in her eyes as your turned around.

You gasped, “that is so beautiful,” you breathed taking the dress in your hands. It was of a soft yellow colour dress, reaching till shins with floral print all over the dress. It was casual yet so beautiful.

“I know right!” you squealed, “put it on,”

After an hour or so you found yourself walking to the black lake and you had to chuckle as you found the overly energetic teens littered across the area, cups of juices in their hands, some in their swimsuit, some wearing casual cotton clothes such as yourself. 

Your eyes fell on a certain Slytherin, hanging out with his group. Draco had dark green shorts on, a white tee that hung loosely on his body. He wove his fingers into the platinum blonde hair that fell in strands with a wide grin on his face.

“The love of your life,” she said, smirking.

“Enough of watching your prince charming,” your best friend said, tugging on your arm.

You rolled your eyes, “Yeah, my knight in shining armour,”

“Ever heard of something named sarcasm?”

“You ever heard of something named teasing?”

“Yes, and I do not claim to like it much,”

She rolled her eyes.

By the end of the evening, the students were slowly disappearing, the mass of the students at the time of the raging party was completely dissipated with just a few older students standing next to the lake, or sitting against the bark of trees. You, yourself were leaning against one of the trees, the energy you had at the beginning all gone with the laughter and fear. Almost everyone who attended the party jumped into the lake at least once, playing around, splashing water on each other and swimming but you hadn’t even gone near the lake, rather reserved to the ground and entertaining the students who either refused to go in or those who already did.

“Hey,” You heard someone say. Draco sat down next, “Where is your best friend?”

“Somewhere in that mass,” you motioned collectively to one side.

He chuckled, “Ditched you?”

“Excuse you, Malfoy, but not all the best friends are the same,” you said, smirking at him.

He looked at you, an impressed expression on his face and chuckled, shaking his head, “Maybe,”

“Your not wrong,” he stated simply.

You breathed in relief, “You know for a minute I thought you would get that wrong,”

He ran a hand through his hair. This was totally unlike the Draco Malfoy that was usually seen, he looked different like he enjoyed himself instead of the ever stoic he and you found this side of him endearing. You find all of his sides endearing. A voice said, loudly.

“What?” you asked, confused and slightly scared.

“You know, about that best friends. Not all of them are same, indeed,” he said, looking at you by the corner of his eyes. His breath was taken away the moment his eyes landed on you when you arrived in the beautiful dress you had worn, he simply had no words to express how he felt at that moment, how you looked at that moment stunned by your beauty beyond recognition that he could barely form a coherent thought.

“Perhaps, but at times we have best friends who even we don’t know are,” you said, looking at him.

“Is that so?” he asked, turning to look at you.

You hummed, “Now, think about it,” you looked around the lake and found two students, quite blatantly a couple, “See there, that couple. Now, say the girl doesn’t have a friend,” you looked at him, checking if he is listening and continued once he nodded, “So, he consecutively becomes her best friend and boyfriend, and she might not even recognize it.”

“It could be anyone like that?” he asked.

“Anyone - a professor, your mother, father, sibling. At times even pets,” you said, “Sometimes this little thing is what forms love, and it necessarily isn’t romantic,”

“You do give beautiful philosophy lessons, don’t you?” he said, leaning back against the trunk.

You chuckled, shaking your head, “If I really were to give philosophy lessons, you wouldn’t always find me with a group of people,”

Draco grinned and the two of you fell into a comfortable silence before he asked a question, “You never came near the water. Why?”

“You noticed?” you said, looking shocked.

“I mean, yeah,” he shrugged.

“I don’t really like water,” You said, playing with your fingers. Getting on the hint about your discomfort on the topic he remained silent.

“Can someone who neither you nor they know much about be your best friend?” he asked, after staring at the moon for so long.

“What do “they” do to you?” you asked. Draco’s eyes skittered through the water, “Provide some-some sort of comfort at the same time making me feel…weird. Have the effect on me like their smile would make my day and their laugh, its the most beautiful, makes me feel...s-safe,”

“Draco,” you breathed, and chuckled, disregarding the feeling your stomach, “You are in love,”

He whipped his head to look at you, “Love?”

“Yep,” you said, shortly.

“I am?” he said, letting out a sharp breath.

“Seems to be,” you said, “I think it’s about time. I need to leave to my dorm,” you stood up from your place to leave.

“No, wait,” Draco scrambled to his feet, taking hold of your wrist, “Would you-would you like to spend the next Hogsmeade trip with me?”

You were physically taken aback by his question. Why would he want to spend it with you? “Me?”

“Yeah,” he gulped. You had never seen him get nervous.

“Like on a date?”

“If you don’t mind that is,”

“What about that person?”

“Which person?”

“The one you were talking about, you know the one you like,”

“Why, of course,” You said, chuckling, “But I am choosing the location,”

Draco looked at you shocked for a minute before bursting out laughing. He pulled you closer once his laughter started to subside, holding your face between his hands, “It is you,”

”Oh,” your eyes widened. Not allowing you to think or react he once again asked his question, “Would you like to go on a date with me?”

“Nuh huh, already got the dream date set up in my mind,”

“That better not have anything to do with water,” you warned.

“We’ll see about it,” Draco said, chuckling as he pulled you closer by your waist.

“Draco!”

[cursestothemoon]

All My Love, Dad

Requested: Yes

Fred Weasley x Sirius Black’s Daughter 

Warning: Death, alludes to sex, suggestive moments

Word Count: 3218

Summary: Fred Weasley is dating Azkaban escapee’s daughter Y/n Black. They are hiding their relationship form her ever fear inducing father, Snuffles. Though the unexpected happens leading Fred and Y/n to almost drown in guilt.

✧✧✧

“Wait, Fred-”

“No one’s up here, love, I checked.”

“No Fred, I think someo-”

“Hey!”

Fred let out a loud gasp before shoving you off of him. You stumbled back, both your hands shooting out to smooth out the wrinkles in your clothes hoping to Merlin it looked as innocent as you hoped.

The girlish giggle was what made you slump your shoulders realizing who it was, the bright pink hair a dead give away.

“Tonks! Merlin I thought y-”

She cut you off, “Thought I was your dad.”

You nodded sheepishly.

“This is cute,” She gestured between Fred and yourself. “Anyway, you’re not in the clear yet. He was coming up right behind me.”

Her words were enough to light a fire under you, making you stumble out of the closet and to the otherside of the room. Just in time too, seeing as your dad waltzed up the steps to the second floor.

“Sirius!” Fred said, hand coming up to pat down his hair that you ran your hand through just moments before.

Your dad looked at him, face creased with confusion, before mimicking his tone, “Fred!”

Fred gave a nervous laugh but kept quiet, your dad continued.

“Breakfast is going to be ready soon. I’d get in before anyone else, today we have pancakes.” He smiled before turning and leaving, the hall back to just you, Fred, and Tonks.

Fred let out a breath, shoulders slumping as he moved from in front of the closet to your side. He let his head fall to your shoulder, a loud groan coming from him as you laughed.

“Smooth, Fred.”

He winced, “Shut up.”

Fred and you had been dating for nearly five months now, having been friends for well over a year before. You were sorted into Gryffindor and both of you had been aware of the other but it wasn’t until your fourth year (his fifth) that you two became friends. He had fallen for you before you even thought about him any way other than platonically. The Yule Ball was what made you realize your feelings, he had asked Angelina Johnson to be his date and the little green monster bubbling inside of you at the sight of them dancing was too powerful to deny.

With all events following, it wasn’t until the near end of your fifth year when you decided to make a move. Luckily, he and Angelina were just good friends and nothing more came of it. You noticed his subtle hints and more than friendly gestures, all while being Sirius’ daughter you were well aware that you weren’t ugly by any means. You just hoped you weren't wrong.

You weren’t.

It had only been three months of dating at Hogsmeade, one month apart over summer, and since a week ago you have been living together until the start of term. This brings you to just twenty five minutes ago when you had been on your way to the kitchen when a mysterious force pulled you into a closet off the side of the hallway. The mysterious force turned out to be a very handsy Fred Weasley. He told you everyone was already down and it was just you two up there before he attacked your lips.

You two had to play innocent this past week, your ever protective father still unknowing of your relationship with the gentle giant. It definitely didn’t help that Fred was deathly afraid of what your father might say when he finds out that he had been romantically involved with his only daughter.

“He was in Azkaban, Y/n! Who knows what he's learned or seen in there!” Fred said, eyes wide.

You shook your head with a laugh, “Fred, he’s harmless really.”

“He’s got tattoos on his chest! And- and he was raised in a very well off household. He could kill me then scoop my eyes out with a spoon worth more than me and George combined!”

“You are overreacting just a tad, how scary could he be? He goes by Snuffles.”

Fred was adamant on keeping his eyes so he was very well behaved, that is until today when he felt as though if he didn’t kiss you soon he’d combust. Poor boy nearly had a heart attack, though, when the closet door opened.

You were now sitting at the kitchen table with Fred across from you. Breakfast had been finished and now everyone (members of the Order and such) were all in their own conversations. The only one not partaking in communicating being you and Fred, preferring to play footsie under the table whilst smirking at each other.

“You two make me sick. Enough I had to deal with it at school, now where I eat? Disgusting.” George teased from next to Fred making him shoot up immediately and look over to your dad who was, thankfully, still in the middle of a conversation with Remus and Harry.

“Don’t be so loud!” Fred whisper-yelled.

George laughed, “Your bedroom eyes were loud enough.”

That comment earned him a sharp kick to the shin from you. He sent you a playful glare before moving to stand up.

“Well, I’m going to work on some products. Fred, feel free to join.”

Fred watched as George left then turned to look at you with a smile, “You know if I don’t go one of us will end up with green hair.”

“Please, not again.” You begged with a smile playing on your lips as Fred started to walk out of the room, turning back to blow you a kiss just as he passed through the door and was hidden from Sirius

The rest of your time at Grimmauld Place went by in the same fashion. Fred and you had gotten a bit more confident with sneaking around right under your father’s nose. The day had finally come for you to return to Hogwarts and while you were excited, a part of you dreaded it. You weren’t allowed to send or receive letters from your father seeing as it would be far too risky considering everyone still saw him as an escaped murderer.

Sirius wasn’t allowed to go to King’s cross initially, but he found a loophole and was fed up with being cooped up at home so you got to say goodbye to him just before boarding the train. The shaggy haired black dog had led you into an empty room at the train station, luckily the area that seemed to be a lounge had been empty allowing your father to turn back into a man rather than bark out his farewell.

You were quick to wrap your arms around him, face nuzzling into his hair as he held you tightly.

“Be good, my girl. And take care of Harry, I can’t imagine the stress he’s under.”

He smiled as you nodded, your eyes welling with tears. His hands came up to cup your face, thumbs brushing away the few tears that had fallen.

“We’ll see each other again, don’t cry.”

“It’s just hard knowing I won’t be able to write to you.” You said looking down.

Sirius smiled gently, “Here, I've got something for you…”

His hand dipped into the pocket of his robe, pulling out a mirror.

“It’s charmed. If you say the name of the person who has the other mirror you can see them. There are three mirrors, I have one, now you, and I’m thinking of giving Harry the third one for Christmas.”

The smirk on your father’s face made you smile, he was a thoughtful man, confident, boisterous, and thoughtful.

Your farewells were short, needing not to miss the train back to school. It was with a final pat to the black dog that you boarded the train, stepping into a compartment with Fred, George, and Lee.

Fred pulled you toward him as you walked in, grumbling out, “Finally.”

--

Umbridge was revolting, classes were as mundane as ever with no OWLs to worry over, and Fred and George had told you their plans for after Christmas holiday. To say you were feeling rather ruddy would be an understatement. Of course you supported Fred and George, more than anything in the world, but you worried that if you couldn’t tell your father about your relationship with the older twin soon, the very relationship would crumble under the stress of not only distance but also paranoia.

“What are you thinking in that pretty little head of yours?” Fred asked, finger coming up to gently poke your forehead.

“You, of course.” You smirked, his expression mirroring yours.

You were in the train on your way back to Grimmauld Place for the Christmas holiday, and neither you nor Fred were feeling excited about having to start acting as good friends with each other.

“I knew it, you had a twinkle in your eye.”His voice was smug, making you roll your eyes.

“I did not you twat.”

Fred pulled you into his side with one arm, the other going to tickle your sides with vigor.

“Let go, you’ll ruin my hair!” You stated, words muffled by his sweater.

Fred stopped for a moment though his hold persisted, “Mmm… only if you promise me your New Years kiss.”

“Alright, I promise.”

“And say I’m the best and smoothest boyfriend in the whole wide world.”

“No.”

His fingers inched closer and closer back to your side.

“Fine! You’re the best and smoothest boyfriend in the whole wide world, please let me go, love.”

Fred smiled, letting you go from his grasp only letting you get far enough so he could pull you into a kiss making the other two people in your compartment groan.

“You think this is bad? I’ve got to live with them over holiday, and when I’m not seeing her I’m definitely hearing about her.”

George dodged Fred’s fist as he snickered, but wasn’t so lucky when his older twin stood up and tackled him. Lee yelped and made his way over to you on the other side, out of the way of flailing limbs and rowdy twins.

“Are they always like this?” Lee said in a low voice, leaning closer to you.

You nodded, “It’s worse when they are hungry.”

Lee laughed, starting to chant ‘fight’ as the twins smacked each other around andyou couldn’t help but chuckle along.

The house was the same as you left it, old and dusty, but your father had taken it upon himself to decorate almost every square inch of the house in handmade Christmas decorations, surely a product of his boredom.

Christmas had gone by far too quickly for anyone's liking and your dad’s once joyful caroling that could be heard throughout the house fizzled out, replaced by a more somber mood due to the impending solitude. He seemed to chiper up today, rightfully so, it was New Years eve.

Everyone had gathered around the fireworks in the main sitting room, the twins had conjured up sparkly gold fireworks that would countdown to midnight, they shimmered at eleven now.

“Ten!”

You smiled, hand going to grab hold of Harry’s and Ron’s forearms in excitement.

“Nine!”

The giddiness was undeniable.

“Eight!”

Sirius caught your eye and winked with a small smile.

“Seven!”

You looked around trying to find Fred.

“Six!”

He was standing with George and Ginny.

“Five!”

“Four!”

“Three!”

He looked at you, lips curling into a smile.

“Two!”

You moved to walk toward him, if this was how people found out then so be it.

“One! Happy New Year!”

Fred seemed to understand the look in your eye and maybe it was the way everyone else seemed to lean to a loved one for a kiss, or the adrenaline of a New Year and waiting war but he wasn’t going to back down. Instead he stood there, leaning his head back ever so slightly as his hands went to rest in his pockets and he gave you a look that said,

Come on. Do it.

And you were going to, really you were, but your father had gotten to you before you could reach Fred.

“Happy New Year, my girl.” Sirius smiled, leaning down to peck you forehead.

It seemed as though no one wanted you to kiss Fred for the New Year because you were then pulled into the kitchen by Molly and Tonks to help pass out the pastries. You looked to Fred with an apologetic look as you were being guided to the kitchen, but he just smiled and motioned for you to go do what you needed to do.

It wasn’t until everyone had gone to bed and you were putting away the last few dishes that Fred had found his way to you. You jumped at the feeling of hands wrapping around your waist from behind but relaxed once you felt the familiarly calloused hand slip under your shirt and rest on your bare hip.

“I believe you have a promise to fulfill.” Fred whispered, warm breath hitting the shell of your ear.

You decided to play coy, “I do? Shame I can’t remember what it was.”

Fred spun you around to face him, grabbing the plate out of your hand and placing it on the counter behind you.

“Guess I’ll just have to remind you.” Fred smirked.

His hands came up to cup your face, pulling your lips closer to his as you both closed your eyes. But he stopped just as your lips had brushed and you had to force yourself not to groan.

“Or maybe I’ll just wait until you remember.” His lips were so close you felt each word as he said them.

“Kiss me or I swear to Merlin Weasley I’ll scream.” You said, eyebrows raised and a devious smile on your lips.

Fred let out a breathy laugh before smashing his lips to yours, one hand sliding down your side to snake behind your waist to pull you closer, your body now completely against his as the kiss deepened. Your hands traveled up his torso before finding their way to his neck, thumbs gently caressing the soft skin. You could feel Fred start to smile into the kiss, inevitably making you start to do the same before he pulled away slowly.

His eyes sparkled with an emotion unknown as he grinned down at you, his thumb moving against your cheekbone.

“I love you, you know?” He said, voice soft.

Your breath hitched ever so slightly. Sure you knew you loved him and you only hoped he felt the same but your relationship was never heavy on verbal affirmations of love, both of you preferring to show each other your love rather than say it. So the proclamation of love was a bit shocking to you.

“This would be the time you said it back, Y/n.” He laughed, but the nervousness was now radiating off of him in waves as you realized you took a bit too long to respond.

“I love- I love you Freddie.” You stuttered, still shocked that by the words you were hearing.

Fred loved you.

It was with a few more kisses and quite a few more whispers of loving the other that you two tiptoed to your separate rooms, hand in hand. And maybe if you weren’t in such a lovesick haze you’d notice the silver lighter on the floor by the doorway.

--

The crowd that had gathered in the courtyard was electric, everyone was clapping as Fred and George rode off into the horizon on their brooms, a shimmering ‘W’ left in their wake. You could’ve only hoped that the day would’ve continued on just as light hearted.

Instead, you were now fitting death eaters in the department of mysteries at the Ministry. All hope seemingly being lost until the Order arrived, and you and your father fought in great synchronicity Harry even joining in exceptional smoothness. You guys were sure to win.

Right?

And suddenly…

A victory didn’t matter, not as you watched a spell hit your father in the chest sending him stumbling through the eerie veil. It was immediate, as he crossed through the silvery tendril of mist he was pulled away, almost like a handful of sand in the wind.

You pushed and shoved the arms that had found their way around you, he couldn’t have just...gone away.

“Y/n, no!” It was Tonks, her voice sounded like it was coming from inside a fishbowl.

Harry’s screams combined with yours as you were both held back by someone. You couldn’t help but feel the guilt rise in your belly, you didn’t even tell him…

--

“Just a few more boxes!” You called down to Remus from your room.

You and Fred were packing your things to leave Grimmauld place. You were set to move in with Remus, your godfather, due to the passing of your father. Term had ended and both you and Fred had decided to let everyone know about your relationship. Fred felt insanely guilty about keeping you from telling your father, but you were quick to tell him that there was no way of knowing what would happen, he had no reason to be so hard on himself.

“Darling, here are your letters.” He said, passing you a stack of letters.

You looked at them quizzically, “These aren-”

The words were caught in your throat as you looked at the writing on the first letter, it was your name in your dad’s handwriting.

“They’re from my dad.” You muttered looking at Fred.

Fred walked over to you and placed a soft kiss to your forehead.

“I’ll give you a minute.” He smiled gently before leaving you alone in the room.

The next fifteen minutes was spent reading the letters, starting from the oldest. By the time you reached the last one, dated a week before he died and the only one written after Christmas holiday, you had already laughed and cried at your dad’s words. You never knew he’d write you letters he couldn’t send, the thought of him hunched over the parchment all alone in the house while you were at school made your heart ache.

You let out a sigh, ready to open the last letter.

Dear Y/N,

It’s been awfully lonely in the house since everyone has left but I’m managing, at least all the mirrors seem to have a very handsome man living in them. I do miss you, my girl, and count the days until we can see each other again. Kreacher has been very quiet lately, though the occasional grunts tell me he is still, unfortunately, alive.

I hope school is going well for you. It really is a shame that I won’t get a response to my letters, but I guess it is sort of therapeutic to write them to you. Merlin, your poor old father is starting to sound like a ninny. I’ll work on that before you get back, don’t worry.

Kreacher woke up your dear Granny again, so I apologize for such a short letter though you aren't going to receive it so I guess it won’t matter much, huh? Make sure you take care of Harry, you two really only have each other in these odd times.

Also, tell Mr. Weasley that him and I ought to have a chat if he is going to snog my daughter in my own kitchen.

All my love,

Dad

[itsthewritergal]

You said some things - F.W. x reader

This is part 2 to Fever :) Enjoy xx 

Part One 

George did his best to split his time between Y/N and Fred, although it was proving difficult. Y/N wouldn’t refuse to be in a room with Fred but she sure as hell didn’t like to be. Fred was still as clueless as ever as to why Y/N was ignoring him, but her attitude made him irritated. George sat next to Y/N as she ate her breakfast in silence, running her eyes over a few potions notes that were sat in front of her. George could tell that it was her way of not having to start a conversation with Fred “You coming to watch the game?” Ron asked Y/N, who looked up with a smile

“When have I ever missed a quidditch match?” She replied with a soft sigh “You better win, I’d do anything to see you wipe that smirk off the Slytherin team captain” Ron laughed as he piled up his plate once again with toast

“Oh don’t you worry, we’ll win” George said confidently nudging YN’s shoulder

“Perhaps we could go to the Three Broomsticks tomorrow to celebrate?” She suggested, not being able to think back to when they last went to Hogsmede

“Sounds good” Ron agreed, turning himself back to Hermione

“Only if you’re buying” George laughed

“Got to win first” Fred interrupted, Y/N turned to him not noticing his arrival. She gave him a small smile

“We’re not going to win if you’re late” Harry said making his way out of the Great hall with Ron closely behind him.

“I’ll see you in the stands” George smiled following Harry and Ron, “Good luck!” Y/N called after him, turning back to her food with a smile

“Don’t I get a good luck” Fred said, with a smirk, hoping that Y/N didn’t notice the shy tone.

“Good luck Fred” She said with a small smile, dropping his gaze quickly.

“Thanks” He said although her words meant little to him, after he had to ask for them.

——-

Y/N set down six butterbeers onto the table, sitting herself down next to Ron. Of course they had won the Quidditch game, so Y/N held up her end of the deal

“As promised” She grinned as everyone took their first sip. “I’ve never seen you guys play that well” She commented “You know we did have a good incentive” Harry laughed

“I can’t afford to by you drinks every match” Y/N chuckled lightly, which drew Fred’s attention over to her

“We did play well didn’t we” George laughed puffing his chest out “Well apart from that Bludger that  almost knocked Fred off his broom” he commented

“Ha ha very funny” Fred deadpanned, turning his attention back to the drink in front of his “Cheer up grumpy” George said shoving his brother with his shoulder

“Shove off George” Fred snapped, making everyone on the table turn their attention to anything else in the room. Not wanting to get involved in an argument between the two brothers.

The rest of the afternoon was spent with Fred brooding in the corner, no matter how much everyone tried to get him involved he just didn't want to. As they made their way slowly back up to Hogwarts, Fred trailed behind the group. “Do you think someone should talk to him?” Ron asked, with a concerned look back towards his brother

“I think there’s only one person he wants to talk to right now” George commented with a look down to Y/N

“You guys go ahead. I think we need to have a chat” Y/N said with a smile to the rest of them

“Thanks for the drinks” Hermione smiled as the group hurried forwards.

——-

Y/N hung back and fell into step with Fred. Who didn’t even spare her a glance. Y/N mustered up all the courage she could find,

“What’s going on Freddie?” She asked not once taking her eyes off of the floor in front of her,

“Oh so now you want to talk?” He questioned, regretting the words as soon as they fell out of his mouth “sorry” he mumbled

“It’s fine, I’ve been a bit of a cow recently” Y/N said, not used to the tension which hung around the two

“You normally talk to me when I’ve annoyed you” Fred said after a little while of walking in silence

“Nothing had annoyed me” Y/N answered honestly, she wasn’t annoyed just a little disheartened

“What have I done? You’ve barely said two words to me since I’ve been ill” He said, he turned to look to Y/N

“you said some things in the hospital ward” Y/N said, looking up at Fred

“Look I didn’t mean anything I said that night, I was ill. If I’ve said something horrible to you I’m really sorry but”

“Fred” She cut him off “You didn’t say anything horrible, that’s the problem” She said with a sad smile

“I’m not following” Fred said confused.

“You said you loved me” Y/N said walking once again. Fred was unsure of what to say, so he just followed her a few paces behind.

——-

They got back to the dorm room quickly, neither one sure of what to say. Fred went to say something when he was cut off by George “Did you two lovebirds sort yourselves out?” He asked with a laugh

“Yeah, he doesn't feel the same” Y/N said simply making her way up to the girls dorms

“What?” George whispered turning to Fred “You idiot!” “What was I supposed to say, oh yeah I meant every word I said when I had a fever. Surprise Y/N I love you” Fred snapped at his brother

“Well not like that” George face palmed,

Y/N made her way out of the dorms for supper, she walked towards the Great Hall with Hermione who as usual was talking about one of her transfiguration projects, which Y/N had completely zoned out of the conversation. They sat themselves down with the others. Y/N ended up opposite Fred which she was not pleased about, but kept herself occupied by talking to Ron.

Fred kicked Y/N’s shin under the table, once she had finished the plate in front of her.

“The hell was that for?” She snapped with a scowl towards Fred

“Come with me” He said standing up, Y/N sighed yet followed him out the Great Hall towards the common room

Fred sat himself down on the sofa, patting the space next to him for Y/N to sit herself down.

“What do you want Fred?” She said folding her arms over her chest

“I meant it” He said simply, his voice shaking slightly with concern

“Fred you don’t have to say that just because I was upset” Y/N said with a shake of her head, Fred grabbed her hands

“I meant it. I’m in love with you” He said “I didn’t admit to it earlier because that was not the way I had planned on telling you” He said with a huff

“This isn’t because I got upset?” Y/N asked, Fred shook his head

“No not at all” Fred assured her

“Is it safe to come in? Is everyone decent?” George said walking in with his hands over his eyes

“We are currently, no promises that we’ll stay that way” Fred grinned with a wink.

[musette22]

Burning For You

Title: Burning For You Pairing: Chris Evans x Sebastian Stan (Evanstan) Rating: Teen and up Word count: 3.1k A/N: Written for Evanstan Week day 6, a late fill for the Alternate Universe prompt. This silly piece of fluff is entirely inspired by the wonder that is the Mountain Lodge candle from the Yankee Candle Company. Yes, the one that inspired this iconic Tumblr post. The one that smells like Chris Evans. 

I was lucky enough to receive one as a gift from the wonderful @howdoyousleep3 and my life hasn't been the same since I smelled it for the first time. Thank you for introducing me to such delights baby K, ilyyy 💖 Also BIG thank you to the @evanstanweek​ team and to my beautiful beta @rainbowsandcoconut who came up with the outline for this fic when I told her my idea! Love you, boo 😘

Summary: Evanstan AU. Sebastian gets a little carried away when raving about the Mountain Lodge candle to a friend. It leads to an unexpected, fragrant encounter.

Read on AO3

“Listen, D. You’ve gotta smell this candle.” Sebastian leans in closer, nearly knocking over his - third - glass of red. “You know I’m not usually a scented candle kinda guy, but this one…” He closes his eyes and tips back his head, an expression of pure bliss on his face. “Incredible. Glorious. Magnificent.”

“You look like you’re about to pull a Meg Ryan in When Harry met Sally over there, Seb.”

Sebastian straightens, giving Deirdre a meaningful look across the table at the low-key SoHo bar they’re having drinks at. “You kid, but I’m this close. It’s that good, not even exaggerating.”

“Sure you’re not,” Deirdre huffs, lifting her glass and taking a sizeable gulp of her Cosmopolitan.

“Fine, don’t believe me,” Sebastian shrugs. “You know, I pity you for not having experienced the delights of the Mountain Lodge candle, really. If you knew what it smelled like, you’d be singing its praises too, believe me.”

Deirdre rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “Fine, I’ll bite. What does it smell like, Sebastian, pray tell.”

Sebastian sits up eagerly. “It smells…” he starts, “like an evening in that lodge in the Green Mountains we rented with the others a couple of years ago. Remember that? How it felt to relax by the fire after a long day of hiking, the scent of cedarwood and toasted marshmallows in the air?”

“Hmmm,” Deirdre agrees. “That was nice, yeah. But hardly worth busting a nut over, I’d say.”

Sebastian holds up a single finger. “I'm not done. Because this candle doesn’t just smell like the lodge, it also smells like the lumberjack living at the lodge.”

Deirdre frowns. “There was no lumberjack living at the –”

“The metaphorical lumberjack, D, god. Work with me here a little.”

“Oh right, okay. Gotcha.”

“It smells,” Sebastian continues, undeterred, “like soft, worn flannel. Like beard oil and a hint of clean sweat. It smells like a big, strong, gorgeous man who just got done hewing a ginormous tree with his massive axe and cutting it down into firewood, which he’s now using to light the very fireplace in front of which he’ll make sweet, sweet love to you, on the rug that’s actually the skin of a bear that attacked his rescue dog and which this man fought off and killed with his own bare hands.”

“Whooofffff,” Deirdre says, fanning herself with a napkin. “Fine, I’m starting to see the attraction.”

“It smells…” Sebastian goes on, pausing for dramatic effect before delivering his clincher, “like Chris Evans.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then Deirdre groans loudly, sagging back in her chair. “Ughh, shoulda known this was coming. For chrissake, Sebastian, you literally cannot go even one night without bringing up Chris Evans, can you?”

“I totally can,” Sebastian protests, like the mature, professional, Times-employed literary critic he is. “But you don’t understand, D. This candle, it’s actually like they bottled the very essence of Chris Evans and then infused a candle with it. It’s life-changing.”

“Yeah, yeah, you have a permanent boner for Chris Evans, you wanna marry him and have his little bearded babies, tell me something I don’t know,” Deirdre sighs, draining the last of her drink and immediately starting to look around for the waiter to order a new one. Distantly, Sebastian notices the song playing in the background changing to The Smith’s ‘Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want'. Ah, if only.

“Listen to me,” Sebastian insists, unconsciously starting to speak louder, like he’s some small-town preacher trying to make his ignorant clergy see the light. “Deirdre, darling, you’re one of my oldest friends. I wouldn’t lie to you. I swear, when you smell this candle, you too will feel like you’re being engulfed in the embrace of the brilliant, spectacular, totally unique smokeshow that goes by the name of Chris Evans. It’s as if the man himself is wrapping those huge, muscled arms of his around you, crushing you to his wide chest as you tuck your face into the crook of his neck while his beard brushes your temple and you inhale his masculine scent of cologne, sex and clean, honest sweat, I swear to god – D, are you even listening?”

At some point during the last part of Sebastian’s homily, Deirdre’s eyes drifted to a point over his right shoulder and got stuck there.

“Did you just- zone out?” Sebastian asks indignantly, waving a hand in front of her face. She doesn’t even blink. “Hello? Earth to Deirdre.”

“Seb,” Deirdre says, still not looking at Sebastian.

“Oh, I see,” Sebastian barrels on. “Here I am, pouring my heart out, telling you I found a candle that smells exactly like the man of my dreams and you’re just… What are you doing, actually? Are you okay?”

At this point, Deirdre’s eyes have gone comically round, mouth hanging open just a little. “Sebastian,” she repeats, more urgently now – and just as he’s turning his head to find out what put that dumbfounded look on her face, someone nearby clears their throat.

Sebastian startles, looking up at the man who’s appeared next to their table.

“Hi,” the man says in a deep, rich voice.

A deep, rich voice that Sebastian knows all too well. A deep, rich voice that belongs to none other than Chris Evans, Hollywood heartthrob and actual smokeshow, himself.

Oh.

Sebastian gapes while Chris, dressed in dark wash jeans, a red flannel shirt and a brown shearling jacket, smiles at him patiently. He’s all soft-looking beard and strong nose and bulging biceps and long, lean legs, and Sebastian has died and gone to heaven.

“I’m sorry for interrupting,” Chris says, “but was just sitting a table over and I couldn’t help but overhear.”

And from one moment to the next, Sebastian crashes forcefully back to earth. His whole body goes cold, the blood draining from his face so quickly he feels dizzy with it.

Fuck. No. No, no, no. This can’t be happening. There is no way this is actually happening.

Except it is.

Sebastian had just been extremely, loudly and publicly horny about the very guy that’s standing next to him right now. The guy who is no doubt about to give Sebastian a piece of his mind at best, and a right hook to the jaw at worst. And honestly, he’d deserve it.

Since Sebastian wouldn’t even know where to begin apologizing, he says nothing. Just keeps staring at Chris in ever-growing horror, his pulse pounding in his ears so loudly it almost drowns out the miserable sound of Morrissey still pleading in the background.

Chris clears his throat. “So,” he says, bringing up a hand to rub the back of his neck. “This candle smells like me, huh?”

Sebastian groans, hiding his face in his hands. “Shit. Fuck. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean- Oh my god, please, please, please just forget you heard any of that.”

“Why would I want to do that?”

Puzzled, Sebastian chances a glance at Chris from between his fingers. He’s partly still covering his face out of embarrassment, and partly because Chris is so gorgeous in real life that Sebastian isn’t sure he could look at him directly without spontaneously combusting. It’s like staring at the fucking sun. He doesn’t seem too angry, though, thank god. In fact, there’s an amused twinkle in his blue eyes that makes Sebastian’s shoulders relax infinitesimally.

“Because it was incredibly inappropriate?” Sebastian suggests, honestly a bit confused about having to explain this to him.

“I don’t know,” Chris shrugs. “It sounded pretty great. Kinda want to smell it for myself now.”

For some unfathomable reason – probably because unexpectedly seeing his long-time celebrity crush in the flesh broke his brain, Sebastian blurts out, “Oh, I don’t have it with me. It’s back at my apartment.”

Slowly, Chris raises a single eyebrow. The look sends a shiver straight down Sebastian’s spine, from the crown of his head right down to his toes. “Is it now?”

“Yeah,” Sebastian replies breathlessly.

Chris’s gaze drops down to Sebastian’s brown leather boots before slowly travelling back up to his face. “I gotta say, normally someone would at least have to buy me dinner first, but…” He trails off, looking Sebastian straight in the eye before finishing, “I am really curious about this candle.”

“You are?” Sebastian says dumbly, and then “Ow!” when Deirdre delivers an impressively precise kick to his shin under the table. He turns to give her a betrayed look, but when he meets her eyes, with which she’s clearly trying very hard to communicate something to him, he finally catches on. “Oh!” Sebastian whips back around to Chris, staring at him with wide, disbelieving eyes. “I- you- you mean like…” He swallows hard. “You wanna come back to my place to, uh, smell the candle?”

Although Chris’s expression remains amused, there’s a hint of trepidation there as well. “Sure,” he says, smiling crookedly. “If… that’s something you’re up for?”

Sebastian’s mind races. The way he sees it, there are two possibilities. Either Chris Evans is actually standing here in the flesh, propositioning him, or Sebastian hit his head in the bathroom earlier and is actually just lying on the dirty tile floor, hallucinating as a result of severe head trauma. The second option seems by far the most likely, but then, his shin does hurt like a sonuvabitch.

Well, fuck.

Sebastian clears his throat and sits up straighter, running a hand through his longish hair. “I mean, yeah, that’s- wow. That. That would be okay with me, uh huh. You mean like, now?”

“If that works for you?”

Without thinking, Sebastian says, “Well, I’m here with Deirdre –” before letting out another sharp yelp as said Deirdre crushes his toes under her heel. “Jesus, D!”

Deirdre ignores him. “Ohhh, would you look at the time,” she exclaims, holding up her wrist which very much doesn’t have a watch on it. “Boy, it’s much later than I thought. I really oughta get going, early start tomorrow.” She yawns theatrically, then grabs her purse and throws down two twenties on the table. “It was lovely seeing you, Sebastian, Chris… Evans,” she adds, with a wooden nod in Chris’s direction. “Hope you two have a lovely evening, bye now!”

And she’s gone.

They both stare after her for a second, and then Chris chuckles – a low sound that reverberates pleasantly in Sebastian’s chest. “Well,” Chris says, turning back towards him. “It’s nice to meet you, Sebastian.” He holds out his hand. “I’m Chris.”

Sebastian stands, taking Chris’s hand, which is warm and big and ever so slightly calloused, and exactly like Sebastian always imagined. “Yeah, I know,” he says, because he’s cool like that. And then, in a show of bravura that surprises even himself, Sebastian holds Chris’s gaze, tilts his head a fraction, and says, “So uh, my place?”

Chris smiles, casually dropping a few bills on the table, more than enough to cover their drinks, before taking a step to the side to let Sebastian pass. “Lead the way,” he says, lightly resting his hand on the small of Sebastian’s back as they make their way towards the exit.

🔥 🔥 🔥 🔥 🔥

It’s only once they’re outside and the cold February night air manages to cool down Sebastian’s overheated brain somewhat that it occurs to him to ask if Chris wasn’t at the bar with anyone.

“I met a friend for drinks but he just left,” Chris explains. “I was just waiting for the bill when I overheard you guys.”

“And you’re sure you don’t have any other plans?” Sebastian asks, because he’s nothing if not a self-sabotaging idiot.

They’re still standing outside the bar, the golden light radiating from a nearby lamppost decorated with a cluster of luminous orbs making Chris look softer, somehow. Still a Hollywood heartthrob, but also charmingly human. Unfortunately, it does absolutely nothing to make Sebastian any less infatuated. If anything, it only endears Chris to him more, which he really didn’t think was possible.

“Not really, no,” Chris replies, amusement in his tone. “I was just gonna go back to my hotel and read for a bit.”

Sebastian perks up at the mention of his area of expertise. “Oh, yeah? What’re you reading?”

“I haven’t started it yet, but it’s this history of space travel? I read a great review of it in the Times the other day, so I thought I’d give it a go.” With a self-deprecating smile, Chris adds, “I’m kind of a space nerd.”

Sebastian blinks. “Not ‘To Infinity and Beyond’, by any chance?”

“That’s the one,” Chris confirms. “You know it?”

“I wrote the review.”

Chris’s eyes go round. “You did not.”

In lieu of replying, Sebastian digs up his wallet from his pocket, takes out his Times-employee card and holds it up for Chris’s inspection.

“Huh,” Chris says, studying the card. “What are the odds.” When his eyes turn back to Sebastian’s, he suddenly breaks out into a grin, wide and boyish. “Well, I guess that explains a thing or two.”

“How do you mean?” Sebastian frowns.

“I mean, that review was brilliantly written so you clearly have a way with words.” With a sly look, Chris goes on, “which explains your colorful descriptions of that candle earlier. The masculine scent of cologne, sex and clean, honest sweat was especially vivid.”

Sebastian groans, dragging a hand down over his face. “Jesus Christ, this is so embarrassing.”

Chris eyes shine with genuine mirth as he laughs, “Hey, come on, don’t worry about it.” He takes a step closer, ducking his head to try and catch Sebastian’s eyes, which are now firmly fixed on the pavement in an attempt to conjure up a hole to swallow him. “Call me a narcissist, but I didn’t exactly hate overhearing a gorgeous guy describing me as the man of his dreams.”

“Oh god,” Sebastian mutters, feeling himself turn a fetching shade of crimson. Trying to hide his blush, he turns around abruptly and nearly walks into the lamppost.

Chris, his savior, his knight in shining armor, manages to grab him by the back of his coat just in time to avoid the imminent collision. Sebastian still stumbles, but strong, capable arms wrapping securely around his waist keep him upright.

Carefully, Sebastian turns in Chris’s embrace so they’re facing each other, though he can’t quite make himself look Chris in the eye yet. “I’m guessing you caught on to this by now,” Sebastian tells the St Christopher pendant resting on Chris’s sternum, “but I’m kind of a disaster.”

Chris just hums, lifting a hand to tilt up Sebastian’s chin with his index finger, a small smile playing on his lips. “A beautiful one, though,” he whispers into the negligible space between them, before he closes that space and presses soft, full lips to Sebastian’s own.

Sebastian can’t suppress the small sound that escapes him when their lips meet, eyes closing on instinct as he lets himself sink into the kiss. Lets Chris take charge and coax open Sebastian’s mouth by running the tip of his tongue along the seam of his lips. Sebastian doesn’t think twice about letting him in. When their tongues touch, sweet and soft and languid, he trembles, pressing closer. Chris tastes a little like beer, and while Sebastian’s never been overly fond of beer, it takes approximately two seconds of being kissed by the hottest man on the planet for it to magically turn into Sebastian’s new favorite taste. Ever.

The kiss starts off slow; a little cautious maybe, as if Chris still isn’t entirely sure it’s welcomed. But then Sebastian’s hands find their way to Chris’s waist, fingers gripping tightly, and Chris slides a hand into Sebastian’s hair, angling his head gently to the left to deepen the kiss – and suddenly, Sebastian’s entire body feels like it’s on fire. He moans, relishing the feel of Chris's soft beard scratching at his clean-shaven cheeks, and way Chris takes control of the kiss, like something right out of every embarrassing fantasy he's ever had.

When Chris hums against his lips, as if he’s enjoying this just as much as Sebastian is, Sebastian’s knees go all weak and useless. It’s a good thing that Chris is there, tightening his left arm around his waist and pulling him more securely against the hard lines of his own body – which actually doesn’t do a thing to help Sebastian’s current knee situation. He whimpers, curling his hands into the fabric of Chris’s coat to anchor himself.

When Chris finally breaks the kiss, he doesn’t go far. His breathing has deepened, warm puffs of air caressing Sebastian’s tingling, wet lips. Sebastian exhales shakily. The way his head is spinning might be partially due to the wine, but it's definitely mostly because of Chris sweeping him off his feet with his smooth, movie star ways.

Needing a moment to gain his composure before he speaks, Sebastian buries his face in the crook of Chris’s neck, taking a deep, steadying breath –

Oh.

“I fucking knew it,” he groans.

Sebastian feels rather than hears Chris’s quiet laugh; feels the vibrations of it shake his broad chest under Sebastian’s palms. “Yeah? Do I really smell like your candle?”

“Better,” Sebastian mutters. On instinct, he presses his lips against Chris’s exposed neck, eliciting a shiver from him.

“You know,” Chris rumbles into Sebastian’s ear. “I still think I need to smell this magical thing for myself. Make sure you’re not just flattering me to get into my pants, y'know?”

Christ.

“Yeah,” Sebastian nods. “Definitely, good thinking. Empirical evidence is paramount. In fact, it’s totally possible I’m just mixing things up right now because my brain’s all” – he makes a poof motion with his hands, trusting Chris will get his drift – “so I think maybe I’ll need to do some comparative research.”

Chris tilts his head in though. “Hands-on research?”

“I think that’s best, yes,” Sebastian concurs.

“Right. Well, out of the two of us, you’re definitely the higher educated one, so I’m just gonna take your word for that.” After a beat, Chris adds, “as long as I get to test a theory or two of my own.”

“Oh?” Sebastian licks his lips. “Such as?”

The wicked glint in Chris’s eyes is the only warning he gets before Chris is sliding his hand back into Sebastian’s hair and giving it a firm, experimental tug.

“Ah,” Sebastian breathes, his eyelids fluttering, the blood rushing south so fast he feels dizzy – again.

Chris grins smugly. “Such as that.”

“Okay,” Sebastian croaks. “Yeah, that seems fair.” Wasting no more time, he reaches out to grab Chris’s free hand and starts to pull him along the pavement in the direction of his apartment.

Chris, laughing as he squeezes Sebastian’s hand, follows closely behind.  

🔥 🔥 🔥 🔥 🔥

Read on AO3

[plant-flwrs]

hi idk if you write for hermione (if not you could do luna?) but could you do one where the reader has a crush on hermione and is talking to harry about it and hermione overhears? then she askes the reader to go to hogsmeade with her?

library confessions // hermione granger

masterlist!

a/n: drarry. lesbian pinning. blushing. longing glances. yes this is gay. i love u anon.

summary: Hermione overhears you confessing your feelings about her.

(1.5k)

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Harry Potter was the chosen one, the boy who lived, the star of the wizarding world, but the boy was painfully daft in most situations.

Especially in matters of romance.

“Harry,” you said slowly, looking into the boys eyes hoping he would see your desperation and urgency, “I need you to listen to what I’m saying.”

Harry huffed in annoyance, rolling his eyes at his friend, “I am listening, Y/n!”

“Obviously you are not,” you said slowly, leaning back in your chair but still looking at the boy, “because if you were, you would understand what I’m trying to tell you right now.”

You had found the situation entertaining some 20 minutes ago, but as time went on and Harry still didn’t understand the simple thing you were telling him, your entertainment ceased.

“You’re speaking in riddles! How am I supposed to know if Hermione listens to ‘lesbian’-” he quoted you there, “-music! I wish you’d just talk to her about this, I mean, its just music!.”

You groaned and felt an embarrassed blush come over your cheeks at the mere mention of Hermione. 

“Harry! Keep your voice down,” you scolded him, looking frantically around the common room that Hermione could be in at any second.

The two of you sat in annoyed silence, making sure no one heard you, before continuing. 

“I was an awesome wing-woman for you with Draco! You owe me!”

“Wing-woman, what are you-” Harry’s sentence ended as soon as the realization hit him. His eyes lit up from behind his glasses. His mouth opened and closed like a fish.

Harry, after 20 minutes of hinting at it, just realized you were confessing a crush on your best friend, Hermione Granger.

He sat back in his seat, unable to form a coherent sentence as his mind attempted to absorb the information. You rolled your eyes with a certain kind of relief, waiting for Harry to speak again.

“You mean-” he finally started again after a few minutes, leaning forwards again.

“Yes,” you finished for him, not wanting him to say it out loud.

“Our Hermi-” 

“Yes,” you finished again, wanting Harry’s epiphany to end sooner so you could talk about the pressing topic.

“Why are you asking me about this?” he asked, an entertained smile on his lips.

“Like I said, you owe me.”.

You and Hermione were in the library studying for an upcoming Charms test. You two had an unspoken agreement for a long time that entailed you studying together, and you never once complained when she dragged you away to the library. You could be watching the Quidditch World Cup, but if Hermione had to study, you would be there in an instant. 

You sat across from her, trying very hard not to stare at her. Her curly and unruly hair was pulled off her face with a muggle pencil, a few pieces framing her face. When she wasn’t writing, she twirled a piece in her fingers, succeeding in mesmerizing you and completely distracting you from your work. 

You shifted in your seat, trying to make yourself focus on the Charms essay in front of you. You crossed your legs, accidentally grazing Hermione’s shin with your foot. You felt your face get warm at the small touch, and Hermione looked up at you from her paper.

“‘M sorry,” you mumbled, cringing at the slight tremble in your voice.

“It’s alright,” she whispered back, looking back down at her paper. 

You let out a deep breath, closing your eyes and not letting yourself look up at her. You bit your lip, tensing in your seat. These days, it was incredibly hard to get any real studying done when you were with Hermione. Everything she did made you fall even more in love with her. 

“Harry?” Hermione whispered in a slightly annoyed but curious tone, causing you to look around for the boy.

“Hey guys,” Harry said, smiling, as he slid into the seat next to you, “was wondering where you were, found ya.”

You fought the urge to wince at Harry’s awkward greeting, giving him a small smile as Hermione turned back to her paper.

“What are you guys up to?” Harry pressed, leaning closer to you to look at your paper.

“Charms,” Hermione said, still sounding annoyed, without looking up from her paper.

“Oi, Hermione,” Harry acted as if he just remembered something, “I’ve been meaning to ask you this; you remember that book you read a few weeks back, about werewolves? Would you let me borrow it?”

Hermione’s face lit up at Harry’s request. She dropped her quill and looked to him.

“You mean Wanderings with Werewolves by Gilderoy Lockheart?” She said excitedly, the corners of her mouth lifting in a faint smile.

You felt your heart beat faster when Hermione smiled, watching her eyes fill with joy. 

“Yeah,” Harry said reluctantly, forcing a similar excited smile.

“I got that here, in the library,” Hermione talked fast, looking around at the books around her, “I returned it already, should be back on the shelves for you.”

“Would you get it for me? I’m rubbish at finding books,” Harry pleaded, taking advantage of Hermione’s excitement. 

“Of course! I’ll be right back,” she got up from her chair and walked quickly to some shelves a few rows over.

“You don’t read, let alone read books by Lockheart. What’d you do that for?” you asked Harry, seeing through him.

“I wanted to talk to you about Hermione,” he said lazily, watching Hermione as she ducked between two tall shelves and began thumbing through the tons of books by Lockheart.

“Harry-” you scolded him, looking around frantically to make sure Hermione hadn’t heard. She was still looking at the books, her back to you and Harry

“What? She’s not listening. Anyway,” Harry began, smiling devilishly at you, “I talked to Draco-”

“You told Draco?” you had to stop yourself from screaming at him, only so Hermione wouldn’t hear and come over.

“Of course I told Draco, he’s the romantic one of the two of us! He had a great idea. If you’d stop interrupting me, I might tell you,” Harry said, waiting for you to calm down.

“Fine, right, I’m sorry,” you said, looking down at your fingers as you nervously fidgeted with them. 

Harry’s comforting hand rested on top of them, “What’s the matter?”

“I’m really bloody nervous, Harry,” you started, looking up at Harry to see his quirked eyebrow telling you to go on, “I mean, she’s my best friend. If she doesn’t like me back, and I tell her, we won’t be the same,” you paused, taking in a deep breath, “But, I don’t think I can stand to be friends with her anymore, I want more.” 

Harry nodded knowingly at you and rubbed your hand soothingly. You sighed, looking up and smiling gratefully at him. 

Behind you, Hermione put her ear against the bookshelf closest to you and Harry, the book about werewolves clutched in her hands. She blushed as she listened to your confession, biting her lip to hide a huge smile. She peeked through books, listening to Harry comfort you with old stories about him and Draco before they finally confessed to each other. Hermione’s heart swelled, a feeling of relief coursing through her body. She played with her fingers nervously as she waited for Harry to leave, a sense of boldness coming over her that she had never felt before.

After a while, Harry left you at the table. Hermione ducked when you looked around for her, hiding behind a thick stack of books. She waited for a moment before standing again, turning and walking from behind the shelf, only to run straight into you. The book about werewolves fell to the floor, but neither of you cared much about it anymore. You stared longingly into each others eyes, and Hermione spoke first.

“Would you go to Hogsmeade with me this weekend?” she blurted out, eyes widening as the words spilled from her mouth. 

“Sure, are Ron and Harry coming too?” you asked, figuring she wanted to go to Hogsmeade the same way you and the group of your friends had been going for years. 

“No, just us,” she said, smiling nervously at you.

“Ron? Passing up a Hogsmeade trip?” you joked, swallowing hard as you realized you were still standing extremely close to Hermione.

“A date-” she blurted out again, this time louder, like she had been forcing herself to say it, “I want to go on a date with you to Hogsmeade.”

You felt your mouth open in shock, slightly upturning your lips in surprise. You nodded your head vigorously, causing Hermione to duck her head down in a bashful sort of way. 

“Perfect,” she said, walking past you back to the table you both shared. 

You followed her, watching as she packed her things into her bag. She couldn’t stop smiling, and neither could you. She was careless with her things, nearly crumpling her newly written Charms essay. Her cheeks were pink as she smiled shyly at you before walking out of the library. You watched her leave, waving back at her when she looked over her shoulder for one more glance at you. 

[gingeralepdf]

A Little Love

A/N: here she isss!!! this is the piece that i wrote for the Pick Your Poison Fic Challenge that was set up by the amazing @andwhenshesays @for-fucks-sake-h and @oh-honey-styles (thank you for organizing all of this!! you’re all legends!!)

extra big thank you to lydia @youresogolden-h and brailey @daydreamsofh for being such sweet beta readers <3

this is my first ever attempt at writing fic, so i hope you enjoy it!

****CONTENT WARNING**** alcohol consumption

Harry is your best friend and your coworker, but you see him as more. Maybe you both just want a little love.

word count: ~8K

**April 25, 2020, 11:15am**

It’s a comfortable spring day in San Francisco. The windows are cracked, letting in sweet smelling fresh air and the moderate bustle of people out and about. Despite the perfect weather to be out at the market or taking a walk in the park, you’re currently at your neighbor’s apartment, slouched on the couch in the living room and in the midst of a New Girl marathon. Or rather, you are in the midst of a New Girl marathon, but your friend has not looked up from the guitar he is restringing for the past fifteen minutes.

You’ve been stealing glances at Harry from the other end of the couch. He has the guitar laying across his lap. He’s able to take all of the strings off and put three new ones on without a problem, but something about the fourth string seems to be giving him a lot of trouble. Every time he gets the string wound up on the tuning key, it snaps loose, like it can’t hold the tension. After several attempts with the same result, Harry sets his string winder on the coffee table and lets out a frustrated huff while scratching his forehead.

Although you know it’s probably best to not make a comment while he’s annoyed, you decide to make one anyway.

Just as he grabs the winder from the coffee table and goes in for another attempt at the string, you blurt out, “I thought the whole point of watching Netflix at your house instead of mine was so you could work and watch at the same time.”

Harry rolls his eyes and slowly cranes his head to look in your direction, “I am watching.”

“Right, so tell me what Miranda has been up to,” you challenge.

Harry lowers his head in concentration, making another attempt at winding up the string on the tuning key, “She’s like… going on a date or something.”

“Miranda isn’t even a character in the show!”

The tuning key once again snaps loose. Harry’s nostrils flare and he mutters a quick “Fucks sake.”

A moment passes where the only sound in the room is the TV. You’re trying to gauge whether or not you’ve actually pissed him off a bit. You decide to bite your tongue and see what he is going to say next.

Harry finally shifts his eyes from the guitar to you, “Obviously I can’t work and watch at the same time.”

You give him a pointed look, “You think?”

“I promise I can finish this project pretty quick, and then I’ll watch, like, four episodes, uninterrupted. I just need to go get some parts so… would you mind pausing it?”

Once the show is paused, Harry gets up from his spot on the couch, gently sets the guitar on the floor, and turns to exit the living room. However, he is stopped short since your legs are making a barricade between the couch and the coffee table. With a mischievous grin on his face, he uses his shin to slowly push your legs away from him so that your feet slide off the end of the table and onto the floor. Your jaw drops in exaggerated offense. Giggles erupt from both of you as he narrowly avoids your attempts to trip him while he steps over your legs and then jogs across the room to his workspace.

A huge benefit of living a couple of buildings away from your best friend is that any given day of the week can be spent like this. The both of you can always be found at either one of your apartments watching hours of Netflix, working on projects, or sharing meals.

Just as you were enjoying the moment of silence that fell onto the room, your phone and Harry’s phone buzz on the coffee table. With a quiet groan, you slowly sit up from the couch to see a text from your boss, sent in a group chat with yourself and Harry.

Would either of you be able to work the closing shift tonight? Sarah called in sick and the rest of the shift leads can’t work today.

Although you and Harry were both looking forward to having a Saturday off, you knew the bar was a little short-staffed this weekend, so you both kind of saw this coming.

“Is that who I think it is?” Harry asks.

“Yeah, Adam’s asking one of us to work the closing shift tonight. Sarah called in sick and I guess Charlotte can’t work today.”

Harry groans as he makes his way back to his previous spot on the couch and plops down with a screwdriver and a plastic bag containing what looks to be a new set of tuning keys in hand.

Harry takes a moment to look around his living room, taking in all of the instrument cases stacked around the small apartment, scratching his jaw in thought. “I mean, I would take it, but I’ve got a lot of projects that have to get done this weekend.”

“I guess that just leaves me then,” you say flatly, sinking further into the couch and staring straight ahead out of the window across the room.

“‘M’ sorry,” Harry says with a light chuckle at your dramatics, “I’ll owe you one.” His offer comes out more like a question.

You look back in his direction to see him with a wide, dimpled grin staring back at you. You know he’s just trying to make you feel better, and it works.

After sending a quick text to your boss letting him know you would be there tonight, you sit up straight and grab the remote from the coffee table. “That’s a really tempting offer. I’ve got a lot of sick days saved up, you know?”

“Heyyyy,” Harry draws out in a playfully offended tone.

You chuckle before asking, “Can we just finish this episode so I can go home and get some rest before work?”

“Yeah I think we can do that.” He sets the screwdriver and plastic bag on the coffee table and leans back on the couch, folding his hands together to rest on his stomach.

You press play on the remote and settle into another day with your best friend.

**April 26, 2020. 1:47am**

About ten minutes until the bar closes, and there are still three large, lively groups hanging around. You and your coworkers have done as many pre-closing tasks as you possibly could, aside from taking the drink glasses straight out of the customers’ hands. Now it just seems to be the longest waiting game ever until you’re officially allowed to kick everyone out.

While you’re all busying yourselves with wiping down counters and straightening chairs, the front door swings open.

Just as you’re about to put on your best customer service face that you can muster, you see a familiar blue and white plaid jacket and fluffy brown curls. Harry is strolling in, surveying the crowd of customers as he’s making his way to where you’re standing at the bar. You see that he is donning a form-fitting grey t-shirt with a bright yellow smiley face on it, light brown high-waisted pants, and a delicate looking pearl necklace. He always seems to be able to effortlessly look put together, even when he is making bold choices.

You look at him with raised eyebrows and ask with exaggerated charm, “Come here often?”

“Oh god.” He laughs at your ill attempt at comedy through a pained expression.

“What are you doing here?”

He shrugs, “Same as always.”

Harry has made it a routine to walk home with you when you’re working the closing shift. Even when you insist that there’s no need for him to stay up so late when he’s not working.

He glances around before looking back at you, “Is there anything I can help with right now?”

You shake your head. “Just waiting for them to leave so we can clean everything.”

“Bollocks,” he mutters before puckering his lips.

You decide to go around the corner of the bar to the prep area where the music controls are. Hopefully the customers will take the hint that it’s time to leave once you lower the volume.

After a few minutes, all of the staff are breathing a collective sigh of relief when one group makes their way to the door and the other two groups shortly follow suit.

By the time you follow the crowd out and you lock the door, it’s 2:05 a.m. Considering how busy it was tonight, you’re counting this as a small victory.

Harry and your other coworkers are going around cleaning up glasses and bottles and taking them back to the sink while you make your way to the register to start your shift lead duties.

Once the tips are divided, you take a look around and see that your coworkers are steadily making their way through the cleaning checklist. With Harry’s help, things are moving along pretty quickly. You pull the first bundle of cash out of the drawer and start counting.

After getting the cash drawer sorted out, and counting out a new one for Monday, you hear your coworker saying your name. “I think we’ve done everything on the cleaning checklist. Is there anything else you need help with?”

“Actually, all I have left to do is inventory. I’m not gonna hold you hostage for that, so you guys are free to head out if you want to.”

Your coworkers are saying goodnight and clocking out shortly after. Once they're gone, you’re left with the faint buzzing of the refrigerators and the light music over the speakers. You turn around to face the shelves of bottles and notice a few that are running low and need replacing. You go down the ‘employees only’ hallway to the back stockroom and grab all the bottles you need. Hugging them to your chest, you make your way back down the hallway. You walk about halfway when a figure jumps out of the supply closet to your right, causing you to jump backwards and let out a scream.

Harry’s howling laughter echoes through the hallway as you try to catch your breath and will your heart to stop racing.

You finally regain some composure and turn to fully face Harry. His laughter has reduced to occasional soft chuckles falling past his pursed lips. If your arms weren’t full, you would most likely be smacking him for scaring the shit out of you.

“What the hell were you thinking?” You do your best to give him death glare, but your voice is now shaking with laughter as well. “You’re lucky I didn’t drop any of this stuff, you idiot.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry but you should have seen your face. Holy shit.” He opens his arms and slowly steps toward you to bring you in for a hug.

“Well if you’re so sorry, put these on the shelf for me.” You say as you thrust the bottles into his chest, making him grunt out a laugh.

You walk to the front with Harry trailing behind you. All you have left to do is make a few notes for Adam before finally clocking out. You’ve never been more excited for your head to hit the pillow when you get home.

As you’re making your notes, Harry is pacing about behind you, straightening out all of the bottles on the shelves. He lets out a long observant hum.

“What?”

“Just noticed this guy’s almost empty,” he holds up a bottle of tequila and swirls around what little liquor is left in it. One corner of his mouth turns up before he looks at you, “Enough left for two more shots, probably.”

“Is that so?”

“Y’ wanna find out?”

“I don’t know,” you say as you tilt your head up and tap your chin in thought “I don’t know how I feel about taking shots with people who jump out of supply closets to scare me.”

“Oh c’mon, don’t be like that.” He’s exaggerating and drawing all of his words out as he walks over to you. He wraps his arms around you so that his hands are resting on your left shoulder and he rests the side of his head on the back of yours. “I’m sorry. Please take a shot with me.”

Although it's pointless since he can’t see your face, you roll your eyes in response, “Fine. Pour me one.”

His hand gives your shoulder a light squeeze before he moves away and reaches under the counter then puts two shot glasses onto the bar. He reaches behind him for the nearly empty bottle and pours the perfect amount into each glass. Taking them both in his hands, he extends one to you.

You don’t miss the chuckle that he lets out as you take the glass from him. After giving him a questioning look, you notice a slight blush on his face.

“What’s so funny?”

“Was just thinking. This,” he gestures to the two of you and the glasses you’re both holding “reminds me of the day you got into the art institute.”

Around this time a year ago, you had spent weeks pouring over your application for the San Francisco Art Institute and months after that waiting to hear anything back. When you got the acceptance email toward the end of your shift at work, Harry was the first person that you told. Just over a year ago, you were standing with Harry behind this same bar when you told him the good news. Your chest filled with warmth at his reaction. He wrapped you in a nearly suffocating hug as he loudly declared, “I told you you had a kick ass portfolio! So fuckin proud of you.”

Right after he released you from the hug, he poured each of you a shot. Harry then made the impromptu decision of doing a bar crawl after you both got off, deeming the two shots “not enough celebration”.

After a night full of slightly over the top celebrating, you were practically dragging Harry home. It wasn’t until you got to his apartment building that he realized he had left his keys and wallet at one of the bars. Not wanting to drag him back across town, you ended up bringing him back to your apartment just around the corner.

It took a lot of coaxing, but you were able to get him to drink a big glass of water before helping him brush his teeth with your spare toothbrush.

You have a lot of vague and fuzzy memories from that night, but there are two that remain crystal clear. One is the moment when you were clumsily leading him to your couch and he leaned in to whisper in your ear, “Wish I could kiss you.” And the other is the way your stomach dropped and your heart nearly fluttered out of control at his drunken confession.

The conversations about that night always turned into jokes about you being able to handle your liquor better than he could. His comment was never brought up by either of you. You weren’t sure if he would even remember it, or if either of you really wanted to.

“Yeah,” you chuckled, “we should never be allowed to celebrate anything after that. We were miserable the next day.”

You lock eyes with him and for a split second there’s something in his eyes that you don’t quite recognize. Like a different kind of softness that you hadn’t seen before this moment.

It’s fleeting, however, because he glances down at your hands and clinks your glasses together. You tilt your heads back at the same time, feeling the burn in your throats and letting out sharp exhales once it’s passed.

Harry takes your glass from your hand and silently goes to the prep area. You hear the sink running as you finish up your notes to your boss and you clock out.

“You ready to go?”

“Yeah I just need to get my-” you stop mid-sentence when you turn around to see Harry already holding out your bag that had been hanging up in the prep area. You mutter a ‘never mind’ as you take it from him.

Harry grabs his jacket from the pool table and you stroll to the front door together, turning off lights as you go.

You finally step out into the chilly nighttime air. The only noises are coming from the small scattered groups of people gathering in front of the bars on the block that are just closing.

After locking the doors, you and Harry start trudging along the sidewalk up the steep hill. If you had known that it was going to get so much colder and windier during the night, you would have brought a jacket with you. You fold your arms and grit your teeth as another cold breeze hits you from the front.

You don’t even notice Harry taking off his jacket until he’s holding it in front of your face. You pause your walking for a moment to gently take it from his hand.

“Aren’t you gonna be cold?”

“Well I’m not gonna watch you shiver all the way home.”

You frown a bit as you look at the jacket in your hands. You can still feel the warmth from Harry’s body heat on the hand that’s grasping the inside of it. Having that little bit of warmth already makes you feel better, but you hate to think that he’s going to be the one gritting his teeth against the cold.

He says your name through a chuckle and you look up to meet his eyes. “I’ll be fine. Just put the jacket on and let’s get you home, yeah?”

**April 26th, 2020. 5:30am**

It should be considered a crime to be wide awake at this hour, considering the small amount of sleep you’ve gotten. The only thing you had the energy to do when you got home last night was change out of your work clothes and fall into bed. You remember glancing at your clock and reading 3:15 a.m. before your eyelids grew heavy and closed.

The reminder of Harry’s drunk confession that you thought was water under the bridge is now flooding your mind as you desperately try to fall back to sleep. You try to push down the memory of his giggles as you made the strenuous effort of finding the switch on your living room lamp while having nearly all of his body weight leaned against you for support. You try to push down the memory of his flushed cheeks in the glowing yellow light when you finally got him settled on your couch. You try to push down the memory of running your fingers through his soft curls and giving his hairline a soft kiss before going to bed. You try to think of literally anything else.

It isn’t until the very first hints of daylight enter your room that you decide to give up.

The floor is cold on your feet as you walk to your bathroom, rubbing your tired eyes.

After a quick shower and putting on your favorite t-shirt and jeans, you feel less sluggish. You focus on going through your kitchen pantry to find something for your growling stomach.

Although you wish that you were still sleeping soundly in your bed, you think of how rare it is to get to see this city both at the dead of night and when it’s slowly starting to wake up. To be able to greet the light in your living room as it dances across the pictures on your walls and you mill about with your bowl of cereal.

The pictures lined up on your walls remind you of the project that you started last week that you need new photos for. You go to your closet and get the bag that holds your digital camera. Your mind is buzzing at the thought of taking it to the park before it gets too crowded.

You put on a jacket and shoes, pull your camera bag over your shoulder, and head out into the chilly Sunday morning.

********************

You round the corner of your block and start making your way down the steep hill, admiring the multicolored houses across the street that are glowing softly in the morning light. A smile spreads across your face as you reach into your bag for your camera and your fisheye lens. Once you’ve captured a few shots that you’re happy with, you move on toward the park.

You’re coming up on Harry’s building, and you instinctively glance up at the second story bay window that you know belongs to his apartment. Because this side of his building is still in the shade at this point in the day, you can see that his light is on.

“What’s he doing up?” you think to yourself. He’s always been an early riser, but considering how late you both stayed up, you would hope that he had been able to get some extra sleep.

As soon as the thought crosses your mind, Harry appears in the window. His blinds are wide open, so you can clearly see him stepping up to his record player and delicately placing the needle on the vinyl. A toothbrush hangs out of his mouth.

What your eyes are more drawn to, however, is his choice of clothing, or lack thereof. He’s standing in front of his window in nothing but a black t-shirt and a pair of underwear. You knew the t-shirt too well as the one he found at a thrift store years ago and became obsessed with after reading the ‘Treat People With Kindness’ logo on the front. He steps back from the record player and tilts his head back to brush his teeth. You watch as his jaw flexes and is accentuated by the light scruff of facial hair along it.

It’s becoming alarmingly clear to you that you are alone in the middle of the sidewalk, about thirty feet away from your best friend’s window, ogling him as he’s minding his own business. As much as your palms are sweating and your stomach is doing somersaults at the prospect of being spotted, you cannot bring yourself to continue walking. You wouldn’t mind becoming a permanent part of the sidewalk if it meant having this kind of view.

Harry turns and walks away from the window. You finally snap out of your daze and hurry past his window, thankful for the help of the downhill slope to move you along. Once you get to the corner of the block, you stop and lean your back against the building. Lightly smacking your forehead, you mutter out loud to yourself, “What the hell was that?”

********************

The trip to the park turned out to be a perfect way to spend the morning. You ended up taking a lot of pictures of murals and flowers before the park started to get too busy.

With your favorite album playing through your headphones, your mind is now buzzing with the excitement of having new photos to edit.

Once you cross the street, you’re now standing on the corner of your block. One way would lead you once again past the window to Harry���s apartment. The other way would help you avoid another potentially awkward sighting, but was much longer and usually includes lines for overcrowded restaurants.

Keeping your head down, you continue walking straight ahead in the same direction that you came from.

As you’re hiking up the hill, you suddenly hear a voice that you know is not coming through your headphones. You turn your volume down and listen to your surroundings. Plain as day, someone behind you shouts your name. You rip your headphones out and whip around to see Harry waving at you from his window.

“Hey! You wanna come up for breakfast?”

Your feet are firmly planted to the sidewalk, much like they were about an hour ago when you stood in the same spot and ogled this man.

You opened your mouth, not knowing what to say, and pathetically jabbed your thumb in the general direction of your apartment. “Actually I… I-I was gonna-”

“I’ve got coffee from Trieste,” he says in a sing-song tone.

You internally roll your eyes and curse him for knowing that you can never deny coffee from your favorite place in town. Plus, wracking your brain for a good excuse to be on your way is becoming difficult due to the hunger pains starting up in your stomach. That bowl of cereal is only holding you over for so long.

You look up at his dimpled face and relax your shoulders, “Okay, yeah. Yeah I’ll come up.”

“I’ll unlock the door for you!” is the last thing you hear before he shuts his window and you make your way to the stairs.

You climb up to the second story and turn down his hallway. When you’re standing in front of his door, you can hear music playing.

You open the door and you’re met with the sounds of trumpets. Harry has Peter Gabriel’s “Sledgehammer” playing on his record player. He has it just loud enough to where it won’t annoy any of his neighbors, but it still fills every corner of the living room. It’s not the first time you’ve walked into a similar scene here. You know this to be one of his favorite songs to play in the morning.

You close the door behind you and take in the state of the room as you walk through. The instrument cases are a little more organized than they had been yesterday. Smaller ones are stacked up next to his workstation and the larger ones are stacked up in the corner next to his couch. His laptop sits open on the coffee table and a haphazard stack of blank paper repair tags sat next to it.

The camera bag on your shoulder is now starting to feel heavy, so you plop down on the couch. Your ears perk up at the sound of Harry singing along with the record from the kitchen.

“You can have an aeroplane flyin’. If you bring your blue sky back.”

Following the smell of coffee, you walk over to the doorway of the small kitchen. Harry is  standing at the counter. Thankfully he is not wearing the outfit that you saw him in earlier. He’s wearing brown trousers and a cream colored flannel with black and green stripes. He also has on his signature pair of scuffed up black vans.

There is a small table and two chairs in the corner of the kitchen next to the window with a vase of sunflowers and a couple of books sitting on it. You walk over to the table to inspect the books more closely. Art as Therapy by Alain de Botton & John Armstrong and The Course of Love, also by Alain de Botton. Before you get the chance to flip them over and read the descriptions, Harry clears his throat.

“Coffee’s ready.” He sets the kettle down on the counter and dances his way over to the cupboard where he keeps his mugs.

You can’t stop the smile that spreads across your face, admiring his ability to always be so energetic in the mornings.

He takes the filter out of the chemex and chunks it in the trash before pouring the coffee into two mugs. The way he turns with a mug in each hand, extending one to you, is extremely reminiscent of last night. After you take the mug from his hands, he scoots past you into the living room. The volume of the music lowers to a faint background noise before he appears again in the kitchen.

“So,” he pauses to reach into the fridge, pulling out a carton of eggs and setting it on the counter, “what are you doing up so early? Figured you’d be in bed till noon. Seemed pretty exhausted last night.” He takes a long sip of coffee, waiting for your response.

Suddenly you’re doing everything to not look in his direction. Your eyes are shifting from the table to the flowers to the mug in your hands.

“Um… yeah I woke up at like 5:30 for some reason and couldn’t go back to sleep. So I just decided to take a walk with my camera.” Your last few words echo from your mug before you take a big sip.

Harry clicks his tongue. “M’ sorry, that sucks. Did you at least see anything interesting?”

You involuntarily gasp at his question, causing the coffee to go directly down the wrong pipe. Several harsh coughs erupt from your chest.

Harry acts quickly, muttering a quick “shit” before taking the cup from your hand and setting it on the table along with his. He steps behind you and you hear a chair scoot out from the table. His hands gently wrap around your upper arms, prompting you to have a seat. You fold over in the chair, gripping the edge of the table for stability. After a few more strong coughs, you’re finally able to catch your breath.

Harry’s fingertips rubbing soothing circles on your back sends electricity up and down your spine.

His hand slides off of your back as he steps away from you, “Alright? Want some water?” He’s already walking over to his cabinet and pulling out a glass before you respond.

Once you clear your throat, you croak out, “Yeah I’m fine, that’s fine.”

He sets the glass on the table in front of you, turns back to the carton of eggs on the counter and starts cracking some into a pan.

After taking some sips of your water, you say, “So I was going to ask you the same question. What are you doing up so early?”

“Well, funny enough, I also had to wake up around 5:30. I’ve got a client coming to pick up her trumpet this morning and I had to get everything sorted and clean up a bit before she got here.”

Nodding your head, you tease, “Oh yeah, it looks really good in there. Was starting to forget what your floor looked like.”

Your heart leaps at the sound of Harry’s belly laugh. “Wow. Wowwwwww. Already giving me a hard time. At this hour. Jesus.”

You laugh at his exaggerated reaction while he simply shakes his head.

There’s a knock at the front door. Harry reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. “Must be her, actually. I’ll be right back.”

“Do you want me to do those?” You stand up from your spot at the table and gesture to the pan.

“Sure, that’d be great, thanks,” he says over his shoulder when he exits the kitchen.

A moment later, you hear the sound of a woman’s voice greeting Harry. It sounds like they’re just standing in his entryway because you can’t really make out what either of them are saying.

Meanwhile, you go about scrambling eggs, making toast, and getting out plates and silverware. By the time Harry is back in the kitchen, you’re already starting to put everything on the table.

You pick up the books from the table and hold them up to Harry, “Where do you want these?”

“Oh uh, I’ll just put those on the coffee table.” When you hand them off to him, he holds up the copy of Art as Therapy. “This one’s for you though, make sure you take it with you today.”

You tilt your head in question.

“Just thought it looked like something you would enjoy. Saw it when I was looking for this other one.” He holds up The Course of Love.

Before you could say anything, he’s disappeared again into the living room.

Once you’re both sitting at the table and digging into your breakfast, Harry asks, “What are you doing tonight?”

You squint your eyes at him. “I mean, I don’t really have anything planned. Why do you ask?”

“Well that client that was just here offered me two free tickets to her jazz band’s show tonight as, like, an extra ‘thank you’.” He shrugs, “Might be fun to go to.”

With a straight face, you reply, “I can’t, I’m booked tonight.”

You stare at each other for a minute in silence trying not to crack a smile, until you both start snorting.

“I know you’re free because the bar is closed and Sarah is still sick.” Harry tosses his fork on his plate and leans back in his chair like he’s just won an argument.

You mirror him by crossing your arms and leaning back in your chair. “What if I have plans with Mitch? Sarah’s boyfriend?”

Harry furrows his brows and looks at you, baffled, “I know who Mitch is, why’d you have to say it like that?”

“Because I knew it would throw you off.”

“Alright, I’ll just take Mitch to the concert then.”

You drop your jaw and lightly kick his leg under the table. “What time is this concert?” You ask, slipping out of your teasing tone.

“It’s at seven.” Harry leans forward and lifts his coffee from the table, holding it up to you.

You grab yours from the table and clink it with his before finishing off the remainder of your coffee.

***********************

Back at your apartment, you’re leaning back in your chair at the desk in your living room, waiting for your pictures from today to upload on your computer. Your hands run over the smooth blue and green cover of Art as Therapy. In the few years that you have known Harry, you’ve swapped countless book recommendations back and forth, and the bookshelves in your apartments are constantly changing due to all of the borrowing you both do. You’ve even gotten each other books for birthdays and other holidays. This is the first book that he has bought for you completely unprompted. You hadn’t even heard of the author until today, so it’s not like he heard you mention in passing wanting to read his books.

You flip the book over and read the description, then flip to the first few pages to see a statement about the authors. “Their proposal is that certain great works of art offer clues on managing the tensions and confusions of everyday life and that, approached in the right way, art can help us answer both the intimate and the everyday questions we all ask ourselves.”

Quickly shaking yourself out of your own thoughts, you check the progress on your photos. Approximately 20 minutes remaining.

You huff, slap the book closed, and toss it on the desk before getting up and walking to your room. There’s an old shoe box on one of your shelves that you like to go through when you’re feeling sad or having a weird day, which feels about right at this moment.

You plop down on your bed and set the box in front of you, opening up the lid. The rush of nostalgia and warmth that comes over you when going through this box is overwhelming sometimes. It’s filled with miscellaneous photos that you’ve taken on your film camera over the past few years. There are some that capture your favorite buildings and murals throughout the city. There are a lot from when you went to the pride celebrations last year. The majority of the pictures in the box capture candid moments of your friends and family. These kinds of pictures are the ones that remind you of why you love photography so much and even after getting high marks on your work for the institute, these are the ones that you end up feeling the most proud of.

You see your friends from out of state standing in front of the Golden Gate Bridge from the time they paid you a surprise visit. Another one shows your cousin at his college graduation. There’s one of your friend and coworker, Sarah, and her boyfriend Mitch from the day you and Harry helped them move into their new apartment, proudly holding up the keys, smiling from ear to ear.

And then there’s quite a lot of Harry. Harry playing pool at a bar across town, Harry at the beach tossing a football with Mitch, a kind of blurry one of him going crazy at an Ariana Grande concert. You laugh out loud when you find the one of him proudly wearing your dress during a drunken game of truth or dare, and the one of him making a ‘kissy’ face at you in those obnoxious Gucci sunglasses that he wore for pretty much an entire summer. Sometimes you don’t realize how much you’ve experienced together until you go back and look at these pictures.

You’ve been flipping through them pretty quickly, but you come across one that makes you freeze. It’s from your friend’s birthday party a few months ago. You got someone to take a picture of yourself with Sarah and Mitch, but Harry decided to jump in. In the picture, Mitch is in the middle of you and Sarah, arms slung around each other’s shoulders, and Harry has his arms hugged tight around your middle and his cheek is pressed to yours. It could be seen as a form of affection, if his face wasn’t covered in icing from your friend’s birthday cake. The photo is perfectly timed to capture everyone’s shocked laughter.

Just by looking at this photo again, you can feel his smile against your cheek and his arms holding you close. It’s a feeling you’ve been wanting more of ever since that night. Maybe that’s the ‘intimate question’ you’ve been asking yourself- Do you really want more with Harry?

**April 26th, 2020. 6:58pm**

You’re sure nobody on the street could miss you and Harry. After saying quick ‘thank you’s to the uber driver, you grab hands and start jogging toward the entrance of the SFJAZZ Center- a three story building with windows wrapping all the way around. The show is supposed to start in two minutes. You would have arrived much earlier if Harry hadn’t left the tickets on his kitchen table. You’re both dodging and weaving through people on the sidewalk, you in your favorite floral dress and Harry in a bold green suit jacket.

Once in the lobby, you both reduce your pace to a brisk walk and you readjust the bag on your shoulder. Harry’s hand is still holding yours as you’re both scanning the lobby for the right place to go. You spot a couple of employees closing doors labeled ‘main hall seating’.

“Over here,” you say, pulling Harry along with you.

Luckily, you’re able to catch the ushers in time to show them your tickets and be let in. The expansive auditorium is filled with the sound of chattering people and musicians warming up their instruments.

Thankfully, your seats are in a row toward the back and to the left of the stage, so you don’t have to make too big of a scene when scooting past people. Right when you settle in, the house lights dim, the chatter rapidly dies down, and the band on the stage goes silent.

The lull is soon replaced with applause when a woman walks out and stands center stage. She introduces herself as the director of programming and welcomes the audience. “Thank you all for being here tonight. Your support means so much to this center as we continue to make music and art and do what we love to do.” She pauses to hold up a booklet in her hands. “As you may have seen in your program, tonight’s performance is a special one.”

For the first time, you glance around the room and notice almost everyone but you and Harry has a program in their lap or held in their hands.

The woman on stage continues. “Some of you may know this, and some of you may not, but April is the birth month of American jazz singer, Billie Holiday. So, to honor her legacy, this lovely band sitting behind me has put together arrangements of some of her greatest hits.” Applause fills the room once again.

“Some of the performances tonight will feature vocalists and some will be done with the band only, so I hope everyone will find something they enjoy. Now, without further ado, I present to you A Little Love, with Billie Holiday.”

There is applause for a third time, but your hands are suddenly too heavy in your lap to join in. As the director exits the stage and another woman, presumably the vocalist, takes her place, your mind is reeling at the situation you’re currently in. How have you wound up at a jazz concert dedicated to love, that you decided to attend on a whim, with your best friend that you suddenly have overwhelming feelings for?

All of the subtle signs and notions of feelings you have had over the years have turned into blaring alarms, and they’re all pointing to one person. The man sitting right next to you, who is also sitting stock still in his seat.

There’s a drumroll from the stage followed by a light and smooth saxophone solo that brings you back into the moment. The vocalist begins the captivating first verse of Billie Holiday’s You Go to My Head.

You go to my head

And you linger like a haunting refrain

And I find you spinning round in my brain

Like the bubbles in a glass of champagne

You slowly sink about three inches down into your seat. You wish you had a program now so that you could at least use it to fan your face. You reach your hand up to dab at your forehead.

At the same time Harry takes a deep breath and lightly trills his lips while itching the bridge of his nose.

The vocalist continues to sing the lyrics that are hitting you directly in the gut.

The thrill of the thought

That you might give a thought to my plea

Casts a spell over me

Still I say to myself “Get a hold of yourself”

Can’t you see that it never can be

You glance around the auditorium as much as you can without turning your head in Harry’s direction, wondering if anyone else is feeling the temperature rise or the tension that seems to be wrapped around the both of you.

You go to my head

With a smile that makes my temperature rise

Like a summer with a thousand Julys

You intoxicate my soul with your eyes

Though I’m certain that this heart of mine

Hasn’t the ghost of a chance in this crazy romance

You go to my head

Your mind is reeling yet again at the situation you’re in. This must be some kind of elaborate prank that the universe is pulling on you. You’re half expecting a spotlight to fall on you and Harry that nobody in the room would even question.

The feeling doesn’t lift as the concert goes on. Soulful songs about a lover’s eyes, falling in love, how easy it is to live when you’re in love. Even where there is not a vocalist, you seem to know what the songs are implying.

Something that comes up in your rapid stream of thoughts is the author’s note you read earlier, “approached in the right way, art can help us answer both the intimate and the everyday questions we all ask ourselves.” You ask yourself the question again: Do you want more with Harry?

You think about the pictures of the times you’ve spent together. Crazy shifts at the bar, days in the park, breakfasts, dinners, late nights staying up talking about god knows what. You know the answer. You’ve always known the answer.

It seems like your heart has caught up with your thoughts, because it’s pounding in your chest.

Halfway through the final song of the night, you decide to steal a glance at Harry. Slowly turning your head, you peek through the corner of your eye.

A quick jolt of electricity runs through your entire body when you see that Harry already has his eyes on you. You turn your head back to the stage, but you can still feel his gaze burning a hole in the side of your head.

When thunderous applause breaks out after the final song, Harry turns his head back to the stage as you both limply clap along with the audience.

******************

This is the most quiet car ride of your life. There isn’t even any music being played in the background. The only words that have been exchanged between you and Harry since the concert ended were when he asked you if it was okay for the uber to just drop you both at your building and you answered with a simple ‘sure’.

There are so many feelings swirling around in you that you don’t know what to do with, and you definitely don’t want all of them to spill out in this stranger’s car, so you keep your jaw clenched as you look out of the window.

The car comes to a stop outside of your building and you both mutter ‘thank you’s as you climb out. You both silently make your way through the lobby, up the stairs, and down the hallway to your door.

Just last night you were making the same trip. You were making light jokes about wanting to steal Harry’s jacket and he was joking back, accusing you of wanting him to freeze to death. You had to remind each other not to laugh so loud so you wouldn’t disturb anyone. Now the only sound in the hallway is your shoes on the floor.

Once you reach your door, you open your bag and start digging for your keys. “Thanks, um, thanks for inviting me. It was a really good show.” You find your keys and push them into the lock before turning your eyes to Harry.

He has one hand in his pocket and the other rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah… Yeah it was... it was fun. Glad you could come with me.” He moves his hands from their places and awkwardly moves his arms out for a hug.

You smile and let out a sharp exhale through your nose at the awkwardness of this whole situation, but you gladly reciprocate the hug. Your arms completely wrap around each other, your hands tightly gripping his jacket. You can smell his cologne, like ginger and honey and cedar, and it’s making your head spin. You embrace for a few seconds and then release each other.

Harry sighs, “Alright, I’ll see you later then.”

“Okay, see you later.”

Harry shoves his hands in his pockets and slowly takes a few steps to turn away.

You turn the key in the lock, then turn your head to watch Harry take his first few steps away from you. You don’t want him to get any further.

“Harry?”

He stops and turns around to face you. “Yeah?”

You cannot believe the question that’s coming to your mind, but it’s the only thing that’s been coherent enough to put into words. You gulp and take a deep breath before asking, “Do you… do you still wish you could kiss me?”

You watch about three different emotions pass across Harry’s face. His mouth opens, his head tilts to the side, then his mouth closes and his eyes shift to the floor.

You feel a flood of regret. He doesn’t remember. He doesn’t remember. That was stupid. He doesn’t remember. Just play it off.

You know your face is flushed with embarrassment as you speak softly, “I’m sorry. I just. That night that you were really drunk and I brought you back here, you said that you wish- that you wished y-”

Hearing Harry say your name stops your rambling. “Don’t be sorry. I know what I said.” He’s eyeing you cautiously and taking a couple of steps toward you again. “And… yeah. I still wish I could kiss you. Felt that way for… a while now.”

Tears are brimming your eyes as you look into his, trying to absorb what he’s just said. Then it’s almost like the floor beneath you tilts in his direction, nudging you to move forward until you’re standing directly in front of him. You can smell his cologne again.

With your eyes still locked into his, you slowly raise your hands to place them on the back of his neck, thumbs stroking the corners of his jaw.

After taking a shaky breath, you whisper, “I wish I could kiss you, too.”

Harry gulps and shifts his eyes down to your lips. He takes a deep breath through his nose before you feel his hand lightly grip your waist and his other hand takes a similar position on your neck.

You both stand there for a few breaths, eyes roaming over each other’s faces.

You start to lean in and then stop about half way and close your eyes. You’re both just waiting to see who will close the gap.

After a moment, you feel Harry’s grip on your neck and waist tighten and you feel him leaning in. Then his lips are on yours. They’re on yours again and again. You tilt your heads to deepen the kisses and he takes a step toward you. You follow his lead until your back is pressed against your door.

As much as it pains you to do so, you have to stop so you can catch your breath. You reach one of your hands into his hair and lightly pull him away. Both of you are breathing  in sync.

Once your breathing is evened out, you lock eyes with Harry. Your heart flutters when you exchange shy but knowing smiles and his thumb gently strokes your cheek.

After clearing your throat, you move your hand to your door knob. “Do you want to come in?”

Harry glances at your hand then returns his eyes to yours. He purses his lips and takes a sharp breath in. “I just want to know what you want.”

What just happened a few seconds ago already seems monumental to you. After the emotional roller coaster of this day, you’re not sure whether or not you’re ready for more tonight.

You take your hand from the doorknob and run it along his shoulder to return it to its previous position on his neck. “Honestly, I’m so fucking exhausted from today.” You watch as Harry nods his head in understanding. “I think all I want tonight is to hold you,” you notice the softness in his eyes, the same softness that you noticed for a fleeting second in the bar last night. “And keep kissing you.” This makes a lopsided smirk pop onto his face. “And I want to talk in the morning. About us.”

Harry leans in and presses a sweet peck to your lips. “I think we can do that.”

*******************

If anyone would have told you that your day was going to end with you and Harry in your bed, your head on his chest, and him running his fingers soothingly over your back, you wouldn’t have believed them.

“Harry?” you say softly, just as your eyelids are starting to get heavy.

His fingers stop for a moment, “Yeah?”

Thinking over the sequence of events that led you to where you are now, you start to erupt into sleepy giggles. “Did you know that the performance was gonna be,” you pause, trying to find the right word, “that?”

Harry lets out a deep belly laugh and when you glance up at him, he’s pinching the bridge of his nose. “I couldn’t have planned that if I tried.”

Before you know it, you’re both laughing uncontrollably, recounting the insane timing of the whole situation.

Harry rolls to his side so that he’s facing you and places a lingering kiss on your lips. “I’ll have to tell that client that any repairs she wants are on the house now.”

You throw your head back laughing and he pulls you into his chest, smothering your neck with kisses before resting his chin on top of your head.

If this is all you could have for the rest of your life, just a little love from each other, you would never want anything more.

************************************************************

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[tomdiddlyumptious]

Can u do a soon to be dad Tom holland x soon to be black mom where shes 5 months pregnant and there whole family goes to bora bora together and y/n wears cute bikinis 🥺 and she reveals on insta that she’s pregnant like this (🤰 ) and they travel around bora bora and paparazzi takes pics and y/n accidentally falls on her side but the baby is ok but Tom gets into a fight with one of the paparazzi and Toms brothers has to break it up but it’s ending in fluff 😫🥺🥺

UH YEAH YEA- FLY ME TO THE MOON- I DONT THINK I KNOW HOW TO WRITE BUT YALL LOVE ME SO SO MUCH AM IIIIII I I I I RIGHTT? MY REACTION TO FIRST READING THE ASK WAS “what even is bora bora?”

Warnings: sexual tension but not, difficult writing but u understand, fluff? NOT PROOFREAD YOU ALREADY KNOW IT! Idk what else, kinda hyped

T.H| BORA BORA BORA THE EXPLORORRRR

It was about your second or third day in bora bora, Thomas itching to tell everyone how his beloved is caring his child finally. “Swimming?” He asked, his voice hoarse as he rubbed the bottom of your stomach, feeling the hairs that you grew from the hormones. “Only if we get one of those cocktails” you smiled, going to your night stand and putting on your sunglasses.

“I still don’t know why you do that” “I utterly refuse to let you see my eyes in the morning” “I already did though!” He whisper yells, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you closer. “No thomas- ah!” You let out a small scream as he peppered your face with kisses, trying to pull back you push his arms away and raise your eyebrows at him. “Stop it” “no” “why?” “Because I love you”

He quickly snatched the sunglasses and throws them in the closet, you grunt and close your eyes “Thomas!” “Whattt?” He says, getting up from the bed and heading to the bathroom. “Sunglasses please” you throw out your hand and move your fingers in a ‘gimmie’ way.

“I can I’m using the bathroom!” Before you could argue he shut the door, you groaned and rolled your eyes, throwing your head on the pillow multiple times before getting up, you went to the closet and stretched the back of your left leg with your right one, placing Toms swim bottoms on the bed and getting a matching lavender purple one that has a wire under the boob cut, the bottoms highwaisted, enough to tell that your are pregnant.

“Are you finally up?!” He asked over turning on the shower, “yes Tom, yes I am!” You yelled back, he returned with a come on and you did, grabbing large and hand towels and came into the bathroom already seeing him naked.

“It’s pretty cold in here” he winked at you, you shook your head and laughed “then turn the water warm, did you forget how to?” He only played along “come show me” you got undressed and took a shower with him, he helped get your ankles and shins up to the glory, of course he snuck a few kisses on the cheeks but nothing to much.

“I could do this forever” he said, taking the baby oil and rubbing it all over you. “We have people here with us, I don’t think that’s possible” “whatever” he rolled his eyes, soon the door was knocked on “open it!” He yelled. As the door opened it revealed haz “let’s go” he smiled and walked off, as Tom finshed he wrapped his arm around your waist and rested his head on your stomach “what’s their name gonna be” “Oliver” he came eye contact with you “I love it!” He kissed your stomach a few times before smacking your butt and standing up. “You look great carrying my baby, did you know that?” He asked, grabbing a small bag filled with things both of you needed. “What about before that?” You asked teasing him as he only licked the bottom corner of his mouth laughing.

“You and I both know I am not doing no goddam-sorry olive- surfing Thomas” “you succkkk, pleaseee” he looked at you with his lower lip pocket out “can we do the reveal first?” You say knowing it’ll change his mind. “YES!- HARRY GET YOUR CAMERA!” tom yelled, taking your hand and running where everyone else is, Harry rolled his eyes but stood up going to his rather large bag.

You got your sunglasses that you didn’t forget “why-“ you threw a pair at him to “we need to look like actual cool parents, so please” you smiled at him making him smack his lips and mumble some things.

You put on your little framed black glasses and put your hands on your stomach, lifting your left leg to your tippy toe as you leaned on your other foot, raising your left shoulder and doing a duck face and Tom was behind you, sunglasses in his wet hair as he squatted and put a hand on your straight leg, his head mostly on the side of your butt but trying to make it platonic, secretly not.

“3...2...1!” Harry counted the camera snapping, Tom kissing your hips “surfing?” “No”

After the small swimming of Thomas, paddy, and has trying to scare you by circling you with the jet skis, all of you went back to change Thomas wearing an orange shirt to match your off the shoulders black crop top that’s ruffled across the top and he wore some black jean shorts as you wore orange shorts, it isn’t jeans but it has a large bow where the belt is supposed to be and some black sandals with your white toes.

“You look stunning” he said as you put in your earrings “thanks babe as do you” you smiled, he came behind you, pushing himself on you and kissing your back “I honestly don’t want to torture the baby” you smiled, Tom catching on and laughing also.

The black bucket hat on and the sunglasses in the hot sun but your skin was shinning! Yay! No, not yay, it’s hot as fuck. You got your cocktail tho, it was refreshing for this hot sun. “Why why why!” You complained, Sam and Harry laughing as you rolled your eyes “here here!” You pointed at a store, boho themed, you seen a lot of tight skirts and brown knitted tops that looked like bikini tops but aren’t. “Let’s go then” “make his pockets hurt” Harry mumbled, making Sam laugh and Tom slap his shoulder.

You ended up getting a whole lot still walking in the sun all of you found paparazzi, multiple. It was getting quite crowded to because it wasn’t that hot anymore,”yeah I’m sorry!- excuse me!” You smiled holding Toms hand as he pulled you through all the paparazzi, until one accidently put their foot infront of yours, Tom still trying to pull you by your right hand do you ended up on your side, a lot of ‘oos’ and ‘ouch’s’ came out making Tom confused, when he looked back he saw you in the ground, Harry and Sam kneeling down to your side.

“You alright?” Sam asked. “What the fuck!” Tom yelled, looking at the same man who’s face was beat red, “i-I didn’t mean it” “really? You fu-“ before he could finish he threw a punch, a hurtful punch, other paparazzi long gone and not taking pictures anymore. “You know she’s pregnant- maybe you should’ve stayed away in the first place you fuckin twat- you fuckin piece of absolute shit!” Tom ended up getting him in the floor, hearing a thud making you, Sam, and Harry look over at Tom just punching him in the face, yelling out stuff that he wouldn’t regret later.

Crack

That’s when it was time to get off, Harry and Sam stood up and ran to him, taking his arms and pulling him off of his lap, Toms face scrunched up and he grabbed the camera, throwing it on the ground, not strong enough so he gets out of their hold and stomped it out. “That’s what you fucking get for messing with her! The next time I’ll have you in jail!” Tom tried to walk back but you grabbed his hand, “I’m okay, I promise” his breath calming down as he let out a little “okay” you put your hand up to behind his ear and gave him a peck.

The next day it was time to leave, news about it everywhere so he took a break from social media and focused on you mostly, oh and the paparazzis nose is broken, you guys are praying that he has insurance. Not to mention he won’t stop putting his hands around you in public did someone say PDAAAA? But everyone was happy about the baby, dom cheered him on about breaking his nose!

I HOPE ALL OF YOU ARE HAPPY! LOVE YOU NONNIE AND FANNIES AND EVERYONE!

[the-fiction-witch]

The Other Harmon P1 - P5

TV SHOW : THE QUEENS GAMBIT COUPLE: BENNY WATTS X READER RATING: Flirty Af

Part 1: Happiness 

I laid looking at the ceiling, pondering, thinking, My brain never turned off. It never had as long as I remember, my life had been a strange one and yet I had found my own happiness, I just have hope my sister will find it likewise just I imagine not the way I did, as we had always been two rather different Harmon's.

"Uummmm..." I heard beside me looking to the other half of my bed as he turned over his mop of messy long hair matted and out of place more so than usual, his face a picture of peace and relaxation his facial hair sat as perfect as usual, his strong skinny upper body out from our covers a little the rest of him wrapped up warmly his face stiffened and he grimaced "y/n? What are you doing still awake?" He asks with a yawn

"Nothing Benny, I couldn't sleep"

"Alright, come on, come here honeydew... Let's get some rest, got a plane to catch in the morning" he yawns pulling me to his chest like I was his teddy bear. Not that I minded at all. I kissed his bare skin and nuzzled closer to him trying to lose myself in a dream.

Part 2: Promise Me!

"Girls-"

"Mother? What's going on?" My sister spoke

"Girls we just uhh were just going on an uhh a little trip out for ice cream," my mother said in a hurried tone as she drove "okay baby just close your eyes, close your eyes and you promise me you'll look after your sister"

"Mother-"

"Promise me!"

"I promise"

I remember little else of what happened. I just remember my sister holding my hand as they took us somewhere, I didn't understand where They took me away from my sister for reasons I didn't know.

"Elizabeth Harmon, and Y/n Harmon. Eight and four" a man said as he made notes taking me somewhere else.

I would see my sister often but she never seemed happy all she ever wanted to do was play chess and I didn't understand it. I liked to watch but I couldn't play honestly. I didn't really want to but I knew the more my sister grew to know that board the less she would grow Into my sister. One day people came and we were told to wash up and dress nicely. I showered, brushed my teeth and put on my prettiest dress doing my hair Into braids with small blue ribbons even shinned my little shoes. And I went and waited for what felt like forever until Beth arrived

"Where have you been?" I asked

"Sleeping"

"But this is important"

"It's just another couple who will look at us see us as a package and not bother" she explained "they always want you... they never want me"

"Well... maybe if you tried"

"You think I don't?"

"I'm sure you do beth," I nodded as the door opened and we were ushered inside and there sat a rather nice looking couple. Things were said and disgusted but I barely spoke a word until they left and we were told to pack.

Part 3 : Different

I forced so much of that time away from me watching only as she got better she drifted away from me, I remember wondering around this hotel as Beth chatted with her friends. I saw someone sitting discussing chess to some other men. Something about him seemed so... different.

All these boys were stuck up little nerds in suits with pocket protectors for their pens, hair gelled back and glasses perched but...

He was different. His jeans tight to his body leaving little to imagination a tight belt around his waist a black shirt under a green shirt unbuttoned slightly but all hidden by this long leather coat, his slender pale neck intrigued me his face youthful and yet aged a speckling of facial hair giving him a look of someone more mature his brown eyes seemed to hesitate on the crowd he spoke to his hair pulled back by his hat but it was obvious it was long and unruly. Someone came over and the crowd quickly left him alone. He stopped of course and turned to scan the room until he saw me. His eyes flicked up and down before he seemed confused. I went over out of curiosity sitting on the chair across the table from him

"Hello" I smiled

"Hi, how old are you little girl?" He asks

"Old enough to know better" I smiled making him chuckle a little too "are you playing today?"

"No, I just come to... see old friends and check what's going on" he explained, "do you play?"

"Not really, watched a lot," I said

"Here, I'll give you a game," he says laying out a thick wooden board and laying out all the pieces all the years of watching beth and I knew so little "don't worry, I'll go easy on you" he winked moving a piece I had no plan or much skill of moves or starters or anything like that I just plaid and not five minutes later "Hu... you uhhh your good"

"Thank you" I smiled

"I think I know who you are, '' he smirked "your Beth Harmon? Aren't you? That kid that knocked Harry off his perch in Kentucky?"

"Ohh no" I laughed

"No? Who are you then?"

"Y/n, Beth's my sister" I answered

"Is she now, well it was very nice to play you y/n"

"It was nice to play with you too" I smiled "ooh sorry I uh-"

"Benny, Benny watts" he smiled offering his hand I happily took it and he gave my hand a little kiss before getting up with his stuff to go elsewhere

"Who was that?" Beth asked behind me

"Who?" I asked

"Who was that you were just talking to?" She asked

"Ooh... just a boy" I smiled

"A boy? What were you doing?" She asks sitting with me

"We played a game is all"

"I thought you hated chess?"

"I don't hate it, I don't love it, it's a nice game," I said

"Who was he y/n?"

"He said his name was Benny"

"Benny? Benny watts?" She asked and I nodded "you- you just played a game against Benny watts?"

"Yes, he seemed lovely, A very fine gentlemen" I smiled

"Y/n, you know who that was right?"

"No..."

"He's US champion"

"Ooh, well I beat him, though he was going easy on me" I explain

"This is why I don't take you places" she sighed going off elsewhere.

Part 4 Our Little Secret 

Beth barely let me on trips after that she didn't seem to like me around when she was doing chess for whatever reason but I went with her and our new mother to las Vegas I stood around this strange place seeing so many names and so many tables I simply wondered thought in my dress trying not to draw attention to myself, I spotted on a board of people the name of my sister. I also saw not far away on the list a name I remembered from what feels like so long ago Benny watts I remember that name it's funny but since that day I had I suppose you could call me a groupie if chess has groupies, fan I suppose.

I kept an eye on him, magazine articles of him, pictures of little things mostly even if I hid them under my bed not wanting Beth to know, I thought something pleasant about him and the fact I had beaten him so long ago even if no one knew that but him and I. It was like a secret we shared.

And just at that moment, a familiar voice spoke up

"Well, well, little y/n Harmon. What are you doing here?' I heard I turned and saw Benny much as I Last did in fact almost exactly like a picture I clipped from chess review not two weeks ago

"Benny watts" I smiled so excited to see him "ohh well just here for beth and all"

"Of course yeah, hopefully, I should at least get to play your legendary sister" he laughs "you know one of these days you should enter"

"Me? No, no chess is Beth's thing I wouldn't want to impose"

"Y/n if beth can wipe the floor with these boys you can do it with your eyes closed," he says

"Chess isn't my thing, never has been"

"You beat me"

"I haven't forgotten that Mr Watts" I blushed

"Aren't we growing up to be a proper lady?" He laughs "growing up a lot back home? Aren't you?" He asked as I caught his eyes lingering in me I blushed hard seeing such a thing

"Yes, I am"

"I can tell," he says "how about a game?"

"It's alright, you don't want to do too many today"

"Come on, just for fun," he says

"No thank you, how was Austin?"

"Sorry?"

"You were in Austin recently, how was it?"

"How do you know?"

"I keep up with chess review, well once beth is done with it" I smiled

"Do you? Are you keeping an eye on me?"

"I like keeping an eye on you" I smiled "so how was it?"

"It was Lovely"

"I always wanted to go..."

"I'll have to take you with me, next time" he smiled "just answer me something... honestly, I'm sure when Beth has things written about her in all these chess magazines she cuts them out and then lets you have them?"

"Yes" I nodded

"And then if it happened in those said chess magazines happen to have anything about... me in them, do you have a read?"

"Of course I do like I said I keep an eye" I smiled

"And would all those little clippings about me be in a secret box under your bed so beth doesn't find out what you've been doing?" He asked and I froze up completely "I take that as a yes, don't worry our little secret" he winked "I'm sure I'll see you later y/n" he smiled giving my hand a little kiss and he went off somewhere I assume for a game but as I watched him walk away I felt something strange. A horrible pain in my stomach...

Part 5: A Woman 

I ran as fast as my feet would carry me up to the room, my mother and beth both gone already I ran to the bathroom pulling up my dress and my many petticoats seeing the trail of thick red blood that had begun to form as my stomach cracked with the horrific pain as badly as it had earlier. I pushed my dress off me and almost saw the blood coming out of me as I cried out in pain, I grabbed as much toiler paper as I could rolling it up and cleaning myself up and going back to watch beth.

"You alright darling?" Our adoptive mother asks

"Uhh yeah" I nodded

"what's wrong?" she asked pulling me to the side a little

"I uh I started"

"Ohh, first time?" she asks and I nodded a little scared almost in tears she handed me something from her handbag and a couple of pills "Go on it'll help," she says

"It hurts"

"they'll help with the pain"

"why does it have to hurt?"

"who knows" she sighed "But you're a woman now" she smiled

"Can... things cause it?"

"Like what darling?"

"Like... sinful things, or people?" I asked

"no of course not darling its a natural part of being a woman" she explained "All though... being excited doesn't help" she winked "why do you ask?"

"No reason" I smiled as I glanced across the hall to a table with benny playing against his opponent.

[ninak803]

Elitist Nightmares

Chapter two is here! I hope y'all enjoy it! I have to say I love Regulus.

@whataboutmyfries thank you sooo much for beta reading it & listening to me when I am screaming my thoughts at you again!

& thanks to @lumosinlove for creating our cute boys!

Chapter 2

Remus

It was calm outside, everyone still asleep except for him and Leo. The sun was rising and Remus parked the rental car in a good distance from the Black's mansion, but not too far so he can still watch who’s leaving and arriving.

He had picked up the car last night from a rental agency at the airport. He’d given them his fake I.D., no one needed to know who he really was, and it was much safer that way. He tried to be as unremarkable as possible: He wore blue jeans, a black sweater, no hat and no watch. He was polite but not too polite; he was forgotten right after the conversation. The only thing he persisted on was that his car was white.

White cars are the most common around, so he would be even more unrecognizable like that.

No one would pay attention to a random bloke driving a random white car. And that was his goal. No attention.

“And now?” Leo asked him.

Remus took a sip from his tea, trying to get rid of his tiredness with the caffeine.

“Now we wait for something to happen, for Sirius to appear. And then we’ll see.”

They sat in silence for a good while. 

The street came to life slowly. The first people showing up, taking their dogs for a walk and buying breakfast at the close bakery. Some were already outside for a run.

Remus had never understood the urge of going for a run, let alone early in the morning. He did go for a run once in a while, to keep himself fit and healthy, but he wasn’t addicted to it like some people were. He did it because it was essential for his job to be in shape, not because he actually enjoyed it.

The Black’s mansion got busy shortly after.

“Okay, now just watch who’s leaving the house. Write it down: Who left the house when, who’s arriving when. Give a short description of what they look like, so we recognize them again. Write it down or memorize it.”

At 7:37am Orion and Walburga Black left their house. They sat down in the shiny, black car that was parked in the parking lot. The driver sitting inside was already waiting for at least 30 minutes.

They left, probably for some state business.

It took another hour until their target finally left the house: Sirius Black.

Remus sat up straighter, his eyes not leaving Sirius. He wore dark jeans and a white button down, no tie. His hair was longer now than the last time he’d seen him. It reached just past his shoulders. His face didn’t show any kind of emotion, it was set in stone.

He was followed by another guy in a suit with dark and messy hair, probably his bodyguard. They headed for a car.

Remus stretched his back a bit.

“Here we go.” he said and turned the engine on.

Finn

“Can you believe this? We’re going to eliminate a Black! A Black!” Logan said excitedly as they entered their flat.

Finn felt Logan's hands on his shoulder, then he was shaken gently.

“Regulus Black, Fish! Dumbledore trusts in our abilities so much that he gives us this job!”

Finn laughed. He looked into Logan’s perfect green eyes. His heartbeat quickened because of the touch and the proximity. He could kiss him,if he just moved a little more forward, but instead he took a deep breath and stepped away a little bit from his best friend.

“Okay, yeah Lo, I’m just as excited as you are about this, but calm down okay?” Finn said but couldn’t quite suppress his grin.

It was a big deal. No, not big. It was huge.

They had other jobs before, of course, but they’ve been smaller, not so important for all of them. Observing Umbridge, trying to find out what she was up to next, for example. Sure, it was important, but it didn’t have the same impact on the country as eliminating a black did.

“Who do you think has the older brother?” Logan asked and sat down on the couch in their living room.

There was a short silence, then:

“Lupin.” they said at once, not one ounce of uncertainty in their voices.

Finn sat down next to him.

“Okay, I’m going to make us coffee & then we’ll have a lot of work to do before we can actually start this.” he said, leaning back and looking at Logan’s profile.

He had a crush on him since… well, forever. Finn couldn’t quite remember a time he wasn’t longing for him. They lived together for two years now. It had made sense then: They were working a lot together, being a perfect team. They did spend every minute together, so why not save some money and share a flat? Finn hadn’t thought about the fact that this meant no Logan-free space anywhere, which wasn’t exactly helping him, considering the fact that he was in love with a boy he couldn’t have.

“Ouais. Okay.”

Finn got up and went into the kitchen to make coffee. He poured some milk into his cup and an incredibly unhealthy amount of sugar into Logan’s. How could he drink this stuff? It’s a crime to still call that coffee.

He went back into the living room, placed the cups on the table and sat down on the floor across from Logan, who’s still sitting on the couch.

“Thanks.” he said and reached for his cup, took a sip of his coffee and then they started working.

“I think this actually sounds like a good plan. He isn’t that close to his brother, is he?” Finn asked.

He stared at the paperwork in front of him. He was still sitting on the floor. They were working for a couple of hours now, collecting everything they knew, comparing it with what Dumbledore had given them and writing down everything they still needed to know and what they planned on doing. 

Finn looked up as he didn’t get any answer from Logan, only to see that he’d fallen asleep on the couch. Finn had to smile at that sight, so the sugar and caffeine high finally had worn off.

He stood up, took the light blanket from the couch and covered Logan with it.

“Good night, Lo.” he whispered and brushed his hand gently through Logan’s brown curls.

Sirius

This day never ended, at least that’s what it felt like for Sirius. The business meetings lasted forever and there wasn’t any free time between the last meeting and the dinner.

All Sirius did now was rush home, change into something his mother might approve more than his choice of clothing this morning and say goodbye to James.

“Take care. Don’t do anything stupid.” James pleaded.

Sirius snorted.

“Yeah. Because I do stupid things on purpose.”

“You do. Sometimes.”

James hugged him quickly.

“I’ll be back tomorrow morning. See you.”

“Tell Lily and little Harry I said Hi.” Sirius called after James.

---

Sirius hated dinners like this. Actually, he hated every activity that included his family, but those business dinners were the worst. They talked endlessly over state issues, how to regulate this better, how to get the most out of that. Sirius really wasn’t interested in it, but he had to have an opinion on every topic as the heir and of course his opinion had to be the same as his parents’. If he had another opinion, his parents would make him change his mind, so he was better off lying; he told them what they wanted to hear, despite the fact it was against everything he believed in.

“Have you ever thought about giving them something back? Like a tax return? Or lowering the taxes in general?” Sirius said against better knowledge.

That simple statement earned him furious glances from his parents, confused looking guests and a kick in the shin from his brother.

He threw an angry look at Regulus, before looking back at his parents.

“You must be kidding, my dear son. Who would ever think of something like that?” his mother said sweetly, but Sirius didn’t miss the threat directed at him.

“Of course I am joking, mother. Of course I am.” he laughed in the most charming way, but he suddenly felt really sick inside.

---

An hour later he was back in his room. He tried to undo his tie with shaking hands and after several attempts it finally was off and he threw it in the corner of his room. 

Why? Why was he the goddamn heir? He couldn’t do this! He wasn’t like them. He didn’t want to be like them!

Sirius moved his hand through his hair several times, a gesture he got used to doing when he was nervous and tense, which he was more often than not around his family.

There was a sharp knock on his door and Sirius froze mid-movement.

Oh no. This had to be his mother or his father, maybe both.

“Just a sec.” he said, his voice a little shaky.

He hated it, he couldn’t even control his damn voice, then how was he supposed to control a whole fucking country.

After he took several deep breaths, Sirius went to the door and opened it, preparing to brace himself against the angry faces of his parents, but it was Regulus he found outside his room. With a plate full of food.

“You ate almost nothing at dinner, thought you might be hungry.” he said and walked past Sirius, who let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

He closed the door behind him and followed Regulus to his bed. The both boys sat down and Sirius started eating. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was.

“Thanks, Reggie.”

[brilliantt]

Mouse- part three

Summary: Maggie Shelby isn’t like her brothers or sister, being quiet and studious she often struggles to fit in. When money gets stolen and she is accused will she stick around and continue to be an outcast in her family?

A/N: Yay part three! It’s here a little later than I wanted but the weather has been really nice in England so my family and I enjoyed a barbecue before the rain returns tomorrow... This chapter focuses on Maggie’s relationship with her eldest brother Arthur. I wanted to show her relationship with her brothers before focusing on the storyline in the summary- which will start from the next part! Hope you enjoyyy <3 

-PREVIOUS-

On a normal day, the end of school saddened Maggie, today was no different. Except today she felt something more than sad, she felt dread. Tommy had kept his word and didn’t do anything to William, or at least anything physical that she could see- she had crossed paths with him in the school courtyard that morning and when he saw her decided to go in the complete opposite direction. Seeing as her brother kept his side of the bargain, she would have to keep hers. Today she would have to meet Arthur at the boxing gym. 

The gym wasn't far from the school, leading Maggie to drag her feet (not thinking about the scolding she would get from Aunt Polly at the scuffs) to take as much time as possible to get there, frowning the whole journey. She reached the door of the building and huffed before pushing it open. Inside was bustling. There were men on the floor wrestling, and others standing around them, taking a break, faces sweaty. Maggie was about to completely abort when Arthur spotted her.  “There’s my Maggiepie!” His voice bellowed across the room, pushing past everyone, beaming at the youngest Shelby. Maggie gave a wobbly smile in return, her cheeks flushed a violent red seeing the men becoming distracted by them. 

Arthur grabbed her school books and led her to one of the free mats. He dumped the books carelessly on a bench, making Maggie wince, and gripped her arms with his hands, leading her to the centre of the mat. “Right, Tommy told me to teach ya some self defense.” Arthur scratched at his moustache eyeing the delicate girl, wearing a simple brown dress with a buttoned cardigan to match. She was Ada’s opposite in terms of fashion, dressing modestly and rather dull. Arthur knew that the men he knew tended to avoid women like this. But, undoubtedly, Maggie was blessed with the Shelby good-looks. Her long wavy hair and pretty doe eyes were more than enough for the men to have a lustful look, despite Maggie never noticing. Arthur always noticed, however, and had jumped at Tommy’s idea to teach her some fighting moves. He couldn't always be around the girl that he helped raise these days, what with Linda and the baby, so knowing she could defend herself when he wasn’t there put his mind at ease.

“We’ll start off simple, to see what we’re working with.” Arthur raised his palms and held them out in front of him, “I want you to punch my hand as hard as you can, alright?”

Maggie’s arm remained loosely at her side. Her face still felt hot and she couldn’t stop her eyes wandering around the room, watching everyone. Most of the men were doing their own thing but one or two she noticed were watching her and her brother. She turned back to Arthur who was waiting still with his hands out.  Maggie looked to the ground and rubbed her hand up her arm. “I… I can’t do it with everyone here.” 

It took Arthur only a couple of seconds to process her words before he clapped his hands and cupped his mouth to shout, “Right, that’s it! Everyone out. Gym’s closed!” Although there were some whining, Arthur’s hard stare cleared the area. He turned back to Maggie and resumed his position. Maggie breathed deeply and shook her hands out. She formed a fist and pulled it back but Arthur grabbed her hand before she could even consider throwing a punch. “Your thumb needs to be on the outside, you’ll break it otherwise.” He redirected her fist and gestured for her to try again. Maggie delivered her first punch against Arthur’s hand.

Arthur rolled his eyes, “Mags, I told you to punch me as hard as you can. You don't have to worry, you're not gonna hurt me.”

Maggie stared at him, her face grimaced. “That… that was as hard as I can.” 

“Oh.” His moustache twitched as silence settled. “Right nevermind, you just need practice. You gotta use your whole body, get your weight behind the punch.” He showed Maggie the proper technique and they continued this exercise until Arthur decided she was successful enough to move on. He repositioned them to the centre of the mat and took Maggie’s elbow tapping it twice.

“Now, your elbow is gonna cause the most damage, so you need to use that whenever you can. You can't go wrong with a good kick either.” He rubbed his chin in thought, “More often than not, if someone grabs you, it’s from behind. I'm going to grab you, and you're going to escape, get it?” He wrapped his arms around his sister, locking her in his embrace. Maggie wriggled about, trying to break the grip. The challenge was taking what felt like a century to the struggling girl. Her face turning red and tears welled in her eyes, her breathing picking up as she couldn't escape. 

“Arthur!” She breathed out in a panicked tone, body tense. “Arthur, stop! I can’t do this. I don’t want to do this anymore!” His arms loosened but didn't let her go. “I’m too weak.”

“Nonsense.”He shook his head, trying not to let his frustration show at the girl’s defeatist attitude. “If someone grabs you for real, you can’t just give up.” He squeezed Maggie. “You’re a girl. There are a lot of awful men who would take advantage of a girl like you and i’ll be damned if something happens to you just because you think you're too weak to try, you’re not.” He gave Maggie a few moments to think it through, knowing she's smart enough to continue their training. He smirked when she huffed quietly, “Ok, fine.”

“Atta girl, now remember, use all your body. Don’t forget your elbows and feet.” He tightened his grip back on the girl. Only, she continued to stay still. “Mags, come on.” Arthur couldn't help but grumble at her lack of effort. Just as he was trying to think of a new way to motivate her, he felt a sharp pain in his stomach from Maggie’s elbow, an even sharper kick to his shin and suddenly he was pushed down to the mat, only managing to sound out an “Oof”.

He looked up, wide-eyed and eyebrows raised, to his angelic looking sister who hid her giggles behind her hand. Arthur’s laugh was loud enough for them both as he realised she had outsmarted and successfully distracted him. He struggled to his feet and ruffled Maggie’s hair. “You've got a good head on ya, don't have to lose that in a fight - you’ll end up being a hothead like me otherwise.” Maggie smiled up at him. “We’ll do some dodging next, I think.” The smile disappeared. 

The two continued until the evening came and it was dark outside. Although Maggie hadn’t wanted to do this today and was tired and achy, she loved spending the time with Arthur, almost forgetting what it was like. He checked his watch, “I think we can finish for the day. How about we stop at the Garrison.” Maggie’s nose scrunched up at the idea. Arthur tapped her forehead. ”I need that big brain of yours to look at my books. I’ll give you some pocket money for your hard labour, how’s that sound?” Maggie couldn’t help but agree, knowing there was a new novel she wanted to buy. She had helped Arthur with the books before and he had paid her handsomely. 

It had been just over an hour now and Maggie had finished looking through the books in the back room. She stretched in the chair, her back cracking in relief. Her stomach suddenly rumbled and she remembered she hadn't eaten anything since lunch and after all the exercise she just did, she felt even more hungry. She ventured out to find her eldest brother.

Arthur was sitting at the bar, chatting loudly with some of the local men of the pub, nursing a drink. Maggie crept up towards him, being offered kind smiles from the men which she returned politely. She tugged Arthur’s sleeve.  “Arthur can we go now? I’m really hungry.”

“Course we can love, just gotta talk to Harry.” He gestured towards the barman. “I’ll be with you in a minute.” Maggie nodded in understanding. She waited for a few moments before deciding it was too hot and stuffy to wait inside. She went outside and rested on the wall next to the front entrance, closing her eyes and breathing in the fresh air - well at least fresher than in the bar.

“Hey, pretty.” Her eyes shot open and followed the sound. A sweaty looking man stood opposite her, eyelids drooping. A bottle in one hand while the other held onto his loose trousers. Maggie stayed silent. “You know, I asked for an angel to visit me today. Looks like,” The man hiccuped, “looks like my wish came true.” He smiled, proudly showing off his stained teeth. Maggie decided it was actually best to wait for Arthur inside. She turned from the creepy man and was about to return through the door into the pub when she felt a tight grip on her upper arm. “Hey now, no need to be rude.” Her heart beat fast, trying to keep her breathing even to not appear scared. “I just wanna talk with my angel.” He staggered back a bit, pulling Maggie with him. 

She tugged back “Get off of me.” She wished Arthur would just hurry up. She was debating yelling for him when the man put his dirty hand, the one holding the bottle, to caress her cheek while tightening the grip of the other one. “I’ll-” He slurred- “I’ll show you a real good time.” and started to pull her away from the pub. “I said get off!” A tug of war match ensued and when Maggie realised he was too strong for her, despite being intoxicated, her instincts overcame her. A swift kick the man’s lower region sent him writhing on the floor. 

Maggie dusted her arms and dress off. She looked at the man wriggling about on the floor and huffed, “You brought that on yourself, you know.”

A pat on her back made her jump and she turned to see Arthur grinning down at her. “He’ll feel that kick for a whole week, Mags.” Of course he was angry at the drunken man taking advantage of his sister- he’d get one of the men to deal with him later- but Arthur couldn’t help the laugh which boomed out of him after watching his sweet, little sister kick a grown man in the balls. 

The two of them returned to the house, Maggie rushing in to help Polly with the potatoes. Tommy came over to Arthur and greeted him with a friendly hand on his shoulder, his usual cigarette on his lip. “How did it go today, Arthur?”

Arthur rested his proud eyes on his sister peeling the spuds, chatting to her Aunt. “She knows exactly what she’s doing.” And he was sure of it.

Tags:

@finallyforgotten

[parkersbliss]

Leaked | H. Osterfield

Pairing: Harrison Osterfield X Female Reader, slight Tom Holland x reader, but it’s platonic

warnings: two swear words, the boys being divs, tom holland being a div

wc; 1.6K

request: @shootingstarsaretearsofheaven Hii, can you maybe write some with Haz, where the reader lives with the boys and she's his gf. But it wasn't public yet, but Tom accidentally leaks their relationship on live and you can see them napping or kissing, and they find out later. And just a lot of fluff and teasing? Thank youu😊

synopsis: you were just trying to nap when Tom broke into your room, exposing you and Haz's relationship

Masterlist | Taglist

...

You were making a cup of tea when you heard all the boys cheer excitedly from the living room. Rolling your eyes, you follow the sounds of their excited screaming and find them all nestled on the couch in front of Tom's phone. You stood at the corner of the room, occasionally sipping from your tea, watching as Tom greets everyone.

"Where's (Y/N)?" He reads off one of the comments.

Tom shrugs and turns toward Harrison, "mate, where's your gi-" Harrison gives him wide eyes and Tom coughs loudly, to try and cover up his mistake. You and Harrison had been dating for almost a year now without the fans knowing and you intended to keep it that way for a while.

"Where's your.. er, uh ginger?"

Harry explodes into laughter at Tom's sad attempt to cover up his mistake. Harrison scowls him and mumbles something about the ginger for his tea being in the kitchen. The comments are surprisingly calm, no one catching onto Tom's slip up.

"back to the question, I'm not sure where she is."

Tuwaine rolls his eyes and slaps Tom on the arm, "are you blind? She's right there!" He motions to you in the corner of the room. You gave the boys a small wave.

"Join us!" Harry encourages, you shrug and walk over to stand behind the couch. Giving the camera a small wave, you begin to read the comments. Most of them were just polite greetings and comments on how you look, all positive because the boys were very protective of you. One imparticular caught your eye, how can she stand living with four boys?!

You laughed at that, "How do I stand living with four boys? Honestly, I'm not even sure. Just know, they're all annoying and messy div's."

All the boys spin around in their seats, yelling about how they are not annoying or divs. No one commenting about being messy.

"Oh hush up, you know very well if you lived with four girls it would be annoying."

That shuts them up. You set your cup of tea down on the small table by the couch, "can you guys scoot ever? My feet hurt," You whined.

"Sit on the floor," Harry shrugs.

"I'll make you sit on the floor," You fired back.

"You can sit on my lap," Harrison said softly, so as the phone won't pick it up.

"The phone..." You mumbled.

Harrison shrugged, "let them assume things, we can just say we're close friends."

"Fine," You agree, before sitting onto Harrison's lap. He wraps two arms around your waist and rests his chin on your shoulder. You can feel the blush on your cheeks as he presses a discreet kiss to your neck. Tom pauses the live, "You guys are really making it obvious, aren't you?"

Tuwaine wiggles his eyebrows, "No one's going to believe that just friends crap."

"Oh so if I sat on Tom's lap people would assume I'm dating him?"

"Yes!" All the boys yell.

You give them a dirty look before standing up and planting yourself in Tom's lap.

Harrison pouts in the corner, "babe."

"shush, I'm trying to prove a point here."

"Whatever point, this is just stupid," Harry said.

You rolled your eyes and unpaused the live.

Tom has an arm loosely wrapped around your waist as he reads off the comments.

"Do you think they're dating?"

"We stan a cuddly friendship"

"Imagine having a best friend like that"

"' just friends, sure'"

"No, we're not dating," Tom said, giving you a pointed look as you roll your eyes. Harry kicks your leg causing you to look at him as he sticks his tongue out at you in a mocking manner.

"Fucking told you," Tuwaine comments under his breath.

"See what I mean? Div's," You tell the fans before turning around to lightly smack Tom's chest. He lets out an ow as you hop off him.

"This is why Harrison's my favorite."

"Yeah, I'm sure that's why," Harry teases. Your response is to kick him in the shin, he yelps and mumbles a sorry. You walk out of frame, grabbing your cup of tea and tell the boys you're going to have a nap. Tom waves you off, "Good, no one wants to hear your criticism anymore."

"watch your mouth Holland."

Your footsteps echo down the hallway. You quietly open the door to you and Harrison's shared bedroom and immediately crash onto the sheets. You grab one of Harrison's many discarded hoodies on the floor and swap it out from your own. After you curl up in the sheets you hear the door creak open again. Harrison steps inside, shutting it behind him.

"What are you doing?" You ask.

"Spending quality cuddle time with my girlfriend," He replied, crawling into bed beside you. He discards his shirt on the floor and pulls the cover over you both. You shift around a bit before you find yourself in Harrison's arms. Your head was resting on his bare chest, an arm draped over his torso and holding his hand. Harrison had his hands securely around your waist, the other one laced with yours.

"I love you," He whispers, kissing your forehead.

"mm, love you too."

...

"Where are (Y/N) and Haz?" Tom read off the comment section.

Harry glances up from his phone, "huh, it's been two hours since he left."

Tuwaine shrugs, "you can imagine what they're doing."

"Are you implying they're together?" Tom asked, hinting on the implying.

"Yes? They are-"

Harry slams Tuwaine's arm and he quickly realizes his mistake, "best friends. They're best friends."

Is it me or has everyone been shady about this topic today?

Harry reads the comments and laughs nervously, "What topic? We're not shady. I don't know what you're talking about, mate."

"I'll go find them," Tom said, hopping off the couch.

Harry nods, "I'll come with, what about you Tuwaine?"

"And risk getting killed?" He scoffs, "Not worth it."

Tom shrugs, "If you hear screaming, you know what happened."

"Oh, I'll be watching on the live."

With that Tom and Harry sneak off to your bedroom.

"It's awfully quiet," Harry comments, filming Tom as they walk through the hallway.

"I know (Y/N) is sleeping, maybe we can scare her?" Tom suggested.

"That would be perfect! But where's Haz?"

"Dunno."

Tom puts a finger to his lips when he reaches your bedroom. Harry gives him a quizzical look because it's not like the fans were making noise. Tom slowly cracks the door open, peering in.

"She's sleeping. Should I jump on the bed?"

"Do it!"

"Alright."

Tom throws the door open and jumps onto the bed. By the time Harry realizes there are two people in the bed, it's too late. There was a scream, followed by shouting. You had been peacefully sleeping on Harrison's chest when there was a crushing weight on your body. In your half-awake state, you assumed the worse and let out an ear-piercing scream. Harrison immediately shot up and grabbed you, pulling you to his chest, your face hiding in the crook of his neck.

"Are you okay? What happened?" He asks, then he notices the extra body in the bed. The one belonging to his brunette best friend.

"Bloody hell, Tom," He said.

Tom rolls over onto his back, "Ugh, (Y/N) I think my ears are bleeding."

You turn in Harrison's arms, grabbing a pillow and chucking it at Tom's head.

"You div!"

Tom laughs nervously as he looks to Harry who was frozen in the corner, camera still in hand. You follow his gaze and almost scream again.

"HARRY!"

"Shit, I-uh, Bye guys!" He said quickly, ending the live. A few moments after and you can hear both yours and Harrison's phone pinging with notifications. You groan and hide your face in Harrison's neck.

Harrison shoots daggers at Tom, "Great job."

Tom apologizes, saying he just thought that you were in here not Harrison.

You lift your head from its place in Harrison's neck, "I guess we should tell them."

"If you're ready," He muses, kissing you softly.

...

You were currently straddling Harrison's lap, arms hugging his back as you rest your head on his shoulder. Harry stands in front of the couple, giving them a 3, 2, 1 countdown as he starts the live.

"Hey guys," Harrison greets. "So, as I'm sure many of you saw, Tom decided to be stupid and try and scare (Y/N)."

"I'm sorry!" Tom said.

Harrison rolls his eyes, "As you saw in that clip, um, (Y/N) and I are dating. As I'm sure you can tell by the way she's hugging me now."

Harrison looks down at you, smiling. You grin and quickly press your lips to him, before turning toward the camera and waving.

"Yeah, so this is my boyfriend and um, you can't have him because he only loves me so BACK OFF!"

Harrison laughs and you can feel the vibrations of it from the way you're wrapped around him.

"She's right, I only love her," He agrees, kissing your cheek.

"Disgusting," Harry said.

"You know if either of you two ever gets a girlfriend- which would be shocking- I'll make sure to expose you guys on live with a few million people," You promise.

Harrison grins, "I second that."

Tuwaime laughs from the kitchen, “you guys better watch out.”

"Or, maybe the next time you're taking a nap I'll jump in the bed and make you think it's a murderer," You said coldly, glaring at Tom.

"I didn't intend to land on you!" He defends.

"What did I tell you? All div's," You deadpan at the camera. "Except for this one." You turn toward Harrison and cup his face before placing a passionate kiss on his lips.

[irwinkitten]

men of mayhem | a.i

notes: so the majority of this is written already. but i probably won’t post the next part too soon. however, this is a sons of anarchy!au and i’ve been so excited about. you do NOT need to have watched the show to know what’s going on, but if you have seen the show, you may spot some familiar names and places. to give you a rough timeline, the oc (Michelle) and Ashton are born in 1978 and this part has various stages. She attends university in 1996 and the ending is taking place in the summer of 1998. We don’t see all of the guys in this part, but they will be making more appearances as the story goes on! A big thank you to @sexgodashton​ for going over this with a fine tooth comb and to @spicycal​ and @softbabiestan​ for being my cheerleaders. Love you guys.  warnings: mentions of violence, hints of smut, mentions of guns word count: 5.7k

donate to my ko-fi here 

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               When Michelle Morgan left the small town of Charming at the age of eighteen to pursue her dream career, she knew she was leaving behind more than her parents and baby brother, Matty. She was leaving behind a group who she’d grown up with. Many said that her childhood sweetheart would leave her in the dust, break her heart whilst she was in the big city, studying her chosen profession. But those many knew nothing about her hometown life.

Growing up with the Irwin’s had been something of a blessing for her. The Morgan’s took it as the sign that it was, because nobody in Charming messed with the Irwin’s. Although her father had never joined SAMCRO—the known biker gang who ran many things off the books as well as their mechanics business—he fully supported them, helping out with transport when they needed it. 

Her friendship with Ashton—the only son of Anne-Marie and Bert Irwin—only formed because she’d been cornered by the playground bullies at the age of five, and her vicious kicks to their shins followed by Ashton pulling them away from her had the two kids as thick as thieves since.

They’d been childhood sweethearts from the get go, and with the rest of SAMCRO being an influence in her life, her father knew that she was going to be involved somehow. Her mother  first mentioned being Ashton’s “Old Lady” when they were sixteen—celebrating her sixteenth birthday no less—causing both teens to blush furiously at her words. The other club members had laughed, and despite her bright red face, she scoffed.

“Don’t like the idea of that, lil’ lady?” Bert teased her, the nickname filled with nothing but the affection that he and Anne both had for Michelle.

“Someone is gonna have to pull your sorry asses outta the fire when your plans go to shit. That’s gonna be me. I’m gonna study and get into those bigshot firms. And I’m gonna come back and keep the lotta you out of trouble.” She missed Ashton’s look of awe, but the other club members hadn’t. 

But her words had hit home for them, and so they toasted her luck on her sixteenth birthday.

That night, when the two were hidden away in their den—despite what their parents assumed when Ashton pulled her away—they were lay on the various throws and pillows that lived on the floor, cuddled up as he played with her fingers, gently bringing her knuckles up to his lips.

“Did you mean that Micha? You really gonna go away for however long it takes to be a big shot lawyer?” When it was just the two of them, he never hid from her. The fear was laid out for her to see.

“It’s gonna be seven years of school at least. Maybe a couple more to work with the big firms and get cases under my belt.” 

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. Silence for them never had been since he’d confessed that he loved her when they were fourteen and had loved her since they were six. 

“Ten years is a long time, sweetheart.” She turned in his arms to face him, her eyes searching his face. She could see the fear sitting there, plain as day for her. 

“It is. But I’m not letting you go, Irwin. We’ve got ten years of love on our side, with another two before I’d have to go to University. Surely we can make it through another ten? I know your dad won’t put you on any of the runs, not till you turn twenty one. Which means we got four years of unfiltered time for you coming to visit, right?” 

“Of course.” He whispered, his lips brushing against hers softly. “Reckon you’ll let me into your pants before you leave?” And she giggled, his own face lighting up in joy.

“Reckon you can wait till I’ve gotta leave. I know you’re not gonna complain when my lips can be put to better use for the next two years.” He rolled over with a playful growl, pinning her down which earned a small giggle as he playfully nipped at her neck. 

“I reckon I can do that. But, I’ve gotta treat my birthday girl tonight.” His lips met hers and she didn’t argue. 

When she was accepted into University, the club had celebrated with her, watching in anticipation for her acceptance. She’d studied so hard for her entrance exams and had already imparted some knowledge to Bert to keep him out of trouble.

Her first year had been daunting. Ashton visited her once a month at most thanks to the cost of gas, but it was enough for them.

That was when people began to tell her that they’d never last. 

Men in her class would tell her that she’d be better off with them, but Michelle held her own. They didn’t like that. They tried to get vicious with her in the mock court sessions and various debates, but she had a secret weapon.

She’d grown up with SAMCRO, and in the words of Chibs, “she’s got balls of diamond that one”. Ashton had laughed at his words, and she’d thrown the drinks mat at his face, making the other club members laugh.

When she’d come home for the holidays, Bert had heard enough from Ashton to track her down and ask her if she wanted a second layer of protection. 

“I can’t give you Ashton, I need him here unfortunately. Him and Hood get into enough trouble.” This made her grin. 

“Throw in Hemmings and Clifford, and that’s going to be a disaster when they start doing runs.” Bert had snorted at her words.

“Either it’ll be crazy enough that it’ll work or a disaster.” He muttered before pulling the two of them back on track. “Instead of Ash, I figured it was about time that Chibs and I taught you how to shoot a gun, don’t you think?” 

“I know how to shoot a gun,” came back the retort, and Bert smiled.

“Ah, but from a moving vehicle? And what about awareness of your surroundings, lil’ lady?” Michelle paused before reluctantly shaking her head at his questions.

“I guess not.” She finally muttered and he grinned.

“Chibs and I will start you tomorrow. Ash can come as well. Maybe get him to rope Hood, Hemmings and Clifford into it. The four of them are gonna be a force to reckon with when he takes over.” 

“Oh no bet on that one. Cal will be his VP. You need to make sure that Bobby doesn’t murder them when they prank him because you know he’s gonna be their easy target.” 

The two of them made their way back into the Irwin household. Michelle laughed as her little brother rushed to greet her. It had definitely been strange being away from Matty for so long.“You’re not wrong. C’mon lil’ lady. You’ve been missed by a lot of people.” 

He’d guided her into the main dining and sitting room to find nearly all of the club there along with what was considered the next generation of club members. All of the younger members kept away from the free flowing alcohol, knowing that the following day was going to be daunting as it was. Michelle was happy enough to stay sober to talk to her parents and sit with Matty on her lap, listening to him going on about all the things he’d done in the months that she’d been away. 

Ashton barely left her side. 

The following morning felt like it was straight out of the movies. But she knew that this was the reality for the club members who did the various runs. 

Unsurprisingly, Ashton helped both Bert and Chibs. Michelle hadn’t expected anything less from her boyfriend, but even then, it still stunned her the trust that he had in her not to hit him with a bullet when it came to being aware of club members versus rivals. 

“Am I gonna really need to know this kinda stuff?” The complaint had been good natured, but the elder Irwin understood her hesitation. He hadn’t risen to her complaint, making her go through their course again. It was late afternoon before Chibs finally called to a halt, and they began to pack down, making sure nothing was left behind.

Once they were ready to go, Bert motioned for the other two to head off. Ashton scowled for a moment before his dad sighed.

“I just need to talk with your girl. I’ve got intel on her uni, and you need to go meet with Hood. the Harris’ have payments due.” With a quick kiss to his girlfriend, Ashton handed Michelle her helmet and then he was gone with Chibs.

“C’mon lil’ lady.” She didn’t hesitate to climb on the back of Bert’s bike. It was a level of freedom that she understood and part of her wanted her own to travel back to uni with, to show those men who thought she was easy that no one messed with her. 

The drive wasn’t too far out of Charming. It was mostly desert, but there was a little spot that gave a nice view of the town.

When the bike was parked up, Michelle was off first, heading to a small bench that had been left there by a previous resident.

“Ashton’s gonna be Club Prez one day. You and I both know this.” Michelle did know this. Both her and Ashton had known since they were kids. Ashton had always so desperately wanted to follow in his dad’s footsteps.

“What time frame?” She finally asked, turning her head to the man who had turned into a second father for her.

“Maybe by the time he’s twenty five. I’ve been CP for nearly forty years, and it’s time to retire for me.” This shocked Michelle, her eyes going wide. 

“But, Ash thought he wouldn’t be Prez til he was in his late thirties at least?” The surprise that coloured Michelle’s tone made Bert laugh as he threw his arm around her shoulders, squeezing her gently as he kissed her temple. 

“I’m glad that you both have faith in this old man. But unlike the others, I wanna be able to spoil my grandchildren when they come. I’m surprised that my boy hasn’t made an honest woman outta you.” 

Michelle blushed, making him laugh. “Shove off old man.” She groaned, pushing away from him, making him laugh even more.

“I just wanna know, what’s gonna happen. That’s all.” He raised his hands in surrender, and she sighed.

“We talked about it before I left in September. I want to finish school. He knows I’m already planning to spend maybe a couple of years in the big city in a firm so I have a few cases under my belt. He also knows that I want him. I never really wanted anyone else.” 

“And I know that, lil’ lady. That’s why I want to help you protect yourself. When Ashton becomes Club Prez, you know we’ve got problems that he’ll inherit. The second they find out you’re a lawyer? That’s a pretty lookin’ red target painted on your forehead.” 

Michelle nodded. “That’s why you had me take out the opposition vs our own.” 

Bert nodded. “I don’t anticipate you being part of the club like that. But if you get into a situation, I’ll be relieved to know that one of my girls can get away safely. You know we’d be devastated if we lost you, Anne-Marie especially.” Michelle felt her heart swell for this man and his wife. 

Her parents were good to her, and she knew that. And so were the Irwin’s. But knowing that they valued her like a daughter already made her appreciate just what she had in her life.

“At least by the time I’m finished with school, I’ll be there to haul his ass out of the fire coals.” Her murmured words made Bert laugh before patting her knee.

“And he’d be lucky to have you hauling his ass from the fires. C’mon lil’ lady. Let's get back before he goes off at me. I know you’re only here for a few more weeks, and he wants to spend as much time with you as possible.” 

When the two of them returned, Ashton didn’t hesitate to almost drag Michelle out to the den that they’d built as teenagers, making Bert laugh at her exasperated eye roll. But once the two of them were secluded away from the world, she happily nestled against him, their clothes long gone as she traced his tattoos.

“What was dad after?” His fingers ran up and down her spine, her body melting against him as she fought to keep her eyes open.

“Told me why he was doing that today, why he wanted me to know how to at least fight back.” She murmured and his lips pressed against the top of her head.

“And why would that be, sweetheart?” Her head tilted up so that her chin could rest on his chest, her eyes catching his. 

“You’re gonna be Prez eventually, Ash. Everyone and their mother know about us. He’s worried that when you take over, you’ll be inheriting problems he’s been dealing with for years. Just being associated with you paints a target on my back. When they find out that we’re together? That target moves to my forehead.” There was no way to paint it nicely, but Ashton understood, even if there was crease between his brows at her words.

“Hopefully being in the big city takes it away, you’re out of town for too long.” She smiled sadly at him before letting the subject drop. 

“He also asked why you haven’t made an honest woman out of me. I think he forgets we’re only eighteen, and I’ve barely been away for six months.” Ashton laughed, and the mood changed drastically as she shifted, straddling his hips. 

“Trust me sweetheart, when I’ve saved up, I’ll be making an honest woman outta you. Those big shots can get fucked when they see a nice, shiny diamond on your finger.” 

“Oh there better be a shiny diamond eventually, Irwin.” He laughed as she leaned down to kiss him. 

Time passed by for them. Whilst he was saving up the money he earned from helping the club and working with Bobby in the garage, Michelle worked her ass off. 

Despite repeatedly telling men that she was taken, none really believed it. However, when she landed a few punches after one of them got too handsy with her, they quickly realised that it didn’t matter what they believed.

She could fight back, and she could put them down quicker than they’d ever be able to step away from. 

When Ashton had found out, he’d taken a month away, despite Bert half-heartedly arguing, he realised that if anything, it would keep her safer if they saw what kind of boyfriend she had.

She was surprised when he turned up after her lecture to pick her up. The roar of the bike engine was so familiar that it sounded out of place in the big city.

Michelle had been chatting with Jennifer, as they’d left, deliberately ignoring the few guys that seemed to invite themselves along. When Jen had spotted her ride, she hesitated, unwilling to leave Michelle with the guys from their course, circling around her like vultures.

“I can see if Jack could drop you off, save you from these creeps?” They shared a giggle.

 “Thanks but I need to head to the bar. Old Jerry wants me to stop by soon to try his new cocktails...” The roar of the engine made her pause, her eyes immediately searching out the sound.

“Chelle?” Jen had prodded her to get her attention, but once Michelle spotted the bike, her face lit up in undisguised glee.

“I don’t need to worry about getting a ride, mine just arrived.” The guys that had been lingering, scoffed. 

“Really Morgan? You’re going after a lowlife, probably with no stable job and an arrest record?” She wasn’t sure of his name, Mike or Marc, but his words triggered her anger. As the bike pulled up, she spun around, ready to punch him before remembering where she was.

“If I wasn’t so determined to become a lawyer, I’d have decked you with no hesitation. However, that apparent lowlife has been my best friend since we were kids. Add in the fact he’s literally the love of my life, and you get the picture. No arrest record, his dad runs and owns a garage that he’s set to inherit one day and not to mention, I like my men a little rough around the edges. How about you go fuck the blow up doll your buddies got you for Christmas and get off my fucking ass.” She snapped and she watched as he glanced behind her.

“He gonna come in and save you then?” This time, she smirked.

“When you run around with men that look like they could kill you, you get taught how to defend yourself from creepy assholes. Try it and see where this will get you. Not to mention that I’m a scholarship student. Why would I jeopardize this chance for a career?” Her voice had turned innocent, sweet. But the dare was laid for all to hear.

“You’re an ugly bitch anyway.” He finally muttered before turning on his heel and leaving. She shared a look with Jen before they both started laughing. Michelle hugged her friend goodbye before running to where Ashton was standing, leaning against his bike. 

The hindrance of her skirt meant that he could only pick her up and swing her around, but she was finally in the safest place.

“It’s been a minute.” She finally breathed when their lips pulled away, his smile only having grown wider.

“I know, but there are reasons. However, you’ve got me for a good chunk of time, doll.” This made her light up in excitement.

“How much time?” His smile was impossibly wide at this point as he dipped his head to kiss her once more.

“At least a month.” His voice was low, setting the fire off in her belly, but even that couldn’t squelch the joy that surged through her as she kissed him.

“Lets head back to mine then, handsome. I’ve got some new things for you to enjoy.” He had to swallow his reply as she got herself sat on the bike, a laugh escaping at the put-out look on her face.

“Sorry doll, but it looks so strange to see you dressed like that on my bike.” 

“Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up. I haven’t got much of a choice. Dumb dress codes.” Ashton ignored her dar mutter as he placed her helmet on for her before climbing on and kicking the bike into life.

She’d missed the feeling of the bike underneath her. The way the engine rumbled was a reassurance, something that had come with years of riding around with Ashton and being taught to ride by Bert. It was a level of freedom that she never felt in the city, so enclosed and overrun with either pedestrians or cas. Bikes were around, but not ones like these, they were more what Bobby would call flashy toys, built for speed but would never survive one of the runs they did. 

When Ashton pulled up to Michelle’s place, there were nosey neighbours who peered from their windows to see what the noise was about. She outright ignored them as she took Ashton’s hand and led him up the stone steps to the house she was renting, the door barely closed before he had her pressed against the wall with his lips on hers.

 This was another thing she missed as she sighed into the kiss, the soft moan escaping as hands pushed up her skirt, and he began to tease.

“Do you think you’ll get complaints about any noise?” He murmured as his lips moved to her neck and she moaned at the sensations.

“Don’t care.” 

She didn’t hold back and neither did he.

When they were nestled up in her bed, having gotten their welcome home out of their systems, Michelle was dozing off against his chest when he leaned over to the floor, rummaging through his jacket pockets.

“What are you doing? I had a comfy pillow.” She muttered indignantly. He chuckled.

“I had a whole thing planned out, but being with you like this? Honestly it's the best moment I think.” 

This had her confused as he resumed his previous position but this time, she tilted her head so that it was resting on his chest, staring at him.

“And what moment would that be, Irwin?” He gave her the softest smile, one which she knew was reserved just for her.

“The moment to tell you that I’ve loved you for nearly my entire life, and I don’t want a life without you in it. Michelle Morgan, will you marry me?” he had the ring in his hands, and she couldn’t stop the gasp as she sat up, staring at him in shock.

“Ashton, this better not be a joke.” The tears threatened to fall and there was the soft smile again as he leaned forward to kiss her.

“I would never joke about this. You’re too important to me, Micha.” 

The first tear fell as she moved her trembling left hand, offering it to Ashton.

“Yes. Yes I will marry you.” The joy on his face in that moment sealed it for Michelle. As he slid the ring on her finger, he kissed it before his lips found hers once more.

“My sun, my moon, my stars.” He whispered.

When she went into her class on Monday, Jen was the first to notice the very shiny diamond ring on her finger.

“Oh my god, really?” Her friend gasped excitedly before pulling her into a hug. Michelle laughed.

“Really! He had this whole elaborate plan set out but ditched it because it didn’t feel like us. He wants to celebrate, but since he’s staying for the month, his brothers are going to travel up for celebrations next week. Ash wants to meet you and Jack and have a quiet double date before his brothers show up.” 

There were a few mutters from the men around them, but the two girls paid them no attention like they’d done from day one when the two realised they were the only females in the class.

“The only reason she’s getting married is because he probably knocked her up.” Mike-she was certain now after hearing his name called out on the register-muttered.

This time, she wasn’t going to let him slander her name like that. Those kinds of rumours not only fuelled fire but could potentially cost Michelle her career, and she wasn’t about to have any of it. 

Turning in her seat whilst they waited for the lecturer to start, she scowled at him. 

“Kindly refrain from making assumptions and starting rumours that you can’t back up with facts, O’Riley.” She kept her voice levelled, albeit slightly condescending. He scowled at her in return.

“What, scared that I’m right?” The taunt was a clear bait, determined to show she shouldn't be there. Both her and Jen had suffered from them.

The class had fallen silent at this, and Michelle smirked.

“How about I give you the facts first since you’ve spent the entirety of first year trying to make a point that neither Jennifer or I belong. I’ve known my fiance since we were children. Five years old to be precise. Whilst I’m at school, he works for the garage that his dad owns and will one day take over. He tries his hardest to visit once a month but sometimes he can’t because of obligations to the company means that sometimes the garage comes first.” She could see a few of the guys take on board her words.

Jen was smirking.

“If he were to have knocked me up, the last time I saw him was two and a half months ago. Notice how I haven’t swapped to any kinds of baggy clothing? Had I actually been pregnant, I’d have taken a leave of absence for a week so that I could go home and tell him as well as our families. Getting the picture yet?” His cheeks were burning as she so easily put him in his place.

“You have a go at the two of us, saying we don’t belong because we can’t be doing our studies right, we can’t be learning the same things as men. But if I look objectively at the situation, you’ve repeatedly tried to bait Chelle into an argument and lost every time. Most facts she’s been quite open about, and the others seemed to have put two and two together, but you can’t let go of the fact that she rejected you. So you hound her for anything. I hope that if you actually get into Law School after the undergrad program that you have to face her in the courts, because she’s clearly better than you.” Jennifer had spoken up in defence of her friend, and it had fallen silent before the lecturer began to clap.

Michelle hadn’t even realised that they’d eaten into the class time.

“Miss Morgan is correct, Mr O’Riley. Report to my office after class.” 

Unsurprisingly, O’Riley left her alone, and before Michelle knew it, the end of the year was upon them and she was back home with her family. 

She hadn’t had a chance to really pass the news and had forced Calum, Luke and Michael to stay quiet about it. Ashton knew better than to ruin this surprise for her, even though her family had been waiting for the day to happen ever since he’d asked her father’s permission the day after she’d left.

To say they were excited was understatement of the century. Both of them had winced at the high pitched squeal from her mother and her father was laughing at the scene before him.

They welcomed Ashton into their family when he was a child, but this was a different kind of welcome, one that really made him feel lucky to have the parents he had.

Unlike some of the weddings they’d seen from the club members, Ashton had been adamant. The wedding would be how Michelle wanted it, and if anyone had a problem then they could work at the garage instead. 

Bert had surprisingly backed his son up.

“She’s practically been my daughter since he brought her home with a skinned knee and tear tracks down her face. This is her day just as much as his, and if Ash wants it to be how she wants it, then no one will say a fucking word.” 

The prospects had eyed the father/son duo warily before nodding in acceptance. Ashton had already made it clear to them that they’d be around for security rather than the ceremony. 

They’d watched one of their previous comrades learn the hard way not to insult Michelle Morgan around any of them. The last prospect who did that not only lost his chance to be in the club but also ended up in the hospital with broken arms and a bullet to the knee. 

The warning rang loud and clear for them so they weren’t bothered by the fact they’d been relegated to security.

Despite the endless ribbing that Ashton had received from his best friends, he helped Michelle with ideas for what she wanted. They’d decided to plan and book it for the following summer, to let her get through her second year of university without worrying. 

“I’m going to defer a year after we get married.” Ashton stared at her in shock. She’d told him that the career was important to her, and he couldn’t wrap his head around why she would do that. 

He’d pulled her so that she was straddling his lap, the two of them sat on the sofa at his parents’. They were out for the weekend. He knew his dad was preparing for a patchover and his mom wanted as much time as possible with him without the two of them underfoot.

“And why are you deferring a year, doll?” 

“So that I can steal you away for a year. Our honeymoon is going to be much longer than two weeks.” The grin on her lips was almost predatory, and he felt the corner of his own twitch up in response. 

“Oh is it, Miss Morgan?” Her arms were resting on his shoulders as she leaned forwards, nibbling at the skin of his neck, her hips slowly rocking into his. 

He was struggling to stay focused. 

“A full year of us travelling. Motels, fancy hotels or hostels. Travel America and then maybe fly out and travel Europe. A whole year. I’m sure you wouldn’t be adverse to having sex in every state and then as much of Europe as possible.” Her teeth tugged at his earlobe, and he had her pinned on the couch, the look of shock amusing as his lips met hers.

“What my lady wants, my lady gets.” 

Later when they’d redressed themselves and were looking at various places, Ashton let out a sigh. “You realise that it means I’ll definitely be doing more runs. And maybe a few hits?” 

She squeezed his hand gently. “That’s why pops is planning on offering to pay for half of the trip. He knows what your dad does, they’re best friends. He knows what you do. He also knows that you’d protect me and move heaven and earth if you could. I wasn’t supposed to tell you this, so act surprised when he offers it.” This made him laugh as he kissed her temple.

“Secret is safe with me, doll. So July or August for the wedding date?” 

True to his word, Ashton did act surprised when her dad made the offer, however, he didn’t have to fake his shock at the amount that he was offering.

“That’s, surely that would cover the entire trip?” Ashton barely breathed. Marcus Morgan laughed as he slapped Ashton on the shoulder. 

“Son, I’ve been saving for this ever since she brought you home to us to introduce us to her newest best friend. At first it was small amounts which I was prepared to make her college fund, and then you two got together and her mother told me to start saving properly.” Ashton stared at his soon to be father-in-law, stunned.

He could do nothing but hug Marcus tightly in gratitude, in amazement, in awe. He wasn’t entirely sure. But he loved this man just as much as he loved his own dad.

Marcus understood the unspoken words and held onto Ashton just as tightly, giving him a moment to take in the significance of the offer. 

“You realise that the second Michelle finds out, she’ll flip?” Ashton finally asked as he pulled back, and Marcus laughed loudly.

“Like I’d expect anything else from that girl. She’s her mother’s daughter through and through. I can only count my blessings that she found you early on to temper her impulses.” Ashton tried and failed to hide his smirk as his soon-to-be in-law rolled his eyes before they were drawn into a discussion about the newest modifications he’d made to his bike. 

They still continued to plan, even when Michelle was back at University. Mercifully, after her verbal slapdown of O’Riley, both her and Jen had earned the grudging respect from their classmates. 

That respect was a big help when it came to the appointments for her dress fittings and bridesmaid dresses. If Jen hadn’t been one of her bridesmaids, she knew her friend would’ve handed her any and all the notes she needed for missed classes however, both of them relied on the notes from their classmates and the occasional meeting with their tutors.

It was a much quieter year for both her and Ashton, despite all the appointments and meetings for the venues and vendors. It dawned on them how much work it took to pull off the wedding that they were planning, on top of their respective school work and jobs. 

It was exhausting, but they pulled it off, she’d finished top of the class, with Jen close behind her and the business side for the Irwin’s had been thriving. 

Before she really knew it, she was standing in the foyer of the church, gripping her dad’s arm to stop the butterflies causing havoc through her entire body, let alone her stomach.

“You nervous sweet girl?” Her dad's tone was reassurance of all these new exciting feelings. She let out a small breath of air as she finally let it sink in that it was just Ashton waiting for her.

She was marrying her best friend.

“Excited. I still can’t believe he agreed to let you practically pay for our entire trip.” It had been a constant disagreement until her mother had sat her down and told her why her dad was doing this.

“Call it payback for you actually telling him before I could.” And she felt her jaw drop. She knew that Ashton hadn’t told him, or at least they’d suspected she’d gotten away with her slip up. 

Marcus chuckled as he gently tapped under her chin, her jaw shutting with an audible snap. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” She hissed dangerously, and he grinned in return, his eyes suspiciously bright as his hand lifted, the backs of his fingers tracing down her face. She relaxed into the comforting touch almost immediately.

“You’re my child. I’ve raised you and I know you. Ashton is also mine, even though your mother didn’t bring him into the world. The two of you grew up with your mom and I as well as his parents. You might be able to fool the world sweetheart, but you can never fool your parents.”

It was another sigh before she let out a snort of laughter.

“Figures.” The key changed in the music, and the butterflies were back with reckless abandon. 

“Time to get the show on the road, sweet girl. I love you and I’m proud of you.” His lips touched her forehead, and it was almost like magic that her entire body relaxed. The butterflies finally settled as they began the walk down to her future husband.

-

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