#harry seldom

[inthiskingdomwewillendure]

Recap to Foundation 2x07

Since i know from the tags to my gifs that many of you don't watch the show and given the fact that they finally picked up the peace, i decided to write a recap. Massive spoilers ahead...

We start with the general and his husband on their mission to find out what the foundation is up to. They get informed by their alien crew member that the mother of aliens that one of the three guys send on a mission by fake harry has offered her to join the foundation. Which she declines because she fears what empire will do to them if they rebel. So instead she brings him to the general husbands and a fight breaks out. He escapes thanks to more advanced technology and his pet who looks suspiciously like the one who attacks day in the trailer. The husbands reports this to day and demerzel who are not amused. They then talk about why they are not fighting empire and join the foundation themselves and the general says that the poor and the weak are the ones who would suffer most if empire falls and no order would replace him.

On to the cleons:

Day and Demerzel are breaking up because the wedding is ahead. Neither of them is happy about it. On to the future empress who watches tv with her handmaiden and laughs at days expression at her speech in the previous episode. They are interrupted by demerzel who escorts her to an fertillity examination. On the way there she confronts demerzel that she knows she is a robot and asks her if she serves her in the future which demerzel declines. In the examination room she starts nagging demerzel further and she snaps telling her that she was very much involved in her families demise. Later she tells day about her family and he listens but then tells her she should be grateful for him choosing her. She is later walking with dawn and asks him to be the father of her kids instead of day and they kiss.

Later in the audience chamber with all three cleons and demerzel. The two priests are brought before them and reveal a projection of fake harry who basicly declares war on empire. Day then tells him that he reads his theories in his youth and they are the reason he wants to end the cloning. He then tells demezel to inform the general husbands that they shall go to terminus and investigate the advanced technology.

Meanwhile salvor and gail are still with the shady as hell cult. They have been told that real harry has left. While he in reality has been drowned in a pool while being chained. Salvor finds him and gets drowned too. It's. Not confirmed that they are dead.

[sparsilees]

it’s almost the end of 2024. can we drop this absolutely inane fanonical idea that harry james potter is “oblivious” or “unobservant” or “average”?

fuck your fanon harry. fuck that soggy tissue who doesn’t inspire confidence in others. fuck that lummox who cannot string a sentence together. fuck that hothead who’d lash out in anger and throw punches at every provocation. fuck that namby-pamby who can’t read clues or between the lines or come up with a plan of action. fuck that sheep who can’t function without hermione’s direction. fuck that neanderthal who’s a messy eater, messy writer, messy speaker, and has poor manners.

who the bloody hell is that? that’s not harry james potter. why are you twisting and malforming him into a bloody clown?

why are you undermining the main character of his own series? boy has an abysmal self-esteem, stays quiet and lowkey, bottles up his truest feelings and thoughts (that we as readers are privy to, but not the other characters!), and has a calm and composed mien so you think you too can dismiss his character easily and strip him down to a skeleton of his canon self and instead carve out huge character growth, redemption arcs, and love letters for everyone else?

you wish to evoke sympathy for draco by making lucius out to be an abusive father and crafting a pitiful childhood for draco when they have an affectionate parent-child relationship canonically, but downplay harry’s abuse? you realise that tom riddle, sirius black, james potter, and hermione granger are acknowledged to be the brightest of their generation, yet forget harry potter and tom riddle are two sides of the same coin, even sharing a similar appearance, and reduce harry to a silly caricature? you make harry magically powerful but wrest his smarts away to highlight someone else’s big brain?

you make him out to be a short dork with a shorter fuse and no idea what’s going on around him when harry and tom are both described as woe-ridden orphans—with all that entails from constant hunger to cold sleepless nights to hypervigilance to the forced, quick maturity—but treat tom true to canon as tall, cunning, and clever, then do an about-face to conveniently slap the malnourished, oblivious, and slacker labels on harry to make him as lesser than?

when he picked up the impervious spell simply from having seen hermione perform it once, when his closest friends have difficulty gleaning his thoughts, when his anger is cold and sharp like dumbledore (ootp was a study in ptsd, next!), when he’s just as tall as his father, was just as ill-treated as a house elf, and rightfully brilliant as the son of lily and james potter—the two powerful and talented individuals who once had voldemort trying to recruit them to join his cause?

the sheer disrespect on his name. the sheer mockery of his character. the absolutely mind-boggling erasure of his most defining traits.

who do you think sussed out most of the big clues, and stowed away all the little, random bits of information in his memory bank, to ultimately piece the puzzle together at the final showdown every end of the school year? who realised as a mere firstie that quirrel was the man hagrid blabbed to about fluffy and the dragon egg? who noted that ginny was withdrawn and unlike herself? who had an inkling fleur had taken a fancy to bill? who picked up on what was brewing between ron and hermione before their own selves? who noticed that hermione cast a confundus on cormac mclaggen during the match? who caught on instantly to the change in tense used for the diadem’s existence and confidently tracked it down? who cottoned on to luna’s longtime disappearance from her cold, untouched bed and the layer of dust? who did voldemort consider his equal? who actually has an uncanny sense of intuition? who calls the shots when the trio gets into a pickle? who?

mcgonagall? flitwick? draco? hermione? blaise zabini? no!

excuse harry for that one time he did not look deeply into the mental workings of a grieving girl because he’s not equipped to deal with them, and has in the first place never been taught to process his own emotions properly because he didn’t grow up in a healthy environment, prohibited from expressing his feelings, let alone vulnerability, and voicing his thoughts!

let’s bury this annoyingly stupid narrative for good. go read the books and refresh your perspective. stop doing him dirty. you’ve already butchered sirius black’s character into a pathetic sisspot. and now you want to assassinate harry’s too.

[dailyadventureprompts]

Deity: Dispater, Lord of those Below

No Kings Beyond Death

A god of riches and horrors beneath the earth, protector and jailer of the departed souls, grim Dispater rules many realms with a stern hand and an iron will. Often cursed and seldom praised by mortals, it is this god's cosmic lot to keep order in the underworld, where the caverns of the mortal plane intersect with the labyrinths of the underdark and the shadowed halls of the dead.

While his worship overlaps with many other gods of death, few pray to Dispater as his heart is thought to be as cold and unmoving as stone, hardened by the grim work of keeping the domains to which psycopomps and other terminal forces deliver souls, ensuring that they neither have the chance to escape nor that they are picked off by fiends or other malign spirits.

Judges and other arbiters sometimes swear by him, especially when handling matters of life and death, as do miners, bankers, and others who work in precious metals or stones, as Dispater has a connection to caverns and other buried places. His clergy collects tribute in the form of those soft, perishable things that cannot be found below the earth: grain and livestock, flowers and wine. Their sacrifices of these things are said to pass on to the dead themselves, after their lord has taken his due tithe.

Adventure Hooks:

A monstrous bat haunts the countryside, endlessly harrying a graverobber who pilfered from a cemetery consecrated in Dispater's name. The exhausted scoundrel just so happens to have taken refuge in the same country inn as the party, passing himself off as a peddler who was shaken down by bandits. When the bat attacks that night (as he knows it will) he hopes to use the chaos to shift some of his plunder into the heroes' packs, diverting the creature and the divine wrath it represents.

Rumour is, if you find a trail of archaic coins scattered along the road, following it will lead you to one of the mysterious grey merchants, traders from the underworld who deal in memories and mementos cast off by the dead. Woe to anyone who attempts to harry or cheat the merchant though, as they travel under the protection of the lord below.

Shortly after a resurrection of a partymember (that may or may not have gone wrong), the heroes are approached by a dour devil in clerk's garb who insists that they need to follow her into the underworld to help clear up some post-mortality paperwork, or else their friend's soul might be held in litigation for a literal eternity. "Clearing up" in this case involves helping to clear out a field office somewhere in the shadowfell overtaken by the unquiet dead, fending off hostile spirits while the devil and the deceased do a lightninground of signatures on the relevant forms.

Behind the scenes: Hades has fascinated me since I started learning a mythology, and that fascination has only grown as I've traced the idea of him through history and popculture.

Like all the other Greek gods, Hades gets a roman makeover in Pluto; god of earth, the underworld, and wealth. One of his titles "Dis Pater" literally means " Father of Riches", as the earth contains both mineral wealth and the wealth of good harvests.

Because of his association with the underworld Pluto/Dis Pater starts to get adapted into emerging Christian Mythology as the devil, as his realm of of Tartarus (and its punishments reserved for the most wicked) likewise becomes Hell (which exists to torture anyone who sins and doesn't believe).

Fast forward about a millennia and a half and you have the creators of d&d making all the different names for the devil into a rogue's gallery of different fiends. With Dispater's connection to greek mythology completely forgotten he gets sectioned off as the extra schemey member of hell's boyband, at once brilliantly adept at making plans and driven mad with his own paranoia. While this makes him a little more interesting than some of the other devils, it just wasn't enough for me in the end, so a revamp had to ensue.

I wanted to take things full circle and use Dispater's name to bring my own Hades analog into my game's mythology, a god not of death but specifically the underworld, fully drawing on the connotations of both afterlife and underground. Playing with motifs of kingship and a "death and taxes" sort of legalism also makes for unique themes when it comes to the subjectmatter of mortality: Dispater as death is owed tribute by natural and divine law, but that relationship also grants protections to the tributary. Imagine a paladin of Dispater saving someone's life from unlawful execution because they are owed a righteous death.

Thanks as always to @5ecardaday for the monster stats

Artsource

[0nlythrowharrybeaux]

A Chance - Part 4^

Hello friends, part 4 of the A Chance series is here! I hope you guys like the date! This is going to be the second to last part of the series. Thank you for reading 💖 I hope you guys like it! FIND THE REST OF THE SERIES HERE!

WARNINGS: Hostile work environment (gossip and rumors), mentions of sex, bullying. Ends really fluffy though!

WC: 7.6K

It was finally Friday and you were so eager to go out with Harry. You’d tried to relax with a shower and bath and it did help until you noticed that you already had a chip in your fresh pedicure. Then you started folding laundry and when you were just about to be done and putting your intimates away you decided to try on cute panties until you had chosen your lingerie for the night. You weren’t expecting to have sex but if things got close then you wanted to put in a bit more effort for him. You felt like a sex fiend for having these thoughts but it had been almost two years of you being the only person taking care of your sexual needs.

Finally, the time came for you to start getting ready. You were being careful as you applied some light makeup, you just did a slight smoky eye for the evening. You were slowing your breathing before getting on your eyeliner which was already extra challenging since you’d gotten your nails done as well. Nothing too long since you seldom got a set, but long enough that you were still getting used to them. You had thought a lot about what to wear and decided on one of your favorite dresses. It was a red and white, gingham print, spaghetti strapped dress. It was a square neckline so it didn’t really show cleavage, which you kind of loved. You paired that with your trusty sambas and your candy apple Baggu in the mini shoulder bag style. You had some small silver hoops in your ears and a silver horseshoe pendant around your neck for good luck. It was still hot out, so your hair was held up with the claw clip in a haphazard updo, a few strategic strands were pulled out to frame your face. And you topped it all off with a few spritzes of your favorite perfume and then waited in the kitchen until he was knocking at your door just a few minutes earlier than he said he’d arrive. You hurried to open it up and as soon as you saw each other, you were both beaming.

“Holy shit, you’re so pretty.” He said through an awestruck smile and you glanced away nervously at his compliment for a few moments. 

You then glanced back and took him in as well and smiled at his own outfit. He had a plain white tee tucked into some light gray slacks, a thin black belt fixed the two articles of clothing perfectly to his slender body. He had a light yellow, cashmere crewneck draped around his shoulders which added a level of sophistication to his ensemble. And to top it all off, a black cross-body bag spanning from his shoulder to the opposite hip. His feet were clad in his Authentic, black and white Vans, they looked quite worn, which gave his outfit the slight edge it needed.

“You look really freaking good too.” You said as the light from your apartment made his thin t-shirt appear even more translucent than it already was. You could see ink there, but you couldn’t quite make out what the tattoos were. You’d seen the ones on his arms from work, but more? You wondered if you had any more in places that weren’t visible to you yet.

“Ummm, thanks.” He smiled a bit bashfully.

“D-do you want water or need the bathroom or anything before we go?” You asked and he shook his head.

“Good to go. I ummm, actually did bring this for you though…” he said as he reached into his bag and opened it up before feeling around for the surprise item. He pulled out a little brown parchment bag and handed it over to you. You grinned at him before peering inside to see a little keychain with a black leather tag with your name embossed in silver and a couple star charms of different varieties hung from the keyring, the charms looked mismatch-y in an aesthetic way. 

“Oh, I love it!” You gasped happily as you looked at it more closely, “Thank you, I’ve been needing a new one.” You said.

“Yeah, I noticed that the one you have there is like, hanging on for dear life.” He explained of your current one. It was a sort wrist lanyard, your name was woven into it but you’d had the same one since you were a literal child. The two ends were currently being held together by a little safety pin.

“Yeah…” you chuckled, “My grandma got it for me on a vacation I spent with them. Got it at their city zoo. I had to have been 10 or 11…” you recalled, “I used to bike to school and my parents worked a lot so I would have to let myself into the house.” You explained, “So yeah, this one has been through a lot.” You chuckled.

“Well, I get if it has sentimental value and you want to keep using it. I have stuff like that too.” He assured you.

“Oh no, that’s alright. I can finally retire it to my memory box.” You said with a small smile, “Besides this one also has sentimental value.” You added and he smiled.

“It does.” He hummed.

“Can you help me switch it out? Don’t want to break my nail.” You said with slight embarrassment.

“Sure.” He chuckled and helped you do that.

“Thank you so much.” You hummed as he handed over your keys.

“Course.” He said softly, you guys just looked at each other for a few seconds.

“I want to kiss you so bad but I fear I won’t be able to stop if I do.” You confessed and he chuckled.

“The feeling is very mutual.” He admitted lowly with a rosy tint on his cheeks.

“Okay, lets go before I run out of will power!” You said and he chuckled but soon you were heading off. 

He had planned this with enough time in mind that you could just have a soda while you waited for your order to be ready. So far you had talked about your families and had just gotten into the topic of why previous relationships had failed when they called his name because your food was ready. You continued on this topic as you drove to the secondary location. You weren’t surprised to learn that Harry had significantly more relationships than you did and it didn’t really worry you. He did confess to being a serial dater in his mid twenties because he felt he was running out of time at that point, but that for the last three years he’d been in therapy regularly to help him overcome that need he had to fill his voids with romantic partners. 

“I’m so proud of you for that, Harry!” You encouraged him.

“Thank you, I am quite proud of myself too. I did realize how before I would just avoid all of my issues by latching to my partners. I’d lose myself in relationships and now like…I just want a partner to just enjoy the ride with, you know?” He asked and you sighed.

“I do but…I also don’t. I’m quite opposite of you.” You said with a small smile.

“A big shocker there…” he said sardonically before you both laughed it off.

“Yeah, see I avoid closeness with people because I figure that if you come into my life then…you have to leave at some point.” You explained and he nodded, “I know I need to go to therapy t-to work on my intimacy issues and all that, but it’s just the getting started bit that makes me nervous. Like I did have a therapist in high school but I didn’t really vibe with him. He was an older man, so I didn’t feel like I could really open up, you know?”

“Yeah, I can understand that. It took me a few tries before I found this doctor I’ve been with the last couple years. But yeah, when you find that person that you can really be authentic with, the therapeutic experiences changes a lot.” He explained.

“I can imagine. You’ve inspired me to start searching again.” You said and he chuckled.

“Good! I mean, it’s healthy to have that one impartial person, you know?”

“Definitely. And well, I don’t know if maybe I’m speaking a little too in the future, but I mean…I agreed to go out with you because so far you’re the safest I’ve felt with a person in a long, long time and like…I would hope that this can grow into something bigger and better down the line.” You said and he nodded and smiled before turning back to the road. 

You were so happy he couldn’t really look at you while you said this. You even felt a bit grossed out with yourself from how soft you felt around him, that was your past hurt peeking through, trying to close you back up again before you got hurt. But you did it anyway because you knew he would never hurt you. 

“Anyway ummm…sometimes I might…be a dick when I feel like you’re getting too close.” You explained and since you were now at a red light he glanced over to you, “I hope you can call me out on it when you recognize that’s what I’m doing. I know when I do it, it’s a defense mechanism.” You said and he nodded, “But I don’t want to be that way with you. I want to unlearn all of that and let you see the parts of me that haven’t seen the light of day in years!” You said with a sincere smile, “But it’s going to be hard for me, Harry. And I’m not going to make it easy for you either at times, so I apologize in advance.” You said and then looked into his eyes, “I just hope that you don’t-” you paused when you felt the weight of the meaning of what you were just about to ask him and your gaze flitted away nervously.

“That I don’t what?” He asked and you sighed. 

Being this vulnerable made you want to crawl under a rock and never come out. You knew the that people in the cars around you and walking on the side walks couldn’t hear your conversation, but it felt like they could. What a sweet relief it’d be for a 9 point magnitude earthquake to just hit all of a sudden so that the earth could swallow you whole and you wouldn’t have to admit your biggest fear to him. You hadn’t meant to get that deep but it just happened! Like things just tended to happen with him.

“Ummm…I hope that you don’t give up on me. Like when I…inevitably feel the need t-to keep myself safe the way I have all this time.” You explained and his gaze softened.

“Look Y/N, I have liked you for nearly two years.” He informed you and you smiled, “I’m not giving up. Not when we’re leaps and bounds from where we started and more than that, when we’re so close to being more.” He said and you wanted to cry.

“Thank you.”

“Of course.” He reassured you, “I want this to work so fucking badly.” 

“I do too.” You assured him.

“That’s all it takes, willingness from both of us to see this through.” He said tenderly. You both gasped in fright as the truck behind your car honked loudly as you were holding up the traffic now. “Jesus…” Harry grumbled before you took off again. Just a few minutes later you were driving past the Hollywood Forever Cemetery. Your mouth dropped open in surprise as you drove past it before turning on a side street.

“Are we watching a movie?” You asked, trying your hardest not to squeal with excitement.

“Yeah…” He chuckled and then you squealed. You guys were able to get a spot at this lot and were soon looking into Harry’s trunk with a pout of endearment. There was a very large picnic basket with a little bouquet of wild-flowers peaking out of one end and a picnic blanket rolled up and placed neatly between the baskets handles. There were also two large, jade green, corduroy floor cushions. “Gimme the food bag, please?” He requested and you handed it over before stepping back to give him space to fit your dinner in the basket.

“I got the blanket and cushions.” You said.

“Thanks, love.” He smiled before handing them over and moments later you were following the rest of the herds of people towards the cemetery. 

While you waited in line you talked about the film “Comet” since the main characters had met here in that film. You talked about BRAT and Charm, both excellent albums that you’d recently been listening to. You discussed sharing a little tub of kettle corn because it tastes better when it’s warm and you should never skip on that given the chance. And then that led to you turning towards him to ask your next question.

“So what’re we watching?” You asked.

“Midsommar.” He said, “I remember you saying you liked that one when we were talking at the bar that first time?” He recalled and you nodded.

“Yeah…so, you’re bringing me to watch a movie about a boyfriend being burned alive?” You chuckled.

“Oh…right…” he chuckled, “Hopefully not foreshadowing.” He mumbled playfully and you giggled.

“Yeah, that’d be a tragedy…” you hummed sarcastically and he chuckled and playfully knocked his elbow against yours.

“You know you’d miss me. You wouldn’t be able to go on without me.” He said dramatically, “Admit it.” He pressed with a smile and you giggled.

“Mmmm…I don’t know…we’re getting there though.” You assured him and he chuckled. 

“I’ll take that.” He hummed and you smiled. 

If there was one thing that you were so obsessed with Harry over it was this! The fact that he never pressured you into anything. He didn’t try and change your mind or feelings about things. He’d listen and be present with you and be encouraging, but he never imposed his opinions or feelings about things onto you. It made you realize that he liked you as a whole person. Not just your looks, not specific things like your intelligence or humor, but all of those things together, even the things that you felt weren’t so great. He was interested and determined in getting to know all of your facets. The time and care he took in gaining your trust and trying to understand you, well it was paying off. Others had tried before but they’d get frustrated and give up on you quickly. But not Harry, he knew that good things take time to cultivate and he was willing to work hard and wait and see the fruits of his efforts with you. He was mature and confident and handsome and smart and so fucking lovely that you just had to pinch yourself sometimes to ensure that he was a real person.

“What?” He asked with a smile on his face as you just continued looking at him. It broke you out of your thoughts and you glanced away bashfully and shrugged.

“Nothing just…thinking about how wonderful you are and I’m really lucky that you still gave me a chance.” You confessed and he smiled bashfully. His cheeks were going pink so he just chuckled nervously and looked away. “Now you know how it feels.” You teased and he laughed a bit more before glancing back into your eyes.

Soon enough you had found a place to sit and got comfy. Thankfully, you’d shown up early enough that you and Harry could eat and talk a little bit more about whatever you wanted until the sun started to set, indicating the film would be projected soon.

“So what more’s in the basket?” You asked as you finished packing away your empty takeout containers back in the bag.

“Some Prosecco,” he said as he glanced up with a grin when you oohed in excitement, “Reese’s pieces, best chocolate candy you have here.” He said.

“I beg to differ, but proceed…” you hummed and he sniggered.

“I also bought these nerd rope cluster things.” He informed with wide eyes, “ They’re like drugs.” He said pointedly and you laughed, “Fran gave me a bag yesterday,” he shared, “I ate two more that same night at home.” He chuckled and you giggled along.

“You did say you had a sweet tooth, huh?” You asked and he nodded and quickly glanced down at your lips before looking up at you again.

“I’d say so.” He hummed smugly as he watched your pupils dilate with excitement.

“You’re a tease.” You giggled and he smirked.

“What about you?” He asked and you nodded.

“Yeah, but for like chocolate and pastries. Not really candy.” You shared.

“So I nailed it with the chocolate covered strawberries?”

“Absolutely.” You responded eagerly and he chuckled. “So I’ll get the kettle corn because you’ve covered everything else.” You said and he smiled.

“You don’t have to. I asked you out.” He said and you gave him a pointed look and he chuckled, “Alright, I’ll get the Prosecco opened.” He said and you nodded in satisfaction. 

Soon enough you were back at the blanket and Harry had the flutes set up all nice and neat for you two. “Ummm, apologies in advance for the lower back pain, I just realized I brought nothing for us to recline on.” He explained as you sat.

“Oh, that’s alright. We’ve both seen this film right?”

“Yeah.”

“Then we can lay and chit chat.” You said, “Quietly, of course.” You added when the couple in front of you glanced back when you said that and Harry sniggered.

“We can play 20 questions.” He said and you nodded. “Wanna stay and dance a little after the film?” He asked and you grinned.

“Yeah? Amongst the dead and all?” You asked and he smiled.

“Yeah. You’re into the morbid things right?” He asked teasingly. You rolled your eyes and he chuckled. 

Soon enough, the movie had started and you two were laying down, heads on the floor cushions while you looked at each other and mouthed things at each other. You were trying to figure out what the other was saying, but turns out you were both awful lip readers. You kept rolling away to be able to laugh quietly because if you looked at him you would laugh out loud and interrupt the film for everyone.

“We should shut up.” You whispered and he nodded.

“Yeah, we’re being obnoxious.” He agreed quietly and then just stared at you until you were both smiling like fools. He leaned over and kissed your cheek gently, “Lets sit up, you can lean on me.” He said and you nodded. Moments later you were crawling carefully in between Harry’s legs before sitting down between them and scooting back carefully until you felt his warmth behind you. “Want me t’take your clip off?” He asked.

“Please.” You hummed and he unclasped it from your hair before you ran your hand through it and leaned back against him again.

“Thank you, it was stabbing me in the sternum.” He confessed and you giggled quietly. 

You glanced to the side and saw that he was supporting his weight and yours on his hands, they were firmly planted to the blanket beneath you so that you could recline and sit more comfortably. You wanted to hold his hand so badly, you’d done it a couple times already, but this was your first date, you wanted to show effort back. So you sat up straight instead and pulled his left hand into your lap so that he was kind of hugging around you. Your heart was pounding erratically as you made this move to be closer. He didn’t say anything, but you felt him relax against your back as you started to weave your fingers into the spaces between his own. Harry certainly didn’t mind it, he was hoping that you guys could share some more intimate moments on this date. He was dying to kiss you again. It took all of his physical and mental strength to not turn you around and do just that. When the credits started to roll people immediately started to stand to leave.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Harry but honestly…the film was not as good as I remember it.” you said lowly as several people around you were raving about it and he laughed.

“I agree but I just…I didn’t want to shit on a film you liked.” Harry said through a giggle as he hugged around your waist from behind. You laughed along and leaned back into him.

“Like without the element of surprise for all twisted shit that happens it’s rather boring.” You explained and he nodded.

“Literally, very boring.” He concurred, “Not very entertaining when you know the point.” He hummed and you giggled.

“You, however, very entertaining. I liked learning that you are an Aquarius and that you’re the eldest of three, like that tracks with how you act and all.” You said and he grinned, “And that you think Birkenstocks are ugly…” You giggled.

“Look, say what you want but I refuse to wear anything of the sort.” He chuckled.

“No, no…I’m not offended, if anything I feel….validated. I agree wholeheartedly. Not on my feet!” You assured and Harry squeezed you a bit tighter through his laughter.

After enough people had left, you and Harry started to gather your things and then moved them closer to the side as you chose a more desolate area to continue chatting in between singing along to “Shining Star” by Earth, Wind, & Fire as you casually grooved along with the other people who had stayed behind to talk or dance a bit. 

“Has this been alright?” Harry asked you quietly as he pulled your body closer to his when a slow song started to play.

“Definitely.” You smiled.

“Even though the movie was boring?” He asked through a snigger and you giggled.

“Who cares about the movie when the company is top tier?” You asked and he blushed and glanced down between your bodies bashfully until he felt the rosiness and heat start to fade from his face. 

“You look so beautiful.” He said only loud enough for you to hear, “Well, you’re always beautiful, but I’ve never seen you in a dress before.” He added.

“I enjoy wearing dresses, just not for work. S’always so cold in the building.” You explained.

“True. And I mean, based off of your usual work style I just…never thought this was the kind of look you’re into casually, you know? It was unexpected and it’s very flattering on you. I’m trying not to stare but like…I have to just check you out a bit to just remember that you’re real, you know?” He asked and it was your turn to feel the blood rushing up to your cheeks and making your face grow warm at his compliment.

“Jesus…” you mumbled meekly and he chuckled, “You know, it’s weird for me to feel….giddy.” you mumbled and he smirked.

“Do you…like the feeling?” He asked.

“Surprisingly yes.” You smiled as you responded and started to gently scratch at the hair at the nape of his neck. His eyes fluttered shut and he hummed.

“That feels nice.” He moaned in satisfaction, “I think this is my one weakness.” He hummed, “Just…FYI.” He smiled dopily. He literally felt his skin litter with goosebumps at the delicious feeling of your nails gently scratching at that sweet spot on his head.

“Oh really? Not those nerd cluster things?” You teased.

“That too.” He giggled and you smiled, “And probably your lips.” He added and you grinned, “How do you feel about kissing after the first date?” He asked.

“Not favorable.” You joked with a smirk and he sniggered.

“So I should kiss you before the end of the date then…” he said with a playful grin and an adorable side eye and you giggled, “Wouldn’t be after the date…right?”

“Very clever.” You hummed and he chuckled, “But I mean it’s not favorable because that would be waiting too long…I mean, at least in my opinion…” You said coyly and he giggled.

“Is that so?” He hummed teasingly.

“I’m afraid so.” You grinned and he leaned a bit lower as you tip-toed and angled your head to the right. His nose playfully nudged yours before he pecked the corner of your mouth quickly. You started to giggle as he moved down to your chin, “Please…” you whispered and he sighed and then ardently pressed his lips into yours. Your bodies stopped swaying to the music as you became entranced into your kiss. The song switched to “Island in the Sun” and you both broke the kiss to sing the opening line: “Hip, Hip…”

You both laughed before you started to dance again. You sang along passionately with the rest of the people around and Harry twirled you around as the song sped up and when it hit the bridge you both just held hands and spun around quickly until you started to get dizzy and crashed into each other as you guys continued to sing along as the song started to come to a close.

“We’ll never feel bad anymoooore.”

“No. No.” Harry echoed with glee as you started to dance a little less as the song came to an end.

Everything felt so easy with him. The way he was made your effort feel worthwhile. It made you feel like working on the prickly parts of your personality wasn’t going to be as dreadful or taxing as you always thought it would be. That was actually the very reason you had avoided doing all of that healing work for at least a decade now; you realized it was you who was the issue when it took a toll on your first relationship after you left for college. Sure, it was going to be hard and painful at times, but if at the end of the day you got to be with him and see how happy it made him that you were getting better, then it was going to be worth it. A part of you felt foreign and a little disgusted with yourself for being so far gone so quickly over someone, a man, no less! But when you reminded yourself that he tried for months and he was patient and he stayed, those feelings and insecurities evaporated into thin air as quickly as they were conjured. No one had done that for you before. 

You knew there were good people in the world, but dealing with someone who is avoidant of intimacy and genuine connection can bring out the worst of the most wonderful and loving people. Especially for someone with a background like Harry’s, who struggled with codependence, like he did in the past. Typically, those anxious types always felt like they could “fix” avoidant types. That they would be the person to break them out of their fear of intimacy by being extremely present and showering them with the affection they craved but seldom allowed themselves to receive. They always felt they could be the exception and show them how good it could be to have someone around all the time. But in really, about 90% of the time it felt like you were being suffocated and corralled with all that attention and effort. It was annoying more than it was endearing. And as an avoidant you just have to flee before you are smothered in another person’s neediness. It was sad when you thought about it, being so afraid to get hurt that your defense mechanism is to close yourself off and be alone so that nothing or no one could ever hurt you or disappoint you or leave you again. It was masochistic but better (preferred even) than being smothered by a person who thought they understood you and thought that they could break down your walls by caring so intensely. In reality, it made your walls stretch even higher. Kind of like Adam, who just wanted to jump in and "save you”, not understanding that acts like that made you feel powerless and pathetic.

Harry though, he got that you didn’t need anyone to fight your battles for you. He came on strong when you finally let him him but he did it in a way that made you feel like he needed you more than you needed him when you finally got some time to yourselves. In reality you probably needed him just as badly, but you just needed to feel and believe that, that wasn’t the case. That didn’t seem to bother him in the slightest whereas it made Adam feel overlooked and inferior. All of these thoughts came to a screeching halt when Harry gently grabbed your face and you blinked a couple times as you realized that he had asked you something.

“Sorry, what?” You asked lowly and he chuckled.

“Nothing, just asking if you were alright. You got really quiet and pensive for a few moments there.” He said.

“Yeah, I’m alright just…thinking I guess.” You shrugged.

“Anything you want to talk about?” He asked and you shook your head

“No, it’s alright.” You declined and he nodded, but you could see that he was looking a little worried upon hearing that. 

Your thoughts weren’t any of his business, you knew that logically. And you also knew that he would eventually get over your rejection at an opportunity to open up to him. But despite knowing these things and deciding to leave it be, you found yourself wanting to reassure him that it had nothing to do with him in a negative way. You were just coming to terms with a lot of things about yourself and the possibility of sharing your time and affection with someone for the first time in a long time. You had a soft spot for Harry and it was growing exponentially.

“Harry, I promise it’s nothing bad.” You reassured him as you reached for one of his hands and pulled it down beside your bodies again as you interlocked your fingers with his.

“Okay.” He smiled, looking more relieved.

“I’m really enjoying this date. It’s been fun and unique and so thoughtful on your part, Harry. Thank you.” you hummed with gratitude.

Harry smiled, “I’m glad you’re having a good time.” He said softly.

You genuinely were having a nice time. The effort was everything to you and you couldn’t wait to do something just as nice and thoughtful for him. 

After another half hour you were both on the way back to your house making plans for lunch on Monday. The car was coming to a slow stop right in front of your building and then he parked and turned on his hazards.

“Thank you again for taking me out.” You said as you turned towards him and he smiled.

“Thank you for accepting.” He responded.

“Of course. Ummm, I’m gonna kiss you again before leaving.”

“Okay.” He whispered as you leaned in and cut him off with your lips over his. 

The collar of of his t-shirt was gripped in your fist as you held him close. And his right hand was sliding up your thigh before gently squeezing the widest part of your hip. His grip was steadying you as you were leaned over the center console to reach him. He’d given you his cashmere pullover earlier in the night when you got cold while walking through the cemetery, but now you were starting to get hot as your kiss intensified and you didn’t want to give it up just yet.

Harry nipped at your bottom lip before giving it a few gentle sucks and pulling back. His nose nodes your playfully before he kissed around your mouth. The corners, your cupid’s bow, and chin. Your hand started to skim down his chest and when you reached his abs he sniggered.

“Hey, hey, hey…” He said softly, “Easy, love.” He hummed and you sighed but nodded.

“Sorry.”

“Oh, it’s not because I don’t want to. S’because I want to, so fucking badly, just don’t want to get carried away.” He explained.

“I get it, I get carried away quite easily too.” You admitted and he smiled.

“Can I see you tomorrow?” He asked and you grinned.

“Yeah. Wanna work out?”

“Perfect. Here?”

“If you’d like, yeah. Then we can get food or something.”

“Alright, see you tomorrow. I’ll text you when I head over.” He hummed and you nodded. Your lips met in a slow and deep kiss once more before you pulled away and hurried inside. 

You were on cloud 9 as you washed up before getting into bed. When he let you know he’d made it home safe you said good night. You felt a little bit embarrassed as you got his pullover back over your bare top half to sleep in but you just loved the smell of his cologne and wanted it to be enveloping you over night. You could return it to him when you met up with him  the following day.

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

It was Monday morning and you were in a noticeably chipper mood! Like sun shining out of your ass chipper. You had spent a total of twelve hours with Harry over the weekend and had not gotten sick of him once. For the first time in a long while you felt really good and excited about something, about someone. And nothing could really ruin that for you. You had just gotten up to the editing and writing floor and you had a strange feeling that everyone was looking at you as you walked past them. Maybe you were just imagining it because you had never really walked around with a placid smile on your face before and it did feel a bit odd to be that outwardly happy. You were doing fine of ignoring up until the fifth person passed by your cubicle and peered in to see if you were in. Your good mood was slowly melting away and you wondered if maybe there was something on your face or there was a tear in your clothes that you somehow missed? Regardless of what it was, you stood from your seat and got up to slide your cubicle door closed, but just as you were about to do so, Destiny walked up looking quite nervous.

“Hi, Y/N.” She greeted you.

“Hi.” You responded with a polite smile.

“Do you have a sec?” She asked.

“Uh, sure…” you said warily as you let her into your little cubicle.

“Ummm…I just wanted to tell you in-person that I didn’t tell anyone about you and Harry.” She said and suddenly everything started to click. “I have no idea how everyone found out that you two are dating but they did.” She said with wide eyes.

“Oh…no wonder I felt very…visible today.” You said and she nodded.

“Yeah, it’s what everyone is talking about. I just needed you to know that it wasn’t me.”

“Well thank you for letting me know.” You said and she nodded. 

“And look, I know you don’t really care about what people say and think about you, but I know this is a new situation for you t-to be in. So just a reminder that it’s not worth your energy.” She reminded with a small and encouraging smile.

“Thank you, Destiny.” You said with gratitude and she nodded.

“Of course. See you around.” She said before hurrying out and sliding the door closed behind her. You peered over into Adam’s cubicle and saw he wasn’t in yet and decided to just settle back in and got your headphones in and got to work.

Now that you knew people were looking at you, you felt apprehensive and even more under a microscope than before. You soon discovered from Adam that apparently someone had seen you and Harry at the dumpling restaurant together on Friday night. Lunch with Harry had been fine since you’d decided to meet up somewhere, but even then, he didn’t bring anything up about what people were saying, so you decided to follow his lead and just ignore it too. You’d done that before and you could do it again. But as the day progressed you were finding it increasingly challenging to ignore everything you were hearing.

The most prominent rumor you kept hearing was that Harry had lost a bet and that’s why he had taken you out to dinner. Then, people were saying Harry was embarrassed of the rumors because he hadn’t even gone anywhere near you today. Logically, you knew this was a lie, he’d been out collecting interviews for a piece he was working on all morning and it was why you had met up for lunch off campus, but hearing the interpretation people had of this was troubling for you. Normally, this kind of thing wouldn’t even get to you, but it was starting to and not in the way you expected it to. You actually felt more bad for Harry in regard to these rumors. Soon you were starting to feel sad over the consequences he was reaping over this and kept coming to the same conclusion every time you gave it some thought: Harry deserved better. He did, he deserved so much better than this and it was eating away at you that this was your fault. 

You’d heard whispered comments and overheard conversations in cubicles as you went to fill up your water bottle through out the day, but your resolve broke when you found yourself in the bathroom stall and some of the women in there were talking about how smiley you were in the morning.

“Did you see how happy she looked this morning? A good fuck will do that for you!” 

“Maybe Harry’s taking one for the team and fucking the bitch out of her.”

“He’s collecting that good karma, you know? It couldn’t have be pleasant for him…she probably has teeth down there.”

Those were the kinds of things you’d heard and they were hurting your feelings, but mostly making you feel bad for Harry. He was very well-liked and respected and clearly him spending some time with you was already ruining his reputation. You had to hold in your sobs and wait until they left to leave the stall, but you couldn’t make it to the end of the day with all of this guilt and shame over what this date with Harry was doing to his reputation. So you made your way over to Harry’s cubicle because you couldn’t do this to him. It wasn’t fair. You made some awkward eye contact with a few people as you slid his door closed and then turned to him with a sigh.

“Are you okay?” Harry asked immediately when he saw your puffy eyes and you nodded as you came around to his side of the desk and sat on the empty surface to his left.

“Yeah, m’fine…kinda used to people talking about me.” You said sadly as you glanced down at your fingers tangling together in your lap.

Harry sighed and shook his head, “But not shit like they’ve been saying. It’s awful, love. And if you feel…hurt…that’s expected.” He said and you sighed before biting your lip and shrugging.

“It is what it is… but ummm, I actually wanted to come talk to you. Are you okay?”

“Oh, I’m fine…” he assured you.

“Are you really?” You asked and he shrugged.

“I mean, I’m disappointed a bit but who wouldn’t be?”

“I just…hate that this is happening to you because of me and…” you swallowed thickly as the lump forming in your throat quite literally stopped you from saying what you needed to say, “I think that you deserve a lot better than this, Ha-”

“Don’t even go there.” Harry cut you off with a pout and you shook your head as your tears started to fall.

“You don’t deserve this, Harry! I feel awful that people are talking shit about you and treating you like crap because of me! It’s making me feel physically ill!” You admitted sadly. But this wasn’t fair to him. “I can’t be selfish about this, not when it’s causing so much trouble for you.” You said and he smiled.

“You’re worth it to me, baby.” He said as he reached for your hand and you looked into his eyes. “I’m very alright with my decision to date you.” He assured you.

“You don’t regret it?” You asked him.

“Of course not! Getting to know you makes me so happy. Some stupid rumors can’t ruin that for me.” He reassured you. “And there’s no way I’m letting all this shit get in the way of this. Of us.” He said and you bit your lip. 

“Are you sure?” You asked him meekly. He’d never seen you look so small and insecure. It made him angry and sad because that wasn’t you at all. 

“Fuck what everyone else says, I want to keep dating you. What do you want, baby?” He asked and you sighed as you looked into his eyes. He called you “baby”, it made you want to blush and laugh and cheer all at the same time.

“I want to keep dating you too! But-”

“But nothing.” He stopped you, “M’gonna kiss you now.” He said as he looked into your eyes and you smiled. He pushed himself up from his seat and grabbed your face gently before smiling and kissing you tenderly. Your lips molded together with ease for a few moments before he kissed your cheek and pressed his forehead into yours.

“What I was going to ask before you so rudely cut me off…” you whispered jokingly and he giggled, “What if it never stops? The shit talking and rumors?” You asked and he smiled with a mischievous look in his eyes. 

“I tried it your way, just ignoring it and all and you tried to dump me so we’re trying another approach.” He warned you and cleared his throat for a moment before pulling back from you slightly, hands still holding your hips firmly.

“H-harry-” you tried to stop him when you caught on to what he was about to do but his voice overtook your soft plea.

“Although it’s actually no one’s fucking business…” he started, and you buried your face in his chest as his voice projected loud and clear so that anyone within this side of the office could hear, “Yes, I’m dating Y/N! Happily might I add. I’ve actually been trying to get her to like me for two freaking years and I will not let anything ruin this chance for me! So the next person I hear talking crap or spreading rumors about me or my girl is getting reported to HR for creating a hostile work environment.” He concluded. 

“Harry…” you whined quietly. Your face was burning with all the blood that had rushed up to it at this very public declaration. 

“I know you don’t need me to stick up for you, but that was for us.” He clarified, “No one should be able to ruin this for us. Not when we’re both so pleased about it.” He reasoned and you exhaled and nodded.

“You’re right.” You decided after a few pensive seconds. Harry smiled and tucked your hair behind your ear, “Now, can I have one more kiss?” You asked.

“Absolutely.” He whispered.

Once again, Harry grabbed your face between his hands and leaned in. His lips slowly skimmed yours before you grew impatient and craned your neck just a bit further up until you were kissing slowly. The soft, wet smacks of your lips meeting over and over again were like a melody you never wanted to forget. You had no idea what it was about him that was so fucking disarming but you liked it even though it terrified you at the same time. You loved that he first tried things your way and recognized your ability to take care of yourself, but he was right, his little PSA wasn’t for you or for him, it was for what you two had. How easy would it have been for him to agree that it was all too big of a fuss to keep seeing you? He had just shown you right now that he intended to stay. And as uncomfortable as these public declarations normally made you, a part of you was pleased that he wasn’t embarrassed to make them if it meant proving to you that the rumors and gossip would not sway him from choosing you.

“Thank you.” You whispered and he pecked your lips once more. “I…hated that but it also felt really good.” You confessed and he sniggered.

“Oh I feel you…I hated having to justify anything about us to all these people but I need you to know that I’m not ashamed of you or put off by what other people think or say. Everything I’ve seen of you so far has been absolute perfection.” He said softly and you swore you melted into a puddle of mush then and there. “And I haven’t even seen you naked yet!” He added playfully and you laughed quietly as he did too.

“You’re worth it to me too.” You assured him and he smiled bashfully. “Should we get out of here a little early?” You asked him.

“Definitely.” He agreed easily. 

>> NEXT PART >>

coming soon!

----TAG LIST----

@sunshinemoonsposts @anotherdudetteinthisworld @matildasatellite @sad-avocado @sunflovverharry @cherrysulewski @daphnesutton @gurugir @reveriehs @ottawaoutlander @jessitpwk @permanentllyharry @here4thefanfics @slutfortigertattoo @angelbabyyy99 @freedomfireflies @behindmygreyeyes @justlemmeadoreyou @devilsqueen722 @triski73 @babegoals @mypolicemanharryyy @justhereee

[tomorrowusa]

Let me make a case for Kamala Harris choosing Minnesota Gov. Tim Walz as her running mate.

Tim Walz b. 06 April 1964 (just a few months older than Kamala)

Second term governor of Minnesota.

Midwestern born, bred, and educated.

Taught social studies for 20 years.

Served 24 years in Army National Guard (decorated).

Served 12 years in the US House representing a heavily rural swing district.

Excellent progressive record as governor.

Married - has wife, son, and daughter.

Folksy but intelligent.

Gov. Walz oozes Midwestern credibility. Hillary took the Midwest for granted in 2016 and carried just Minnesota and Illinois. Walz was born in Nebraska and moved to Minnesota for grad school.

He represented a House district in Minnesota which has usually been held by Republicans. He understands the problems of rural America better than more urban Democrats.

He served in the US House for 12 years. He knows how things get done in Washington. He's not some n00b who could get rolled by slick operators.

His record as governor of Minnesota would make liberals smile. After his first term with a split legislature he quickly pushed through progressive programs after Dems took control of both chambers in 2022.

Tim Walz is a team player. He seldom talks about his administration without mentioning Lt. Gov. Peggy Flanagan. This is from his re-election site. The phrase "Tim and Peggy" is mentioned 20 times.

Accomplishments - Tim Walz for Governor

Unlike Trump or Vance, Tim Walz is actually likeable.

Unlike Trump who hates pets, the Walz family has two: Honey the Cat and Scout the Dog.

[headmasterseverussnape]

If you find it absolutely necessary to intrude upon my solitude, consider this your begrudging greeting. Listen carefully for I won’t be repeating myself.

Name: Severus Snape

Identity: Masc Nonbinary | Autistic | Sleep Deprived

Relationship: Not of relevance. However, if you must know.. @sneppu and @sevsbestfriend are my beloveds.

About Me

➤ I have a particularly keen interest in Potions Making, Dark arts, and Criminology, though I doubt these pursuits would captivate those of lesser intellect.

➤ Main Fandoms: Harry Potter, Supernatural, Gravity Falls, Good Omens, Lord of the Rings, Loki.

➤ This blog is primarily centered around Harry Potter; I do not support the insipid views of J.K. Rowling, whose opinions are as tiresome as they are misguided and long since lost their merit.

Favorites

Characters I can tolerate:

— Lucius Malfoy, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Xenophilous Lovegood, Rubeus Hagrid, Minerva McGonagall and a couple others.

Characters I hold in utter contempt:

— James Potter and Dolores Umbridge.

Ships

Ships I Can Endure:

— Snucius, Snupin, Snack and a couple others.

Ships I Find Patently Absurd:

— Honestly, just don’t ship me with Umbridge. I will block you. (Unless you’re @sneppu or @sevsbestfriend)

A Word of Caution

— Although, my first language is English; you can still expect the occasional grammatical error. Corrections may be offered, but do so at your own risk

— My patience for ignorance is limited.

— If my opinions offend your delicate sensibilities, I suggest you take the more prudent path of blocking me rather than engaging in futile disputes.

If You Dare to Approach

— Should you wish to engage in discourse with me that requires a modicum of intelligence, you may join @ollywander’s discord server. I also have my own discord server.

Until our paths cross again, remember: Even the most insufferable among us can occasionally display a shred of civility, though it is seldom expected.

[quasi-normalcy]

WHY IS it felt that the continued elevation of J K Rowling can only be achieved at the expense of other writers (Mistress of magic, News Review, last week)? Now we learn that prior to Harry Potter the world of fantasy was plagued with "knights and ladies morris-dancing to Greensleeves." In fact the best of it has always been edgy and inventive, with "the dark heart of the real world" being exactly what, underneath the top dressing, it is all about. Ever since The Lord of the Rings revitalised the genre, writers have played with it, reinvented it, subverted it and bent it to the times. It has also contained some of the very best, most accessible writing for children, by writers who seldom get the acknowledgement they deserve. Rowling says that she didn't realise that the first Potter book was fantasy until after it was published. I'm not the world's greatest expert, but I would have thought that the wizards, witches, trolls, unicorns, hidden worlds, jumping chocolate frogs, owl mail, magic food, ghosts, broomsticks and spells would have given her a clue?'

Terry Pratchett, letter in the Sunday Times, 2005.

[littlewoodblack]

Exotic Creatures; Twins

George Weasley/reader ★ 870 words

AN: didn’t proofread a thing, just rawdogged xoxo 💋💋❤️

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

“And the bludger is deflected by Fred! Or George…Whatever, who cares. Montague looks furious! He’s coming up from behind Angelina to get his revenge.”

Lee Jordan’s voice booms across Hogwarts’ quidditch pitch as he commentates the tough and speedy match happening between Gryffindor and Slytherin. Most people only half listen and players are much too preoccupied. But not George this time. His job requires him to stay within one vicinity to protect the goal post.

He grimaces and glares at Lee who has always been a close friend. Lee would never speak with malicious intentions to either of the twins. That doesn’t make him immune to insensitive comments. More so for George who received significantly less attention than Fred.

Most people find the concept of twins amusing.

Upon meeting a pair in real life, they’d be fascinated. They’d squint their eyes and smile like a suburban family at the zoo. Exotic creatures are what they are.

“Which one are you?” They would ask.

How humiliating to answer your own name because someone won’t bother to try to tell you apart from your sibling. How tiring to answer everyday, in every class, at the same school you attended since the ripe age of 11.

“SCORE! Harry Potter has caught the snitch! Victory for Gryffindor!”

George’s stream of consciousness is wildly interrupted by cheers and clapping. His teammates swarm together in the middle of the pitch and he suddenly remembers that’s where he needs to be too. Rushing over, he’s greeted by an ecstatic Fred

“Serves Malfoy right for making up that dumb song.”

“Truly.” George replies, poorly faking the same amount of joy.

“You alright mate?” Fred asks.

“Yeah.. yeah! We won! Right?”

The party afterwards was held in the Gryffindor common room. Not a Slytherin in sight. Music so loud it sent vibrations through the castle brick. Harry was cheered for, handed firewhiskey after firewhiskey. Ron right beside him with a wide smile. Not a fake one like he does when Harry is the center of attention George thought to himself.

Ron actually seldom cared about the attention Harry got compared to him. George and his bad mood sulk off into the corner. And then to the stairs. And then to his bed.

But not without you catching sight of him.

George would never be blatant about what’s on his mind. That would make him feel far too vulnerable, even with his girlfriend. But you’re no stranger to subtle hints. No stranger to guessing someone’s emotions through circumstantial inferences. I guess that’s more like it.

Just little things. Like Geroge’s altered disposition when Fred would join the group sometimes. Or the twinge of pain in his face when someone got them mixed up. It doesn’t take a genius to detect feelings like that, but apparently that’s what you were since no one else seemed to notice it. The few who did either couldn’t, or wouldn’t do anything about it.

You hastily grabbed some of the snacks and whiskey from the common room table, and headed up to the boys’ dorm.

“George?” you knocked.

No answer.

You gently cracked the door and let yourself in.

“Sweetie?”

His bed curtains were shut.

You set down the snacks, and peak in.

You find him resting on his stomach. His head, buried in pillows as if he’s attempting to shut everyone out.

You sit down and gingerly place your hand on the dip in his back.

He rips the pillows off and turns around to find you with a mildly concerned look, but still smiling.

“Oh,” he relaxes. “You scared me.”

“I knocked,” you shrug. “What are you doing up here?”

You continue to rub his back.

He shrugs. “Hiding… I guess.”

“Because…?”

“Because I don’t want to be with everyone right now.”

It’s rare that George speaks to you like you’re one of his siblings. It’s rare that he’s dismissive, or short.

“George?”

“Hmm.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Fine.”

You sigh, thinking.

“Do you want to be alone?”

He shrugs.

“If I stay here you have to be nice and be in a better mood. So I’ll ask you again, do you want to be alone?”

He sighs and sits up. “I don’t want you to leave.”

“...okay. Then are you gonna tell me what’s wrong?”

“I don’t like doing that.”

“I know. It’s okay, I think I have an idea.”

“How?” his brows furrow.

“I know everything.”

“Ah, how did I forget.” He stares off anywhere but at you.

You place your hand on his chest and kiss his cheek. “You’re special to me, George.” you whisper.

He swallows and spares a glance at you.

“You always were, always will be. Nothing is changing.”

A few moments of silence pass while George perks up just a tad.

“I’m so proud to be your girlfriend.”

You can’t seem to come up with anything else to affirm him with. You hope your tight hug is enough. Really, there’s nothing you can do. You can be there for him, reassure him, and take care of him, but it’s up to him to understand how valuable he is.

You can show him the path, just can’t bring him to the destination.

“I love you.” He mutters

[noforkingclue]

Loyalties Chapter 17 (Tommy Shelby x reader x Alfie Solomons)

Alfie Solomons tag list: @hp-howartsexpress

“What’s wrong,” Harry slung an arm over your shoulders, “aren’t you happy to have your favourite brother with you?”

“You’re my only brother,” you said, shrugging off his arm, “and I don’t need looking after. Is that why Alfie sent you?”

“I know that,” said Harry, rolling his eyes, “and Alfie does as well.”

“Then why are you here?”

“I think we both know the answer to that.”

Silence fell over the two of you as the train hurtled towards Birmingham. Harry sighed and moved from his seat next to you to the one opposite you. He looked out of the window as he drummed his fingers on the seat.

“Don’t you wish,” he said eventually, “to leave this life behind?”

You glanced up from your book before sighing and putting it away. Harry gave you a brief glance before quickly looking out of the window again.

“Where has this come from?” you asked

Harry looked at the door and leant forward. He lowered his voice and said,

“Maybe I’m sick of the killing. For King and country and now for Alfie. Don’t you just want a normal life?”

“Since when have we ever had a normal life?”

“You know what I fucking mean.”

“Harry,” you said with a sigh, “Alfie’s been good to us. We owe him.”

“I know,” Harry ran a hand over his face, “is that why you’re with him? Because you owe him.”

You looked over at him sharply and Harry winced. He gave you a guilty look and said,

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Damn fucking right you shouldn’t have.”

“But I need to know- you and Alfie…”

“Yes?”

“Are you?”

“Are we what?”

“Y’know.”

“I’d rather you say it.”

Harry grunted and looked back out the window. You smirked and settled back in your seat. It was funny, Harry could kill people stone dead without even batting an eye but as soon as you mentioned your love life he got embarrassed.

“What about you?” you said teasingly, “and that corner shop girl? Oh what was her name again? Ah yes, Rachel!”

“Shut the fuck up!”

“Am I going to be a bridesmaid when you two eventually marry?”

“Only if Alfie makes me best man when you marry him.”

*

It was a quiet night as you settled back into your lodgings. Once again you had the place to yourself. Alfie had stuck Harry in some hotel somewhere in the city and gave him strict orders to keep a low profile. You took a sip of the tea you had made as you started getting ready for bed. It had been a long journey and all you wanted to do was go to sleep.

“I thought I told you that I didn’t want snipers in my city.”

You glanced over your shoulder and saw Tommy leaning against the wall. He lit a cigarette and you said,

“And who might you be talking about, Mr Shelby?”

“Mr Shelby,” he gave you a small smile and pushed himself off the wall, “I thought we were past that.”

“You thought wrong then. Even the leader of the infamous Peaky Blinders makes mistakes although I did think that you were more the kick the door down instead of picking the lock type of person. I see there’s still a lot to learn about you, Mr Shelby.”

“And you’ll soon learn that I seldom make mistakes, Ms L/n.”

Tommy stopped directly in front of you. He blew a stream of smoke into your face and you closed your eyes and inhaled deeply. When you opened them again you found yourself locked into his blue gaze. You really hadn’t seen anyone else with eyes like his. Tommy flicked the now gone out cigarette to the side and cupped your face. You knew you should pull away but you found that you couldn’t.

“I told you that you’d come back to me.”

Then he pressed his lips roughly against yours. You let out a squeak of surprise as Tommy sunk his teeth into your bottom lip. He pushed you against the kitchen counter and you tangled your fingers in his hair. You sat up on the counter and immediately Tommy stood between your legs. When the two of you broke the kiss he remained close, pressing his forehead against yours.

“Stay.” he said

“I can for now.”

“And then you’ll be back in London.”

“Yes.”

“And there’s nothing,” his hand trailed down to your waist, “I can do to persuade you to stay.”

“No,” you grabbed his wrist and pulled it away, “you can’t.”

“You weren’t saying that last time.”

Once again he captured your lips. However, there was less of the bruising possessiveness that you had come to expect from him. He ran his tongue against the seam of your lips, wanting you to give into him. Part of you was tempted. To give into those dark desires that Tommy so skillfully pulled out from you.

But you couldn’t do it.

You couldn’t do it to Alfie.

You broke the kiss and Tommy grimaced at it. He remained close and you could feel his breath fan across your face.

“I’m not going to take no for an answer.” he said

“And you know what happened to the last person who ignored that word. Mr Shelby, may I ask you something?”

“You may.”

“Why do you want me to stay here in Birmingham?”

“I thought I made that perfectly clear last time we met.”

“So it’s not just to,” you paused as you looked for the right words, “spite Alfie.”

“You think that I’d be doing something this dangerous just to spite Alfie, love?”

“Possibly. You seem like the petty type.”

“Pettiness has nothing to do with this.”

“Then what does?”

Tommy stroked your cheek with the back of his hand. You resisted the urge to lean in. Tommy smirked, almost as though he was guessing about your temptation.

“You will stay.” he said

“Alfie has asked me to,” you said, “of course I’ll stay.”

“Because he asked you to or because you want to.”

“Because I-”

You didn’t finish your sentence as Tommy pressed his lips against yours. He pressed his tongue down against yours, a sign of his domination over you.

Or his apparent domination.

You pressed your teeth down warningly on his tongue. However, Tommy just moaned at the action and your hands flew to his shoulders. You wanted to push him away. You knew that you should. Instead you found yourself slowly returning the kiss that you knew could ruin everything.

“I want you to stay,” said Tommy, when he broke the kiss, “here.”

“In this house?”

“In Birmingham.”

“Why?”

“You want me to spell it out for you?”

“I’d like for you to admit it.”

“And will you admit the same thing?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Why?”

“Because-”

You cut yourself off and pressed your head against Tommy’s chest. Tommy wrapped his arms around you, the both of you knowing the truth.

You loved Alfie.

And you… had feelings for Tommy.

“Love,” Tommy’s voice dragged you out of your thoughts, “I’m going to be having some business going on in the next couple of days.”

“Business with Alfie?”

“Not necessarily.”

He pressed a kiss against your forehead.

“I want you to lie low until it’s over.”

“I’ll go back to London-”

“No,” Tommy interrupted you harshly, “no, you’ll stay here where I know where you are. When this is over,” he walked towards the door, “we’ll talk about why you should stay in Birmingham. With me.”

[adore-laur]

DAD HARRY: PART THREE

— part one | part two

October—Flashback

The leaves on southern California’s oak and cottonwood trees are changing colors at last. Various shades of green bleed into marigold and maroon to commence the beginning of autumn. The weather is pleasant when it nears the end of the year, with temperatures never dipping below seventy degrees. Brisk winds blow by the Pacific Ocean, and migrating clusters of monarch butterflies flutter around orange milkweed with their stained-glass wings, looking similar to the plants they feed from.

Driving alongside the premature sunset, you press your foot on the brake pad and pull into the crowded restaurant parking lot. Harry has been bartending for a wedding's cocktail hour, which he seldom does under his title of head chef. Before he left, he mentioned that he wanted to talk to you about something important after his shift, so he reserved a table in the dining area where both of you could discuss it over dinner. Luckily, he doesn't have to work his way into the early morning since someone will replace him once the reception officially starts.

Today is Harry's last shift before he'll be home for an extended period of time. He managed to save all of his annual vacation days and is free from work for the last month of your pregnancy, as well as being allowed twelve weeks of paternity leave once the baby is born.

It's difficult to imagine how much convincing it took and the scheduling difficulties Harry had to face to get everything sorted. You're worried that the restaurant will crumble without his supervision, but you shouldn't judge his expertise on the matter. He knows what he's doing.

You stroll through the front doors while smoothing the chiffon fabric of your dress over your baby bump. Frequently, you’ve been wearing Harry's shirts ever since your bump has gotten too large to wear your own, but you wanted to look nice tonight. It’s been grueling trying to accept your changing body, which is why you strive to do little things to take care of your mental health. Even though you've been more concerned about your physical health as of lately, if something as simple as putting on a pretty dress can boost your confidence, you'll take advantage of the opportunity.

Carefully weaving through round, decorated tables, you peer at the bar area operating against the farthest wall. Harry's back is turned to you, broad and familiar, as he washes cocktail glasses. His defined muscles shift under the tight, black button-up he wears, and the sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, revealing the array of tattoos on his forearms. He's also sporting fitted slacks with matching suspenders attached to them. He's been growing out his hair during the last couple of months, with curls now flourishing past his ears. He always keeps them pushed back with a bandana or headband so that they don't fall in his eyes while he works.

You don't want to be a nuisance and steal a seat from any guests, so you stand off to the side and wait for Harry to finish his cleaning duties. His bulky rings clink against champagne and wine glasses as he dries them with a rag and sets them under the counter. You can hear him faintly whistling along to the jazz music coming from the connected banquet hall.

Once Harry finishes wiping his station clean, he sneakily takes out his phone and starts typing—you assume he's texting you to let you know he's done. He then washes his hands as another bartender walks behind the counter to clock in. They must be the one replacing him. You're not too knowledgeable about the rotation of bartenders since Harry is almost always in the back running the kitchen. It’s intriguing to see him adjust his skill set in a different environment.

He gives the employee a friendly squeeze on their shoulder before clocking out and heading in your direction. He nearly brushes past you while taking his phone out again, completely oblivious to your presence, and you laugh before stopping him with a hand on his chest. It makes him stumble back with a confused frown, but he quickly smiles in surprise when he recognizes you.

"How'd you get in?" he asks breathlessly, kissing your cheek.

"I told the security guards at the gate that I’m picking up my husband. If they said no, I was going to tell them my water broke."

He smirks proudly. "Clever. How are you feeling? Baby's good?" He holds your upper arms, and his eyes scan your body as if you've changed drastically since you saw him only four hours ago.

"All good. Just a sore back like usual." You toy with one of his suspender straps. "What about you? It's your last shift for a while."

Exhaling happily, Harry clasps your hand in his and says, "I feel fantastic. Let's go eat, yeah? I'm starving."

He guides you through an open doorway leading to the restaurant's dining area, where your reserved table is. In the back of the room, you spot a candlelit booth with plates, silverware, and two glasses filled with ice water. The water doesn't go unnoticed, considering Harry set a goal for himself to stop drinking alcohol along with you.

On the windowsill, a stout vase with beautiful red roses catches your eye as you sit down. Harry slides into the seat across from you. Only a few other booths are occupied—otherwise, the room is serenely quiet, with the occasional clink of metal and a sprinkle of chatter.

"You look angelic, by the way," Harry says before taking a sip of his water.

"Thank you," you whisper, nudging his foot with yours under the table. "I like your suspenders. They remind me of when you used to be a rookie assistant chef that I'd visit. You wore them under your chef coat with a fancy little neckerchief. I thought you looked so adorable."

"Now I'm old and weathered," he replies wryly.

"Well, you're turning thirty soon. And you'll be a dad in a month. Isn't that when someone officially becomes a DILF?" You're not sure why you casually mentioned the racy acronym over a romantic dinner, but it's too late to retreat now.

Harry's eyes gleam, and he fails miserably at hiding a smile under his scrunched nose. "Pardon? What are you trying to insinuate, darling?"

"Nothing! Never mind,” you say, embarrassed that you ever spoke. "I was only trying to bring up a nice memory. Reminiscing, if you will. Forget I said anything."

"I'm definitely not forgetting that. That ugly neckerchief, however..." He laughs at himself. "God, it feels like forever ago. Time flies."

"I thought it was kind of attractive," you mumble around the rim of your glass.

He raises his eyebrows as a warning to not start something you don't want to finish, then clears his throat and rests his forearms on the table. "Speaking of work, that's what I wanted to talk to you about tonight. I want you to keep an open mind, okay?"

Your lips downturn in curiosity. Just as you're about to reply, a waiter arrives at the table with a tray of steaming dishes and places them in the center. You texted Harry what you wanted from the menu after he left this morning, and since he's the boss, everything is free, cooked to perfection, and served promptly.

"Thank you," Harry says before focusing on you again. The waiter leaves, and you begin picking at your food to distract yourself from your increasing heart rate.

"Um, did you say work? Did you get a promotion? Is that even a possibility for a head chef?"

You can physically see the color drain from his face. "So," he says nervously, ignoring your questions, "the baby's coming soon, yes? Obviously."

"Right," you reply with suspicion.

Shifting in his seat, he sets his fork down and runs a hand through his tousled hair. "Listen, the restaurant during autumn and winter isn't as busy as the summertime. You know that. And because of that, I want to be home with you and the baby as much as possible. And I will with paternity leave, but once I go back to work, my hours will pick up again, and it'll be—"

"Harry, just tell me," you interrupt gently. He has a bad habit of running circles around topics.

He blows out a long breath. "I'm demoting myself. It's in the works that I'll be the sous chef when I return, so that means fewer hours and more time at home."

You're glad you don't take a sip of water yet because you nearly choke. Demotion? He’s never mentioned that before.

"Can I ask why in the world you would do that?" you ask. You don't mean to sound snippy, but pregnancy hormones, mixed with Harry's revelation, cause a pit of unwarranted annoyance to simmer in your gut.

"Love, let me explain." He reaches his hand across the table and squeezes yours. "This is my choice. It's final, all right? I'm not going to work ten hours a day, six days a week, while you're at home with our baby. That's ridiculous."

"But what about—"

"Stop while you're ahead, because you're going to overthink it," he says calmly. "If you're worried about money, don't be. It's only a slight decrease in my wage. Everything will be fine."

Your annoyance wins as you slide your free hand down your face. "You realize that we'll need more money when the baby comes. It's common sense. Why would you think cutting your hours is a smart idea?"

Harry scoffs like what you're saying is illogical. He leans in closer so that the impending argument doesn't disrupt anyone's dinner, his voice hushed yet stern when he replies, "Would you rather have me come home every day absolutely knackered and then spend a maximum of four hours with our child before I have to get up to do it all over again? Hmm?"

You shake your head in irritation and remove your hand from his. "It's called adapting. It may be tough at first, but it becomes second nature. We just have to wait until the baby gets here to figure out a schedule that works."

Harry falls back against the booth. He throws his hands up in frustration, and they slap against his thighs before he says, "Do you realize how stupid you sound right now? You're talking about money and scheduling like we're—"

"I'm leaving." When you stand, Harry's mouth instantly clamps shut. You don't care that you barely ate your food—you can't listen to him anymore. You're awfully close to lashing out.

Heading the way you came from, you hear Harry's footsteps scuffing the floor behind you. Once you're in the parking lot, you groan when you remember that he has to ride home with you since you dropped him off earlier. While you struggle to unlock the car, you see Harry in your peripheral, striding to stop you from going any further.

"I didn't mean it. I'm sorry." His shoulders sulk, and he looks genuinely distraught. "Can we please talk this through when we get home?"

Your eyes dance over his defeated expression. You can’t say no since you live together, plus you promised years ago never to go to bed angry at each other. So, you nod your head, and he shoots you a timorous smile before withdrawing to the passenger side.

As you drive, you give Harry the harrowing silent treatment. He deserves it, considering he's looking out the window with his arms crossed and pouting like a child. The only sound in the confined space is the air conditioner running and cars whooshing past on the freeway. Your stomach grumbles, and you feel terrible about leaving two five-star plates of food untouched at the restaurant.

After several minutes of dreadful silence, Harry finally breaks the tension when you park in the garage. He grabs a white envelope tucked in the center console and asks, "What's this?"

Oh. You forgot about that.

"Nothing," you mutter, unbuckling your seatbelt.

Harry rolls his eyes and flings the envelope onto the dashboard, then reaches over to take the key out of the ignition. Seconds pass before you hear him open the front door and then shut it harder than necessary.

You swallow down vexation. There have been tiny arguments more often since you got pregnant, and you blame your hormones every time for getting irritated so easily. Usually, Harry isn't the sole reason for those heightened emotions, but there are situations when he can be so stubborn that you just want to shake him out of it.

Eventually, you get out of the car with the envelope in hand and head down to the beach for some time alone. It'll be nice to sit by the water and cool down, figuratively and literally. You have an inclination that if you try to hash it out with Harry right now, it will only result in more regretful words said.

You reach the private stretch of sand that’s part of your beachfront property, holding your bump protectively as you descend the wooden steps. It's chilly by the oceanside this time of year, so you grab a towel that was left on the railing from previous evenings and drape it over your shoulders.

As the October sunset tinges the sky with orange and pink streaks, you sit down and reflect on the unfortunate escalation of your conversation with Harry. You love him dearly and could never feel an ounce of hatred toward him. He has never given you a reason to doubt anything, but to put his career on the back burner without mentioning it to you is hurtful. You almost feel guilty knowing he made the choice because of you and the baby. Sometimes, you shy away from being the main priority because you don't want to feel like a burden. In retrospect, it's incredibly thoughtful that he wants to work less to spend quality time with the baby when they arrive. On the other hand, you can't help but worry that you won't be financially secure because of it.

"Hungry?"

Your head shifts to find Harry walking toward you with a spoon and a strange-looking vegetable in his hand. It's impossible not to smile when you note the outfit he changed into—pale yellow trousers and an argyle knit sweater. All of his rings are off except for his gold wedding band. His feet are bare.

He's the love of your life and has nothing but pure intentions, so how could you not trust his decision?

"What is that?" you ask, pointing to the vegetable as Harry gets comfortable beside you.

"Jicama," he replies with a shrug. "A pregnancy blog said that at thirty-two weeks, a baby is as big as one of these bad boys. So, naturally, I bought one."

You have to turn your face so he doesn't see your irrepressible smile. You're not giving him the benefit of seeing you crack from his endearing ways just yet. "You're an unusual man, Harry Styles. Do you plan on buying more fruit for the last four weeks?"

"I already put pineapple on the grocery list," he says unconcernedly as he scoops out a chunk of the jicama. "Anyway, I didn't come out here to discuss fruit." His tongue sticks out when he takes a bite, the spoon leaving his mouth with a pop before he points it at you. "Still mad at me?"

You sigh, knowing it's useless to continue acting like he's in the wrong. "I can't stay mad at you. And I don't know why I got so worked up. I was just being overdramatic."

Harry hums thoughtfully as he swallows another bite. "Expressing how you feel isn't overdramatic. Don't apologize for having those feelings, especially toward me. Yell at me if I'm being a dick; kiss me if I'm being a dreamboat. It’s simple, baby." He finishes his little speech by shoving another spoonful of jicama into his mouth, chewing introspectively while staring at the waves.

"Was it Socrates who said that?"

He plucks your bottom lip with the spoon and murmurs, "You're feisty today."

"Back to the topic," you say before he can rile you up. "Money shouldn't have been what my mind first went to. It's still a concern, but ultimately, making time for our family is the most important thing. I apologize for freaking out."

"You're forgiven." Harry scoots closer and holds a spoonful to your mouth. You accept the nutty flavor as he continues, "And I'm so sorry for saying you sounded stupid. Please know that that’s the furthest thing from the truth."

"We all say things we don't mean sometimes," you reply. “There's no use in acting like I haven't done the same thing in the past.”

Harry slings his arm around your shoulders, bringing you in for a warm side hug. "What you said is true, by the way. We have time to figure things out and adapt. Let's enjoy this last month we have to ourselves.”

You nod in agreement. "I also want to thank you for being so thoughtful and putting our family first. I trust you with this new life chapter. I don't doubt you at all."

"Don't worry about it," he says, kissing your temple. "I'm proud of you for dealing with every mental and physical change these past eight months. And I will always be here for you through the good and bad moments, all right? In sickness, in health, and everything in between.”

You smile fondly and take out the white envelope that’s been hiding under your leg. "Are you in the mood for a good moment with me?" Harry looks confused but nods anyway. "When you saw this in the car, it's not nothing like I said it was. It's from my prenatal appointment I went to a few days ago. I know we decided to find out the gender a month before my due date, so I had the doctor write the answer down.” You inhale an anxious breath. “I haven't looked at it yet."

Harry's eyes widen, and his mouth parts as he sets the jicama down. "I am not prepared for this. Wait, hold on. Let me breathe for a second." His head tilts up toward the sky as he takes dramatic, calming breaths.

You laugh and place the envelope on his thigh. "Do the honors, Styles. Let's see if your prediction is right."

He picks it up and carefully opens the seal. Unfolding the paper filled with your clinical notes, he quickly skims the tiny lettering to look for the answer he's been desperately waiting for.

"Holy shit," he says, his voice cracking as his hand covers his mouth.

"I'm guessing you're right," you say shakily, your eyes watering.

"Girl… we’re having a girl.”He wipes away his tears, smiling widely. "Why am I crying? I was confident it was a girl."

"Because it makes things more real," you say, leaning over to kiss his damp, rosy cheeks. "Now we know for sure."

"Come here, honey. Let me take a look at her."

You sit on your knees between Harry’s spread legs. He sets the envelope down and lifts your dress, revealing your bump that puts quite some distance between you and him. His hands splay across the taut skin as he leans down to kiss right above your belly button. He gazes up at you under his wet lashes and smiles against your stomach, his dimples carving pure happiness into his cheeks.

"I love you," he whispers with a sniffle. "I love both of you so much. With my entire soul."

In that moment, everything falls into place.

——

July—Present Day

Everything is falling apart.

Well, not really, but it sure feels that way when you bend over the toilet at seven in the morning and empty your queasy stomach once again.

It's the first Sunday in July, marking the tenth week of your second pregnancy. When you woke up with a wave of morning sickness a couple of hours ago, you noticed something peculiar. As you were rubbing circles on your abdomen to ease the nausea, it appeared that your stomach had seemingly popped overnight. The curve was more prominent and firm—a small bump you must have mistaken for bloating. It’s pretty much nonexistent in any loose garment, but anything tight will hug it nicely and be a constant reminder of baby number two growing in there.

Dizzily standing, you move toward the sink to brush your teeth for the umpteenth time, then gurgle some spearmint mouthwash to diminish the rancid taste in your mouth. Pots and pans clang downstairs as you wipe your lips, and the occasional giggle from your daughter mixes with Harry's theatrical voice, which he puts on whenever she watches him cook.

The smell of sizzling bacon doesn't help the swirling feeling in your stomach as you head downstairs to the kitchen. Their lighthearted commotion grows louder, and you stop in the doorway to soak in your favorite part of Sunday mornings. Harry is in front of the island, and your daughter stands on her tiptoes on a step stool next to him, the two of them watching pancakes turn golden brown on the griddle. He's in full Dad Mode with tired eyes and an outfit that screams: I have a toddler and pregnant wife at home. In other words, a black button-up with pink flamingos on it and grey pleated trousers. They don't match whatsoever, but you know he doesn't care. Clothing isn’t his prime concern—family is.

He voyages around the kitchen, pouring orange juice, dropping chocolate chips into the batter, and ensuring your daughter's little hands don't touch anything hazardous. Your hand subconsciously drifts to your bump as you think about how you'll get to see him interact with a newborn again—cuddling them, rocking them to sleep, and pretending to eat their chubby hands and feet. He still does all those things with your daughter, and it breaks your heart knowing she'll grow out of it one day.

"Good morning," Harry says with his back turned, halting your daydreaming. How does he always sense your presence?

When you don't say anything, he turns to glance at you while sliding a heart-shaped pancake onto a plate. Your smile stretches wider as you curl your pointer finger to beckon him closer. He gives you a confused look before unplugging the griddle and instructing your daughter not to touch anything on the counter. She'll be too distracted by the cartoon playing on the television to even notice that the both of you will be gone for a moment.

"What's up, baby?" Sauntering toward you, Harry sticks his thumb in his mouth to lick some excess pancake batter off.

"I have a surprise for you," you whisper, accepting his slow, relaxed kiss.

"Yeah? S'it my half-birthday or something?" he asks, his voice still gravelly and slurred from sleep.

"No, this isn't about you," you tease with a pinch to his hip. "Come with me."

You grab his hand and lead him to the bathroom just down the hall. Flicking the light switch on, you stand in front of the mirror and say, "I'm ten weeks along. I woke up with a little morning sickness, and look!" You lift your shirt and turn to the side to show him a better angle of your stomach. "It was just pudge before, but it's an actual bump now."

Behind you, Harry rubs his warm hands over the swell and marvels at it. "Well, I’ll be damned. You... fuck, this happened overnight. I was spooning you this morning! How did I not notice?"

"I don't know. I didn't notice either, and it's my own body." You shake your head disbelievingly and place your hands over his. "I read that a woman's second pregnancy will have them showing earlier. I guess that's why I popped so soon. Last time, I didn't show until fourteen weeks or something like that."

He hums lowly, pulling you further back against his chest. "I've missed seeing you like this. It makes you glow more than usual." His mouth is by your ear when he murmurs, "Makes me hard."

"You're so naughty in the mornings," you say, removing yourself from his grasp and pulling down your shirt. "C'mon, let's eat breakfast."

Harry whines in protest, gently grabbing your face and turning it toward him so he can nip your nose and then lock your lips together. After your stolen moment alone, the both of you head back to the kitchen to enjoy another blissful Sunday morning.

——

Takeout pizza is on the menu tonight. The Volvo’s trunk is open, with blankets and pillows strewn about to create a fort-like space for the three of you to sit in. Harry drove the vehicle down to the beach so you all could watch the sunset and feel the ocean breeze.

You get comfortable in the trunk and set paper plates and napkins down. Harry and your daughter are in the nearby beach grass, picking wildflowers that blossom there. They wander, her tiny hand gripping stems while her other holds Harry’s. Her precious strawberry-patterned dress flows in the wind.

Moments later, they come strolling toward the car with content smiles. Your daughter crawls into the trunk with your help and hands you a makeshift bouquet of yellow and purple wildflowers.

"Thank you, sweetheart," you say, kissing her windswept hair.

Harry places his hands on either side of your thighs and leans in for some of your affection. You peck his lips—they're pink from the fruit punch he made earlier. Before he retreats, he glances at your baby bump and then looks at you with a crooked smile, his thumb delicately stroking the curve.

"Kumquat," he says, clicking his tongue.

You laugh, albeit not understanding. "Come again?"

"A baby at ten weeks is the size of a kumquat," he explains, like it's a well-known fact.

"Interesting," you say. "Well, the kumquat is hungry, so get up here and cut the pizza."

Your daughter is oblivious to the conversation as Harry scoots next to you and begins rolling the pizza cutter. His forearm muscles flex, the veins popping out. "Small bites, little lady," he tells her as he puts a slice on her plate.

Reaching behind you, you grab the bottle of sparkly pink nail polish you brought out. "She wants you to paint her nails."

Harry nods and pats his lap. She sits between his legs and waits patiently. While taking the bottle of polish from you and shaking it, his phone’s ringtone suddenly goes off. He juts his lips out as he reaches into his pocket to check the number.

"Hello?" he answers, balancing his phone between his ear and shoulder. He opens the polish’s cap and begins painting her nails.

You observe his facial expressions. He has a serious look and frequently nods as he listens to whoever's on the other end of the line. You pluck a green pepper off the pizza and eat it, feeling a swirl of anticipation in your gut.

"Tomorrow? Are you sure?" he asks. You hear an unfamiliar muffled voice before he says, "Awesome, thank you. Call me if anything changes. Okay, bye." He sets down the nail polish and hangs up before resuming painting her pointer finger.

"Who was that?" you ask while tucking a wildflower stem behind his ear. He looks handsome in the evening light.

"My boss," he says, licking his thumb and wiping a smudge he made. “I don't have to go in tomorrow since there are barely any reservations."

"No sparkles," your daughter blurts before you can reply. Harry freezes and eyes you perplexedly.

"What?" you ask. She points to one of her painted nails and frowns. You gently take her hand and observe it closely—no sparkles are showing up. "I'm sorry, sweetie. It must be icky polish. We can take it off and get another one."

It's almost scary how quickly the waterworks start. You exhale as you take the plate from her so she doesn't throw a fit and make a mess. She's crying and staring at Harry like he's the cause of no sparkles. Well, maybe he didn't shake the bottle enough, but you keep your mouth shut so you don't make matters worse.

Harry grabs her waist and props her in front of him. "Mommy said we can get some more, all right? We’re not throwing a tantrum right now. Behave, or I'm not painting your nails."

You could have predicted what happens next from experience. Her harmless fists hit his chest in frustration, and undried polish smears all over his shirt. Harry has always been good at controlling these minor mishaps, so he inhales deeply before lifting her writhing body.

"Early bedtime it is, then," he mutters while walking toward the house.

You begin cleaning up the short-lived dinner. It isn't anything new you've had to deal with, but it exhausts you, especially when she has a tantrum during family time. You take the pizza box out of the trunk, then close it and decide to clean everything else tomorrow. You drive the car up to the garage and lock the doors before stepping inside.

After putting the pizza in the fridge, you stand outside your daughter's bedroom door and listen for any crying or screaming. A sigh of relief leaves you when only subsiding whimpers indicate her tantrum has deescalated for the night.

Opening the door, your heart softens at the sight you walk in on. Harry sits against her headboard, his feet hanging past the edge of her bed, as he cradles his baby girl. He soothingly rocks her side to side with his eyes closed as he rubs circles on her back. Her heavy eyes are barely open, and her tear-stained cheeks are smushed against Harry's chest. She's in her pajamas now.

You kneel next to her bed, and she extends her arm, reaching for you. Harry jolts awake and opens his eyes. His grip loosens when he notices that she wants you. You stand and take her in your arms, her legs hugging your waist. You then sit by Harry's thighs and quietly laugh when you see the residue of pink nail polish staining his shirt.

Harry grins and clasps his hands behind his head, stretching his limbs. "It's not funny. I bought this shirt because of her, and this is what I got in return. She's a menace."

You squeeze his ankle in good nature and say, "I wonder where she gets it from."

He gasps in faux offense and grabs your daughter's hand, shaking it playfully. "Mommy’s being mean, don't you think?"

She sleepily shakes her head. You raise your eyebrows smugly before smattering her cheeks with kisses until she smiles and tiredly whines into your neck.

Harry yawns before catching your gaze and jerking his head toward your stomach. "Should we tell her?" he mouths.

Your heart rate quickens. You're not worried that she'll be upset, considering she’s asked—as best she could with her limited vocabulary—if she could have a sibling on a few occasions. You think it's time to tell her the news now that you're showing.

When you nod, Harry swings his legs over the mattress and crouches between your knees. You shift your daughter so she's settled sideways on your lap, then nod again to let him initiate the conversation.

"We have something to tell you, sweetheart," he says with a fond gentleness reserved only for her. Her head turns away from the safety of your neck. "You know how you've been asking about a baby brother or sister?" She nods languidly, prompting him to ask, "Can you look at Mommy’s belly?"

You situate her beside you and lift the stretchy material of your tank top. Harry says, "There's a baby in her belly." He guides her hand to your bump. "Your brother or sister is growing in there."

Her expression is unreadable at first, but then she gazes at you with curious eyes. "Baby," she utters drowsily. She's about one second away from slipping into a deep sleep.

"I don't think she'll remember in the morning," Harry says with a laugh.

You smile dotingly and stand before tucking her into bed. You kiss her forehead and watch her doze off as Harry tells her goodnight, whispering his boundless love for her and sealing his truthful words with a feather-light kiss to both of her cheeks.

Shutting off her bedside lamp, you leave the room with Harry hot on your heels. You're in the process of pulling your tank top down on the way to your bedroom, but before you can reach the door, Harry grabs your hips, stopping you in the dim hallway.

"You can't look this good and go straight to bed," he says, his breath warm and intimate.

"Mom needs her sleep before work tomorrow," you reply with a smirk. Although you wouldn't mind staying up a bit longer if he continues complimenting you.

"Please, baby," he murmurs, his hands drifting dangerously lower. "Just a quick one, yeah? I'll let you do whatever you want to me."

Don't give in, you tell yourself. Make him work for it. 

"Anything?" you ask sensually as his fingers begin to brush along your inner thighs, causing your knees to weaken temporarily.

Harry licks his lips, his tongue poking your neck with the faintest touch. "Don't act like I wouldn't let you ruin me, darling."

You clench your thighs around his hand, and he groans against your neck. "But I'm so tired, Harry. It won't last very long if I do what I want with you."

"Like I give a shit." He cups your core with his palm, his impatient fingers stroking over the fabric of your silk pajama shorts. "You could give me the sloppiest blowjob ever, and I'd still worship the ground you walk on."

You bite your bottom lip, suppressing the urge to moan. "Will you run me a bath afterward?"

"We can fuck in the bath instead."

You ponder for a second. "It would be an easy cleanup. We'd have to do it in the downstairs bathroom, though, and you'd have to be quiet. Think you can handle that?"

"I don’t know. Do you plan on making me scream?"

"I could always put those suspenders you wore today in your mouth to shut you up."

He exhales a sexy breath, one that reveals you caught him off guard. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

You hum and grab his hand, raising it to your mouth to nip at the calloused pad of his thumb before walking down the stairs to the bathroom just around the corner. The porcelain tub awaits, and you turn the knob and plug the drain. The bay window it sits in front of exhibits an endless ocean and a sky that’s fading into starlit shades of dark blue.

Once the water is high enough and sufficiently warm, you shut the faucet off and begin removing your clothes. Harry enters the bathroom a few moments later and locks the door behind him. He unbuttons his shirt slowly while facing the mirror, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

You step into the tub and watch him. He's taking his trousers off now, his exposed back muscles flexing along with his biceps as he shimmies the garment down his legs. His body is truly something from a beautiful dream. Every inch blesses your eyes.

He's entirely naked when you break away from your reverie. His long legs gracefully step over the tub's ledge to settle behind you. A muted moan escapes him when his cock rubs against your lower back.

"Already making noise, and I haven't even started yet," you tease, leaning into his touch.

"Can you blame me? I have my wife"—his fingers glide against your pulsing entrance—"dripping for me. Absolutely soaked."

"Then do something about it."

Harry palms your clit, and you instinctively bend your knees. "I thought you wanted to be in control tonight."

"Will you be good? You have a reputation for getting antsy and taking over."

His hands travel to your sensitive breasts, squeezing them. "Yeah? Does that bother you?"

"You know I like it when you're submissive. Especially when you whine for me and try to touch me when you know you can't."

"Go on, then. Take care of your husband."

"I'm going to take care of myself first." You turn around and straddle his thighs—above his kneecap, your name is inked permanently.

"Ride it. You're the only one who's allowed to." His hands try to latch onto your waist, but you slap them away.

"Touch yourself while I ride you."

Harry's tongue pokes the inside of his cheek as he grips his cock, squeezing and twisting to satiate himself. You grind on his thigh to relieve the building pressure and stifle your moans into his neck. You’re slick with arousal as his thigh muscle flexes with each motion. He starts pumping, his arm resting on the edge of the tub. Your palm presses against his abdomen, causing him to release a choked moan.

You shush him. "You have to be quiet. What do you need? Tell me what you want, and I'll give it to you since you're being so good."

"You," he whispers with a pained look etched on his face. "I need you around my cock. Please, please, please."

His voice dies with each plea, and you cradle his limp head as he fully submits to you. Whenever he begs, you unravel too. Your dominant wall crumbles with his whines, and his deep voice always goes a pitch higher to show his desperation for you. His pink lips form solicitous praises and carnal noises of desire. You want to kiss them until they’re swollen and numb.

"I know," you say, kissing the indent between his eyebrows. "I'm ready."

Shakily lifting yourself off his thigh, you get Harry to sit up more in the tub so he can line his cock up with your entrance. When you slowly lower into him, he stretches your walls and sinks deep. Your fingers scratch his chest, your body leaning into him as you ride him. He moans, and you cover his mouth. His muffled whimpers encourage you to go faster.

Through ragged breaths, Harry says, "Let me come on your stomach. You're so beautiful like this."

Who are you to say no to such a filthy request?

"Are you close?" Your question lingers in the air, and Harry seems to be spaced out from pleasure because he doesn't answer. You feel him throb inside you as he jerks his hips up at a different angle. His glistening chest is heaving, and his eyes are pinched shut.

"Harry." You cradle his cheeks to bring him back to earth. "Are you close?"

He hears you this time, nodding fervently until, little by little, he slips himself out of you and stands up in the tub. You follow his lead and sit on the edge so that he towers over you. He holds his cock and looks up at the ceiling as he comes. You hold his free hand to balance him, his legs trembling and his lips pulled inward to stop any moans from escaping.

Harry’s warm release drips down on you, and once he finishes, he falls to his knees in the water, some of it splashing over the tub and onto the floor. His hands grip your ankles to put them over his shoulders, leaving sloppy kisses on your legs. You spread them more so he can finish you off. You could orgasm in two seconds flat if he puts his mouth on you.

"Fingers or mouth?" he asks.

"Mouth. Can I come on you too?"

He whines against your inner thigh. "Yeah?"

You nod, and Harry immediately latches his mouth on your clit. There's already pressure building in your lower stomach. He moves down to lick inside of you, his nose nudging your clit as his hands splay on your bump. It’s a protective move on his part.

"Feels so good," you say, placing your hands on the tub's edge to steady yourself. "I feel it. Please don't stop."

He licks a long stripe upward, not holding back by going inside so deep that it makes you ache. Your legs tighten around him until you sense your burning climax approaching.

"Harry. Please, I need—" You can't finish your sentence because Harry stands up abruptly and hooks his hand under your knees to lift you, carefully stepping out of the tub and setting you on the rug. It's messy and uncoordinated—however, he's never the one to give you a stagnant sex life.

He cradles you as your body quivers, then lays down on his back so you can fulfill your request. You straddle his torso, your slickness settling on his abdomen in the dim lighting of the bathroom. His thumb presses onto your clit, a move that always makes your orgasm boil over. Your neck tilts back, and you come. Harry's hands are everywhere—kneading your ass, rubbing up and down your thighs, and groping your breasts. You ride out the last of your release. His skin is sticky with your arousal, and you eventually collapse on your back next to him in exhaustion.

"C'mere, love," Harry says, his arm extended. “You're too far away."

You exhale, your hands resting on your bump. "I can't. My legs feel like jelly."

Harry snorts a laugh and sits up. He quickly unplugs the drain and crawls over to hover above you, placing a kiss on your stomach. He blindly finds a towel nearby and begins wiping you clean.

"This is the lamest aftercare ever," you say, laughing tiredly. The dry towel doesn't feel nice on your sweaty skin, and Harry's movements are lazy.

"That's enough out of you," he replies through his exhaustion, gently cleaning your stomach.

"Should I take off work tomorrow?" you wonder aloud. "I want to sleep in."

"Yes," he whispers, grabbing your hands to position you upright. His eyes take in every bit of you. "Look at you. You're going to be the death of me."

Every nerve of yours seems to tingle at his words. "Remember when I was pregnant last time, and you nearly broke my back during sex?"

Harry cackles way too loud, and you hush him as his hands slap over his mouth. "I was so scared when that happened. But I could only take you from behind because you were ready to pop, so it's not entirely my fault."

"Excuse me? How is that not your fault?" You yank the towel from his loose grasp and begin cleaning him. "I'm surprised my water didn’t break with how hard you were going."

"Jesus, you've got a dirty mind. Save it for later, would you?"

A comfortable silence ensues while you both wrap towels around your bodies and then head to the bedroom. You pick out one of Harry's shirts and a pair of underwear. He slides into some black boxers. While you ruffle your slightly damp hair, he sneakily picks you up and lightly tosses you on the bed, making you squeal in surprise.

"Are you really going to take off work tomorrow?" he asks, kissing along the column of your throat.

"Yeah. I'll lie and say my morning sickness is bad."

His kisses move to your cheeks. "And what if it actually is?"

"Then my husband will wait on me hand and foot," you say with a grin. "He’ll feed me soup in bed. Massage me. Kiss me better."

Harry tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. "You know I'd do that anyway, right? Just say the word, and I'll do anything."

You stare at his kind eyes and inviting lips. The shadow of his dimple even when he's not smiling. His perfect nose that resembles your daughter's. His cheeks that were meant to be pinched fondly. His simple smile that made you fall in love from day one. The love of your lifetime, with a soul that shelters his heart that overflows with love.

"I love you,” you say.

A whispered reciprocation is spoken, and it's all you need in the world.

——

[justinspoliticalcorner]

The choice for president has seldom been starker. On one side is Donald Trump, a felonious and twice-impeached conman, raring to finish off the job of dismantling American democracy. On the other is Kamala Harris, a capable and experienced leader who stands for traditional democratic principles. Nevertheless – and shockingly – the Los Angeles Times and the Washington Post have decided to sit this one out. Both major news organizations, each owned by a billionaire, announced this week that their editorial boards would not make a presidential endorsement, despite their decades-long traditions of doing so. There’s no other way to see this other than as an appalling display of cowardice and a dereliction of their public duty. At the Los Angeles Times, the decision rests clearly with Patrick Soon-Shiong, who bought the ailing paper in 2018, raising great hopes of a resurgence there. At the Post (where I was the media columnist from 2016 to 2022), the editorial page editor David Shipley said he owned the decision, but it clearly came from above – specifically from the publisher, Will Lewis, the veteran of Rupert Murdoch’s media properties, hand-picked last year by the paper’s owner, Jeff Bezos. Was Bezos himself the author of this abhorrent decision? Maybe not, but it could not have come as a surprise. All of this may look like nonpartisan neutrality, or be intended to, but it’s far from that. For one thing, it’s a shameful smackdown of both papers’ reporting and opinion-writing staffs who have done important work exposing Trump’s dangers for many years. It’s also a strong statement of preference. The papers’ leaders have made it clear that they either want Trump (who is, after all, a boon to large personal fortunes) or that they don’t wish to risk the ex-president’s wrath and retribution if he wins. If the latter was a factor, it’s based on a shortsighted judgment, since Trump has been a hazard to press rights and would only be emboldened in a second term. [...] Some news organizations upheld their duty and remained true to their mission. The New York Times endorsed Harris last month, calling her “the only patriotic choice for president”, and writing that Trump “has proved himself morally unfit for an office that asks its occupant to put the good of the nation above self-interest”. The Guardian, too, strongly endorsed Harris, saying she would “unlock democracy’s potential, not give in to its flaws”, and calling Trump a “transactional and corrupting politician”.

Margaret Sullivan at The Guardian on the cowardly abdication of the Washington Post and Los Angeles Times by refusing to endorse a Presidential candidate (10.25.2024).

The egregious and cowardly actions done by both the Washington Post and Los Angeles Times deciding to sit out the Presidential endorsements process this election is craven and cowardly, as both papers were set to endorse Kamala Harris (D). Even the New York Times, for all their faults, got it right by endorsing Kamala Harris.

[weepylucifer]

"EVERYONE who's EVER lived as a woman reacts with disgust to Harry's portrait because he looks like he'd sexually assault you on the street!!" seldom have i ever seen someone show their ass THAT completely. like okay you're the kind of person who calls the cops on a homeless guy just minding his business because he "looked threatening"

[miindfucked]

benedict bridgerton fic rec

nsfw fics are marked with🔞. all work has been credited to their respective authors.

It Had To Be You by @fayes-fics 

Summary: Modern AU romcom. A love story heavily inspired by When Harry Met Sally.

Chapters: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, (ongoing)

Whatever the Poets Say by @pagesfromthevoid 

Teaser: “What if I wanted to wait for you, Benedict?” She repeated, finally using his name. The way it felt on her tongue was almost sinful; but she loved it. “What if I am willing to walk to the ends of the earth and back, simply to see if you could love me?”

Chapters: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen🔞, eighteen🔞, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two🔞, epilogue.

Foolish Endeavor by @murdockparker 

Summary: Benedict Bridgerton was certainly no fool. Bad at cards, sure, a bit taller than most, that was a given, but he was seldom called a fool. Though, one could argue that falling for your best friend was a foolish endeavor, indeed.

Chapters: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven🔞, (ongoing)

Somewhere Only We Know by @fayes-fics 🔞

Summary: Five hours of snowfall, four miles from the nearest paved road, three weeks before Christmas, two old friends and one bed….

From A Father To A Son by @thebabblingbrookenook 

Summary: Benedict has held his father’s words close to his heart for his entire life. The model of love that his parents provided set an uncompromising standard. All of the pieces to the puzzle didn’t fully align until he fell in love with you. Although his father is gone, Benedict gets to experience the love of his life through the lens of his father’s parting sage wisdom.

(Be)Longing by @fayes-fics 

Summary: Mutual rescue, mutual jealousy, longing and belonging.

This Is My Idea by @theship-thewalrus 

Summary: based on the song 'this is my idea' from The Swan Princess

This Book Is Dedicated To... by @fayes-fics 🔞

Summary: Modern AU. Benedict helps cure some writer's block.

to be loved and to be in love by @desertno3 

Summary: You had been best friends with Benedict for as long as you can remember, your relationship forged during the years your mothers were preoccupied with the youngest children and your fathers were busy instilling leadership qualities in the eldest children. It seemed to be a perfect match for a future marriage, or so everyone had thought. However, your first season had come and gone and Benedict had not been as active a participant as his mother had hoped he would be. You had left London betrothed to someone else and that was that. But news about your disastrous betrothal reaches Aubrey Hall in the spring. And it changes everything.

When The World Is Free by @fayes-fics

Sypnosis: It is late summer 1939, when you arrive in Paris from New York to begin a year of adventure. A deal struck with your parents to see a little of the world before settling down and marrying your ‘childhood sweetheart’ Stanley.

You soon find yourself with a spirited young English housemate Eloise, enjoying all that the cosmopolitan European city has to offer…. Until a few weeks later when war is declared. In this newly uncertain world, Eloise’s mother dispatches her brother to bring her home. Your plan is to board a ship back to America… but circumstances conspire to leave you possibly trapped in France with no way home. Eloise refuses to leave the country without you, even as you secretly grow attached to her beguiling brother, Benedict, who is everything Stanley is not.

There appears to be only one solution to your dilemma to ensure safe passage out of the country as invasion seems imminent…  but it will mean your life is forever changed, even when the world is free again.

Chapters: one, two, three, four, five, six, (ongoing)

Innuendo Bingo by @fayes-fics

Summary: Someone knows a LOT of stupid synonyms for orgasms…

Truth or Dare by @fayes-fics 🔞

Summary: Modern AU. A drunken game of Truth or Dare leads to an interesting development.

Rhythm by @fayes-fics 🔞

Summary: Modern AU. Filthy talking and dancing with Benedict.

All The Love (Under a Mistletoe) by @seasonsbloom 

Summary: modern!au. you have been in love with your best friend's older brother for years. on Christmas eve, things finally come to a head.

Summer Nights by @murdockparker 

Summary: Benedict was born to be a father, she was sure of it.

Waking Up by @fayes-fics 🔞

Summary: Modern AU. What is the best way to be woken up…?

In the Oven by @murdockparker 🔞

Summary: She was never all that good at baking, so perhaps a bit of assistance from her husband would be a sufficient help?

Inspiration by @fayes-fics 🔞

Summary: Benedict just needs a little inspiration to complete his artwork.

Happy Birthday, Mr Bridgerton by @fayes-fics 🔞

Summary: Benedict's wife gives him the best possible birthday gift.

Transitions by @fayes-fics 🔞

Summary: Modern AU, friends to lovers, it’s very distracting when a Bridgerton becomes a triathlete…

Breaking and Fixing by @fayes-fics

Summary: Benedict’s wife likes to fix things (and break them).

Mine by @fayes-fics 🔞

Summary: Benedict's wife gets lots of male attention at a party and he gets very jealous.

A Treat by @fayes-fics 🔞

Prompt: “don’t be shy; come sit on my face, love.”

Acting Up by @fayes-fics 🔞

Summary: Your husband Benedict gives you a treat during a Bridgerton family dinner.

Sonnet #29 by @fayes-fics 🔞

Summary: Your husband Benedict and you have a late night tryst in the billiards room of Bridgerton House.

Lightening & Lilies by @fayes-fics 🔞

Summary: Simply put, greenhouse sex during a thunderstorm.

Tell me (all the ways you missed me) by @fayes-fics 🔞

Summary: Having been apart for 3 weeks, you share an eventful carriage ride.

[mercurygray]

how to get home, for Cord? 💙

The days feel longer here.

It feels strange to say that, as they move into December and the dark descends before the sun's even had a chance to get her coat on, but wars don't run on business hours, and everyone can pull out their desk lamps and continue calculations well into the wee hours of the evening if that's what conditions demand. And the war demands a lot, always.

The new men coming in think that this is just the way that Thorpe Abbotts has always been - that the ops officers are seldom in the officers club, that that ground crew don't know your name. No one bothers to correct the impression, except perhaps Rosie Rosenthal, who even Colonel Harding will agree is in a class by himself.

Everyone is different after Munster, and none of the old hands want to correct assumptions. Harry Crosby is a loner, Ev Blakely tells fewer jokes, and Cordelia Callaway is an ice queen who's married to her job and never smiles.

Let 'em, Cord thinks to herself, finishing the last touches on the week's accident reports and watching out of the corner of her eye as a few new WACs go by, whispering. Why should it matter? She stands up and stretches, concious, as she has not been for a while, of the tension in her shoulders and the twinge in her jaw.

"Lieutenant Callaway, do you have a minute?" Cord looks up to see Fred Torvaldsen standing in the doorway, her homemade red scarf vivid against the blue of her Red Cross uniform and the gray outside. "I've got - something for you."

It's an odd request - Cord doesn't know the woman over and above a few cups of coffee, a good singing voice, and a heart for stray cats. (Anita spent a whole day talking about spark plugs before it was explained that she meant the Aero Club's new kitten.) A mittened hand holds something out - a letter. "It came to me, but it's - it's for you," Fred explains. "I think they wanted to - get it around the censor. I hope you don't mind I opened it."

The poor-quality paper is crumpled, the handwriting messy and rushed. There's only one person who writes like that. Cord finds herself leaning against the wall. (Fred, she notices, hasn't moved. How many letters like this has she delivered?)

Dear Cord,

I don't know what to say except I'm sorry.

And that's it. That's all there is. Ten words that hit her like a ton of bricks. Sorry, Bucky? You're sorry? What does that even - sorry? Sorry for what? Sorry you're not here? Sorry you're alive and you didn't think it would be important to tell me? Sorry?

It is so maddeningly and frustratingly him that she can hardly think - the wall is holding her up and she wishes it were him. You're a thousand miles away and you're right here in this paper, and I miss you so much, Bucky, your shoulders and your smile and the way you make me laugh…

The words have been struck through, heavily, with a pencil, and as she reads them a fifth and sixth time, she can almost see him, hunched over a table in a chair that is too small for him, struggling with the words and then deciding they're not worth the paper they're written on, striking them out and throwing down the pencil and crumpling up the page. Underneath there are a few more lines, added in a script she knows is Gale's -

Sorry you haven't heard from him sooner. He's started this letter five times and I thought you ought to at least get one.

I think if he missed you less, he'd be able to talk about it more. He hasn't said your name since we got here.

We're all doing okay, and hope you are, too. Say hi to everyone for us. Gale.

That, too, is a new wave of tears - classic Gale. At least he knows how to get home. She hopes for a tearful moment that Marjorie Spencer has gotten the letters that she knows Gale has written like clockwork in his fine, neat hand. And she has ten words. Ten words, struck out for being written, and her name, and 'Dear', and all of that somehow not good enough to actually send. John Egan, if you were here I don't know what I'd do to you. Kiss you, kill you, or never let go of you.

She looks up, wipes her eyes on the back of her hand, and realizes Fred is still standing there, smiling faintly, a handkerchief in her hand. Cord sniffles and takes it, grateful. "There's paper at the club, when you want to write him back."

"No if?" Cord asks, blowing her nose and trying to find the ice queen again behind the hot tears on her cheek.

"No one I know cries like that over ifs," Fred replied with a little smile. "Mary's baking shortbread later. We'll save you some."

Later that night, when she has been installed in a comfortable chair with a cup of tea and three of the promised cookies, she finds herself staring at the paper feeling blank. "Well, what would you say if he were here right now?" Mary asks, sitting down with her own cup of tea and gesturing to an empty chair like it will somehow conjure the man.

Cord stares at the empty chair, and then writes down the only words she can think of, picturing him.

You stupid, stupid, stupid man.

The only apology I want is for not writing sooner - and for thinking that I wouldn't want a letter. What kind of woman do you think I am? Jack Kidd was kind enough to give me your jacket - the one I said I hated. It's in my room now. I'll return it to you when you get back - or not. The weather's been getting colder and a girl might need it…

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Little Earthquakes - An Original Story.

So, besties. I thought I'd test the waters with the prologue to my new story. I know so many of you aren't here for originals, but I can but hope I'll find a few readers. Nothing would delight me more! Now, let's get to introducing you to the new world and people within it! I've tagged a few people who I thought might be interested, but if not, no worries.

Tag list - In the comments. Please DM to be added/removed.

Words - 2,831

Warnings - 18+ throughout. Minors DNI!

Prologue.

In every year group of every school the world over, there is always the girl. She’s the one whom other girls covet to be like, and pretty much all of the boys want to get with. In the year eleven group of Fulham Green Academy, west London, back in two thousand and five, that girl had been Holly Madden.  

She was popular, kind, proficient academically, and god, she was beautiful. Holly was also the girl one of her classmates would have asked out in a heartbeat, had Nathan ever been able to sum up the courage to open his mouth and speak to her. Various other factors prevented such, too, namely that they socialised in two vastly different groups at their mixed senior school. She was one of the popular girls, after all, and Nathan one of the alternative kids.  

The two groups seldom mixed.  

That was until one night when Lee Harris, the kid who loved everybody regardless of what social group they slotted into, threw a large end of term party. It was a classic example of ‘my parents are on holiday, I’m not, everybody come over!’ that led to much teenage abandon and hedonistic excess. Especially if your name was Nathan Gill.  

The only difference? He hadn’t actually wanted to end up in the state he had. Not at all. Enter one Chris Lawrence and a tray full of weed-infused brownies. 

“This tastes weird,” Nathan announced, yet for the kid with a massive disposition for demolishing anything chocolatey, it still hadn’t stopped him from consuming it. 

Chris didn’t know how the hell he managed to stop himself from falling apart laughing, standing with their cohort Kelsey, both playing captive audience to the mild deception of their friend. “Does it? Can’t think why, blud.” 

“Yeah.” He then paused in chewing the last mouthful, watching his friends carefully. “Why are you’s staring at me?”  

“No reason,” Kelsey chimed, clapping a hand to his shoulder, almost able to hear his brain ticking away within his skull. 

“Have you put something in this?” The two snorts of laughter were confirmation that yes, they very much had. “Oh, shit off! Nah man, that’s proper messed up.”  

His friends howled, watching a very disgruntled Nathan deal with the confirmation that he had indeed been doped. Chris reached for him, ruffling his hair. “Bruv, it’s only a bit of ganja, yeah?” 

“Yeah, but I don’t pissing smoke weed, do I?” 

“And you still haven’t,” Chris chimed. “You’ve ate it!” 

The pout on his face had his friends furtherly descending. “Don’t like being stoned though, do I? That’s why I don’t have nothing to fucking do with the cheeba!” Getting a rise out of the usually very chilled, very zen Nathan was half the fun of it. Seeing him stoned off his balls was the other, Nathan still furious as he finished the remainer of his can of Carlsberg. “I’m not talking to either of you’s.” 

How right he was, for when it kicked in, speech was beyond him completely. 

“Nath, you alright, mate?” Lee, the party host asked an hour later, finding Nathan sitting at the kitchen nook with a pad of paper and a pen. A note was scrawled. 

“Yeah, just can’t speak. Too mashed. Got spiked via cake.” 

Reading the words, he began to laugh. “Ahhh, the pot brownies? Nice!” More scribbling followed. 

“Not nice! I don’t like weed!” 

To Lee’s credit, he held in the desire to piss himself laughing at his mate’s anguish.  

“Oh, right! You want a coffee or something? My mum has the fancy machine so I’ll make you one if you want?” 

“No thanks. Just wanna throw Chris and Kels into a pissing landfill!” 

He boomed with laughter, shaking his head. “Well, I best be moving along, got to do the mingling thing. Later mate!” 

“Bye.”  

He was left alone then, except for the glances from across the kitchen from Kelsey, who was trying her luck chatting up one of the sixth form girls while keeping a watchful eye on him. That suited him fine, not actually able to speak anyway, sitting there feeling very, very high. It was a different high to smoking it, he had to confess, but he still didn’t like it much.  

He felt very fuzzy around the edges, his vision faltering a little bit, but not so much that he couldn’t make out the face of the girl he fancied when she approached him half an hour later. Oh, god. Why Holly Madden? Why now? 

Sitting down in the nook adjacent to him, her smile glowed. “Hi, Nathan. You okay?” He turned the pad of paper to her and pointed to the first statement he’d written to Lee, wishing the ground would open up and swallow him whole. “Ohhhh, not one for weed then, no?” 

“Bingo.” 

“Do you want me to leave you be, or can I kotch here? I need a time out, too many drunk people.” 

He scribbled, feeling his heart racing. Holly Madden wanted to sit with him. Him! 

“That’s fine, but I’ll be on mute for the foreseeable.”  

Shrugging, she smiled, a smile that made his heart skip. “That’s fine. I’m not really into loud people. Even when you’re talking you seem quiet and chilled. I like that.”  

She’d actually noticed those attributes? Oh, god. It was a good job he couldn’t speak, because if he could he’d have likely ballsed it up spectacularly. Then again, it wasn’t surprising. Holly was very much like the party host in the fact she was open to mingling with everyone, regardless of her status as one of the popular girls. “So, I noticed your display board for the examiners before we broke up. That charcoal you did of the snake was incredible!” 

They’d been in the same art group as well as form class at school, submitting their final presentation to the exam board in the shape of a display of their work, which made up half of their GSCE grade. Nathan nodded, taking the pen and scribbling out a note.  

“Thanks. I was proud of that one. Loved your stuff, too.”  

She was sure he was just being polite since their artistic styles so vastly differed, but thanked him for the compliment anyway. “I’m crapping myself about the results. I really, really want to get in at UAL. Are you thinking uni, too, or something else?” 

Again, he began to write. “Yeah, uni. Loughborough, I wanna get out of London for a few years.” 

It was a good university, showing clearly that he had a lot of ambition. Sitting there, Holly began to feel a little uncomfortable, the manor of communication strange in the fact he couldn’t actually speak. Also, she felt shy. He had no idea how fucking cute he was, which was an odd feeling to experience, being that he was the furthest from her usual taste in guys.  

“Well, I’m going to head back to my friends. If you regain the power of speech, come find me.” 

Come find her? She actually wanted him to come and find her? While his brain flew into a panic, his note was calm and succinct.  

“Alright. Bye, Holly.” Whether or not he could, he knew that he wouldn’t, though, waiting until she’d left the kitchen before groaning and pulling his hood up over his head as he slumped down, wanting to hide. Oh, the shame of it. Too stoned to talk to the girl he liked when the opportunity to do so had landed right in his lap, and he’d blown it.  

Fuck Chris. Fuck Kelsey.  

He had to hand it to the latter, though. At midnight when they’d left, she’d been the one to carry him over her shoulder into the waiting taxi when he’d found he was without the use of his legs as well as his voice. Thank goodness she was a big girl, just a little shorter than him at six feet to his six feet two, and built like an ox.  

She’d also carried him safely up the stairs and into her bed, stripping his skate trainers and jeans before climbing in herself, definitely worse for wear. Being very much out in her status as a lesbian, her parents didn’t give two hoots about her sharing a bed with male friends at all, knowing there was more chance of hell freezing over than any sexual shenanigans occurring between them.  

Not that either of them had ever tiptoed out of virgin territory at that point in their lives. As he fell asleep, Nathan kicked himself that the girl he very much would have liked to change that with had been the one he couldn’t even speak to, and now it was too late. He’d likely never cross paths with the beautiful Holly Madden again now they’d left school. 

He was partly right there, their lives leading them in very different directions for many years after that night. Nineteen, to be exact. While she had never left London, Nathan had been to Loughborough, lived up in Edinburgh for a few years, gone over to spend time in Dublin, living a very carefree existence as a freelance tattoo artist who travelled from shop to shop. 

Life was everything he’d ever wanted it to be, and he all but forgot about Holly completely. 

Arriving back in London at twenty-seven, he’d met a girl, deciding to set up permanent roots in the city again. He and Lisa had married a year later, and a few months after that he, Kelsey and Chris had all gone into business together. The three had coveted to work in the tattoo world since their time at school, Nathan the only one who had gotten an apprenticeship and done it right out of leaving university.  

Kelsey had tired of the monotony of managing bars, and Chris was more than fed up of work in retail, so both had moved into their chosen field finally six and three years before, respectively. In two thousand and seventeen, Carpe Diem had opened its doors on Sailsbury Road, Queen’s Park.  

It was truly wonderful, the three best friends all reunited and running a thriving business together. Until the day where things started to go awry for one of them finally came along.  

“Kels, why you hovering, blud?” Chris asked, glad to be coming to the end of a lot of linework on the full backpiece he was starting on his client that afternoon. Pausing to reload ink, he raised an eyebrow, looking to the back of the shop as Kelsey listened in at the door of the private room used for clients receiving a body piercing.  

Craning her ears, she could hear it just above the sound of music playing, the band Soundgarden’s classic Black Hole Sun muffling the other noise emanating. Well, unless you listened closely, like her. With widened eyes, she moved away rapidly, shaking her head with her hands held out wide. 

“Oh, no, no, no.”  

Chris was perplexed. “What?” 

Jerking her thumb, she mouthed her reply, lest the client on the table before him hear what she’d had to. “He’s shagging in there.”  

His eyes all but fell out onto the hardwood floor beneath his feet. “Fuck off!” he mouthed back. 

“I’m serious!” she hissed in whisper, waving a pointed finger towards the back of the shop rapidly before beginning to clean down her station, ready and fresh for her next client. It wasn’t so much that he was a married man shagging somebody who wasn’t his wife, since he and Lisa were recently separated, it was the lack of professionalism to be doing it at his place of business with the girl whose navel he’d just pierced that shocked his friends more than anything.  

It would be fair to say he hadn’t quite been right since his marriage had come to an end. If either was truly honest, his behaviour had been very decidedly unlike the Nathan they knew and loved for much longer. Shagging around now that he was separated was one thing, but doing such with a client right there in the shop, though, was quite another. People talked, after all.  

Kelsey stewed on it as she continued cleaning her station, not wanting his reputation as one of the most talented tattoo artists in the city to become besmirched by such, or the good name of the shop to suffer either. After all, it wasn’t solely his livelihood this kind of behaviour could affect.  

Five minutes later and the door opened, the girl walking out before Nathan, who moved to the sales desk and took her payment for the piercing. With Chris’s client also now out the door, the two artists turned to their friend, the latter shaking his head. 

“Who’s been a bad lad then, ay?” 

Nathan didn’t have a poker face for the life of him, yet still, he tried. “What?” 

“Oh, no, no, no,” Kelsey stated, pointing at him. “Can’t fool us. I know sex moaning when I hear it, no matter how quiet. Listen, you wanna sow your oats now you and Lisa have split, go ahead. But not in the bloody shop, Nath!”  

He shrugged. “Weren’t like I was being that loud.” He then turned to Chris, mischief broadening his grin. “Had to cup my hand over her mouth. Poor girl ain’t ever had a pierced dick before, bruv.”  

His friend wanted to be supportive to Kelsey’s very real concerns, but the lad in him won out. “Fuckin’ a, blud! Little randy bastard, ay?”  

He held out his fist, Nathan bumping it as he chuckled filthily. “I’m a free man again, and shit, can you blame me? Proper gorgeous, she was.”  

“For the love of the virgin Mary’s knicker elastic!” Kelsey cried, placing her hands on her hips. “Can we take this seriously and set a rule? No shagging in the bloody shop!!”  

Nathan moved to her, grabbing her face in his hands and kissing her head. Immediately, she was aghast. “Don’t you kiss me! I don’t know where your mouth was ten minutes ago. I don’t want any miscellaneous fanny juice on my face!” 

“Never thought those words would ever leave your mouth, ay,” Chris interjected with on a snort. 

Nathan all but broke apart in hysterics completely at them, wrapping Kelsey in a big, tight hug. “You’re safe, didn’t have time for that. But chill out, ‘kay? Nothing to stress about, Kels. Just a one off.”  

Being held close by her friend, there was something else amiss, she noted. Or rather smelled. Nathan usually reeked of nothing but Fahrenheit aftershave, his staple scent since his teen years. Now though, it was tinged with the smell of alcohol. “You been drinking?” 

Letting her go, he shrugged, moving to begin sorting inks over at the storage shelves, knowing they needed to re-order. “Had a few last night. Probably sweating it out.”  

She left it there, but truly, she didn’t believe a word of it. It smelled fresh, not that stale, boozy sweat stink people suffered after a night on the piss. Also, he showered twice a day religiously. Besides, to her knowledge, he hadn’t even gone out the night before. She’d left him there at the shop at ten the previous evening, Nathan locking up before heading upstairs to the tiny flat above, where he was now living after Lisa had kicked him out.  

It was conflicting, because Nathan wasn’t a liar either, Kelsey doubting herself a little as she welcomed her next client, a guy who was having the side of his neck finished off by her that afternoon. All thoughts of her friend and his slightly off behaviour were put aside, concentrating one hundred percent on her task at hand.  

As for Nathan, he moved to his book of line drawings, taking the relevant one out and placing it on the light box to make sure he was one hundred percent happy with it. He prided himself on giving his clients the very best of his work. The young woman whose navel he’d pierced could definitely testify to that after the repeated push of his cock piercing against her g spot had made her come so hard, she’d almost passed out.  

He smirked as he thought about her, noting that she was the first girl he’d ever fucked whose name he neither knew nor cared to know. For a man who didn’t really do sleeping around even before he was married, it made an exciting change now he was free from the bitch who he’d wasted the last seven years with.  

“Hi, I’ve got an appointment with Nathan?” 

Turning around, he couldn’t believe his eyes. There she was. “Erm, yeah. Yeah, that’s me. Hi, Holly.” 

He would have been lying if he’d claimed to have given his old school crush much thought in the nineteen years that had passed, but seeing her standing there, suddenly he felt just as he had at fifteen all over again. 

[tomorrowusa]

Dr. Anthony Fauci voluntarily testified before a House committee and debunked MAGA Republican conspiracy theories regarding the COVID-19 pandemic.

While Donald Trump and his lickspittles were telling Americans to drink bleach, take useless malaria pills, stick ultraviolet lights up their butts, and eat horse paste, Dr. Fauci headed an effort to develop vaccines for COVID-19.

A reminder to people with short memories who view the Trump administration as some sort of bucolic paradise: The last quarter of that administration included the worst government response to an infectious disease outbreak since 1920. Trumpsters who want us to ignore Trump's horribly botched response to the pandemic are like cruise-liner enthusiasts who want us to ignore the last 2% of the voyage of the Titanic.

Economic activity ground to a halt in 2020 as the US slid into a recession. I took this picture of a sign at a dollar store which had been completely closed for almost two months.

The whole Trump clan was disdainful of the sacrifices hundreds of millions of Americans were making.

Why has the U.S. COVID-19 response been so bad? Jared Kushner, Vanity Fair suggests.

At Times Square Jared and Ivanka's contemptuousness was made into an ad before Election Day.

If you are looking for the Original Sin of Trump's pandemic response, it was on January 22nd when he basically told CNBC's Joe Kernen that COVID-19 was nothing to worry about.

Of course it wasn't "just fine".

Trump did not declare a state of emergency for seven weeks. That gave the virus plenty of time for it to spread throughout the US.

Republicans know that their Dear Leader totally mishandled the pandemic response. That's why they repeatedly try to make Dr. Fauci a type of scapegoat for Trump's horrendous incompetence. Dr. Fauci has spent his entire career fighting disease. Donald Trump has spent his entire career narcissistically promoting himself.

Harry Truman had a sign on his desk saying: "The Buck Stops Here!" If Trump had a sign on his Oval Office desk (which he seldom used except for photo ops) it would be: "It's Everybody's Fault But Mine!"

Don't be hesitant to remind people of how awful 2020 was. And point the finger of blame at the orange blob who was responsible for the catastrophe.