#harry you’re so right bb

[munson-blurbs]

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!Reader Series

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20

Summary: June brings the end of Harris's preschool career and the official beginning of your new life as a family of three--with a little help from your friends, of course.

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), oral (f! receiving), p in v, mentions of phone sex, grief and loss

WC: 7.8k

Chapter 20/20

A/N: With the official end of Trapped Under Ice, I am now opening up requests in the TUI universe. Thank you all for taking this journey with me as I processed my own grief. As long as you keep requesting, I will continue writing for our little family 💚

Thank you to @rip-quizilla for making that scene stronger. Ily, bb.

Divider credit to @saradika

The diner is bustling with customers, happily chatting over stacks of pancakes and overstuffed omelets. Coffee carafes clink against chipped mugs as the waitstaff pours refill after refill. 

You weave through the rows of tables, careful not to bump into servers balancing trays of food or busboys carrying the used dishes and silverware. A small yellow gift bag is clutched in your hand, and you hold it to your chest to protect its fragile contents. 

Harris spots you before you can see him; his little arm shoots up from where he’s tucked into the booth next to Wayne. 

“Ms. Sweetheart!” he frantically waves, his grin wide enough to stretch off of his cheeks. “Over here!”

You laugh, watching as Eddie scoots from the middle of the seat to the end, making room for you to sit down. There are two steaming cups on his side of the table, centered on little saucers that are likely older than you are. 

“Morning, baby,” he greets you with a smile, leaning in to give you a small kiss—no tongue, of course—as you slide in next to him. “You sleep okay last night?”

You nod sheepishly, remembering the phone conversation the two of you had had, well after Harris fell asleep. Eddie’s sultry voice had guided you through touching yourself; the next-best thing to having his own fingers inside you. 

“Wish I could be there right now,” he’d murmured into the receiver, so low that you could barely hear him. The faint sound of his own fly being lowered punctuated his words. “Wanna make you feel so good, Sweetheart, but I know you’re being a good girl f’me tonight, aren’t you?”

You bring the coffee mug to your lips, hoping to blame the heat creeping up your face on the drink, and take a hearty sip. It’s a little sweet, but mostly bitter. Just how you like it. 

The crinkling tissue paper as you lean back in the booth draws your attention to your company and away from your indulgent memories. “Happy Father’s Day, Eddie,” you kiss him on the cheek, your lipstick tinting his stubble pink. “This is from me and Harris. Be careful with it.” There’s a deliberate vagueness in your warning, not wanting to spoil the surprise. 

Eddie cocks his brow, clearly not expecting any sort of present from you. Shocking, considering you’d taken Harris to the Paint-n-Play on Wednesday during your usual tutoring session time, and you’d figured he would have spilled the beans as soon as he and his dad had a moment alone. He rustles around the bag with dramatic flourish, trying to build anticipation but only succeeding in testing Harris’s patience.

“Open it, Daddy! Open it!” Harris bounces up and down in his seat, mouth sticky and teeth tinted purple with grape juice as he urges Eddie to stop dragging out the process. Wayne discreetly places his palm behind his grandson’s scalp, protecting his head in case he rocks too far back. “Me an’ Ms. Sweetheart did it together!”

“You did, huh?” Eddie chuckles, pulling out a ceramic mug. It’s painted sky blue, and Harris had insisted on making purple polka dots, splotchy as he’d haphazardly dunked the brush in paint and pressed it to the plaster. Written in bright orange blocky letters is DAD; you’d helped him sound out duhh-ahhh-duhh, his little tongue poking out in complete concentration. Your only visible contribution is the tiny green 1997 painted along the handle, marking the first year you’d celebrated Father’s Day together.

The multitude of complementary colors and mismatched designs should clash. The dots look more like disfigured spiders than circles. The 7 you’d carefully written with a fine-tipped brush is slightly smudged from where Harris had picked up the mug before it had fully dried, and there’s an extra curving line extending from the first D in DAD after he’d started writing the letter backwards.

To Eddie, it’s perfect.

“I love it.” Brown eyes find his son’s hopeful gaze that eagerly awaits his father’s reaction. “This is the best present I’ve ever gotten.” He places the mug on the table next to the coffee-filled one in front of him, tipping its contents into his gift. A few drops dribble down the side, but most of it ends up where it should. A success, in his opinion. He takes a hearty gulp, not caring that the hot liquid singes his taste buds. “Is this magic?” He holds the mug up to his face, studying it like it’s a precious stone. “Because, I swear, it makes this coffee taste better.”

The little boy beams, exchanging an elated glance with you. “Ms. Sweetheart, did you put magic in it?”

Eddie chimes in before you can respond. “I bet she did. She’s sneaky with it; always sprinkling it where you least expect.” His empty hand finds your thigh underneath the table, silently claiming it as his own. “I don’t know how she does it,” he muses wistfully, adding another sugar packet to the mug and swirling it with a spoon until it’s dissolved. Like it was always part of the coffee from the jump. 

“Speaking of presents,” Wayne chimes in, unearthing a tiny, newspaper-wrapped package from his jacket pocket and handing it to his nephew. “‘S, not much, but it’s a Father’s-Day-slash-housewarming gift for ya.” 

“I thought we agreed on no gifts,” Eddie shakes his head, suddenly self-conscious about arriving empty-handed. 

“Well, I lied.”

Wayne watches as Eddie tears into the paper. Whatever home run or double-header had made the front page of the sports section is irrelevant compared to the mystery item that is snugly tucked between baseball stats and the upcoming game schedule. 

A small gasp leaves his mouth as he unwraps a wallet-sized picture frame; the word family is etched into the wood right above the plastic-protected photo. 

It’s from Harris’s bowling party; the one Wayne had taken of you and Eddie on either side of the birthday boy. Happiness radiates off of the three of you with such intensity that it seems impossible for it to be captured in a still frame. He’d forgotten that Wayne had even snapped it.

“Wayne, I…” Eddie struggles to find the words he needs to properly convey his feelings. The tip of his nose burns with the anticipated influx of emotions. “I’m gonna put it right next to my alarm clock, so it’s the first thing I see every morning.” 

You lay your head on his shoulder, the edge of his lips finding your forehead in a half-kiss. He soaks in the comfort you bring, absorbing it through every pore as he exhales and feels himself relax.

The waitress comes over with a notepad and a smile. “You folks ready to order?” She clicks her pen, poised to jot down what the four of you want to eat.

“Chicken fingers, please!” Harris announces, perching up on his knees and leaning his elbows on the table. “With French fries!”

The waitress, whose name tag reads Bee, offers a sympathetic smile and a soft click of her tongue. “I’m sorry, buddy. We don’t start serving lunch until 11:30.”

The boy’s lower lip quivers at the news, having his heart set on eating his favorite food. You can see his perfectly curated routine begin to crumble, taking his excitement with it. “But…but I even said ‘please!’” he insists, voice cracking. 

You step in quickly, wanting to salvage the Father’s Day celebration before Hurricane Harris can brew up a storm. “Hey, Har, I know you’re disappointed about the chicken fingers, but I have a super special idea.”

“Wh-What?” Misty eyes indicate that tears still threaten to spill over his lashes. 

“When Grandma used to take me to the diner, we used to split silver dollars. They’re pancakes, just smaller.” You take a deep breath and smile, hoping and praying that your plan works. “Would you like to share some silver dollars with me? And we can come back and get chicken fingers another time.”

Harris considers your proposition, rubbing his hands together along his knuckles to soothe himself. Finally, he says, “Can we eat them with syrup?”

“That sounds delicious.” You lean over and ruffle his hair, careful not to let any loose strands land on the table. “You wanna tell the waitress?”

“Mmkay,” he nods, turning to Bee and smiling. “Me an’ Ms. Sweetheart are gonna have the, um, little pancakes.” He frowns, unable to remember the dish’s name. “The dollars?”

Bee laughs and nods, jotting it on her notepad. “An order of silver dollar pancakes, coming right up. And for you gentlemen?” She brings her attention to Eddie and Wayne. 

The older man clears his throat, ordering a Western omelet with home fries and rye toast. Eddie asks for the same but with white bread. “And a refill on the coffee,” he adds. 

Bee promises to be back shortly with the food, and the four of you resume your conversation. 

“We’ll get to take a new picture next week at someone’s graduation,” you say with a smile, looking in Harris’s direction. “Are you excited, Har Bear?”

Harris takes another messy sip of grape juice. “Uh-huh. I’m gonna go to kindergarten soon! But first is summer.” 

“Summer first, then kindergarten,” you agree, sipping your coffee before it gets cold. You’re no stranger to it, often setting down your to-go cup at work and forgetting about it until well after morning circle time, but you relish any chance you get to enjoy it while it’s still warm. “I was thinking: once you and Daddy are all moved in, we should make plans for this summer. Like the zoo, or the pool…”

“Yeah!” Harris claps his hands together and grins. “Or Disney World!”

Eddie’s ears perk up at his son’s suggestion. “Not this year, but maybe soon.” If he can continue moving up the ranks at the record store, coupled with the two of you splitting rent, it might even happen next year, but he doesn’t want to make a promise he can’t guarantee he’ll keep. “And we’ll drag Grampa Wayne with us.”

Wayne responds with a shake of his head. “You’re outta your mind if you think I’m goin’ on any of those roller coasters.”

“You’re gonna sit and ride It’s a Small World the whole day?” Eddie teases, leaning back in his seat. 

“Damn straight.”

The food comes out ten minutes later, steaming plates carefully placed on the table. You cut the silver dollar pancakes into bite-size pieces, pushing half to the side nearest Harris and the other half closest to you. A glass syrup carafe waits to be used, its handle sticky with residue. 

“Say when,” you tell Harris, drizzling it back and forth across the plate. He waits until the pancakes are drenched before stopping you.

You watch as he uses his fork to spear some pancake, pops it in his mouth, and chews thoughtfully. “It’s yummy!” he declares triumphantly, already scanning the plate for his next piece. “This is my favorite food ever!”

You, Eddie, and Wayne share smiles; none of you take his declaration too seriously, knowing he changes his favorite anythings on an hourly basis. Still, a win is a win, and avoiding a chicken finger-induced tantrum is no small feat. 

Eddie spreads a pat of butter over his toast, but his eyes never shift from you and Harris sharing breakfast. You’d asked him whether he prefers blueberries or chocolate chips in his pancakes, and the discussion quickly devolved into a competition to see who could come up with the grossest pancake addition. 

“How about…” Harris wiggles his nose, “broccoli pancakes?”

“Ew!” You stick out your tongue in disgust. “That was a good one, but I think I can top it. Would you eat…” you tap your chin in contemplation, “fish stick pancakes!”

Harris squeals, far from an inside voice, but no one wants to correct him. “That’s super yucky! Fish stick pancakes?!”

Eddie smiles, tucking into his own food. He wants to savor the joy, the warmth. The twinkle in Wayne’s eyes, the upturned corners of Harris’s lips, the trill of your laugh. He wishes he could capture the feeling, but a mental image will have to do. 

He inhales and allows himself to be wrapped in the unconditional love he had once convinced himself he didn’t want nor deserve. 

The Hawkins Preschool cafeteria has once again been transformed. The custodians folded the long tables, propping them against the wall, and set up rows of folding chairs, leaving a small aisle for the graduates’ families to find their seats. 

Other parents stare as Eddie walks in, perspiration prickling under his arms as he hears them whispering about the kid who ran away. It’s audible enough for Wayne to hear; he rests his hand on his nephew’s shoulder and gives it a small squeeze before they take their seats. 

Jeff and Dustin arrive a few moments later, noticing Eddie and Wayne in the small crowd and shuffling over. Eddie pulls them each in for a quick hug, and Wayne does the same.

“Glad we made it,” Dustin says with a sigh of relief. “My flight got delayed half an hour, but we made up the time in the air.”

Jeff rolls his eyes. “It didn’t help that we had to stop at a payphone so you could call your precious Suzie-Poo,” he huffs, but there’s a glimmer of a smile on his lips, proud of the way his friend cares so deeply for his partner. “Anyway, we’re here now.” He takes a seat next to Wayne, shifting so he can speak to Eddie. “Is Harris excited to graduate?”

“Oh, yeah,” Eddie laughs, shaking his head at the recent memory of his son prancing around the apartment that morning in his cap and gown, small body drowning in the flowing green fabric. In that instant, Eddie could picture him as a young man, crossing a much larger stage to receive his diploma from Hawkins High. If Higgins is still the principal, Eddie might have to teach Harris the family tradition of flipping him off. 

Sue Sinclair makes her way up the small staircase to the podium, adjusting the microphone so she speaks into it easily. “Good morning, parents, siblings, and other special guests. Welcome to Hawkins Preschool’s Moving Up ceremony.” She beams, holding for applause. Eddie eases back into his seat; he’s known Principal Sinclair for years, since Lucas had joined Hellfire, and she’d recently stepped up to take over teaching Harris’s class for the remaining weeks of the school year. After the little boy had given his statement to the police, Marion and Paula’s teaching licenses had been immediately terminated, and negligence charges were currently pending.

“Before we get started, I’d just like to make an announcement.” Sue Sinclair looks over to where your class is standing, patiently waiting their turn to receive their sticker-laden diplomas. “I am pleased to announce that our very own Mr. Will Byers,” she extends her hand in Will’s direction, “will be our newest head teacher starting this fall.”

Though everyone in attendance is clapping, it’s obvious that Eddie, Wayne, Jeff, and Dustin cheer the loudest. Will blushes red, unused to being the center of attention, but the smile on his face shows how excited he is to take on this new role. You wrap your arms around his shoulders from behind and pull him in for a proud hug.

“Our students have worked incredibly hard this year, learning their letters, numbers, and how to be a good friend,” the principal continues. “And though we will miss them dearly, we are thrilled to send them off to kindergarten with these new skills. So, without further ado, let’s bring out our graduates!”

The ceremony begins, starting with your class. You stand at one end of the stage, sending each student off to where Will is waiting at the other end as Principal Sinclair reads out each of their names. They take their certificates and pose with baby teeth on full display while their parents snap photos from disposable Kodaks and bulky Nikons. All the seemingly endless days, the menial fights over sharing toys; every moment was worth it if it led to this.

You usher the kids to their seats in the front row after your final student’s name is called, spotting Eddie in the crowd as you sit down. He winks, the corner of his eye mischievously crinkling. You smile, taking full advantage of the other parents’ distractedness and give him a little wave; the exchange a private love letter.

Both of you bring your attention back to the stage when Sue Sinclair calls up the next class. Harris stands towards the center of the line, excitement buzzing through him at a rate that cannot be contained. He rocks from the balls of his feet to his heels, back and forth as he awaits his turn. His brown ringlets poke out from underneath his cap, grazing just above his eyebrows. 

Principal Sinclair pauses, looking directly at Eddie when she speaks. She understands the gravity of this accomplishment, her lipsticked smile reaching her eyes as she leans in towards the microphone.

“Harris Munson!”

Eddie jumps up, hollering as loud as his vocal cords will allow. Harris accepts his diploma and smiles wide, both at his accomplishment and at the sound of his dad cheering him on. His expression further brightens when he sees Wayne, Dustin, and Jeff beside him, and he waves while jumping up and down.

He’s supposed to walk from stage left to stage right, just as all the students before him have done; in typical Harris fashion, he takes the road less traveled. With a mighty leap, he catapults himself off of the stage and makes a beeline straight for you.

Two little arms wrap themselves around you, squeezing you as tight as they can. The brim of his cap is flush against your cheek. “I did it, Ms. Sweetheart!” His words carry a lightheartedness that only a child’s joy can bring. “Did you see?” He picks his head up from where it was nestled against you and giggles, dimpled chin brushing your bicep.

You tilt the mortarboard slightly upward and press a kiss to his forehead. “I saw, Har,” you tell him, using your thumb to wipe away your lipstick print, “and I am so, so proud of you.” Readjusting his cap, you usher him over to where the rest of his class is standing, a garden of happiness blooming within you. 

You look back at where Eddie is sitting, wishing you could sit next to him, fingers laced together while his thumb caresses the side of your hand and grasping your hand tighter when Harris’s name is called. For now, it’s enough to know that you’ll be by his side throughout all of Harris’s future endeavors and accomplishments. A team. 

Eddie’s palms press into his slack-covered thighs as he peers over at you and grins. Bright, adoring eyes meet yours, speaking every thought that his mouth can’t say right now. I love you. Thank you. We couldn’t have done this without you.

You accept the wordless praise with a smile, one that reaches beyond its usual confines. 

Dustin notices the small exchange, and he nudges Eddie’s ribs with his elbow. “She’s the one, huh?” He cocks his eyebrow knowingly. 

“Oh, yeah,” Eddie murmurs, no longer paying any attention to the remaining names being read aloud. “You ever think you’d see the day I settle down?” His tone is teasing, but there’s an ounce of insecurity behind them. 

To Eddie’s surprise, Dustin nods without hesitation. “Always knew you would.” Carol Perkins shushes him from the row ahead, but he just flips her off and rolls his eyes. 

“Don’t you remember that time in high school when we got sloshed—sorry, Wayne,” Jeff cuts in sheepishly, “and you went on a rant about how you secretly wanted the whole wife, kids, picket fence deal?”

“And I believe I threatened to kick your ass if you told anyone,” Eddie points out, embarrassment turning his face red, apparent even under the light stubble covering his cheeks. 

Wayne chuckles softly. “I already knew. About the dream and the booze.” He laughs a bit harder at Jeff and Eddie’s shocked expressions. “If you keep replacing vodka with water, eventually, it’s all just water.”

“Ya don’t say.” Dustin’s sarcasm bleeds through his whisper. 

Principal Sinclair reads the last student’s name with the same enthusiasm she’s given all of the other kids. “I now present to you, the Hawkins Preschool class of 1997!” She mimes tossing a cap in the air, the students’ cue to do the same. 

The fervor of the cheers and applause could shake the cafeteria. Whistles pierce the air and reverberate off of the walls, none louder than Wayne Munson’s. You stand up, smoothing the pleats of your dress to soak in the achievement of completing another academic year; for you, this one in a brand new school with more challenges than you’d cared to endure. 

You and Will take in the sight of nine cherubic faces looking up at you in admiration, though they’re beginning to shed their baby fat. This was certainly a journey, and you couldn’t have asked for a better teaching assistant to walk beside you through it all. 

“I’m gonna miss you next year,” you say, squeezing him in a tight hug. 

“I’ll be right down the hall!”

Begrudgingly, you let go of him, not losing the pout on your lips. “That’s way too far for me.” The two of you both know that you’re serious; it won’t be the same without having him in the classroom with you. “Can we try to match up our breaks and eat lunch together?”

“It’s a date,” Will laughs, then juts out his chin to motion behind you, “but it looks like I might have some competition.”

Before you can turn around, Eddie’s arms wrap around your waist. He tugs you in close so your back is flush against his chest, the buttons from his shirt pressing into your spine. “There’s my girl,” he murmurs in your ear, lips so close that they brush the lobe. “Are you ready to start your summer?”

You kiss his cheek, adjusting your stance so you can walk hand in hand to get Harris. He torpedoes himself into Eddie’s stomach, shrieking with laughter as he’s lifted into the air. 

“Har Bear, you’re a preschool graduate!” Eddie smacks a kiss to his son’s temple. “How should we celebrate, hmm? Ice cream? Chuck E. Cheese?”

“Ice cream!” Harris decides easily. “I’m gonna get cotton candy with rainbow sprinkles and—Uncle Dusty!” He squirms out of Eddie’s grasp and races over to Dustin. 

“What? I’m not an ice cream topping!” Dustin teases, crouching down to ruffle Harris’s curls, matted to his scalp from being hidden underneath the cap. 

Harris giggles. “You’re so silly!” He glances back and forth from him to you, and you realize he doesn’t know that you’d met in March at Will’s birthday party. “Uncle Dusty, this is Ms. Sweetheart. She’s my almost-mommy.”

“Ohh,” Dustin replies with a smirk, raising his eyebrows and nodding. “I think she needs to be your dad’s almost-wife first–”

“All right! Ice cream time!” Eddie hurries to cut him off, glaring at Dustin for bringing the idea to Harris’s attention again; he has constantly been hounding him about marriage ever since he found out about his newest living arrangements. The idea of marrying you, however, eases his tension and has a smile tugging on his lips; a slight switch in expression that his uncle spots easily.

Wayne’s gruff whisper is in Eddie’s ear. “Sounds like it’s time for an almost-proposal.”

“Shut up!”

“I think that’s the last of them!” Jeff calls out, lugging the final cardboard box from his car into your apartment. He wipes his hands on his jeans and closes the door behind him, careful not to wake up his sleeping daughter in Viv’s arms. He looks over at where you, Robin, and Jess have begun unpacking, laying Eddie’s clothes in one pile and Harris’s much smaller clothes in another.

Jeff places a kiss on the crown of Viv’s head, then plants an identical one on Ettie’s. “Where are the guys?” 

“Harris’s room,” you say; bittersweet taste tinging the new label. It feels better than Grandma’s old room, but part of it will always belong to her. You hear Harris giggle as Eddie and Dustin re-assemble his racecar bed, spreading warmth that gently softens the sadness until it resembles sentimentality. “I’ll come with you; I have to put this away, anyway.” You grab the pile of Harris’s clothes and tuck it under your arm.

Eddie and Dustin sit on the floor, rogue screws spread around them as they intently study their project.

“I think this piece,” Dustin muses, picking up one of the sides of the frame, “connects with this one like that…”

Eddie shakes his head. “Nah, it’s the other way around.” He takes the screwdriver and twists the metal into the slot triumphantly. Your breath catches in your throat as his bicep flexes with the motion, perfectly displayed where his t-shirt sleeve had been cut into a makeshift tank top. “There we go.” He looks up and realizes you’re there, perfectly still as you watch him. “Hey, Sweetheart. Y’good?” There’s a mischievous twinkle in his eye; though it was inadvertent, he knows what he’s doing to you.

You only nod, the movement dragging you out of your momentary stupor. He chuckles as you place Harris’s shirts and pants in the dresser, fingers clumsily slipping over the knobs. It’s the same unicorn-covered dresser that had sent Harris into hysterics a few weeks ago, but you’d painted over it before he could see. It’s now a dark navy blue, no evidence of what once lay beneath.

Eddie’s amused by your reaction and subsequent embarrassment, running his tongue over his teeth and chuckling to himself, but his victory is short-lived.

“Hey, Casanova,” Dustin’s exasperated voice cuts in, pointing to the section Eddie just assembled, “you put the piece on upside down.”

Harris crinkles his nose. “What’s Casanova?”

Eddie buries his head in his hands as Dustin scrambles to explain. “It means your dad is trying to show off his handyman skills for your almost-mommy.” He winks in Eddie’s direction before leaning in and exaggeratedly whispering in Harris’s ear, “but he’s not doing a very good job.”

As soon as Harris distracts himself with setting up his toys, Eddie is saluting his friend with a quick flip of his middle finger.

You crouch down, brushing a lock of hair behind his ear. “Don’t worry; I’m very impressed.” He blushes when you kiss his cheek. “Your uncle’s going to be here with dinner in a few minutes, if you burly men want to wash up.”

Eddie nods, turning to his friends and his son and speaking in a deep baritone. “You heard the woman! Let us refuel so we may regain our strength for hunting and other masculine activities.”

Harris’s brows pinch together in further confusion while you and Dustin share an eyeroll, but the three of you follow your fearless leader out of the room. Eddie lets the two of them pass and waits for you, sliding a coy hand in your back pocket and murmuring against your hair. “Man and woman make fire in bedroom later?” He continues using the deepened voice.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“That’s…that’s not a no, though, right?”

The summer sun is still high in the sky when Wayne arrives at the apartment, three pizza boxes still warm in his palms. He’s barely able to put them on the table before Harris is racing towards him, ready to give a full report of the goings-on of his day. 

Jess sits at the table, baby Ettie laying in her arms while she gives Viv a break and feeds her from a bottle. You place a piece of pizza on the paper plate in front of her, and one in front of Robin, who adoringly watches her girlfriend dote on a baby. Wayne sits in the third seat, thanking you with his kind smile as you pass him a slice.

You join Eddie and Harris on the couch; Jeff plops down in the La-Z-Boy on the other side of the coffee table, motioning for Viv to sit atop his legs, while Dustin has seemingly been relegated to sitting cross-legged on the floor.

“Uncle Dusty, come sit next to me!” Harris chirps, nearly knocking your plate out of your hand as he bounces onto your lap. His curls tickle your chin as he leans over to take a bite of his dinner, dragging the cheese halfway off of the crust before Eddie holds it in place. 

Dustin obliges, squishing in next to you with an apologetic laugh, but you don’t mind. Dialogue melds together, with people seamlessly leaping from one conversation to another. Robin poses the question of what everyone thinks Ettie’s first word will be, which prompts Wayne to tell the story about how Eddie tried so hard to get Harris to say dada, only for the boy to scream out “SHIT!” in the middle of Bradley’s Big Buy. 

Jeff looks across the room at his tiny daughter. “Please don’t let that be your first word,” he jokingly begs her, picking a greasy pepperoni piece from his slice and dropping it in his mouth. While he’s preoccupied, Viv steals a bite of the crust. 

“Are you all going to the July 4th carnival next week?” Eddie asks through a cheesy mouthful. 

Everyone except Dustin answers in the affirmative. “Flying back home tomorrow,” he says, a round of booing from the group forcing him to pause mid-statement, “but Suzie and I are—hey, not cool!” He swats at a crumpled napkin that Eddie lobs at his head. “Suzie and I are going to try and visit for my mom’s birthday in August,” he finishes with a pointed look. 

Harris tilts his head back so you can see straight into his flared nostrils. “Ms. Sweetheart, you’re coming to the carnival with us, right?”

“Of course! What rides are we gonna go on?” you ask, his little feet kicking at your calves as joy flows through his body. 

“The Ferris Wheel! Me an’ Daddy always go on that, an’ now you can come with us!”

He and Eddie always go on the Ferris Wheel. It’s a tradition that they share, and now they’re allowing you in. Now you’re part of it. 

You smile, kissing his forehead in a celebration of belonging and delight. “That sounds like a lot of fun,” you agree. “Do you think Daddy will play the games and win a prize for us?”

Eddie groans at your suggestion. “Those booths are all rigged. Every last one of ‘em.”

“I dunno,” Jess says teasingly, wiping Ettie’s chin with a cloth bib, “I won a stuffed animal from the whack-a-mole last year—”

“Oh, yeah! And I beat the Test Your Strength one,” Jeff adds slyly, getting a rise out of proving Eddie wrong. 

Eddie throws his voice to a falsetto, mocking his friend’s words. “I beat the Test Your Strength one,” he echoes nasally, chuckling when Jeff scoops up the napkin previously thrown at Dustin and hurls it towards Eddie. 

The rest of the evening continues like this, silly banter and recalled stories that end up being cut short or watered down for the impressionable ears listening in. It’s love in its many forms: between partners, between parents and their children, between friends. Each peal of laughter, each shared smile, each memory made adds to its foundation; brick by brick, layer by layer. 

The pink hues of sunset darken to indigo and eventually settle into a night sky, the moon shining brightly and unobscured by clouds. Eddie, Jeff, and Dustin finally manage to put the race car bed back together—and just in time. Harris’s yawns become more frequent until he can no longer fight sleep, dozing off with his cheek pressed against your chest. Soft snores leave his slightly agape mouth. 

“I feel the same way,” Wayne jokes, standing up from his chair and stretching his back with a grimace. “It’s been a long day.”

The group nods in agreement, quietly gathering their belongings and saying good-bye. 

“Thank you all for helping today,” you say, handing out hugs while keeping Harris sound asleep. He stirs but doesn’t fully wake up, even with all of the commotion. “We really appreciate it.”

Eddie seconds your sentiment. “It means a lot to us. We know we owe you a lot more than just dinner—”

“You guys are family,” Viv interrupts with a smile, gently rocking a sleeping Ettie in her arms. “This is what family does.”

A calloused hand rests on your shoulder from behind the couch; you lean your head on Eddie’s forearm and give it a small kiss. The delicate hairs brush against your lips, and you relax into his touch.

Your guests file out, already making plans to meet up at the carnival. Eddie closes the door behind them, insisting that he can beat Jeff at the Test Your Strength and demanding that his friend buy him a funnel cake when he does.

There’s a soft murmuring coming from Harris’s room, and Eddie walks as quietly as he can. He watches silently, shoulder pressed against the doorframe, as you place his son’s head onto the pillow. The crisp sheet is draped over his sleeping body, followed by the Buzz Lightyear comforter you’d bought at Kmart especially for him. Harris stirs for a moment to grab onto the blankets, tugging them to his chin and scrunching up his legs to assume a cozier position. He lets out a content sigh and slips back into his dream.

“Good night, kiddo,” you whisper, kissing his mop of curls. You look around the room, so different from when it belonged to Grandma. It seems larger, his race car bed taking up much less space than her queen-size bed did. A Lego set lies where her shoe rack once stood. The top of his dresser is covered in Hot Wheels, rather than the makeup and jewelry that Grandma had on hers. 

But it’s a good kind of different, one that comes with the natural ebb and flow of life. It brings inevitable change, and it’s your choice whether to embrace it or run away.

“You’re a natural at this bedtime thing, y’know.” Eddie’s voice, low and soft, places you back in the moment. He holds his arms out for you to nestle into them, holding you as close as he can. His thumb caresses your shoulder blade. “It normally takes a couple of stories, half a dozen pee breaks, and a horse tranquilizer to get him down.”

“I think being completely exhausted from moving helped,” you laugh into his chest. “And I’m right there with him. Man and woman might have to postpone their fire-making.”

Eddie’s chuckle vibrates against you. “Yeah, it wouldn’t be my best performance. Wanna make this one really good, since it’s a special occasion and everything.” He closes Harris’s door and leads you to the bedroom you two now share. “We gotta christen this bad boy.”

“We’ve had sex on this bed a million times.” You recall the ways his lips traced over your body, eager to memorize every inch of skin. 

“But that’s when it was only your bed,” he points out. “Now it’s ours.”

Ours. Our bed, our home, our family. Ours. 

You can barely change into pajamas before you’re falling asleep; Eddie manages to slip off his jeans and shirt, clad in plaid boxers and nothing else, before crashing down into the bed you now share. His arm slips around your waist, fingers reflexively dancing up your shirt, while he buries his head in the nape of your neck. 

When daylight breaks and the sun streams through the gaps in the blinds, Eddie has assumed a starfish position, blankets flung to the edge of the bed in what must have been a middle-of-the-night move. You’re still dozing, but he knows he has to wake you if he wants to sneak in some alone time before his son wakes up.

“Morning, gorgeous.” His breath tickles under your earlobe, pulling you close to him. You hum, not quite awake but no longer dreaming. “C’mon, wake up, pretty thing.” He licks his lips before kissing the exposed skin of your shoulder blades. 

Wiping sleep from your eyes, you turn over and face him. Your mouth lazily finds his, the cotton fabric of your pajama top fisted in his grasp. The outline of his morning wood is visible through his boxer shorts; it presses into your thigh as though greedily searching for your warmth. “You always wake up this hard?” you tease, fingertips already fiddling with the worn elastic waistband and dipping towards the treasure beneath. The scruff of his pubic hair grazes your knuckles. 

“Only when I dream of you,” he mumbles with a cheeky grin, climbing on top of you while shedding his only clothing article. The boxers fall to the floor unceremoniously. 

“Smooth.”

“I thought so.” Both hands cup your cheeks; you expect him to kiss you again, but he just gazes into your eyes. “Love waking up next to you.”

It draws a memory of the first morning you’d spent together; an inadvertent sleepover that culminated in one poorly-crafted lie and two broken hearts. He looks at you now, tired and yet still beautiful. How could I have let her slip by? How did I almost miss all of this?

You take the lead this time, arching your back so your torso melds into his, connected by desire. Eddie has your tank top off in a heartbeat, tongue swiping over your nipples the instant they’re visible. 

“Perfect,” Eddie groans, making his way down your abdomen. He places your legs on top of his shoulders, lips delicately fluttering over your clit so he can lick a broad stripe up your labia. “I know we should be having a quickie, but I can’t turn down breakfast in bed.” His face is buried in your pussy, inhaling your scent and committing it to memory. 

You giggle at his phrasing. If you question it, you know he’ll make a comment about you being good enough to eat. You give in instead, letting him ravish you just the way you both crave. 

One finger, then two, slip into your waiting cunt while his mouth focuses on your clit. You’re dripping with your arousal and his saliva; you bite your lower lip to stifle the noises begging to be heard. 

“Eddie, Eddie,” you croak, trying to keep your voice down. “I’m so close, s-so close…”

Eddie says nothing, continuing to worship the taste of you. You can feel his victorious smile as you cry out his name in orgasmic bliss, toes flexing just as he brings you down from the high. 

“Need you, fuckin’ Christ,” he breathes, tempering the stimulation pulsing through his cock with a few short tugs. 

You nod, already electrified at the prospect of being split open on him. He sinks into you with a muted moan, savoring the way you envelop him within your warmth. “All mine, Sweetheart; you’re all mine.”

“Mhm,” you manage. Your fingernails dig into his upper back with a force that will surely leave crescent indents in his skin. “I’m all yours. Always will be.”

His thumb runs along your jaw and he smiles. She’s all mine.

The ridges of his dick form a delectable friction along your walls. Each thrust is a mutual give and take, an exchanging of selves with every breath. 

“I love you.” Eddie’s impossibly beautiful like this, hands holding your hips steady while sweat drips from his forehead onto yours. He brings your fourth finger between his lips; you can feel his tongue claiming it as his own. “And I’m gonna put a ring on this pretty little finger of yours, okay? Just want it to be perfect for you.”

You weave your fingers into his sleep-mussed curls and kiss him. “Don’t need perfect. I’ll marry you without a ring.” Whatever elaborate fairytale wedding you’d been crafting in your head is suddenly wholly unnecessary; all that matters is that you and Eddie commit to one another. But you know him well enough to not question his devotion to you. If Eddie Munson wants to give you the proposal of a lifetime, then that’s what he’s going to do. 

There will be no unkept promises this morning, no shattered hearts to mend.

He can’t hold back any longer, spilling into you with punctuating grunts. You receive every last drop gratefully, a part of him within you, and you finish for the second time today. 

“I meant it.” He gently withdraws from inside you, both of you mourning the loss of the other’s body. “When I said I’m gonna marry you, I meant it.”

“I know.”

“Good.” Eddie grins, laying on his side and propping himself up on his elbow. Sweat glistens along the sparse hairs curling over his bare chest. “Are you hungry? I know I worked up an appetite.”

You kiss his nose, biting the end teasingly. He yelps in mock pain, so you kiss it again. “I am, but I have to be honest—between all the unpacking and sex, I don’t have the energy to make breakfast.” 

“Me neither,” he admits with a laugh. “Why don’t we shower, wake up Sleeping Beauty,” he nudges his head towards Harris’s room, “and go to the diner.” He stretches and stands, eyes drawn to the nightstand, where the framed photo from Wayne leans against a porcelain lamp. Happiness captured with the click of a Kodak.

You’re smiling, thinking about sharing silver dollar pancakes with Harris again just like you used to do with Grandma. Somewhere along the way, you grew from the child to the adult in that scenario, passing on a tradition you never even knew had been started. 

“That sounds amazing.” As you say it aloud, something in addition to hunger gnaws at your stomach. You’ve been putting it off, hiding from the truth, but you want to stop pretending. You want to feel everything that comes with accepting reality. Without sorrow, you would never recognize joy. Without grief, you won’t understand the depths of our love beyond the physical plain. 

“Could we make a quick pit stop first?”

Though it’s still morning, the late June humidity has your shirt clinging to you, sweat beading along the collar and around your bra clasp. You close the car door behind you; Eddie shuffles to open the back door for Harris. The little boy unbuckles his seatbelt and hops out of the booster seat, glancing between you and his dad. You take his left hand and Eddie takes his right as you walk over to the stone. 

“Hi, Grandma,” you whisper, crouching down to better see the engraving. Gently, your fingers dance over the etched words: Beloved wife, mother, grandmother, and friend. “I know I haven’t been by to visit you yet, but I’m here now.” You muster up a small smile. “And I brought Eddie and Harris with me. They…they loved you, too.”

You falter for a moment, unsure how to proceed. Eddie’s hand rubs your upper back, not caring about how perspiration-soaked it is. 

“Do you want some privacy?” he murmurs. “Harris and I can wait by the car. You take as long as you need.”

You nod, watching them walk hand in hand to give you your space to grieve. Filling your lungs with a deep breath, you speak what’s been in your heart. 

“I need to thank you,” you start, talking directly to where her name is engraved, “for a lot of things. But I guess, um, the most important is how you taught me to forgive without taking shit—can I swear in a cemetery?—from people.” Your laugh is heavy with the weight of remembrance. 

“I miss you. A lot,” you continue, tears now spilling freely from your eyes. “I miss doing puzzles together. I miss cooking together. I’m going to try and make your applesauce for Thanksgiving this year. I think Harris will really like it.” You swallow thickly. “If you’d met him before you got sick, you would’ve adored him. He’s got the biggest heart of any kid I’ve ever met.”

You’re finding it easier to talk; everything you need to say is coming naturally and without hesitation. 

“He’s…he’s living in your room. I guess, technically, it’s his room now. But a little part of me will always consider it your room, too. And I think that’s okay.” You nod, confirming to yourself that it’s all part of the process. “He keeps asking me and Eddie when we’re going to get married. To be honest, I’m kind of wondering the same thing.” You smile at the thought of marrying Eddie, maybe even legally adopting Harris, if that’s something they also want. “I’m not in a rush, though, but I really do believe that Eddie’s the one. He’s my person, and I’m his. So, yeah, I’m definitely hoping that he proposes sooner rather than later.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to visit. I always thought losing you wouldn’t be as hard as it was, because it felt like I had already lost you to dementia.” It feels silly to admit aloud, but it’s the truth. “I should’ve known that it wouldn’t be easy. But I promise, I’ll stop by more often, and I’ll have plenty of cute Harris stories to tell you.”

There’s just a bit more that you need to share before you can go. “I love you, Grandma. And…thank you for loving me, too.”

You stand up, pressing on your knees to ensure your balance. Taking one last look at the stone, you run your fingers over the jagged marble and turn back towards Eddie and Harris.

The little boy is perched on his father’s hip, squinting into the sunlight to make out your form. “You ready, Ms. Sweetheart?”

You blink through misty eyes, staring at the two people in front of you. Ten months ago, if someone had told you that your one-night stand at a dive bar would end up being the love of your life, you would have laughed in their face. But the universe does what it must to remain in balance, and it doesn’t humor any arguments.

Inhale, exhale, repeat. This is where you’re meant to be. This is who you’re meant to be: a partner, a friend, an almost-mommy.

“Yeah,” you say finally, the tears clearing from your vision and a genuine smile forming on your lips. “I’m ready.”

--

💚

[freedomfireflies]

404rrry catching a cold and wanting to babied by tink but also trying to act all tough “im just letting you be nice to me you know? But keep rubbing my back”😂

🩷🩷

“Harry—”

“No.”

“Harry—”

“Uh-uh.”

You huff. “Harold, I swear to god, if you don’t open your mouth so I can take your temperature, I will shove this thermometer up your ass and take it that way.”

He grimaces. “You don’t need to take my temperature. I’m not sick.”

“You’re coughing, you have a fever, you have snot literally dripping down your nose, and you can’t even stand up.” You cross your arms. “You’re sick.”

“And you’re annoying. But apparently there’s no prescription for that, is there? Well, I guess there is one—”

“Harry.”

“What?” He groans and presses his palm to his forehead. “You’re giving me a headache, do you mind?”

“Yeah. I do. Can you take the damn medicine I got you?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because you probably laced it with something,” he retorts. “And also because I’m not sick. Why do you even care so much? Do you really expect me to believe that you don’t like to see me suffer?”

“Oh, I do,” you agree. “But if you’re not better by next week, I have to go to that goddamn convention alone and Alex will be there. And if you’re not there, then I have to deal with him alone, and that’s just not fair.”

He considers this a moment, smirking slightly before leaning back against his headboard. “So…you wanna use me to make another guy jealous?”

“I—ew. No. I just…he’s annoying and he always hits on me and it’s gross.”

“So…”

“So, I’m not using you, but he’s scared of it. It’s just—forget it, are you gonna take the damn medicine or not?”

“Can you admit that you like to show me off to your nerdy admirers?”

You scowl. “No.”

“Fine. Then I guess I’ll just stay here and miss the convention.” He pauses. “...even though I’m not sick.”

With a rather dramatic groan, you reach for the bottle of pills on his nightstand. “Fine. Fine. Maybe…I like to have you around…sometimes…because it makes me look…better. Maybe. Sometimes.”

He grins. “Uh-huh. And…?”

Your teeth grit. “And I would really appreciate if you would come to the convention with me…so I can make…Alex…jealous.”

“Mm. Good girl.” Pleased, he sticks out his tongue and his hand.. “All right, Doctor. Make me better. Oh, but if you do decide to put something up my ass…the lube is in the second drawer. Right next to the strap-on.”

You smirk.

OKAY I DON'T KNOW IF I DID THIS RIGHT BUT I HOPE IT WAS SOMEWHAT WHAT YOU WERE WANTING, THANK YOU FOR SENDING IT BB, THIS IS FUN HEHE 💞

[sitp-recs]

HP Rec Fest, Day 21

Today’s is hands down of my favourite prompt from @hprecfest, what a banger! I love being wowed by thought-provoking fics and it was a pleasure to reread these two all-time favourites for this post. I really hope more people will feel intrigued enough to check these out! On a side note, I won’t be posting any recs for tomorrow’s prompt (day 22: a fic that hasn't been updated in 10 years or author stated it was abandoned) as I haven’t read unfinished works in years and I completely lost track of the ones I’ve read in the pre-AO3 era. See you again on Saturday!

Day 21) a thought-provoking fic:

Drarry

And Save Me From Bloody Men by @blamebrampton (T, 10k)

Draco Malfoy once watched others fighting to stop the world falling apart. This time, he's not just watching.

why yes, I’ll be screaming about BB and this particular fic until the end of times, thank you very much :))) this is easily the most thought-provoking fic I’ve read in the HP fandom and remains (frighteningly so) current and relevant despite having been written well over a decade ago. the world building is phenomenal, my jaw dropped as I was introduced to this fascinating post-war dystopia full of disturbing political allegories. it’s brilliant and depressing all at once. my heart belongs to this redeemed Draco who’s so capable and tough, trying to do the right thing for once; his chemistry with Harry is instant and deliciously uncomplicated, but a war romance is inherently angsty and this will tug at your heartstrings. so many feels! I loved seeing Draco’s side relationship with Ernie, the trust and camaraderie between them is sooo good. Draco’s character development is truly fascinating to watch and believe me when I say you are not prepared to face this thrilling yet devastating ending. it will make your heart race and blow your mind just like the rest of this witty, fierce and sophisticated commentary. an epic classic that definitely deserves more love and more obsessed readers to join me and @tackytigerfic 🤝

Rare pair

Help Wanted: God and Executioner by pir8fancier (Snarry, E, 20k)

The war is raging on and Harry learns that there are no right choices.

yet another grim and brilliant wartime fic, this one delves deeper into the brutal reality of war tragedy and loss. love the poignant dialogue, so very honest and in character, and the way the sexual tension builds urgent and insistent but still organically. there’s so much going on, so much hurt and grief all around, that seeing Harry and Snape disconnect and find comfort in stolen moments before (or more likely after) the storm hits is very cathartic. I loved getting immersed in their dynamics and conversations. the dialogue is so good but I must remind you that this is not a happy fic, although it has its tender moments. Harry’s loneliness and search for punishment are devastating but there’s also understanding, intimacy and worshipping sex (!) which is everything we want and need. if you’re a Snarry fan I highly recommend giving this a try and then checking all of pir8fancier’s catalogue bc they’re a fabulous author!

[spillthebea]

welcome lgbtq+ community,

first thing first, do not expect clear thoughts or for me to stay on one topic!

multifandom shenanigans because my brain cannot and will not stand for multiple blogs for each fandom so, expect me to jump from one thing to another in mere seconds!

my AO3 and SquidgeWorld are just a click away!! you can find gay fics and gay fics and even more GAY FICS! With a sprinkle of trauma and angst for your enjoyment!

disclaimer: any emotional damage will not be blamed on the author who was in a silly little mood

all posts related to my fics or wips are under the tag: #spillthefic

art posts under tag: #spilltheart

ship scenarios posts under tag: #spillthescenario

completed fics:

so lay out the tea, and, poet, lay on the jam; (sirius/remus) 32k

or, why be yourself when you can be an expert in Russian Literature?

the boy with the thorn in his side ; (sirius/remus) 238k

“Grey is not a rainbow colour" “You’re made of moonlight, Moony. Fuck the rainbow.”

if you are homesick, give me your hand and I'll hold it;

(sirius/remus & harry) 14k

or, a werewolf, the Chosen One and a wizard in dog form… it doesn't sound that bad of a joke.

the tale of a white sheep; (sirius & narcissa) 3,7k

or, Narcissa and Sirius share a soft moment thinking about their childhood and how much worse it could've been without Andromeda protecting them

i can't wait to go to sleep (and wake up from this sad dream);

(remus) 2,6k

or, Harry gives Remus another trauma to unpack with the help of the only *drum rolls* Marauders' Map and a fucking rat

seeing through the sung lies; (regulus & sirius) 3,5k

or Regulus has a lot of regrets and feelings for his past actions and future but Sirius being in Azkaban won't be one of them. Remus joins the team.

turns out her heart fits right in the palm of his hand ; (james/lily) 6,6k

or, Lily Evans should have never ever, ever, allowed James Fleamont Potter to decide the location of their first date, because, of course, the idiot has brought her to the place where all the first dates at Hogsmeade happen.

I take you as a fan, you take me as I am ; (sirius/remus) 2,1k

or, “It’s not every day you meet your jerking-off material in real life!” or or, Remus just wants to go home and sleep but his number 1 fan, who is also a mercenary with a few... issues, has other ideas on his mind.

Denial is a river in Egypt, you have a crush on James Potter! ; (james/lily) 5,5k

or, Lily Evans has a debt to repay but what she gets is a flying lesson, a possible concussion and... oh, right! discovering her crush for no other than James Potter

wip: (temporary title)

WOLFSTAR and HARRY – A Christmas Concert : 2,5k

THE TALE OF THE WHITE WOLF : 6,8k

PROJECT NOMAD BOYS : 13,2k

PROJECT GENERATIONAL TRAUMA : 1,7k

ZKBB 2024

REG POV -- THORN BOY : 2,6k

PROJECT MOTH : 4,3k

PROJECT COURTLY LOVE : 3,2k

under revision:

cigarette after sex

the boy with the thorn in his side

my spotify!

be gay; do crime against the evil capitalism

bb is out

[twopoppies]

Good evening, dear Gina! Sorry to bug you but I’m on a hunt for a genre of fic and can’t think of what it might be tagged under. I recently read I think it was called Babydoll blues? You rec’d it (I loved it!), it’s where L is a big rich producer and H is a sugar baby. So now I’m hunting for fics that kind of have the same vibe from Louis. I looked everywhere for “rich louis” fics, but realized that isn’t exactly what I’m looking for. I guess I’m hoping to find like POWERFUL, big dick energy louis fics lmao. I like the kind of power imbalance between them too. Just wondering if you could point me to the right tags to check under, if you have some! I never know what people would call certain tropes. For the longest time I thought A/B/O fics would just be tagged “Werewolves” LOL. Read some weird shit during that time 🤣Thank you and hope you’re having a lovely holiday season 🌈✨🎄

Hahaha! That’s so funny. So… I guess I would look for something like Babydoll Blues under AO3 tags like Sugar Baby Harry, Power Imbalance, maybe also Cheating, and then you could try something like CEO Louis or something like Boss/Employee Relationship.

I have fic recs with most of those tropes, so you could dig through those. Try Music Mogul Louis instead of CEO, though.

I think the main trope of BB is sugar baby Harry, but there are very few out there that are any good (IMO).

[homosociallyyours]

Hi!!

I'd love to know more about:

Filth (Canadian Cabin rare 3some)

And any other wip you really want to talk about.

THANK YOU MY FRIEND!!!

That's the one I was shocked nobody asked for, and one that I really love and very much plan on finishing. It's a special favorite of @jlf23tumble but I think you'll like it too! For a while I thought I might publish it on anon unicorns, but the problem is that there's nothing about it I wouldn't wanna claim? ANYWAYYYY

It's. Rande Gerber/Harry Hamlin/Harry Styles having a threesome that Louis actually took part in planning (which Harry finds extra hot) in Rande's remote Canadian cabin. It's the middle of the night and a little dark and fumbly, but it's got a flow. Enjoy:

The sounds were quiet, but distinct; familiar, certainly. There was the swallowed hum that Harry associated with taking a cock in his mouth, aroused beyond belief and yet somehow soothed by the rightness of how it filled him. It was followed by a choked sound, and he found himself pressing down on his own hardening cock, thinking about gagging on Louis’ only a few nights ago, tears in his eyes as he forced himself to open his throat up and take it. 

He didn’t think he was dreaming until he heard the rough whisper of his name. “Harry-- fuck, yeah. Missed this.” 

It was Rande’s voice, and Harry bit back a gasp as he slid one hand into his pants, fingers trailing over the hairs that led down to his cock. They’d never done anything together, but of course Harry had thought about it. It was a fantasy that he indulged in with Louis regularly, playing the innocent younger man being taught how to be used by a rough, rich daddy who took exactly what he wanted and left Harry wanting more. 

The cabin was fully dark, the moon not even a sliver in the sky, the Canadian woods swallowing up any light that might try to sneak in with thick branches and clouds that had threatened rain for at least a day of the camping trip. Still, Harry lifted up on his elbow, turning toward where he knew Rande’s bed was on the opposite side of the cabin. He slid his thumb across his slit, spreading the bit of precome over his cock as he gave it the slightest tug, trying to hold back from jerking himself off fully in case this really was just a dream.

BRIEF, UNDETAILED SEXUAL ASSAULT MENTION BELOW

THIS IS A CONTENT WARNING

I'll also talk about the BDSM fic I had a nice little start on, because I fully DID NOT remember actually getting anything down for it (I signed up for the fest but also had my first BB fic to work on, so I had to drop). The plot is that Harry and Louis are roommates. They're both queer and kinky but not sure they'd be compatible and not willing to test it when they like the relationship they already have with each other.

Then Louis comes home and finds Harry after a date that went really badly (boundary pushing and no aftercare) and is immediately worried/jumps into caretaking mode. The experience shifts Harry's perspective and eventually HL's relationship into something different. Here's a little bit

CONTENT WARNING OVER YOU ARE SAFE TO READ

DON'T WORRY IT IS 100% FLUFFY:

“I have a date Friday,” Harry says casually on Wednesday morning as he and Louis navigate their shared kitchen. Harry has already been up for a bit doing his usual morning routines and Louis is trying desperately to leave for work. It barely registers for him, but he nods anyway and asks who it’s with. 

“Matt from that party last week, Boy Pile.” 

Louis has a vague memory of someone tall and chiseled, built a bit like Chris Evans. “The Dorito?” he asks, filling his travel mug with coffee. “Thought you weren’t that into him.” 

Harry laughs and slides Louis’ phone toward him, making sure he won’t forget it. “He found me on Grindr a few days later and we started texting. Turns out we have some common interests.” He’s got a sly smile on his face and Louis just shakes his head, laughing it off. 

“You’re such a slut for mean daddies. I’ll never understand.”  “Because you’re a nice daddy, Lou.” It’s the kind of gentle teasing that they’ve engaged in since they first met, and Louis can’t help but enjoy it. He pinches Harry’s side, making him giggle, and grabs a piece of toast off Harry’s plate before heading toward the door.

(isn't that a nice little start?? I literally got to the end and was like damn why didn't the bitch who wrote this FINISH IT???)

[areislol]

MY WIFE YES , ughhhh bb 🥹 i just cherish you, just so you know. oh my. you’re so sweet and kind and beautiful ugh. mwah! i’m happy you’re doing a bit better now. and WRITING?.!.!.! ohh yesss babyyyyyyyyyyy 🙌🏻👏🏻🤩 hp or avatar?? (or something else eheheh)

I CHERISH U MORE WBUEJ and yes u are my beautiful wife <333 and im writing for hp right now!!! i'll give u the idea in dms haven't started on chapter three but i will maybe this or next week, depends on when i finish the harry potter hc :)

[wheezykat]

ty for the tag bb @avenueofesc (and possibly others that i missed)!! ❤❤ i haven’t written anything (new) in over a year now, and it makes me sad, but i just don’t have the bandwidth right now bc of life stuff. so it was nice to look back at some of the things i’ve created in the past and makes me want to try to make space for writing again soon.  Rules: share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written less than ten, don’t be shy and share anyway you’re smilin’ (but i don’t believe you) - (Drarry, E) - WIP, 7.7k

The first time he was spotted was on a muggy evening in May, almost three years to the day, brick against his back and cigarette in hand, looking out across the Thames. Draco had hidden himself away from the hateful stares and outright vitriol of the wizarding world, instead choosing to live largely among muggles, and you could find him at this corner like clockwork. throwing rope - (Ginsy, G) - 278 & art Pansy’s heels are rubbing, even encased in familiar worn leather as they are, her shirt sticky and starched from the sweat of the day. A little piece of her aches, small and sharp, watching as a faint smile crosses Ginevra’s lips, even in the thick of it all.  cruel blade - (Drarry, E) - 2.5k

How do you keep someone dead who wants to come back to you? It's a difficult quandary when you also desperately want them by your side, in your bed, in your arms. happy hour - (Drarry, E) - 10k

It was quiet in Harry’s pub, the first time he saw Malfoy after the war. It had been three years, though he could hardly believe it.

habit - (Draco/Offscreen Drarry, E) - microfic

The black rope slips between his hands, soft and stark, as he painstakingly ties one end around his bedpost.

the seam of all paths - (Drarry, T) - drabble

Harry always found kissing a bit… peculiar. A strange smearing of saliva that he found off-putting. Lackluster. feather-light - (Drarry, M) - microfic

What I want is to grind myself down, becoming a dust so fine that I'm haze curling at your feet.

 time-tied - (Drarry, T) - 154

06/08/1999

Draco savors the burn of firewhisky on his tongue. Two years. Two messy break-ups. That’s all it took for them to make amends.  stitched and sewn - (Drarry, E) - 7.9k

It always started like this: bright lights flashing, spells arcing overhead, the thick smoke of magic and ozone coating the back of his tongue. 

the north country - (Drarry, NR) - microfic

It’s curious, Harry thinks, what reminds him they’re no longer in the city.      

tagging @vukovich @peachpety @tontonguetonks @thusspoketrish @amorsindolor @corvuscrowned @mystickitten42 @moonstruckwytch @thegoblinmatriarch @secretartlair

[ahqkas]

hello!! good morningg, i hope you’ve had breakfast! if not, i hope you eat well <33

ooh yeah, he’d probably have his own struggles with bullying and have the fear of the hogwarts students inflate his ego just so he can look tough and not let people get attached to him as much, so they won’t get hurt (BB NO!!). ooh yeah by 4th year he’d def stop. actually i had a silly hc that somewhere around the final days of 3rd year (or the start of 4th year), mattheo and harry finally see eye to eye (like for example; harry sees mattheo bully someone and he stands up for them and they glare at each other since mortal enemies ig),, and that’s where they start this small, mini rivalry that’s a bit subtle in my eyes.

YEAHH THE WEASLEY FAMILY THING 🥹 mattheo would be so jealous, since he grew up as an orphan, got bullied, feared by hogwarts and not a single drop of love from his family (who are both absent in his lives). i think that maybe mattheo visits the malfoy manor sometimes, and sure he feels some praise but not as pure and genuine as the one harry gets. mattheo would probably say smth like “that bloody golden potter boy, everyone loves him. what makes him so special? he survived Voldemort? I did too. why didn’t i get love? why didn’t i get a loving family? what made me so different when we experienced parallel lives?”

WE SHOULD TBH ‼️‼️ characterizing mattheo is a hobby now ugh!! ofc u can use my hcs, we basically worked on them together HAHAH i love talking abt this too!!

anw, i hope ur taking care of urself! stay safe and always stay hydrated, rest comfortably as well! mwa <3 - c: anon

GOOD MORNING ANGEL !! hope you had something as well ml , take care of yourself <33

YOU’RE SO RIGHT ron would mutter about the slytherins under his breath to harry while hermione just scolds him for always talking about them 😭😭 and then after mattheo and harry finally came eye to eye , ron would just go “bloody hell, harry! have you seen the way he looked at you? if looks could kill you’d drop dead right there!!!” pleaseee i love ron ☹️

my personal hc is that mattheo grew up in the orphanage and always returned there for the summer break since the 1st year until his 4th year , practically until the rise of the dark lord . his father wouldn’t want his heir to go back anymore so he organized for mattheo to live with the malfoys for the remaining time of his academic life since their place became voldemort’s sanctuary (?? idk if i recall it correctly 😭😭) as well . i also think that narcissa would take mattheo under her wing from that moment bc you could see how much she cared for draco and i think she’d care just as much for mattheo , lucius would be more careful around the boy bc the boy’s father is his lord after all and he doesn’t want any trouble

mattheo so would hold grudge against harry bc of the family issues

i LOVE analyzing mattheo’s character he’s really interesting . also , who do you hc as mattheo’s mother? in the og fic it was bellatrix if i remember right but i don’t really see her as his mother

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

I have never seen anything more bb and vampy coded in my life

“Hey, guys! I’m doing a boyfriend haul! This is the one I got, his name is Harry, I found him in the dumpster outside of a club, and he cost me 4 months of a friends with benefits stage before he finally got the balls to ask me out. He’s made in England— Cheshire, to be exact, so he says weird things like ‘shag’ and ‘innit.’ Pros: knows where the clit is, tattoos, wears rings, pretty face, can cook, owns a jacuzzi. Cons: big head, needs constant skin to skin contact or he’ll throw a tantrum, smartass, will grab your boobs at least once every three minutes, is British. Seven out of ten.”

“Seven out of ten?”

“You’re right. I’ll bump it up to seven and a half because you spoil me.”

[sitp-recs]

Hidden Gems by @blamebrampton

Anyone who’s been following me for a while knows I worship the ground BB walks on. She’s probably among my top 3 Drarry fic authors of all time and I can confidently say I’ve read her catalogue in its entirety but curiously enough, I still get the same thrill of joy and excitement revisiting her works once twice thrice a month. BB’s narrative is very unique with nuanced and refreshing characterization, and organic witty humour playing in an effective, effortlessly charming and clever way that feels magical. It creates immersive universes and atmospheres that invite you to lose yourself into, different from anything I’ve read before or since. Beyond the incredible world building, her dialogue is a thing of beauty in itself, delightful and brilliant, packing just enough emotional resonance to make you wanna scream after a particularly clever line. It makes my job to find a quote for my recs so much more challenging! The feeling of first exploring BB’s world is exquisite and her masterful characterization never fail to impress me, it’s truly genius.

It was almost impossible to make a short list of hidden gems and it hurt my soul to stray from so many personal faves since they’re a bit more popular. But I’m sticking to the rules and that means highlighting fics that could use more attention. Words usually fail me when I’m trying to convey how much I love certain fics so feel free to check the single recs I’ve linked below - if you’re willing to suffer through my rambling thoughts, that is! I’m sure I’ve recced most of her catalogue at this point. And please please go check it ASAP, if you haven’t yet. These fics have stayed with me for many years now, they helped me through dark days and still comfort my heart whenever I need solace in fandom, I can’t imagine letting go of them anytime soon. I think of them now, 10 years after they’ve been written, and I’ll be thinking of them for the next 10 years. If you’re having one of those days - or just looking for a new obsession a special, one-of-a-kind reading experience - you can’t pick a better author. Go check these right now then come into my DMs to scream about Little Red Courgette all of them! You’re welcome 😉

And Save Me From Bloody Men (2010, T, 10k) - the only war AU you’ll ever need to read, a true masterpiece of characterization and building tension with tender Drarry romance, badass redeemed Draco and a breathtaking open ending that will make you gasp out loud. A must read!

Draco Malfoy once watched others fighting to stop the world falling apart. This time, he's not just watching. Read my rec here.

Tidings of Comfort (2012, G, 10k) - this cathartic series is on my top 3 fave comfort fics, beautifully quiet and cathartic. Featuring a redeemed Draco and a gentle curious Harry, late night conversations and

When a man is tired of London, he is tired of life. Luckily for Draco Malfoy, London has places where the tired can rest and recover. Read my rec here.

Of Hoof Picks, Centaurs and Flight (2012, G, 21k) - such a charming and fun adventure, I can’t get enough of it! Perfect Draco, lots of banter, centaurs, flying cars and the good old bed sharing trope 👌🏼

Harry has promised that he will not do anything to upset the new head of Magical Creatures. Even if it is Draco Malfoy. When three centaur foals appear in Cumbria, far from the Forbidden Forest and all too close to Muggles, Harry’s promise is thoroughly tested. To say nothing of his equestrian skills. Read my rec here.

For the Public Good (2008, T, 23k) - a brilliant satire of British politics and definitely a must-read if you’re into this genre. BB gets Draco’s snark just right and the banter is fabulous, not to mention the creative world building as per usual. Fun, smart, flirty, highly entertaining!

Harry is loaned to the Muggle government to assist relations between the two governments after the London bombings. When his counterpart in the Communications team comes to him with evidence of a plot to expose wizarding Britain, he is all ears. And only in part because the messenger has such a familiar voice.

Doing the Lambeth Walk (2012, T, 26k) - brilliant urban drama with fabulous world building, soft Draco and Harry doing good deeds and finding each other, slow burn, some family drama and non-graphic violence

There are only three traditional choices for the cashed-up hero after victory. Harry Potter is too young to settle down and provide the wizarding world with a happy ending, and has too acute a sense of humour to spiral downwards into a spectacular flame-out. That leaves a life of good works. Choosing to lead it in Muggle Brixton comes with its own set of challenges, including Malfoys in the biscuit aisle. Read my rec here.

Beneath Boundless Skies (2008, T, 29k) - imho this fic is a the testament to BB’s storytelling skills as it will make you laugh, cry and fall in love within minutes. What a rollercoaster of emotions! Set in the Australian landscape it delivers brilliant OCs, organic character dynamics, and the most touching, heart wrenching funeral scene. A gorgeous and poignant post-war recovery story.

Home is a world filled with funerals, a girlfriend who can't bear the sight of you, and people who are convinced you came back from the dead. Bugger it, even Australia sounds good.

The Consolations of a Summer's Day (2012, T, 32k) - this is such a delightful and well put together case fic, I adore Harry and Draco’s dynamics right from the start and how circumstances push them closer. Subtle romance, alternating POVs, a perfect Luna and a hilarious Kreacher as a treat! Cw: character death (Pansy)

Harry Potter is absolutely certain Draco Malfoy did not murder Pansy Parkinson. He’s almost absolutely certain he can prove this without sacrificing his career and having them both hauled up before the Wizengamot.

[heyjude19-writing]

Hi! Just wanted to say that Remain Nameless to this day is one of my favourite fic ever. It is just so well written and the characterization of everyone is great.

Would be open to sharing what fics you’re currently reading and/or that you enjoyed reading?

I figured that someone who creates such quality must be reading quality stuff!

Thankyousomuch xx

hi anon!

thank you so much, im so happy you enjoyed RN enough to consider it a favorite 🥰

ok so. i'll be honest, i haven't been reading much fic lately and hardly any dramione. I tend not to read a lot of fic when im in the midst of writing a multi-chap.

But I am currently following one WIP: Carpathian by @niffizzle. It's the dragonkeeper!draco fic of my dreams.

I am working up the energy/courage to read What You Know is Wrong, which is a sequel to one of my fave fics, What You Think is Right. But i know @icepower55 is going to absolutely destroy me with this and I will be a heap of emotions on the floor. Standby for a future meltdown.

If you're open to dipping your toe in drarry, this is one of the best of that pairing I have ever read: What We Pretend We Can't See by gyzym. Featuring: obnoxious little shit draco. he babbles a lot in this one, just never shuts up and it is delightful. a strong case made for why harry would actually be a shit auror and ron a good auror. and a compassionate depiction of depression, loneliness, and panic attacks.

if you're open to a phenomenal character study, i beg you to read this: ugly: in defense of pansy parkinson by dirgewithoutmusic. the opening lines about james potter hooked me right away.

anddddddddddd because i am currently OBSESSESD you're getting another rec that is not fic. Lore Olympus by rachel smythe on webtoon. Do you like beautiful art? Do you like tall, white-blond haired-men covered in scars? Do you like a soft romance between two precious, broken bbs? Do you like a compassionate exploration of trauma? What about the ultimate tol/smol couple? GO READ THIS RIGHT NOW AND THANK ME LATER!

[imaginesandbandfiction]

I can’t believe this is the last Instagram blurb in my Fine Line series! Here is Lights Up.

Masterlist

Step Into the Light

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harrystyles Live on Tour Seattle

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harrystan1 OK WE LOVE A SPARKLE KING

yourinstagram the lights reflected off your sparkles so much. i think i’m blind

harrystyles @/yourinstagram If you’re blind, how are you typing?

yourinstagram @/harrystyles voice to text, duh

gemmastyles This is my favorite look by far!

yourinstagram liked this comment

harrystan2 @/gemmastyles agreed!

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yourinstagram just live on tour things

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hannahbananaaa I’m gonna miss our tour shenans 😭

yourinstagram @/hannahbananaaa me too :.-(

harrystyles Please get off the roof

yourinstagram @/harrystyles no :D

harrystan1 I can’t believe tour is almost over 😭

harrystan2 @/harrystan1 Me either! I’m gonna miss all the regular content from Harry

harrystan3 are you and Harry dating???

harrystan4 @/harrystan3 you should respect their privacy!

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harrystyles Live on Tour LA I

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harrystan1 He’s serving pride and prejudice

harrystan2 @/harrystan1 OMG Harry as Mr. Darcy 😍

yourinstagram this man is always screaming

harrystyles @/yourinstagram And your point is?

yourinstagram @/harrystyles that you’re always screaming

hannahbananaaa Ok Captain Jack

yourinstagram @/hannahbananaaa he looks like one of the animatronics from the pirates of the caribbean ride LMAO

harrystyles @/yourinstagram @/hannahbananaaa You guys are so mean.

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yourinstagram REUNITED AND IT FEELS SO GOOD @/yourbff

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yourbff PLEASE NEVER LEAVE ME AGAIN

yourinstagram @/yourbff as long was harry doesn’t go on tour again i’m good

harrystyles @/yourinstagram @/yourbff Hmm…

harrystan1 @/harrystyles @/yourinstagram @/yourbff SIR WHAT DOES THAT MEAN???

harrystan2 I love your sweater!

hannahbananaaa @/yourbff You can fight me for her

yourbff @/hannahbanana Ok bet 👀

harrystan3 Harry is a lucky man

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harrystyles Live on Tour LA II

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harrystan1 the vibes are immaculate

harrystan2 @/harrystan1 And the hair!

yourinstagram good job rockstar

harrystyles @/yourinstagram 😄

harrystan3 @/harrystyles @/yourinstagram The emoji I can’t!!! he’s so cute

harrystan4 @/harrystan3 they’re totally dating!

jefezoff Thanks for a great tour, H!

harrystyles @/jefezoff Couldn’t have done it without you, mate!

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yourinstagram last night on tour :.-(

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yourbff OK UNDERBOOB 👀👀

yourinstagram @/yourbff we love underboob!

harrystan1 HARRY WE SEE YOU

harrystan2 @/harrystan1 He’s a man with taste 😂

yourbrother PLEASE put a shirt on I am BEGGING you

yourinstagram @/yourbrother i am wearing a shirt

harrystan3 Might fuck around and change my user to y/nstan3

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harrystyles Thank you for respecting our privacy as we navigated a new relationship while on tour. This is something I’ve wanted to share for a while now, but for Y/N’s safety it didn’t feel right to do so while we were still traveling. I am looking forward to a few months in LA and finally taking this one out in public!

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harrystan1 I KNEW IT OMG!!!!!

gemmastyles Finally!!! Love you both endlessly 💕

yourinstagram @/gemmastyles Love you too sis!

harrystan2 @/yourinstagram @/gemmastyles SHE CALLED GEMMA SIS I’M-

lizzo Can’t believe you took him off the market @/yourinstagram. Happy for y’all tho!

yourinstagram @/lizzo ty bb!

harrystan2 Imagine Harry holding you like this…

harrystan3 @/harrystan2 Dirty Dancing but with Harry

harrystan2 @/harrystan3 I’M WRITING IT RN

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yourinstagram what he said. jk! H, i am so proud of you for absolutely crushing it 89 times in a row. to the fans, thank you for making every night incredible. this is only the beginning! <3

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highschoolclassmate No fucking way!!! Will you introduce me???

kelsey.hemlock I stood next to Y/N last night and she’s the sweetest!

harrystyles Still salty you skipped the Milan to go sightseeing. But I guess I can forgive you because I love you so much!

yourinstagram @/harrystyles good bc i’m not apologizing!!! take me back to Italy and maybe i will though.

yourinstagram @/harrystyles (love you too)

harrystan1 @/yourinstagram @/harrystyles OMG YOU GUYS ARE THE CUTEST IM HYPERVENTILATING

harrystan2 kill yourself harry deserves better

harrystan3 @/harrystan2 Reported! That is literally so rude we need to respect Harry’s decisions!

[meetmymouth]

Hi!! Messing around in ikea for your blurbs if you wanna

THANK YOU BB <3<3

prompt list here, send a number!!

#4 Messing around in IKEA

You reach for yet another candle when you hear Harry groan beside you.

"What?" You bring the red candle up to your nose, though the strong fragrance makes you put it back with a frown on your face.

"We don't need any more candles."

You raise your eyebrows, and look inside the trolley. "You got more wine glasses, though. We have loads."

"These are bigger, look, they have gold bits at the bottom."

You move on, trailing behind Harry as he looks around as if to memorise each and every isle, and he stops abruptly as soon as you reach the nursery section. The colours definitely make you happy, pastel pinks and greens complimenting each other so well which definitely make you want to own a pastel pink bed. Your eyes find Harry by one of the bassinets, a crease between his brows as he studies it.

"What's up," you place your hand on his shoulder and squeeze, though you can't help the chuckle that leaves your mouth at his confused stare. "What's going on?"

"I would never put my baby in this thing. You see how shaky it is– feel it," he turns to you and grabs your hand, placing it on the compact bassinet. "See what I mean?"

"I mean... okay? Good thing we don't have a baby," you smile and he looks up, rolling his eyes as soon as he considers your words. "Besides, I thought you'd build it. I mean, you definitely could."

"Are you pulling a leg? I can't even change a lightbulb without breaking the first two."

"That happened once. You were tired."

He shakes his head, and moves to a toddler bed. "I've always wanted one of these, though. They're like... mini beds."

"Well. They are for kids, after all."

He sends you a glare, but you can see his lips turning upwards in a tiny smile.

"Annoying little shit," he mutters. "Do you think these would carry me?"

"Oh my god, please don't."

"What! There's hardly anyone around," he looks around, a smirk painting his features.

Before he can test that theory, you grab him by the wrist and you continue your IKEA tour, passing numerous kitchens as Harry talks passionately about how a kitchen island should be.

"Should be big, spacious," he says, then spots yet another kitchen model. "See, like this one..."

"Mhm."

"So I can wine and dine you. And–"

You cut him off. "–I know what you're thinking. I'm not having," you look around, and lower your voice, "sex in the kitchen. Absolutely not."

"I wasn't going to say that. You're just filthy."

"Mhm. Sure."

Harry opens his mouth to respond, but you're both startled when a kid yells from behind you. You turn around at the shrill voice, and find a boy, probably six or seven, staring at you with an unimpressed look on his face.

"Go away," he says with his finger pointed at you.

"Are you lost," Harry ignores him and walks towards the little boy.

"This is our kitchen," the boy speaks, and he brings his finger up to his nose and they both know what's coming next.

It's a gross sight, no matter how young this boy seem to be, they both can't help but cringe.

Harry though, bless him, kneels in front of him.

"Okay... are you lost, though? Are you here with someone?"

The boy frowns, and he furrows his eyebrows. "Arsehole," he spits out, and they both look at each other, Harry's frown deepening on his face.

"That's..." Harry starts. "That's not nice."

"Arse. Hole. Arsehole."

"All right," Y/N decides to chime in, and she places her hand on Harry's back, encouraging him to stand up. "Let's go, babe."

"He might be lost..."

"Harry, he's evil, look at him."

"Y/N!"

"Arsehole!" The boy shouts again, and Y/N turns to Harry with a raised eyebrow.

"Let's go, Harry."

[carrotmakar]

here’s to us

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Genre: Enemies To Lovers (with a twist)

Word Count: 5.3k

Summary: You hate Harry more than you’ve ever hated anyone else, and he feels the same (or does he?). The people around you see the interactions that the two of you have and believe that you’re a match made in heaven, but you can’t see it, and you doubt he can either. When he’s the last option to help you with a project that you’re working on, things are either going to go very well, or they're going to crash and burn.

Warning(s): alcohol, cursing, kink talk, angst, sadness, innuendos, tension, a set of lovers trying to convince two people that they’re meant for one another, fluff

A/N: this was originally a piece written for a writing challenge but that’s been cancelled (i love u liv take your time i will still participate in any and every wc you ever do bb) so this is now just another piece haha!! Thank you to @tbslenthusiast​ and @harrysclementines​ for letting me know that this piece wasn’t as bad as i thought it was (literally forever ago like.... i wrote this a long time ago lmao)!!! Also thank you to @kiwismoon​ for letting me send you parts of the fic and scream about how much i hate myself for writing things like i did!!!

Masterlist | Taglist | Request | Come Talk To Me | Patreon

REBLOG the fics that you like before there aren’t any more fics for you to enjoy!!!

*

Relaxing.

That’s what you were supposed to be doing tonight. You’ve been stressed out about the article that was due in less than a week and you were in need of a night out with your friends. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t find the inspiration to write the piece. Plus, you had been completely swamped with your school work. Even though you were still in college, you had gotten a job as a writer and chosen to take online classes. 

Sarah had suggested that you and her go out and have a few drinks. That had quickly developed into you, her, and Mitch. Then your ‘friend’ Michelle was added into the mix.

Now, you’re standing at the bar, waiting for your next shot of tequila and wondering how you let Sarah talk you into this. You hate bars. In all honesty, you only hate them because someone always seemed to mess up your nights when they were drunk. Luckily, that someone isn’t here tonight. You had made it abundantly clear to Sarah that if she were to invite anyone, it better not include him. 

As the bartender hands you your shot, you down it and place the glass down on the bar. You wait for him to retrieve it before turning to walk back to the table that Sarah, Mitch, and Michelle are occupying. Right before you sit down next to Sarah, you catch a glimpse of a very particular head of curls. Your stomach drops at the sight, and you immediately feel the urge to exit the building. There’s no way that you could mistake that for anyone else but Harry. He’s the only person that has curls as seemingly perfect as that. Plus, he’s the only broad shouldered, muscular, tattooed man that you’d ever seen around here with hair that’s grown out to the point where it passes his shoulders. 

Fighting the instinct to be as far away from him as possible, you sit down next to Sarah and do your best to ignore his presence.

That lasts all of three seconds. It’s as if something is pulling your focus towards him, and you can’t stand that, so you quickly tell Sarah that you’re going to head out. Grabbing your coat, you give her a story about suddenly having inspiration and not wanting to lose it before offering to take her almost empty cup back to the bar. She nods, wishing you a farewell.

As you’re making your way over to the bar, someone knocks into you and the small amount of liquid left in Sarah’s cup splashes onto your chest. You scoff, turning to tell whoever bumped into you to watch where they’re going. You’re met with a pair of piercing green eyes, and suddenly your words get caught in your throat. All you manage is a scoff and a quick “fuck you” before handing him the cup and walking out. 

You stand outside of the bar, leaning up against the brick wall of the building as you order an Uber for the ride home. The stench of alcohol is radiating from your shirt, and you almost gag at the smell. Beer has never been your favorite, and you have absolutely no clue how Sarah can drink it.

You place the order and go to stand on the sidewalk to wait for the car to pull up. 

“Fancy seeing you here.” The voice seems to carry through the entire street.

“What the fuck do you want, Harry?” you snap. The chuckle that he releases at your words makes your blood boil.

“Just wondering why you’re avoiding me, love.” You don’t have to turn to know that he has a smirk plastered on his face.

“Do you have a degradation kink or something?” Your words have their desired effect as he all but chokes on the air. 

“Um, no. Why? You trying to turn me on, darling?” You roll your eyes.

“Absolutely not.” How can he be so fucking annoying all the time? “I’m just wondering why you continuously pester me after I tell you how much of a dick you are and that I absolutely cannot fucking stand you.”

“Because normally when you do that, you find some way to compliment me. And I think it’s funny how flustered you get when you realize what you said.” You hear him walk closer to you, but you keep your eyes locked straight ahead of you.

“So you have a praise kink.”

When he speaks, his breath hits your ear. Fuck, you didn’t know he had gotten that close. You have to fight the shiver that’s threatening to run down your spine. You can’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that he’s having any kind of effect on you. “Do you want to test it out?”

You scoff, stepping away from him. “You fucking wish, Harry.”

He hums. “Maybe, maybe not.”

You finally turn to him. After seeing him, though, you begin to regret your decision. Seeing him like this, in a white t-shirt and black skinny jeans, hair forming his face in the most perfect way, isn’t doing you any good.

“I’m not going to be your temporary fix, Harry. Go find someone else to give you a good time.” He puts on an exaggerated pout. “I don’t even like you as a friend, so stop fucking around like that. It pisses me off.”

Before he can say anything else, your Uber arrives and you check the plates before getting in the backseat and shutting the door, effectively blocking him out.

What he would have said if your Uber hadn’t pulled up, though, is something that Harry decides you’ll never get to know. Because just when he was about to say, “I’d want you to be more than temporary,” you found a way to break his heart yet again.

*

The Uber driver has continuously given you looks since you got into the car. His nose scrunched up the moment that you closed the door, and honestly, you can’t blame him. You smell like cheap beer and probably look like an absolute mess. He’s most likely just checking to make sure that you don’t look like you’re about to throw up all over his backseat. 

You roll your eyes, trying your best to ignore him. It’s not even your fault that you’re like this right now, it’s Harry’s.

Harry, who you absolutely despise with every bit of your being. He’s been an arrogant, selfish dick since the very day that you met. He only cares about things when they include them,  constantly dropping comments about his success, and always finding a way to insert himself into any and every situation. You can’t seem to get away from him. He seems to be around no matter what you try (at first, you thought it was a coincidence, but now you’re convinced that he just does it to get on your nerves).

Harry, who’s so fucking annoying and unbearable but also so hot that he makes your mouth all but water. He can draw a reaction from you without even trying. Harry, who you’re so fucking attracted to despite hating him, and that fact makes you hate him even more.

It shouldn’t be like this. You shouldn’t be attracted to someone that makes your blood boil. 

I’m just drunk, you repeat to yourself as you push the thought of Harry as far out of your mind as you possibly can.

*

You groan as you walk out of the kitchen. 

“Y/N you know I’m right!” Sarah yells after you. “Stop trying to avoid it.”

Plopping down on Sarah’s black faux leather couch, you roll your eyes even though she can’t see it. “You’re delusional, Sarah!”

She doesn’t say anything until she comes into the living room and sits on the couch next to you. She has a bowl of chips in her hands. When you go to grab one, she pulls the bowl from your reach. 

“Admit it, you and Harry would be absolutely great together.” You could scream. She’s so adamant about the idea, but there’s no way that she could be right.

“Dude, we hate each other. What do you mean? What do you expect from us in a relationship if we can’t even be in the same room together for more than a few minutes without arguing.” She sighs, running a hand through her hair.

“I know, I know! But Y/N, come on. The two of you are so compatible.” You laugh at her words. How could she possibly think that when she sees the way the two of you interact.

“How so?” you ask, just to entertain her theory and let her get her thoughts out.

“Okay, hear me out. You both like music, right? He sings, you write songs. That’s literally perfect right there, even if you were just friends.” You nod, not saying anything. “You’re always talking about how you want to do hair and nails and stuff for your friends and I know that he’d let you paint his nails and play with his hair.” You had in fact been telling her these things, but you weren’t aware that she would choose to use them to try and set you up with Harry. “You’re both really funny and smart. You guys talk about a lot of the same things, too. It’s just never when you’re around each other.”

“Alright, yeah, that makes some sense.” She perks up slightly but you hold a finger up, motioning for her to wait a moment before getting her hopes up. “It makes sense, but you’re forgetting a few things. I couldn’t write songs for, or even with, Harry. He’d find something wrong with him just like he does now. He’d nitpick them until there was nothing that I could find about the song that he didn’t hate.” You sigh, thinking back to what she had just said. “We’d have to be too close to each other for me to mess around with his hair or nails and you know that every time we get within a few feet of each other, there’s some kind of fight that always gets started,” you trail off, giving her a chance to speak.

“Are you going to give me a reason why the last example of why you’re perfect for each other is incorrect?” She groans when you nod.

“Yeah, actually. We may like the same things and be funny and smart or whatever, but there’s no way that we’d be able to talk to each other.” 

“Why?” 

“His communication issues.” She throws her head back and obnoxiously groans.

“He doesn’t have communication issues.”

You burst out laughing. “He’s an Aquarius. Of course he does, right on top of those commitment issues.”

She rolls her eyes at you. “Whatever, Y/N. One of these days you’re going to understand that the two of you are quite literally a match made in Heaven.”

“Not likely,” you mumble before reaching for the remote and finding a movie to put on.

*

“Wait, what?” Mitch is looking at Harry like he’s grown a second head.

“You guys were right. Always have been, really, I just couldn’t say it before now.” Harry gulps, waiting for the ‘I told you so.’ It doesn’t come, though.

“Fuck, dude, I’m so sorry.” Harry shrugs it off.

“Not letting it get to me anymore. I’m tired of letting her break my heart.” He curses himself when tears begin to line his eyes.

“If I had known you really felt that way I would have backed off.” Harry nods at his words. “Sarah would’ve too.”

“It’s fine, Mitch, really. I just, I’m just tired, you know? It’s like there’s a magnetic force pulling me to her but every time I try to get close she shows me, yet again, that she can’t stand me.” He’s never been ashamed to show his feelings, and right now isn’t when he’s going to start. He lets his tears fall down his face as he leans back against the chair he’s sitting in.

“I really didn’t know, H. Normally I can tell when you like someone but it wasn’t like that this time.” Harry nods at him.

“You get pretty good at hiding your feelings when you’re hiding heartbreak after heartbreak.” He’s silent for a moment. “Should I cut off my hair?”

“If you want. But don’t do it just because you’re sad or you’ll regret it.” Harry closes his eyes as he debates the decision. A part of him wants to do it anyway, make the sadness go away for a moment as the exhilaration of a new haircut sinks in, but the rational part of him knows that Mitch is right.

As he sits there with tear stained cheeks, new droplets wetting his face every few seconds, he really wishes that he could hate you. He wishes that he could find anything to hate about you. But when he searches his brain for a reason to dislike you, he comes up empty. It’s frustrating, really. You seem to hate everything about him while he can’t hate a single thing when it comes to you.

He hears Mitch get up, presumably to go get something to eat, but he doesn’t open his eyes. There are a million memories with you flashing through his mind and it hurts him even more to know that every single one of them have been bad.

*

“What do you mean you can’t do it?” Your voice is high pitched, some would even say a little whiny. “Sarah, you promised me that you’d sing the song for me.”

“I know, Y/N. But something urgent came up with Mitch’s family and I have to be there.” Even over the phone, you can hear how worried that she is, so you can’t really bring yourself to be upset with her.

“It’s fine, Sarah. Really, I understand.” You hear her sigh of relief and a small smile graces your face, glad that she now has one less thing to worry about. “I’ll just find someone else to do it.”

“Ask Harry.” She suggests.

“Why would I do that?” The way your mood changed was immediate and it’s almost sad, how fast he gets you worked up.

“Because, Y/N, this project is due in like two days and he’s available.” She says in her duh voice. “Plus, he can sing really well, so just ask him. The worst thing he can say is no.”

“That’s a lie. The worst thing he can say is yes.” Sarah laughs before wishing you good luck and hanging up.

You groan, thinking about what Sarah said. She’s right, honestly. There’s nobody else that you’re going to find on such short notice, especially not one that can sing as good as Harry can. Admitting to yourself that you need him (which is something you never thought you’d say), you pick up your phone and click on his contact.

“Y/N?” His voice sounds deeper than usual, a little raspier, too. Almost like he just got out of bed. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t have an effect on you, the way your name sounds coming out of his mouth when he sounds like that.

“I need your help.” You grimace at the words.

“Alright. What do you need.” Your mind races, trying to figure out why he didn’t have a sarcastic comment or a snarky remark to throw at you. You ignore it for now, though.

“I need you to sing a song that I wrote for a project.” He hums, and you can picture him pulling his bottom lip between his fingers and then running his hand through his curls.

“Okay, when do you need me?” 

“Does tomorrow work? Around noon?” You hold your breath as you hope for the best.

“Yeah, I’ll be at your place then.”

You thank him and hang up, letting your phone fall from your hand down onto the couch. Harry Styles, the man that you swear you hate, is coming to your house tomorrow. 

*

When he arrives the next day, you almost immediately hand him the song and let him read over it, not necessarily wanting to spend any more time with him than needed. When he says he has a few suggestions, you’re terrified that he’s going to tell you how awful he is, but he actually only has a few suggestions to help with the flow of things. Besides that, he promises that it’s a really good song. 

You go to grab your camera and set it up while he strums on the guitar that he brought. Once you’re ready to begin filming, he sets the paper with the lyrics on it to the side and nods.

He begins singing after the camera has started recording and you get entranced by him almost immediately. His eyes close as soon as the first word leaves him mouth and with them shut you feel much more comfortable while looking at him. His hair is flowing all around him and you have the intense urge to tuck the strands behind his ears. There’s a small crease between his brows, that of which she wants to smooth out with a kiss to his forehead. He seems so concentrated, and something about it pulls at her heartstrings.

You shake your head. He’s your enemy, remember? you think to yourself as you divert your eyes to somewhere else in the room. 

After you’ve looked away you find yourself wondering why. Why do you hate Harry so much, really? Yeah he can be arrogant and cocky and rude but who isn’t? Yeah he talks about his famous life and his awards and chart placements a lot, but you would do the same in his shoes.

Plus, he really is pretty funny now that you stop to really think about it. He’s all the things that Sarah had told you over the past few months, and you can’t believe that you didn’t realize until now. You don’t hate Harry, you’ve been convincing yourself that you do to hide the way that you really feel about him.

You’re broken from your thoughts when he clears his throat. Once you turn to him, there’s a smirk on his face. “Could feel you watching me, love.”

Your cheeks burn at the statement. Regardless of the truth in it, you’re still not very keen on admitting that you were ogling him only minutes prior. 

“It’s alright, I find myself looking at you sometimes, too.” You don’t say anything to that, and the room falls quiet. 

With that stupid smirk, that’s way too hot for it to natural and fair, he picks up his keys and his coat and walks to your front door. “See you later, sweetheart.”

You raise your hand in a pathetic half wave goodbye and try your best to smile. As he opens the door, cold air sweeps through the room and you can see the snowflakes falling outside. “Great, there’s a storm.” He groans, but still continues to walk out the door.

“Harry, wait!” He stops, turning to face you. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Um… leaving?” He gestures towards his car that’s most likely covered in snow by now.

“Not in this weather you’re not.” Your voice grows hard as you glare at him. You know that he’d most likely rather not be around you, but there’s not a chance in hell that you’re going to allow him to risk his life by driving home.

Surprisingly, he doesn’t put up a fight, he just shuts the door and shrugs his coat back off. He hesitantly comes back over to take a seat on the couch. You stay silent, struggling to find the words to say.

“So, um, do you want to watch something?” He asks after a few minutes of nearly unbearable silence.

“Yeah, I’ve been watching Lucifer on Netflix, but if you don’t want to watch that, we can watch a movie or something.” You offer, looking over at him.

“Yeah, we can watch that.” You grab the remote from the table and walk over to sit next to him on the couch. 

Pulling up Netflix and starting Lucifer, you let your eyes wander to Harry for a split second before noticing that he’s already looking at you. You immediately divert your gaze. Your cheeks begin to heat up, but you try your best to ignore it.

*

After watching almost an entire season of Lucifer, you’re just about ready to go to bed. You’ve gotten increasingly more comfortable beside Harry and you’ve even started to lean into him slightly. Not a single part of your body is touching yours, but you can tell that you’ve gotten closer.

You’re about to get up and brush your teeth when the lights go out. You groan, throwing your head back against the back of the couch. “Great, power’s out.”

He doesn’t say anything, just hums in response. 

“Stay where you are. I know where the candles and the flashlight is, and I don’t want you to hurt yourself trying to get around.” You stand up, feeling your way through the living room towards the kitchen. Opening the cabinet closest to the wall, you pull out the three candles and the flashlight. Fuck, you forgot that there are only two candles. That’s not enough for there to be one in the hallway on the table, in the bathroom, and in the living room for Harry. And fuck, your extra blankets are in the washer.

You shake your head, lighting the candles and walking to the bathroom to place one down, and then through to the hallway to do the same. Making your way back to the kitchen, you pick up the flashlight and switch it on.

Once you reach the living room again, you clear your throat. “Okay, bad news. There were only two candles, and they need to be in the hallway and the bathroom.” You cough awkwardly. “Also, my extra blankets are dirty and I don’t want you to lay out here in the dark and freeze to death so,” your voice gets quieter, “do you maybe wanna come lay with me?”

He chokes on his spit and then clears his throat. “Um, yeah, yeah, sure. If that’s okay with you, of course. Remember, I can always go home.” You shake your head as his words.

“Nonsense, come on.”

Once the two of you are in your room, you climb into your bed and wait for Harry to do the same. Neither of you say a word as you get comfortable as you try to get to sleep. Without the heater working and there only being one blanket, though, it’s a little hard to stay warm and comfortable. “Um, Harry, I- can I- you- can we maybe… fuck I don’t know.”

You feel him turn towards you. “Are you cold, love?”

“Yeah.”

He wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you closer to him, letting you lay your head on his chest and wrap yourself up in his embrace. His arms come to wrap around you and one hand finds its way to your hair as the other rests on your hip.

As you bask in his warmth, you try your best to not let yourself think about the way that you feel so perfectly comfortable in his arms. About how he smells so divine and he’s so warm that you’d be content with never leaving his embrace. About how, without even realizing it, you’ve been letting yourself believe that you hate Harry when really you’re in love with him. However, you’ll never tell him that. Not a chance. If there’s one thing that you absolutely will not do, it’s let Harry Styles break your heart.

*

When you open your eyes the next morning, you’re still in Harry’s arms. He isn’t awake yet, so you let yourself appreciate the way that his hair is tickling your face and the way that his arms are holding you tightly to his body. You let yourself enjoy the way that he’s got ahold of you like he can’t bear to lose you. 

You know that when he opens his eyes, everything is going to go back to normal. You’ll have to hate him again and he’ll pretend that none of this ever happened. That thought shouldn’t hurt you as much as it does.

You’re broken out of your thoughts by his voice. “Mornin’, love. Did you sleep well?”

You nod, all but entranced in the way that his voice is so much raspier when he first wakes up. “Sorry for being all over you, it was cold last night.” 

You go to move away from him, but he keeps you hugged to him. “Don’t apologize, like having you here, dove.” The words confuse you, but you don’t question them. Instead, you let yourself relax back into him.

Everything is silent for a few minutes, but the air is comfortable this time. “Do you wanna go get some coffee if the roads aren’t bad?” Harry whispers.

“Yeah, sure.”

The two of you climb out of bed and get ready for the day. You let him use an extra toothbrush and once you brush through your hair, you hand the tool to him. He gives a small “thanks” and gets to work on taming his hair as you walk out of the bathroom.

A few minutes later, he’s walking towards the living room with his keys and then he’s leading you out the door to his car.

The ride to the coffee shop is silent besides the hum of the radio, neither of you really knowing what to say.

Once the two of you slide into a booth at the little diner that he drove you to, you order a coffee and something as he does the same.

“So, tell me about yourself, Y/N. I don’t really know much about you.”

You hesitate for a moment, trying to figure out what to tell him.

“I write. My job is to write articles for this company. But I’m still in school technically, so I’m taking online classes to finish getting my degree. I like songwriting. Um, I think that’s about it.” Your cheeks heat up as you tell him about yourself, although none of the things that you’re listing are embarrassing.

“Why haven’t you ever talked about your songwriting before?” He ponders, placing his elbow on the table and resting his chin on his hand.

“Um, you hate me. Or.. hated me? I don’t know. I don’t want you to tear it apart just because you’re some hotshot writer. Or because you hate me.”

He pulls back, looking down. “Never hated you.”

“What?” You had to have heard that wrong.

“Ever stop to think why I was only rude when you got rude first?”

Your jaw drops as you think it over. “No, um, I didn’t.”

“Yeah, well. I never hated you.”

“So, you’re telling me that I hated you and you just… never hated me?” He grimaces.

“Yeah.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry.”

He offers you a soft smile. “It’s fine.”

Throughout the next few hours, you sit there with Harry and talk about any and everything that comes to your mind. He pays for the bill, although you insist on letting you help. As you’re walking out to his car and he’s about to drive you home, he stops. “Um, hey would you maybe want to hang out some more?”

The question takes you by surprise, but you agree nonetheless. “Yeah, I actually would really like that.”

He nods, climbing into the car as you smile to yourself.

*

It’s been six months since you made Harry stay over at your house because of that pesky snowstorm, and you’ve never been more thankful for the weather.

You’ve spent the majority of your time together, going out to eat when possible and staying over at your house most nights. His is too big, as you’ve always said, so for the simple sleepovers, you insisted that he came over to yours. You’ve grown closer and closer to him, and now you can confidently say that he’s your best friend.

Along with the growing friendship, your feelings have gotten deeper. There’s not a single part of you can deny that you’re absolutely, head over heels in love with Harry. And you don’t want to anymore. You still don’t want to tell him, but you’re no longer lying to yourself in the slightest.

Today is the only day thus far that you’ve even slightly regretted how close that you’ve become with Harry. And that’s because you’re currently standing at the airport, head buried into his chest as you try to find a way to say goodbye for the next six months. 

“Don’t want you to go.” You whine as you hold him as close as you possibly can.

He murmurs a “fuck it” before pulling away from you.

“Come with me.” Your eyebrows raise in surprise. “I know, it sounds crazy. Absolutely ridiculous. But listen, we’ll go home, back to your place and we’ll pack your bags and then we’ll go. I’ll reschedule my flight. I- I can’t do this without you, Y/N.” He reaches up and runs a hand through his curls (which you’d begged him to let you braid, but he said it was easier to have it down for flights). “Listen, you’re my rock. I- I feel like I can breathe when you’re around me. Fuck, Y/N, I’m in love with you.” 

You freeze, completely shocked by the words that fell from his mouth.

“Fuck, I didn’t mean to say that. That was stupid. Forget I ever said anything.” He’s rambling because he thinks there’s no way that you can feel the same but you do.

“I’m in love with you, H. Have been for a long time.” Before he can respond, you surge forward and grab his face in your hands. Bringing his face closer, you slot your lips with his and allow the kiss to envelop you. After a few moments, you pull back. “Let’s go home and get my bags packed.”

*

[ladyvesuvia]

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@harrysnosebleed: 🎢 harry drabble with “kiss me” prompt >:) || for my 300 followers celebration

Pairing: Harry Potter x Fem!Reader

Summary: Teaching Harry how to dance as an epiphany follows not so far behind. [Dreamy Eyes by Johnny Tillotson]

Words: 0.9k words (953)

Warnings: none, just fluff but let me know if i missed anything!

A/N: ok short works aren’t my specialty idk if this is a blurb or drabble ngl hHAHAHAHA anyway charan wait i just researched it this is a blurb i think sjdjwj either wayyyy hope u like it bb

“what the hell was that?” the champions and their partners had just finished dancing, and she had seen him moving around like a lost little puppy dog. “you know, parvati looked like she was the one leading the dance.”

“it wasn’t,” said harry. “it’s just that i have a lot in my mind right now.” [Y/N] knew exactly what he meant. the very thought of it unnerved her — even in this glittering facade of the tri-wizard tournament, she knew enough of the wizarding world that it wasn’t as glamorous as it appeared to be.

“my bad,” she added apologetically but still keeping the same air a sunshine would if it were a person, trying to keep his spirits up.

she could see the way his eyes kept darting here and there, as if the answer would be right in front of them in plain sight. the music started playing again and everyone of them were pairing up again.

“uh, harry?” she called out, tapping his shoulder.

“what?” harry was still busy eyeing something in the crowd, deep in thought. she thought about how adults would call this rude but the way his lips opened a bit like a minor dropped jaw. she stifled a laugh.

“where’s your partner?”

“my what?” he turned to her.

“your partner,” she repeated. “parvati.”

“er — i don’t know?”

but she did, and she found that she did not want to disclose that information in hopes for success on what she was about to do. merlin or whoever is out there who decides fate or whatever, this one’s on you if it flops.

“good, because i’m gonna teach you how to do it my way.” he looked as if he was going to ask her what this meant but before he could even ask her, she took him by the hand and led him away. she saw his nervous face reappear again when they reached the dance floor, but she kept walking until they were outside. although distant and a bit muffled, they could still hear the music playing inside. “you have no idea how tempted i am to lead the dance but i don’t want my pretty dress to go to waste if i were to just dance the steps someone in a suit would.”

she took both of his hands and let it rest on her waist. he looked like he was about to protest once more, but she shushed him with her finger. “nope, we won’t be doing this the way they taught us. trust me, this is easier.”

she hung her hands over his shoulders, wrapping her fingers around his neck while humming the tune of a song and swaying along. when harry moved stiffly, she laughed but coached him anyway. he got the hang of it, but not quite. when she finished humming the song she started singing off-key, but she did not mind.

“dreamy eyes, ba-rum, you’ve got such drea— oh, you’re laughing now, huh?”

“sorry, i couldn’t help it.” he took one hand off her waist to push his glasses to prevent it from falling. she was laughing now, too.

maybe it was the way he smiled, brighter than she had ever seen; or maybe the way his hair was messier than usual; or his green eyes looking at her with a different kind of glee. . .

but there was this strange feeling growing from her chest, but it could be just from all the chiffon cake she ate and that she was probably choking. when she determined that was highly unlikely, she fell to the conclusion that this was in fact a romantic epiphany.

and when you get epiphanies, you do something about it. but she can’t. she was rooted to the ground with her arms putting little distance between them and her hands wrapped around his neck.

“harry,” she started. he looked at her now, laughter still etched on his face. “i have something to ask of you, if that’s okay?”

those pure set of eyes will be the death of her, and she knew it. when she told a classmate during herbology she loved the idea of friends becoming more than just, it earned a gasp she couldn’t understand what for. apparently most people found that liking someone you’ve been friends with for a long time was far too risky.

“okay,” he said. she almost pulled him into a kiss when she realized she hadn’t asked the actual question yet.

to hell with risks, i’m doing this.

“harry,” she started again, preparing for the worst. “kiss me.”

“wha — ?”

“never mind,” she added hastily. “it’s alright, i shouldn’t have brought it up. it was a mista—”

nope, it wasn’t a ‘mista.’ how could it be if in her mind, she was dissolving right now as she let the reality of his lips on hers sink in? eyes closed, hearts magnified — a combination she never knew she’d experience, let alone with harry.

when he pulled away they found themselves drowning in giggles, not out of ridicule of themselves, but out of surprise and everything else.

“mr. potter, you kiss better than you dance!” she teased, playing with his hair as she did so. “do you wanna go back inside?”

“no, let’s stay here.” this time, it was him who picked up her arms and wrapped them around his neck and rested his hands on her waist. to her surprise, he started humming the same song. “you really do have dreamy eyes as the song says, though.”

“i know, i caught you mooning over me while i was walking down the stairs. you like me too much,” she said, swaying along.

“i really do, don’t i?”

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