#implying that he slept with harry? absolutely

[coucouatoi]

now you're in my life... | h.s.

Pairing: Harry Styles X Reader

Warnings: sexual tension, slutshaming, women being viewed as wives and baby makers only (not by Harry), fluff, Harry being a gentleman, implied age gap, smut

A/N: Bridgerton fic incoming!! I'm late to the Bridgerton party but I've finally rewatched it all... also didn't reread a 7th time so if u find any errors, sorry <3

Summary:

Dearest Gentle Readers, remember that a Bridgerton Courting season is never complete without some juicy drama. Here's some tips to stay... out of trouble:

1- Don't attempt to stand out

2- Don't even try to become the Diamond

3- Don't get caught with Londons most sought after bachelor in a compromising position

Good luck readers!

Lady Whistledown

Travel is exhausting. It always is.

Travelling with the end goal being dancing, presenting yourself, being courted and then wed is excruciating.

Your mother, bless her, is more excited than you've ever seen her. The carriage is already quite cramped with you, her and your younger brother squeezed tightly against each other. Her legs bounce constantly, her fan is flapping like she wants it to break in half and the lessons. Oh god, the lessons. A second of silence is too long. You have to be bombarded with rules and tips to make you the perfect debutante this new season.

Your brother, however, is barely spoken to. He is not going to be presented to the ton until a few more years have passed. The conversations seem to bore him. Bore him so much that he has seemingly slept through the entire trip... or at least pretended to.

Your trip to London is quite long. You have taken a boat and ridden so many carriages your behind has most likely become flatter. Today is the last day of travel thankfully. You'll be arriving at your family's English estate soon enough, your father is probably already waiting in the steps most likely impatiently tapping his foot.

He and your mother are still obsessively in love with each other. Married three weeks after courting during their first-ever year as debutants. First child, you, nine months later... after that things slowed down. It took them twelve years to have another child and now, six years later, she's gotten pregnant again. Their grand finale as they keep calling it.

You can only wish that you'll be able to find someone who makes you feel even just a smidge as happy as your parents make each other. That there's someone here, in London, who will make a worthy husband and an even more worthy father.

Your mother's squeal startles you out of your thoughts as you turn into the estate. She must have spotted your father.

The time has come, you must now be the best future bride possible for all the men in the Bridgerton ton to run after.

-

You feel absolutely ridiculous. Who allowed this to be the standard for debutantes?? A feather tucked into your neatly styled hair but not just any kind of feather it's not small or dainty, no. It's tall. Taller than most things in the room. On your tiptoes, you could reach some of the lower ceilings with it. The dress is fine, the gloves are only a little itchy and the shoes are actually quite pretty. But that damn feather...

"Are you sure I can't just accidentally set it on fire?" you grumble to your mother who is your sponsor for your official debut this season.

"That would certainly bring attention to you... I'll entertain the thought" she quips with a small smile.

"I look ridiculous with it! What's the point of looking like an ostrich? Is that what English men find desirable?" you're incredibly confused. This can't possibly be something that attracts suitors...

"The Queen demands it, my dear", she rubs your arm reassuringly, "We don't want to upset her"

You shrug in defeat. Your mother is right, no one would dare go against the queen. Especially when you are to be presented in her court.

The two women in front of you are escorted into the ballroom as their names are called. The doors close as the debutante bows to the Queen.

This is it. You're next. You're going to walk in front of the entire ton as fresh meat. Someone they don't know.

Your father owns an estate here but you've only been to London twice before this. Never enough time to make friends or make any kind of impression. Hopefully, they don't eat you alive.

Your mother fusses over the sleeves of your dress. Then she tugs your gloves up, making them pull uncomfortably at the webbing between each of your fingers. You let her fix anything that she deems askew or not perfect enough. It's the nerves making her twitchy. As the doors open in front of you she pushes the feathers you wear deeper into your up-do.

"Y/N L/N and her mother Lady L/N" Your mother locks your elbow with hers as you walk forward.

The room is littered with people, London's finest and richest gathered to see what fresh meat this courting season brings.

The other debutantes are lined next to each other facing the door, their mothers or older sisters behind them peering over shoulders.

Once your eyes lay on the queen you suck in the breath you were about to take. She sits on her throne like she was born to be on it. Her head held high but her eyes inquisitive. She eyes you up and down, more than once, it makes you stand up straighter. You want her to like you, get her and the rest of the ton curious.

Your mother lets go of you as you get closer to the Queen. The last steps you take are the most nerve-wracking ones you've ever taken. All eyes are on you; men, women, debutantes, the queen's harem, potential prospects.... Everyone.

You bow to her, deeply. Your right leg goes behind your left, you bend your knees and your head tucks down towards your chest. You stay like that, it's only polite to stay low as long as you can but when your foot starts feeling numb you stand back up.

She's in front of you. Eyes locked on your face, she examines it as a smirk forms on her face. The Queen approves of you.

"My diamond, make me proud" She taps your cheek once, twice, thrice before kissing your forehead and nodding her head as she makes her way back to her throne.

What does she mean by Diamond?

-

As soon as you enter the Bridgerton ball with your family you're swarmed. It's as if you're the newly set dessert table.

Potential suitors waving pens in your face begging for a spot on your dance card.

Is this what being the Diamond is all about?

Being chased around like you're nothing more than a cheap prize to these men? That's probably what you are to them...

You fill out two dance spots at random before managing to wiggle your way through the crowd and into the actual festivities.

The ballroom is enchanting, with flowers of every kind scattered all around the room. You feel like you've stepped into an indoor garden, everywhere you look there's at least one blooming plant. It's gorgeous. You want to stay in this room forever.

The dance floor is currently occupied by couples, waltzing around each other, the choreography running through their veins as if they were born knowing them.

It's all so hypnotizing. The dances, music, seeing the ton gossip so proudly, the men trying to woo this season's debutantes and the women batting their lashes waiting for someone to walk up. It's a game, all of it and you love being a witness. Well, a player now...

"They have a buffet!" Your little brother exclaims as he runs through the crown and straight for a table littered with a large array of foods. He's going to be distracted there for at least 2 whole dances. You have the next dance clear for now so you take the time to wander around, head held high as you take everything in. Your mother had fused incessantly over how you should act tonight and over your chosen outfit. It had to be:

- Fit for a diamond (whatever that may be)

- Have flowers, by order of the Queen

- Unique enough to attract attention

- Modest but not prudish

Complicated demands under the time restraints you had but she made it work. Calling upon her best modiste contacts and personally seeing to the design of them. You have to admit she has done quite the selection for you this evening.

Your gown is a light green, sage might it be? There's a thin layer of darker tule over the bottom half and your sleeves, giving it dimension. The area that goes around your bust and upper back is lighter and full of gemstones shaped like different flowers. It looks like the modiste managed to sew an entire bouquet into the fabric. The gloves are sage as well, going past your elbows and trimmed with the same darker tule. Your mother had a spare ribbon of the sage silky fabric saved for your hair. It's styled into the updo, weaving itself perfectly between the colours of your neatly styled hair. Smaller gemstones have also been placed precariously to make sure you shine as bright as any diamond should.

They've done an excellent job at making you look like a walking dream. Tempting, gorgeous and almost unattainable.

The song that is playing is about to end, which means you're about to have your first dance of the evening. You can't even recall with whom you had simply grabbed a random pen and wrote the colour of his jacket. Too many names had been screamed at you for you to decipher which was his. Hopefully, whoever occupies your first spot manages to find you and whisk you away to the dance floor.

As the couples either leave the dance floor or get ready for the next song, you look around somewhat panicked. Is your first slot not even going to find you? That would be slightly humiliating...

"Lady L/N" you turn swiftly toward the voice behind you. "I'm Lord Talag, pleasure to finally make your acquaintance" Lord Talag takes your hand and presses his lips to the back of it. His suit is blue with silver stitching, your very first slot. He leads you to the dance floor and you both take the first positions for the waltz. The violins start first and you're instantly moving.

Arms gracefully twirling over your head as you spin backwards. As you turn you can't focus on Lord Talag but you know he's doing the same thing. When you stop your turns and face your partner, you see that he's fallen. On his ass, on the floor, in front of everyone. The other couples around you stop abruptly to not trip over him.

"My Lord! Are you alright?" you gasp reaching out to help him stand. However, he ignores your attempts to aid him back on his feet and dusts himself off.

"Good evening, Lady L/N," he says and rushes out of the room. He resembles a kitten running to beg their owner for a treat: legs kicking quickly, bum shimming from side to side, a determined expression...

You're left standing in the middle of the dance floor as everyone looks at you with a confused expression. Your own must look quite similar to theirs. Your first dance partner for the evening has walked out on you. All because he fell on his ass. Men, am I right??

Taking a breather after the embarrassing moment Lord Talag put you through is essential. You can't possibly face the ton as they gossip about it. His chances of finding a bride now are squashed, he's the laughingstock of this courting season. Well, for now at least...

The midnight air is crisp. The cold air prickles at your skin causing goosebumps but you enjoy it, your skin had heated up under everyone's stares. There's no wind, no sound (besides the muffled voices inside) and only a slight orange hue glows around you on the balcony. There are some oranges perched around you and over your head. They aren't quite ripe yet but they do look particularly inviting.

You turn to rest your bum against the marble railing, lifting your head towards the sky. The stars are bright. Brighter than you would have imagined to see in the city. They reflect over the artificial pond under you, seemingly dancing on the ripples. It's all so peaceful.

"Don't you think it's a little cold to be out here without a coat?" the deep voice has you jumping out of your skin. You turn around abruptly to see who's sharing the balcony with you.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know someone was already here" you bow politely already stepping towards the door. You're not about to have two incredibly embarrassing moments in one evening. Would the Queen be tempted to take away your 'Diamond' status?

"There's no need to leave!" He rushes towards you, his right arm extended towards the door and body facing you. You back up quickly not wanting to make any accidental contact. You're unchaperoned in a private setting with a man... Please let no one come outside!

"I'm sorry if I startled you. I just realized you were holding onto yourself quite tightly... as if trying to heat up" he adds moving away from you as he stands up straight again. He must have realized how compromising this could seem.

"Oh! No, I'm actually comfortable... I'm just overthinking" you clarify for the mysterious, albeit handsome, man. You don't want him offering his jacket or anything of the sort. That would look even worse.

"Ah, I see. These types of events always bring out the worst in people" he laughs dryly as he shakes his head. It's almost as if he's recalling a specific memory. "I'm Harry, Duke Styles if you want specifics"

DUKE??? Your nighttime patio buddy is a DUKE?? This could not look any worse. You have to leave the secluded area now! Before anyone joins you and screams indecency.

Your panic must not be very well concealed as Har- Duke Styles, gets closer to you again with his hands raised.

"I'm not going to bite you, please don't panic" his hands are waiving slowly in front of your face. He's trying to demonstrate that he means no harm but all it does is make you jump back. Your mother would berate you if she knew what was happening right now. "What's your name?" he asks in a soft tone.

"Um, I'm... I'm Lady L/N" You somehow manage to speak in a slow and stuttering manner but it worked.

"The diamond?!" Oh god. He didn't even know. "How do you have time for a breather? Isn't your dance card full?" he sounds completely shocked.

You shake your head rapidly. It's the only answer you're able to give him before the patio door bursts open as a couple attached at the lips tumbles outside. They walk straight into Lord Styles, making his knees give out and then falling straight into you. His hands grasp your waist and arm seemingly trying to get himself straight up on his feet again. He fails. He keeps falling unfortunately dragging you down with him. His left hand, the one holding your arm, quickly moves to the back of your head before it makes contact with the stone floor. The other at your waist stays there but his grip tightens, you can feel it firmly through your corset.

The couple has separated from one another and they are now looking at you both in shock. They were most likely not expecting anyone outside. They are speaking, well you think so. Their lips and arms move erratically but there's only a high-pitched ringing in your ears.

The hand on the back of your head tilts it away from them, your eyes meet Lord Styles. They are wide, worried, panicked. You're not sure why.

He's talking too but he must be whispering as the ringing is still the only thing you hear. It's getting annoying; you want to know what he's saying to you. It seems important.

Your vision blurs right before it darkens completely. You've passed out not even knowing of the commotion you've caused.

-

Tule, satin, silk, needles, charcoal drawings on the walls, books scattered on various surfaces... Where have you found yourself now? You seem to be in a study of some sort that also serves as a studio. You manage to sit up slowly, the pounding in your head spiking for a second before it settles.

"Mother?" you call out in a weak voice. How did you get here? Or better yet, who put you in here? No one answers your call so, at a snail's pace, you manage to get into a standing position. Your legs are stronger than you thought they would be, aiding you in your quest to figure out where in the Queen's name you are.

As soon as you leave the study your eyes burn because of the bright sunlight streaming in the hallway you now find yourself in. Blinking a few times makes your eyes adjust quicker making you able to tune into your other senses.

You hear mumbling, a few different voices leak out of the room right next to where you had been sleeping. You try to make out what they saying but nothing makes sense in your mind. You can't even hear them enough to confirm if you know any of the voices.

Not even considering that some may think it rude or even improper you open the door and make your way inside.

Lord Styles is the first on his feet; almost seems like a knee-jerk reaction. His posture is tight, and uncomfortable he is standing straight as a ruler as he looks at you with a terrified expression.

"My darling!" your mother rushes to you as fast as she can with her swollen feet and round stomach slowing her usual pace.

She brushes your hair out of your face before embracing you. She holds you tight but carefully as if to not break you.

"How do you feel?" she asks you once she pulls away.

"Fine, I think. My head hurts quite a bit but it's bearable" You smile at her reassuring as your gaze drifts back to the man still statuesque in the middle of the room. You don't find words to say but you do walk towards him. You don't like seeing him this uncomfortable... especially in what seems to be his estate.

"This is yours? The house?" you ask him gently. His eyes meet yours and the tension seems to bleed out a little. He's a bit more at ease seeing that you are polite and cordial with him.

"Yes, we thought it was best to bring you back here... less scandalous" He gestures to your father and he only nods back as an answer.

"Less scandalous?" you look around the room, at the three people surrounding you with different expressions on their faces. Your mother; excited, your father; thoughtful, Lord Style's; embarrassed?

"Why is your estate less scandalous, Lord Styles?" you meet his eyes, hoping to somehow be able to read his mind. Figure out why he's so closed off now. He did seem pretty willing to talk to you on the pat-

The patio. Oh my. The patio!

"Why am I here Father?" your headache spikes when you turn your head rapidly towards him. His expression tells you all

that you need to know. You're now engaged. There's no scandal because you're going to wed Duke Harry Styles.

"An outdoor wedding would be gorgeous this time of year, don't you think so Y/N?" your father smiles at you kindly. He's happy with the man you've managed to "score", even if it isn't a love match like him and your mother.

You only nod at him before looking back at Lord Styles, whom you find to be already looking in your direction. He meets your gaze and bows his head in a polite gesture, welcoming you. Welcoming you in your new home, into your new life as a Duchess.

The wedding is set to happen in 9 days. The first wedding of this year's courting season. Your mother has been on top of everything, she's practically planning the whole thing. You and Lord Styles, your fiancée, let her do it... after all this was a surprise to both of you.

Today you're choosing your wedding dress. The last dress that you'll wear as the incredibly eligible and sought-after diamond. The dress you'll become a bride and then a wife in. You'll become a duchess, Duchess Styles...

"What do you think of this one, dear?" your mother is holding a white gown with delicate baby pink embroidered flowers all over it. You nod approvingly making your way back behind the changing partition as she brings it over to you. It's only the second one you're trying on so your spirits are still high. Madame Delacroix, the modiste, was much too eager to have you wear one of her gowns on your big day. Said it was "Perfect marketing!" and she led you to her newest collection that was apparently straight from France.

You manage to slide it on with no issues and as you're about to ask the modiste for some help with the clasp in the back you hear a voice you don't recognize say your name. You stay quiet hoping to hear what they are saying.

"You haven't read Lady Whistledown yet?! This one is so juicy, she talks about Duke Styles and the Diamond"

"Please tell me you have a copy of it on you! I need to know how that happened"

Are people really this eager to know how you got engaged?

After the first girl presumably pulls out a copy of whatever they were talking about they start reading it aloud.

"But how could I forget to mention the most surprising moment of the courting season yet? London's own most wanted bachelor, Duke Harry Styles, has found a worthy bride. He does shoot for the stars, doesn't he? Or rather in the mines... as the newest Duchess soon joining the ton is Lady L/N, the Diamond.

However, the choice seems to have been made by herself and herself only. Who wouldn't throw themselves at him just to be caught in a compromising position? I certainly would! Her parents must be so proud to have such a stellar whore seductress presented this season.

The hopefully happy couple already share a house, how warm is the Duke's bed? Has Lady Y/N done what so many other noble women have wanted to do?

Congratulations to the happy couple... See you at the wedding!

Yours truly,

Lady Whistledown"

Your blood runs cold, you're frozen in place after hearing what was written about you. You don't even know who these two girls are, who the writer is or where this paper comes from. Is that really what people think of you? That you whored yourself to Duke Styles to secure a wealthy and powerful man? You haven't made a single friend yet and now this is what people are saying about you, how are you meant to live amongst them now?

You quickly undress yourself of the wedding gown and get back into your dress, you somehow manage to clasp it yourself. Before running out of the boutique you hand the dress back to your mother and take a quick look at the girls that were just gossiping.

They are already looking at you with wide eyes and shocked expressions. Well, at least that's what you think their reaction is to seeing you practically trip out of the shop.

You don't hear what your mother calls out to you, too concerned with the humiliation pumping throw your veins. You need to get back to the Dukes manor as soon as you possibly can. You're grateful to have ridden here separately from your mother so you don't have to leave her stranded with no carriage and very pregnant. The ride back feels never-ending... How can you ever face the ton again?

The bath water is almost boiling, perfect to wash away the shame you felt. Your mind is all over the place. Nothing you can come up with will fix this, you're stuck labelled as some desperate whore. Does your betrothed know who this woman is? What those papers are? If anyone and everyone reads what she writes about other people? The lies she creates to make things interesting... You didn't even manage to find a gown you liked for the wedding... You might now not even be able to face the public, would the Queen allow a private wedding for her diamond? Probably not.

"Oh! I'm sorry I didn't know you were back" For the second time today your blood runs cold. The scorching hot water feels icy against your skin as you look up to meet Duke Styles's gaze.

He is also stuck where he is. His feet seemingly glued to the floor, one hand holding the door handle and the other stopped halfway done unbuttoning his shirt. His eyes leave your face and trail down your nude body under the water. No man has ever looked at these parts of you, he isn't supposed to see them until your wedding night.

He swallows when his gaze snaps back to yours, probably just registering what he was doing.

"I'll let you bathe, sorry for interrupting" he turns around quickly but before he can close the door you call out to him.

"Who's Lady Whistledown?" your voice cracks halfway, desperate to get an answer that no worker has answered. Not the chariot driver, not the gardener, not even the maids that helped prepare the bath everyone avoided your question. "Why did she write about me, my lord? About us?"

He takes a few seconds to walk back into the room but eventually comes in and shuts the door.

He sees there is a small stool in the corner of the room, the maid has used it to undo your hairdo when you got in the bath. He grabs it and places it next to the tub, close to where your face is. He sits facing you with one of his arms resting on the edge, trying to look nonchalant.

"Call me Harry, no need for formalities between us" is the first thing he says, you nod as your answer.

Before speaking again he takes in a deep breath and wipes down his face, looking for a way to explain this.

"You read it?" your voice is meek, he saw that she called you a whore. He read that you threw yourself at him to trap him.

"I did. Only because the men at the club told me to" he answers honestly. "I told them that what she wrote was wrong. That yes our marriage was unexpected but not an entrapment"

"Did they believe you?"

"Yes, after I told that I am very satisfied with my future wife. How lucky I am to have such a gorgeous lady share my house, such a smart lady in my life. They wouldn't dare question me or us" his words shock you. You didn't know if he was satisfied with you or your engagement. There hadn't been a conversation about it but you're happy to hear he doesn't resent you.

Harry seems to read your mind and tuck a lock of hair behind your ear, he lets his hand fall to your shoulder after.

"She called me a whore, a seductress. I've never even let a suitor hug me... Much less seduced one" his eyes bore into you. They are enchanting and so inviting. You want him to look at you this way always like you're the only thing he could ever look at so attentively.

"That's what she does... Last season she almost destroyed Lady Eloise Bridgerton... You haven't met her yet but she didn't leave her manor for the rest of the season" his hand is rubbing from shoulder to shoulder, pinky finger grazing the very top of your breasts at each movement. You don't move or break the eye contact it feels good.

"The ton eats her words up but don't waste time thinking about what she thinks, she is a coward saying all of this nonsense anonymously" he shakes his head disapprovingly.

"So there is no Lady Whistledown in the ton? Is it an alias?" your questions stays unanswered but it is obvious that is what he was saying. No one knows who she is or rather who they are.

Harry's hand has travelled lower without you even noticing he's gone past the water and travels from your chest to your stomach. It seems casual and natural like you've done this a million times before.

Silence stretches as you take in the small amount of information about this person who spreads false claims about you and the man currently exploring your body.

He is now going up and down your legs switching legs once in a while. You don't know what he's doing or why he's doing it but it feels so intimate... so good that you don't stop him, you don't want him to.

You will bear his heirs and pleasure him when he wants you to but what he is doing now seems to actually pleasure you. His fingers graze your core and you gasp as the sensation takes you by surprise. This breaks the trance he had been in as he rips his hand away from your body and out of the water then out of the room before you can even get a single word out.

You finished your bath shortly after with your skin still tingling from where Harry had touched you. The ghost of his fingertips exploring places no one has touched not even yourself. You wanted to see how far he'd go, what he would do to you, how he would keep exploring your naked body. Seeking him out feels desperate but you have to know how far he was willing to take you. Was he just as affected by the intimacy? You knock at his chamber door softly praying that he doesn't reject you. "Come in" you hear him speak through the thick wooden door.

You quickly smooth out your sleeping gown before making your way into his chambers. This is the first time you've been in them, the amount of fabric, mannequins and art around the room surprises you. You had previously seen his work room where he designs and creates many different clothes but you had no idea he had more where he rests. You find Lord Styles lying on his large bed with one arm covering his eyes. He hasn't realized that's it you that's walked in yet so you take some time to look over his designs. You see some suits, daywear, and gowns of all kinds but then you stumble upon one that is called "My Bride". You pull it out from under some other sketches. The gown he's drawn is breathtaking, tight bodice detailed with what you think must be lace and gemstones, there's many layers of lace going downwards towards the bottom of the dress giving the impression of a flower that has not yet bloomed. He's added a simple shawl to the sketch which just adds to the elegance of the look.

"Would you make this dress for me?" your voice is loud in the otherwise quiet room. Harry startles on the bed, clearly not expecting you, sitting up quickly. He holds your gaze for a few seconds before looking at the paper you are holding.

"I can, if you want me to make it for you I will" he nods looking back up, studying your face.

"I'd like that" you smile "I'm much too ashamed to go back to the modistes anyway..." you put the drawing back down on his desk. At this point, you are only pretending to be looking around his space. Your goal is to make your way to his bed... try to get him to touch you again.

"There's no need for you to be ashamed. They should be ashamed, the ton is over-critical of newcomers" he leans back on his hands the now completely unbuttoned shirt falls off of his torso, revealing it.

"I suppose so... it's still disheartening to think that people think like that about me" you sigh walking towards him again. His eyes don't leave you he seems to be analyzing you, your actions, your body, everything.

"What can I do to make you feel better?" he tilts his head in thought, "Threaten anyone who looks at you wrongly? Find this Lady Whistledown and burn her out of existence?"

"You..." Okay, deep breaths, this is when you'll make your move, "You can touch me again... Keep doing what you were doing?" the pitch of your voice is much higher than usual as you finish your suggestion. You avoid meeting his gaze, too embarrassed to look at his reaction.

What you hear isn't an answer but the sound of him moving on his bed, towards you? God, you hope so. You still don't totally understand what his touch made you feel or why it has you craving for more. You don't even really know what "more" means.

"I wouldn't want to ruin you as some say" he guides your head towards him, forcing you to meet his eyes, so intense and inviting.

"Well, they already think you have... I just want you to make me feel good" You don't back down keep your eyes on his.

"Have you ever made yourself feel good?" Harry's voice is deeper than you've ever heard, it sends a shiver down your spine.

You shake your head as an answer, the ability to speak lost when he placed his hands on your hips. He tugs you forward, bringing you so much closer to him it makes you flush. He hums in understanding, still debating if he should do this or not... but the look on your face, the curiosity and the neediness makes his decision very easy.

He gently pulls you to lay down on his luxurious bed, the silky sheets and soft mattress feel glorious. You could stay in his bed all day long.

"Don't you resent me? I cut your first courting season quite short" he gently pecks your cheek before gliding across your lips to do the same to the other. You unconsciously follow his lips trying to have them meet yours again, you're already in a mental fog of pleasure and he's barely touched you.

"Can't answer, doll? Mh... don't worry I'll make you feel good" That's when he kisses you. Properly.

You let him take complete control as you've never kissed anyone. You don't want to make it unenjoyable for him or yourself so you follow his lead. His hands slowly bunch your nightgown up revealing more and more skin, skin that he is now seeing for the second time. He separates from your lips to look down at you, to admire your figure. Goosebumps spread all over as he delicately rubs his hands up and down your thighs spreading them apart adding him in lying down between them.

His face is inches away from your most private parts. Parts that have never been seen by anyone but your aids when getting dressed or cleaned. To aid him you didn't put any underclothing on, hoping he would accept your request. So, he's staring directly at you, making you flush from embarrassment.

"You want me to do this, gorgeous, you're sure?" your eyes meet his. His expression is unreadable, you've never had someone look at you like that. Like he wants to eat you whole.

"Please Duke Styles" you answer in a soft voice, he smirks at your answer and immediately gets to work.

What you're feeling is something completely new, foreign, unbelievably good; The curl of your toes as his mouth meets the skin you've never even explored yourself, the arch your body does and the loud gasp that slips past your lips. Who knew you could feel this way? Why did no one tell you that you could feel so unbelievably good?

Your hands grab onto the edges of the pillow you're lying on and you try to meet his gaze or maybe just to see what he's doing looks like.

Harry's eyes are already on you, your gazes meet easily, his pupils are dilated and his brows furrowed. He's so concentrated...

His tongue circles your clit sucking at it before letting his free hand join. His middle finger teases your entrance, not wanting to take your purity, he'll be somewhat of a gentleman and keep that for the wedding night.

"Ah! Harry" you moan desperately, desperate for something you don't even know, begging for him to keep going. You have an urge to shut your legs together but Harry's pushes onto your left one, keeping it pinned to the mattress.

The hand that was teasing your hole slowly goes up your nightgown, touching your skin delicately as he works his way up to grab your breast. His hand is warm on your chest, grabbing and massaging the skin he reaches.

He uses your slight distraction to prod his tongue inside of you exploring the few inches he's able to reach. Maybe exploring your inside isn't so bad... You'll be married no matter what happens...

His hand leaves your chest and makes its way back down, circling your bud. He can feel how close you are so he zeroes in. Lost in your pleasure and on his quest to make you feel good. Make you forget about the judgement the ton regards you with. He pinches your clit making your body lock up and your breath hitch but Harry doesn't stop. He keeps going until your whole body is spasming against his mattress until you're unable to make a sound with your mouth agape in pleasure.

You don't feel anything besides the tingling going from the tip of your fingers to the tip of your toes and the ends of your hair. Your heartbeat slowly stops being so erratic and your breathing calms down. As you start wondering where Harry has gone you feel a damp cloth rubbing against your intimates. You shiver at the feeling, obviously still sensitive, flinching when he gets close to your sensitive bud.

"How do you feel, my lady?" Harry's voice is soft and tender. Probably trying to preserve the warm atmosphere around both of you.

You hum positively as an answer, words lost as you meet his intense gaze.

"Cats got your tongue?" his tone is teasing. He throws the cloth away and joins you on the bed. You shake your head with a smile.

"I'm lost in thought" is the first thing you say to him, "I will be for a while after that" you sigh dreamily as you get comfortable in his sheets.

"Mh, maybe we should rush the wedding, get the Queens blessing for her diamond to wed in a rush... you won't speak a week after what I'll do to you" You just might have to march into the royal palace first thing in the morning.

[iamjustaholeforyousir]

While He's Touching Your Skin

part 7 of Look What We Became

summary: a harlot has been found! liars are punished, and love is in the air

warning: angst, kissing, cheating, alcohol, smut (like a bit).

word count: 4,003

minors DNI

part1 part2 part3 part4 part5 part6 part7 part8 part9

You both met again during breakfast, everybody had a smile on their faces, “good morning dear, did you two sleep well?” asked Queen Anne, she had an implying tone, and her smile was more of a smirk.

“Yes of course we did, it's the most comfortable bed i have ever slept in.” you say, not understanding what she was saying, harry on the other hand knew exactly what his mother was implying. “Mother please.” everyone looked at harry, “whatever do you mean son?” 

“You know what i mean, i will not talk about this with you or father.”

“Would you rather talk to Gemma?” 

“NO! Mother please stop, I don't want to think about this in the morning.” he says, closing his eyes in playful frustration.

The queen sighs and says “anyway, i wanted to say that tonight we will be hosting a dinner!” 

You look up from your food with a worried look on your face “tonight?” How were you supposed to put together a whole dinner in one day!?? 

“Yes dear, tonight! In celebration of the king’s birthday!” She looks at her husband, who gives her a shy smile. 

You were in love with their relationship, it was nothing like your parents, it was filled with love and respect for one another. They were always a team.  

“But his birthday is not till next week” said harry, confused 

“Excuse my extreme rudeness, but how am i to prepare for dinner in a day?” you ask, feeling horrible for letting them down

“Princess! Whoever said that you have to prepare for this?” the queen said, and you looked at her puzzled “the preparations have been done, only the decorations are left and will be done by the servants. You don't have to do anything child, just stop by my chambers in the afternoon, I would like to give you something.” she smiled at you.

You didn't know what to expect, you look at Harry who tries his best not to look back. Maybe you admitting the fact that you like him was not the best idea you have had. You excuse yourself from the table, you have lost your appetite. Going to your shared chamber, you saw her, sitting on your bed. 

She gave you a sharp look, and you gave her a smile, the best one you could possibly give to the woman your husband was in love with. 

“He told me what you said to him.” she said, and you just stood there not knowing what to do in this situation. “You can love him all you want, but he will always love me. Remember this, the next time you think about them, he never wanted to get married to you, in fact he thinks of you as a burden, he thinks of you as the most hideous princess ever!” she says, with malice 

“And has he expressed all of this to you?” you ask calmly, not believing what she was saying.

“Yes.” she says with a neutral expression.

“I would like it if you left the chamber.” you say, not wanting to look at her

“This was my chamber before you snatched it from me you harlot-”

“Well now it is mine. And when I tell you to leave I expect you to listen to me. And I needn't remind you of the consequences of not obeying the orders given to you.” you say, this was the strongest you had felt in a long time. And there was something about her that you absolutely hated, and it was not the fact that Harry loved her, it was the way she was. You had no intention to show Deborah your vulnerability, and you wanted her to leave. 

With a scowl on her face, she got up and left. You close the door behind her. You were convinced that god hated you, for he constantly played such horrible games with you. First he gave you a father like the one you had, then he gave you a husband, who did not love you, who thought of you as hideous, who knows what else he might have said to who knows who else, and now you had to deal with a chambermaid like this. 

Your will to live was deteriorating second by second. Yesterday had been a complete disaster, your wedding had been a complete disaster and you were to remember it for the rest of your life.  You were done being scared, you were just furious now, how dare she come to your chamber and say such things to you when you have been nothing but understanding of her relationship with your husband! And Harry had no reason to tell her what you had said, and it wasn't like you had something so incomprehensible, all you had requested of him was for her to not be your first women of the bedchamber! Your thoughts were interrupted by the doors of your room flying open and you see prince harry looking absolutely irate. 

“How dare you speak to her like that!”

“How dare i!? How dare she! I was nothing but kind to her!”

“You told her she is nothing but a servant!”

“I never said that-”

“She was crying! How could you do something like that!? I thought you’d be more kind!”

“Oh please! She is not a saint prince harry, if anything i should be the one crying a river! The things she said to me, if they were heard by anyone else, she wouldn't be in this castle for even a second more!” 

You both had moved a lot closer to each other by now.

“You will apologize to her!” he said pointing towards the door.

“I have nothing to apologize for! I will not do it! All I ever said to her was to leave me alone!” your voice was getting louder

“You made her cry!”

“Its is not my fault she can't handle simple instructions!”

“HOW DARE YOU SAY THAT!” he screamed, as his arms moved in exaggeration, but to you it looked all too familiar, and you took a step back, closing your eyes, and putting your own hands up in defense. 

There was a heavy silence in the room, you opened your eyes to see Harry with a surprised expression on his face, he had also seemed to take a few steps back. 

“I..you thought… you thought i was going to strike you?” he asked, much calmer yet shocked, You don't say anything,  taking in your surroundings, your chest is heaving and your heart is beating fast. You then looked up at him, you were at a loss of words. Tears were forming in your eyes. You hated being like this, whenever you got upset, you would start crying, you hated it. You take in a deep breath, and wipe the tears off your face, “I will not apologize to her, the sickly things that she said to me, she is lucky I have not said anything. You want to love her prince harry, go ahead, love her, you want to touch her? Touch her, do whatever you want with her, but don't you ever give me such dogshit about respecting our marriage, when you can't trust me when I say something. And don't expect me to love her just because you do. I have been understanding of your love for someone else since the day you came and told me, that too rudely, but I expect you and her to also be understanding of the fact that we are married, whether none of us like it or not.” you say, not looking at him at all “she must also understand that i am a princess, and there are certain things she cannot say to, certain things she cannot do. Judging my character is one of them. And for the sake of your own relationship with her, you must tell her that whatever you tell her in confinement, she better keep it between the two of you.” 

Harry did not know what to say as he watched you leave the room. Not even a day had gone by and he was back at your throat, but he just couldn't help himself when he saw her leave his room with tears flowing down her face. And when she told him the horrible things you had told her, that wasn't even true! He never called her hideous, he never called her a harlot, he never called her a burden, and he never told anything to you, then why would you say such a thing? He got furious at the thought of you saying that. He didn't understand why you had to lie. 

You found yourself in the library, walking around and looking for something to get your mind off of what just happened. Yes you got scared when he raised his hand, and you hated the fact that you did. It reminded you of everything your father had done to you, and you just wanted to forget it. 

The library was huge and you were sure you had gotten lost, when you saw an older lady trying to climb up the ladder to organize some books.

You rushed towards her, “what do you think you are doing?” you ask, which seems to frighten the lady, she turned around and you saw that it was Abigail, 

“Was just putting some books your highness, is all.” she said, looking scared.

“You were putting in books? Don't they have someone else to do that? You could fall down.” you ask, looking around for someone else

“They say that they don't want to do this, they find it boring.” she replies

“I will help you then, I will climb up and you just give me books, it's not your age to be doing such tasks.” you say, as you climb up. Abigail just gave you a smile and started handing out books. 

You both started working in sync and this helped you get your mind off of harry. 

You both were done in no time, as you started climbing down, you say “next time they pass this work on you, come find me, you could have fallen down, could have broken something, don't let the young bully you.” 

“They are just children, why must I punish them.”

“This is not punishing Abigail, they should be more willing to do tasks like this, and moreover they should know better than to pass it on to the old.” 

She smiled at you once more, “god bless prince harry, he got a wife like you. And god bless you child, you are so kind. I pray only good things come your way.” she says, as she bows and leaves.

You stand there, speechless at the irony, just now your husband told you how insolent you were, and now this woman had blessed you for being kind. 

Today was a strange day. 

You remembered then that you had to go meet the queen, so hurry and try to find her chambers.

You were assisted by the guards on the way. You knock on the door and wait for a response. 

The queen opened the door and smiled at you, “come in dear, i really hope you like this.” you walk in and see the most beautiful dress hanging on the mannequin. The corset was black with a gold pattern, the sleeves were a shiney mustard and so was the skirt. 

The sleeves were puffed and had two layers of frill, the neck of the dress was deep, if it were a few more inches deeper, the dress would be deemed unsophisticated. You looked at the dress in complete awe.

“I would like for you to wear this tonight.” said the queen, “my mother in law had given this dress to me, when i had gotten married to the king, and now i want to pass it onto you.” 

“Queen anne i couldn't possibly-”

“Dear, call me mother. And yes you can, it would look beautiful on you, I insist.” she says, with a kind smile. 

Then you did something that both of you didnt expect, you hugged the queen.

And after a few seconds she hugged you back.

“Thank you so much, I will take great care of this heirloom.”

The queen laughs a bit and says “I trust you will.” 

She calls in someone to tell them to take the dress into your chambers. You were really happy, this one thing had made your day a thousand times better. 

You decided to have a bath again, just rinse off the incident of the morning. You were taking a long bath, the water was warm on your skin, your hair was up in a bun, and muscles relaxed in the warmth of the water. 

You closed your eyes, it was just for a moment, when a loud boom was heard, and your eyes shot open. You see prince harry walking in with intent. Trying to cover yourself with foam, you ask “what are you-” but you are cut off by his lips on yours, you were worried that his suit was getting wet, but he didn't seem to care, removing his vest, and opening the buttons of his dress shirt, he came inside the tub, not breaking the kiss,your eyes were closed as you kissed him back, you could hear water splashing at the intensity of his jump, he lifted your bear legs up so you were straddling him. He pulled away a bit only to lick your lips, as if requesting you to give him way, you oblige, happily.  Your skin was getting hotter, as his hands roamed your back. He pulled you closer and your hands found his hair, tangling your finger into them and massaging his scalp, gently, your chest was squished against his, you could feel his leg between yours, and you subtle start moving, it felt right ot you, to move, and give you a feeling of burning that soon turned to one of pleasure.

The kiss never broke, you were surprised, since you could hold it at the altar. 

“Your highness,” you heard a voice, “it's almost time for the dinner.”

Your eyes snap open as you take in your surroundings. You, in the tub, alone, no sign of harry.

Had you imagined it?

You felt like crying, you were frustrated and you didn't even know why! 

But you don't let it show, you nod your head at the girl and she exits hurriedly. You get up and wipe

your body. 

You walk into your room and see the gorgeous dress hanging on your mannequin. Slowly walking towards it, you touch the material with your hand, the material is soft against your touch, like silk. 

You put the dress on, adoring yourself in the mirror, there were only a few times that you had looked good, reaching behind your back, you try to pull the zipper up, but were failing horribly. 

Too focused on the task you didn't realize that someone had entered the room, the first time you acknowledge the presence in the room was when soft knuckles touched the skin of your back, you pause your action and look up to see prince harry, standing behind you, aiding you with your impossible work.

Your husband was not looking at you, rather was focusing on your back, as he untangled a thread stopping the zipper to go up. You pinch yourself, just to see if you were dreaming again or not. 

You most certainly were not.

Harry finally looked at you thought the mirror, “princess-”

“The queen has requested both of your presence in the ballroom, she says guests will be arriving soon.” 

Harry completely ignores the maid, not moving his eyes off of your face, while you not curtly, and go out of the room.

The party was lively, as you observe people enjoying themselves. You had a smile on your face, though it was far from genuine, all you could think about was your dream. You were interrupted by a very handsome gentleman “hello, i believe we have not met, prince william.” he says, bowing down while asking for your hand. You smile again, and gently give him your gloved hand, as he places a soft kiss on it.

“Princess Y/n.”

“So you are Prince Harry's bride?” he asked, amused. 

“Yes. Yes I am.” 

“Well it is certainly a pleasure to meet you, though i wish i had met you sooner, then i could have had such a pretty lady all to myself.” he says, giving you a boyish smirk. 

You laugh at his awfully unfunny comment. 

“I am completely content with how we met Prince william.” you say, politely, this seemed to make that smirk drop off his face, 

“Well after what i tell you, you will most certainly wish you met me before princess.” 

You look up at him curious. He moves closer to you, and whispers in your ear “I believe prince Harry is swiping the floor with a certain girl named debbie.”

Your ears perked up at this. You look at this man, in disbelief, but he only nods. 

“Would you like to know where, princess?” he asks, as if talking to a child, you take a sharp intake of breath, not wanting to show signs of knowing anything about your husband's affair. 

“I will do you a favor, and let you know.” and then he leans in more and whispers something in your ear.

You had absolutely no intention of following this information, but for maintaining your innocence, you went anyway. “Excuse me for a moment.” you say and walk away. 

This whole encounter seemed to have an audience sitting far away, prince william only winking, and following you outside. 

You walk out to get some air, this frustration you were feeling was not helped by whatever prince willulu said, walking up to the balcony, you let the cold breeze hit your face, you would love to be here all the time, it was so peaceful and calm, not like the dinner being hosted down stairs. 

The peace was destroyed soon by angry footsteps nearing you. 

“Where is he?” you hear a very angry harry speak, you turn around calmly, “whoever are you talking about?”

“Oh you know who i am talking about!”

“I genuinely have no idea.” you say, turning your back on him.

“You came up to meet him! I know, he told you to meet here, so you both can do whatever it that we were planning on doing! I know it!” 

You had absolutely no idea what your husband was talking about. Due to your lack of response, Harry held onto your elbow, gently not to hurt you, and turned you around to face him. You could smell the wine on his breath as he looked into your eyes pleading you to tell him the truth. 

His face makes your heart melt. You take his face in your hand, and he seems to melt into your touch. “I dont know what you are talking about my lor..hmm…. prince harry.” you say, calmly

“You were talking to him just now, he whispered something into your ear.” he says and you lull him a bit, that is when the realization hits you

“Prince willulu?” you ask, “Prince willullu?” Harry askes, looking puzzled, “Prince william?” he looks at you with a questioning look.

“Oh yes, Prince william! Why would I come up to meet him?” you ask

“Because h e told you to?” harry asks

“No he didn't, he told me you were with deborah.” At that moment, reality had seeped in, you looked down from his face, and slowly started slipping your hand away from his face.

And at that moment, Harry seemed to realize something. “Deborah.” he says, he looks back at you, gives your lips a quick peck, before running down the stairs, leaving you there, you touch your lips, as the feeling of him never left your body.

Harry rushed down “debbie!? Debbie!?” he screamed, running around the halls, Harry was scared. He knew that prince william had done horrible, unthinkable things to women before, and his hate for harry, only made him more worried about deborah.

When Harry reached the end of the servant quarters, he could hear voices coming from inside, he could hear Deborah's pleasurable moans, the slapping of skin. Harry stopped altogether.

“Tell me you wrench, woh gives it to you better? Your pathetic prince, or me? Hm?” that was definitely william’s voice

“You god only you!” 

At that Harry kicks open the door, to see the woman he so dearly loved, bent over in front of the blonde man, as he thrusted into her. 

“Debbie?” Harry whispers, but they don't stop.

“Hello Harry, come here to enjoy the show?” says william. 

Ignoring William, Harry looks at her, “Why debbie?” he says, tears forming in his eyes “i loved you Debbie, with all my heart, i didn't touch my own wife! How could you do this to me!?”

Deborah only moans louder

“You didn't touch me either. God yes, right there!” Harry saw in pure horror, as the lewd scene in front him progressed “thought if you fall in love with, i will be queen, but Ah! No! That didn't happen, you got another bride all together, then i thought you could- god yes! Yes!yes! Ah! i thought you would at least touch me but Ahhh! But no, what was a girl to do?” 

Harry couldn't believe his eyes, and moreover couldn't believe his ears. All the times she has said that she will love him forever were all lies? The feeling of being betrayed mixed with the alcohol in his system made a concoction of anger in his body.

“You are nothing but a whore! I see through you now, you wrench!” he says as he slams the door shut, wiping his tears with his sleeves, he runs back to the ballroom, where he sees you. Kind, beautiful you, oh how wished he had seen this before, how he wished he had met you before, how he wished had fallen for you instead. He stared at you, as you talked to some random princess, pretending to be engaged in the conversation. 

He kept on observing you throughout the night, how you interacted with strangers, and how you interacted with known people, it was quite the same actually, until he saw his sister next to you, how face seemed to give the brightest smile of the evening as you approached gemma, you hugged her dearly, and started laughing at something she had said. 

God your laugh was so pretty. 

“I think I taught you very clearly, staring is bad manners.” he heard his mother’s voice, “and father always said ‘unless it's your own wife’.” hw turns around to face his mother. 

“What happened child?” she asked, sweetly, but Harry only shook his head, and that was enough for queen anne to understand, she pulled her boy in for a hug, as she looked at you too, talking to her daughter. To her you were the only person that could make her children happy, even if they didnt know it.

“Staring is bad manners, mother.” harry mumbles against her chest“Oh shush you.” she says, playfully patting his head. 

Harry had turned his head to the side, to look at you as well, what a fool he was to not show you the love you deserved, what an actual knob.he thought to himself, he would show you, exactly what you deserved, exactly what you want, he would give you the world,just like he had planned to give her. 

But only this time he would make it better, only for you. In fact, he will show you tonight, he will give you everything and anything you ask of him, and he will do better than any other man. 

A/N: Oof!! finally, some action in the love story!! i also i got sick yesterday, and my math test did not go well, and i didnt even get to do my spanish test. ugh life is sucking at the moment.

but back to the story, god i hate "debbie" so fucking much, even though i made her aaahahahahahha AHAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAH

stay safe❤️❤️

@strwbrrydaydreams @remuslupinwifee @inlikea-coolway @mypolicemanharryyy @sunshinemoonsposts @stilesissaved @novalunosising @sleutherclaw @dear-mylove @kiy0hime @rafaaoli @st-ev-ie @urmomsksjdjdjsj

[soapdish290]

I initially read 'In The Woods' by Tana French in 2013, after seeing a recommendation basically saying that, after reading a Tana French novel, the reader "has to go and hug my dog for a long while", to paraphrase.

Re-reading it over a decade later I wasn't expecting to finish the book feeling just as desolate and affected as I did the first.

I know we here all love the phrase "doomed by the narrative" and let me tell you, there are so many characters here doomed in so many narratives. Sometimes the reader knows the details from minute one. Sometimes you can feel the doom, formless and cloying, and have to read on, aching and helpless, to watch it land.

French is an absolutely stunning writer. She fully leverages the first person perspective to create all the isolated inevitability the format can give. A sad, lonely, nostalgic autopsy of interwoven tragedy. Actually that's my blurb quote, fuck it.

I choose the word "nostalgia" very deliberately. It's a strangely butter feeling, to me. A sort of empty longing. French evokes it frequently and beautifully.

French writes slow and lets the characters and atmosphere breath and grow and move, in fits and starts, to the preordained (but, to the reader, still hidden!) conclusion.

I'm chucking a line break here because below this I'm going to spurt a bunch of spoiler shit I want to talk about and there's a (very faint) possibility that someone might read this and be pushed into reading a novel.

If you are planning to read, however, know this: The narrator is a bit of a prick. He's 100% written that way on purpose. He is what makes everything work.

Embarrassingly, when I first read the book as a 20 year old eejit, I saw Ryan as a likeable, sympathetic protagonist. I do not like who I was as a 20 year old. Luckily, inall subsequent readings, I recognised him as an extremely well drawn example of the casually misogynistic, genuinely thinks he's a good guy, thinks "political correctness has gone mad" prick everybody knew at least one of.

Honestly these days I think it's a testament to French's writing - he's very well drawn, entirely realistic, and completely vital to most of the twists. If he wasn't a fucking arsehole half of it wouldn't work.

One thing I noticed this time, is that it's heavily implied Ryan did to his flatmate Heather what he did to Cass, in part. When he fordt introduces Heather, he says he took the flat in part because he fancied her, but "we both worked out that Harry and Sally were never going to materialise" (page 103 of my kindle copy).

Later, when Heather works out that Ryan slept with and is now shutting out Cassie, Heather says "she doesn't deserve that, [...] any more than I did." (Page 491).

I'll admit this might be really obvious to everyone but my aro/ace arse, but it hit me like a truck this time around.

Another very tenuous thing I noticed and really fucking like is right at the end, when Ryan drunkenly calls Cassie and she leaves the line open and he hears her and Sam. The narrative is unsure whether this was accidental or deliberate. I choose to interpret Cassie's word choice in a way that leans deliberate. She tells Sam it was a wrong number. "He told me he loved me [...] but he turned out to be looking for Britney." (Page 587).

Now it's very likely I'm reading faaaar too much into this, but the phrasing matches Cassie and Ryan joking around about a hypothetical personal ad for Ryan, "male, six foot [...] seeks his very own Britney for..." (Page 188). I love this interpretation. Gives the scene such a delicate, devastating impact. If its a callback its so soft and intimate in its kindness or its cruelty.

There's literally an entire essay topic based on close reading the archaeological dig mirroring Ryan digging up his past, the respective value of one over the other, the effects on the present etc. On the way Ryan goes back at the end and the wood is almost gone, he connects to the people destroying the past, the arrowhead pendant he refuses, etc etc etc. The symbolism be RICH.

Fantastically written novel. I'm rambling.

[pebblysand]

Hey hey! It's nargles, happy holidays! Thank you so much for the support of my story, it means the world <3 this latest update was all due to you. I need to respond to your lovely lovely comment you left still. And I finally got around to dropping one for castles. Beautiful, beautiful work as always. It's one of my absolute favorite stories and my obsessive refresh WIP. Thank you so much for writing it! Your work ethic and word count is wild!! Also lmao what is Pine Fresh's deal??

NARGLES! OMG. I'm going to start a campaign for you to start a tumblr PLEASE. I wanna have the chats in the DMs! That last chapter was fabulous ❤️. I loved it SOOOO MUCH. And, thank you So Much for your kind words! 🥹 I'm so touched. This means the world coming from you ❤️.

and LOL. For context for those who didn't know, Nargles and I have had the pleasure of getting comments from a particular user called Pine Fresh, who seems to find joy in commenting negatively on fics I recommend, as well as my own. They recently implied I was a Nazi apologist for letting Draco Malfoy "off the hook" in Castles, which is kinda funny until it's not (for more on that, see below the cut haha) and now called Nargles' Harry a piece of shit for failing to save his best friend 😭 Poor kid lol.

But since in all probability, Pine Fresh is stalking this tumblr: hello, Pine Fresh, what is your deal, actually? Will you tell me why you're not only shitting on my comment section, but also on that of the fics I recommend? will you explain why you seem so hellbent on people facing the consequences of their actions, while being a dickhead on a burner account? Please give me answers, I'm dying to hear them 😆.

Now, this being said, as I said above, this kind of behaviour is kinda funny until it's not, so i'll just use this ask as a vessel to discuss this a bit further, my apologies, please feel free to ignore me.

The interesting thing about the argument regarding the Malfoys being "Nazis" (in the way that Death Eaters in general are an analogy for nazis) is that in a way, it is true. I totally agree with that interpretation. And, as I discussed here yesterday, there is a very real, very intentional level of impunity for them in castles, which a) is meant to reflect the way these things happen in the real world and, b) takes into account a level of subtlety in responsibilities, particularly on Draco's side because he was a minor, forced into a situation he couldn't get out of, etc. The impunity is relative, because Draco does go to prison, but yes, there's definitely a level of him being let off the hook. I don't dispute that at all.

But I think one thing that this crowd of commenters fails to deliver on is this: what would be an appropriate sentence, though? because, truly, how do you make sure "nazis" face "consequences?" looking at History, a lot of them ran. some of them were put on trial, with varying results. some of them were simply shot by mobs after the war ended. the women who slept with them were at best shaved and shamed, at worst raped or shot or both. so, what do proper consequences look like? how far do you go? do consequences even help (and if so, help who)?

I briefly touched on this in my post yesterday, but I think the question that castles asks with the storyline about the trials is exactly that. what is justice? what is rebuilding a world on solid ground? do you prioritise vengeance, or do you prioritise giving people a chance to repent? what does doing your best look like? and, whilst i don't want to make this post about one specific stupid comment, i find it really interesting that in theirs, this person also said they "missed the old harry," that he'd morally compromised himself by testifying for the malfoys, etc. because that is actually, i think, one of the only areas in which harry doesn't change in castles. harry has always been on the side of giving people a second chance. he is almost pathologically forgiving. him testifying in favour of the malfoys is the most harry thing he could ever do. and, i think there's a level of subtlety in abstract principles meeting real world realities that is very interesting, and should talked about more. i think i will surprise no one by saying that choice and accountability are huge themes in castles, and something i think we all very much question at different stages of the fic (hell, even malfoy does, when he blames everything in his speech on "the system", then basically executes a death sentence on amycus carrow). it's a subtle one that is sort of hard to reconcile, which obviously most of my readers get, because i'm very blessed with readers that generally own functioning brain cells.

which brings me to my actual point: why do some arseholes on the internet just refuse to use their brains (lol)?

because, let me state this for the record: i truly believe that the level of intellectual dishonesty that is required to a) mistaking my character's opinions for my own and refusing to understand the concept of an unreliable narrator by calling me a nazi apologist, and b) refusing to understand that the level of "impunity" in the wizarding world is there specifically to ask a question about justice, rather than to answer it, is 100% intentional. i cannot reasonably fathom that someone would be intellectually capable to go through 13 chapters of castles and come out so completely missing the point, especially a point that Literally Everyone Else gets. it's not being ignorant, it's being intentionally obtuse and calling people nazi sympathisers, which i have no patience for.

And, the frustrating thing is, comments like these (I am obviously not the only one getting them, this is a wider phenomenon) come from a "side" of the fandom that actually means well. It's the side that says: "don't excuse/romanticise/condone nazism," which is obviously an argument I sympathise with. You may not believe this considering the things I write, but as a person, I'm actually someone who's pretty black and white. I think Nazism is Wrong (shocker, I know) and that there aren't really any excuses for those who hold these beliefs. I believe in good and evil, and I'm quite unforgiving. Obviously, writing Harry in castles is a way to explore another side of that, of being in someone else's head, and obtain answers on things I can't always reconcile. That's the point of creativity.

This being said, I don't think I'd be saying anything new by acknowledging the fact that internet discourse (and thus, fandom discourse) has gotten incredibly polarised, to an extent that both sides now seem unable to understand (let alone empathise with) one another, sadly leading to comments like these. Any attempt at subtlety, or showing another opinion, is perceived as promoting it, and thus should be called out. But, such comments on fics like castles are so glaringly missing the point that it may seem, at first almost comical. this is not calling out something that is actively problematic and actually "wrong", it's being purposefully intellectually obtuse about something, then calling someone you don't know a nazi apologist from a burner account. let me get that medal out for you, the bravery is outstanding lol. Because, let's be honest: if the idea of Malfoy letting off the hook the way he is in castles was actually problematic, my comment section would be filled with people with the same opinion. It may sound surprising to some but most of the people who read castles are not actually nazi sympathisers (another shocker, i know). I would even chance the assumption that they're politically quite far left, given how far left the fic truly is (and how far left i am, PLEASE BURN THE RICH 😆). So, if I were to actually wake up tomorrow and start calling for the murder of an entire race in my fic, I would hazard that they would call me out on it. (Or, at least, I sure hope so lol).

And, so, yes, the deal with Pine Fresh (and people like them) who are currently discovering the concept of organised societal impunity through the Malfoys, and refusing to use their brains to read pieces of art that are specifically calling that out critically is that they're just... trolling. Right? They're just internet trolls. They're left-leaning trolls rather than right-leaning trolls, but they are trolls. They're sitting there telling everyone who write any fic featuring Death Eaters with some sort of moral ambiguity that they're Nazi sympathisers, whilst refusing to understand context and develop reading comprehension. And, don't get me wrong there are fics, out there, which do promote these unspeakable ideas. I don't read them, but I'm sure. And, of course, we should be rising up against those. But seeing someone say that about castles makes me want to vomit in the same way as it would if someone were to pretend to misunderstand it as promoting rape. I will accept and debate a lot of things, but that's crossing a line.

And, the typical response I get in fandom when I rant about this is "ugh, just don't respond, don't feed the trolls". I've already explained why this is unsatisfying to me here. The second response I get is also: "ugh, it's just an uneducated kid, whatever," which I find equally annoying because this is such a typical way for adults to dismiss young people and their opinions, just because they're young. It acts as though all young people are irrational pricks who lack an understanding of the world and reading comprehension, which could not be further from the truth. In my experience, most young people are actually not like that. I would guess that I have dozens (if not hundreds) or readers who are minors, who understand subtlety very well, and do not call me a nazi in my comment section. using a single arsehole to dismiss a whole class of people does my head in.

and, so, i think the place you land on following this discussion is: why do trolls troll? and the irony is: because there are no consequences to their actions. Because as utterly ridiculous as it sounds, "calling out" someone for writing something you're actively being obtuse about bears no consequences whatsoever in the grand scheme of things, whilst also providing you with the mistaken satisfaction of having done the "right" thing. But stifling any and all conversation is actually not the right thing. Being an idiot is not the right thing. And, while comments like these are a low-level annoyance to me, they can be crushing to other writers, especially if they're starting out. and, what I think angers me most is that it's idiots like these that make it so that progressives are constantly being ignored and dismissed when the conversations actually are important. When some countries in Europe actually are seeing a resurgence in nationalist and authoritarian movements and regimes that should be called out. It's like firing all your bullets at an empty wall, then being surprised when the enemy does come and you have no more. It's fucking infuriating and I don't know how to stop it.

so, yeah, it's kind of funny, but it's also kind of not.

[sideprince]

He did search the whole house, though. When the trio enter, they immediately notice an overturned umbrella stand. The next morning as Harry walks through the house:

“On the second landing was the bedroom in which he and Ron had slept last time they had been here; he glanced into it. The wardrobe doors stood open and the bedclothes had been ripped back. Harry remembered the overturned troll leg downstairs. Somebody had searched the house since the Order had left.”

It's after this that he continues up another floor and ends up in Sirius' room. We don't really see the state of the other rooms because the narrative moves past it, but the implication of "somebody had searched the house" is the author telling us that this happened. The only room we know not to have been searched is Regulus' which is both locked and, when the trio enter, everything is untouched to the point of the bed exhaling dust when sat on, which implies that it was also untouched by the Order when they used Grimmauld Place as headquarters, which Snape would have likely known.

I'm not sure where it's implied that he messed up Sirius' room because he was upset after Dumbledore's death, though there's meta around the idea that the Dustbledore Moody set up as a safeguard might have triggered Snape, which is why his search of the house was uncharacteristically chaotic, assuming he was the one who left the mess. We also know that Mundungus Fletcher has taken things from Grimmauld Place to sell for personal gain, so it's unclear how much of it was searched by Snape and how much by Mundungus. In any case, if it was Snape the mess he left doesn't imply he would have caused deliberate damage, and him being triggered is very much meta that's extrapolated, but not clearly implied by, the text.

I don't think Snape would have known outright there was a letter from Lily in Sirius' room, let alone a photo, but I'm sure he would have made sure to search Sirius' room thoroughly. It would have been the longest inhabited room during the Order's use of the place, and by the person in the Order who hated Snape most and therefore the room most likely to house potentially compromising material. What if Sirius passed his long days trapped in Grimmauld Place at the end of his life by writing a diary or letters to Harry or Lupin, in which he discussed sensitive material about the Order's work? What if there were letters there from Harry in which he talked about Occlumency lessons with Snape that compromised him? Of course Snape would have picked up any letter in that room and read it. He also would not have necessarily known if Harry went there during his last school holiday, or back to the Dursleys, he may have only known that Harry inherited the house. If Snape had assumed Harry had spent time in the house after it passed to him, he might have also assumed Sirius' room was where Harry spent the most time. Having done Occlumency lessons with him and seen Harry absolutely fail at keeping his head straight around Umbridge, Snape would likely have been skeptical of Harry's ability to keep sensitive information confidential.

Question.

How did Snape know there was a Lily photo + letter in Sirius' room, and when did he learn about it?

If he didn't learn about it until after he got in the room and ransacked it, then why did he go in Sirius' room in the first place?

[youburyit]

"Who's a prettier pretendant, me or prince Harry?"

@heiresy

         “Well...I haven’t seen  you  naked,  now have I?  So how can I judge?”

[wizkiddx]

Hiii I really love your work! Could you write about Tom secretly or not secretly watching yoi have a Zoom Uni class? And maybe he teases you in a way, trying to make you laugh or he sends you text messages or something? And later when you're done and he has a meeting,you tease him right back?

Hope you're having a lovely day 💞

a/n hey anon!! this was a really cute idea but I have another req for the vice versa bit, so only did the first half in this- I hope u don't mind :)

warnings: implied smut at the end but rlly just a fluffy cringe fest

////////////////////////////////////////

Early mornings where never you’re favourite and this one wasn’t an exception to the rule. The LA sun was flooding through the curtains that had been hurriedly thrown almost-closed last night as you huffed into the duvet. You needed to get up - but you definitely didn’t want to. To be fair, you’d only arrived the day before and were still acclimatising to the jet lag - though Tom’s presence certainly made everything alot easier.

Especially as you’d been without him for so long, the pandemic meaning you hadn’t been able to make the long-weekend trips you usually would’ve. So when at the beginning of may, Tom had offered for you to come out and stay with him for half the summer (while he was busy working). There was only really one answer…. free holiday with the absolute specimen of a human who you call your boyfriend? Yes please.

It did mean though, that you had flown out before the end of the semester. Only by a week and it didn’t make much difference because you only had a few zoom lectures - but they were compulsory. So even if you were living in the US, you had to follow your UK school timetable. Hence why you had to get up at 6:30, to make your UK time 14:30 lecture.

The arms around you seemed to have other ideas, huffing and only pulling you tighter when you tried to wriggle out of his embrace. You groaned in annoyance, mainly because he was making it more and more tempting to stay huddled up against him.

“Toooooommm I gotta get up” Clearly not agreeing, he just squeezed you to his chest tighter, whilst emphatically shaking his head - all with his eyes still firmly pressed shut.

“Let go! I have a lecture!” Still not letting up , he just shook his head once again - making his bed hair especially wild as it dragged against the linen pillows.

With a sigh you turned in his death grip, now being able to see his puffy morning eyes pressed firmly shut. First you arched up and pressed a soft kiss to his chin, then jaw and then nose.

“Seriously T, I need to show up to this one.” Because yes, you might’ve already had an absence from yesterday, where you had both slept through the alarm.

“-o it-’” Croaking so much so you couldn’t even puzzle out what he said, the man cleared his throat before trying again, the sound reverberating in his chest. “ uhmm do it from bed, don’t go.”

That had you pouting at his cuteness. Ever since you’d arrived he’d been unbelievable clingy to you, barely letting you out of his sight. You showered together; he sat and stared whilst you did your skin care routine; even at restaurants he insisted on sitting next to you with his hand on your knee. When you had asked him, the only reasoning you got was a shrug and a muttered ‘I missed you���. Never, ever would you complain about Tom’s attention. But…. you really needed to get to your laptop.

“I can’t babe thats not very profess-“

“-wont even be able to tell.”

As much as you tried, you couldn’t ever really deny Tom anything. Not when he cracked his eyelids open, revealing the softest warm brown eyes, coupled with a lazy smile. So yes, you ended up quickly getting changed into one of Toms old burgundy tops, running a brush through your frizzy hair and then clambering back into bed. You balanced your laptop on a tray on top of a box, so the angle was less obvious that your backdrop was a headboard. Instantly Tom had half-asleep turned over to lay his messy head on your lap. And with a half sigh half laugh, you logged on- once in the waiting room bringing a hand down to trail your nails through Tom’s hair which made him groan with delight.

It was all going so well too, up the point where breakout rooms were announced and you had to talk - your chipper voice and laughs with your course mates rousing Tom from his sleep. Every time he almost lifted his head into the view of the webcam, you were very quick to slam it back down, forcing him back onto your lap.

Eventually he got bored of the restrictions, as well as not being very into the history module you were all puzzling over- so slid out of bed into the shower. Once he was gone you did almost sigh in relief, you had thought that Tom in his friendly-idiot manner would end up getting you caught at some point. Especially as our relationship was so secretive, none of your course mates knew you weren’t single - imagine their shock if an a lister popped up in the zoom class.

But oh, the relief did not last long at all.

The issue was Harry had gone out for the day. It was just you and Tom in his fancy rented LA house. And, as mentioned, Tom was being clingy as hell. It couldn’t of been more than 20 minutes before the fluffy haired brunette was back in the room - pouting when he saw you still on the computer.

Even though you shooed him away, Tom just cocked his head to one side, a small smirk on his face. And you knew. You knew he was going to be a little shit. He slinked over the bed, perching at the foot next to where your feet lay.The warning look you shot him, metaphorical daggers coming out your eye did absolutely nothing - you watched his hand pin your right ankle down before stroking the sole of your foot. Familiar shivers shot up your leg and it took everything in you to not kick out, launching the laptop across the room as tickled you.

Soon though he stopped, you pulled yourself into a cross legged position, readjusting the laptop and trying to concentrate back on the lecturer. Seeing your disinterest, Tom hopped up off the bed and you thought he was leaving. But no. No you were wrong. He just stood at the foot of the bed, hands on hips as he appeared to listen intently to the lecturer too.

Clearly Tom was an actor, he was pretty good at accents. You should’ve known he wouldn’t be able to resist the impersonating your academic staff - who happened to have a strong Somerset accent.

Pretending to ignore Tom as he hunched up and widened his stance - to imagine the physicality of your lecturer- you narrowed your eyes at the computer screen. Then though, a deep booming farmer-like voice came out your well spoken south london boy - god you were glad you’d stuck the mute button on as soon as he had entered.

“And then as your reading in chapter twel-“

“And then as yowr readinf in chapter twelve….” Tom echoed the lecturer loud and proud, making it completely impossible for you to attempt to concentrate. As much as you wanted to be furious at him- well, all it took was one look.

He was holding his face in some sort of duck pout and all the movements were extra pronounced and exaggerated. You couldn’t help it- instantly you burst out laughing, having to turn off the video for fear of anyone noticing.

Seeing he’d got a rise out of you, Tom was only spurred on, continuing the dramatic acting with a new found confidence. That was until you got yourself under control, face turning like a switch from joy to fury.

“Shut the hell up!”

And he did, for a few minutes, whilst pouting like a told-off toddler. In a strop, he sat down, shoulders slumped at the edge of the bed. Oh how wrong your were, when you thought you’d won - with a satisfied smile concentrating back on the laptop screen. Just in time to hear the lecturer FINALLY starting to rounding up the lecture.

“Alright so next session we’re-“ Before he’d even stammered his way to the end of the sentence, Tom’s face had switched up once again - into one of mischief as he started crawling up the bed either-side of your legs. One strong arm reached out to touch the back of your laptop lid and before you could protest he was pushing it down, till it landed with a small ‘clunk’.

“You did not just do that!” Yelling at him, you sat up so now he was kneeling across your lap.

“But I just did.” He mimed a mic drop which had you cringing hard, staring at him in disbelief. Okay the lecturer was beginning to round off, but that conclusion could’ve gone on for 5 minutes at least!

“Oh you are so in for it Holland.”

You’d meant it as a threat, as a sort of ‘I’m-going-to-make-your-life-a-living-hell” but the bright eyed boy before you had other plans. Wordlessly he nodded, then placed your laptop on the bedside ; then pushed you down on the bed. His legs either side of you, his arms like rockets to pin yours either side your head.

“Ah but you see my love…” he tutted, with a wide smile, hhis breath fanning down onto you as he took your breath away. “That is exactly what I want.” Immediately his lips were on yours, the both of you fighting for dominance as you arched your head up to get extra purchase on him.

“I hate… I hate you… so bloody much” It was hard to talk when his intoxicating lips were moving against yours, melting away all your resistance.

“Hmmm… well its… its a good thing… that I love you.”

He was impossible and no doubt you’d missed the prep work for tomorrows lecture. But having him there, body pressed against yours, after months apart.

Well, you wouldn’t mind failing the module for him.

~~~~ let me know what you think <333~~~~

tag list : @thefernandasantana @lovehollandy12 @hallecarey1 @crossyourpeter @hollandfanficlove @msmimimerton @thegirlwiththeimpala

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 58: Voicemail

Harry's mobile rang, interrupting a perfectly nice (if solitary) dinner at home with a good book.

With a sigh, he put his bookmark in his book, set his fork down in his bowl of pasta, and dug his phone out of his pocket. He looked at the screen and huffed at the unknown number, "Bloody spam call," he grumbled, tossing the phone onto the couch beside him.

He picked up his fork once more and opened his book.

He hadn't read more than two paragraphs when his phone pinged, notifying him that the caller had left a voicemail. Pointedly, he turned away from the phone and went back to reading; he made it a few more pages, his pasta bowl almost empty, when his phone started ringing again.

The same number was calling again. He scowled and ignored it, going back to his book and letting it ring out. He wasn't especially surprised when he got the notification that whoever was calling had left him another voicemail.

After that, his phone was blissfully silent as he continued reading. When he finished his book he set it down on the side table and stretched until there was a satisfying pop in his lower back.

He glanced at his phone, his curiosity winning out, and reached for it to play back the voicemails.

"Potter? Are you there?" a drunken voice slurred, and Harry knew that voice but he couldn't possibly believe that the person it sounded like had a muggle phone and even if he did, it didn't make sense that he'd be calling Harry. "Oh I can never understand these stupid things. Am I supposed to push a button so you can hear me? This is Draco Malfoy, so if you can hear me, you'd better speak up."

To say that Harry was shocked would be an understatement.

(Read more below the cut)

"You know I don't understand how to make this work," he whined at Harry, "Can't you help me? Isn't that what you do?"

Harry huffed.

"Fine. Don't talk to me. You're the one who's missing out. I'm hanging up now, Potter."

He shook his head and hit delete on the voicemail before opening the next one.

"Potter," he greeted again and Harry almost laughed because he didn't know how it was possible to sound so drunk and so posh at the same time. "I've been informed that you were not, in fact, on the other end of the string...wire?... line?..." he trailed off and this time Harry did laugh.

"Whatever. None of those words make any sense. Anyway, I was told I left you a recording of my voice. You're welcome."

Harry laughed again, ridiculous man.

"So, since you weren't being rude before, I thought I would call to present you my offer. I am out at a club dancing and drinking with Pansy, and I couldn't help but wonder what you might be doing. I'm going to guess that you are finishing a terrible detective novel while you sit on your sofa eating dinner by yourself."

He rolled his eyes, "I like my detective novels, thank you."

"And I know you're probably rolling your eyes and extolling the many virtues of your paperback novels, but they're absolute drivel, Potter, you must know that."

It was ridiculous to be fond of this man. Utterly and completely ridiculous, but Harry was nothing if not fond of Draco Malfoy.

"Anyway, I bet that your cat hasn't even joined you on the sofa. Magnus has much better taste in literature than you do."

Magnus was currently resting on his cat tower, but if he'd been asked, Harry wouldn't have admitted it.

"The point I'm trying to make, is that you are living a lonely, miserable life. So you should come out dancing with me. And I know," he carried on, "that you would say that you don't dance but I can teach you."

He smiled at the phone, gripping it a little tighter as he imagined that scenario playing out in his mind.

"And then, you can take me home with you at the end of the night."

Harry promptly choked on his saliva. Draco Malfoy couldn't be implying what he thought he was implying.

"What's your bed like, Potter? Is it soft? Is it red?" he asked aghast. "Maybe we should come back to mine instead. You'd look so lovely on my green sheets." He trailed off with a wistful little sigh. "Or. Just call me back and tell me to leave the club right now. Tell me to floo over and maybe we won't make it past the living room. Maybe on that hideous sofa. Hell maybe we won't make it past that garish rug."

There was a short pause and Harry wondered if Draco was imagining it like he was.

"I'm dying to kiss you." he murmured. "Surely you see it, surely you know. And I'll be anything you want me to be, Harry. Anything. Because you must know that I-"

The voicemail ended abruptly and Harry glared at the phone. What happened? He opened the voicemail box again and a notification popped up. His mailbox was full. Of all the rotten luck.

And he had no idea where the other man was and even if he had known, did it really make sense to go there anyway?

He listened to the voicemail, then he listened to it again.

And again.

He listened and he fell a little bit more in love with Draco Malfoy and he knew that even if he had known where he was, he wouldn't have gone, because he didn't want to be something the other man regretted in the morning.

After retrieving Magnus from the cat tower, he carried him into his bedroom and decided to deal with everything in the morning.

----------------

Harry slept very poorly that night and when 7:30 rolled around Harry couldn't stand it for one more second. He stuffed his feet into his trainers, pulled a sweatshirt over his head, and apparated to Draco's front door, pounding on it before he could stop himself.

He waited for a long moment and when there was no response, he pounded again.

The door swung open while he was still knocking, revealing a very tired, very grumpy Draco Malfoy in nothing more than a pair of boxers, "What the fuck." He stared at Harry as if he couldn't quite believe his eyes. "What are you doing here at this ungodly hour?"

"What were you going to say?"

"Potter, I am in no mood for your bullshit; I am tired, I am hungover, and it is bloody early. You're going to need to start making sense. Right now."

"You said, 'I'll be anything you want me to be, Harry. Anything. Because you must know that I-' and then my voicemail was full and I couldn't hear anything more."

All of the color drained from Draco's face, "I think I'm going to be sick." He turned around and stumbled back inside, but he left the door open so Harry took that as an invitation to enter.

Draco was serious, apparently, about getting sick because he made a beeline for the bathroom and Harry heard him vomiting before he reached the doorway.

"Oh," he murmured sympathetically, making his way over and gathering Draco's shoulder-length hair in his hand to keep it out of his face. He rubbed soothing circles on his back as he heaved up the contents of his stomach which truthfully smelled like pure vodka.

"Go away," Draco finally groaned when he'd managed to stop dry heaving and flush the toilet. "Just leave me to die. That would be preferable."

"Stop being dramatic," he said as he stood and moved toward his medicine cupboard. "I'm sure that a potions master has a hangover potion lying around here somewhere." He dug through until he found a bottle and handed it over to Draco.

Draco took it, wincing as the pain of the hangover he would have had hit him all at once. He shuddered, "Fucking Pansy," he grumbled. "Thank you for your assistance, you've done you're duty to help those less fortunate than you, you may go."

"Not likely," he replied. "Why don't you shower and get cleaned up? I'll make some breakfast and we can talk."

Draco groaned, "Let me die."

Harry rolled his eyes, "You have ten minutes, then I'm coming in and dragging you out."

He made his way to Draco's kitchen and made some scrambled eggs and toast for both of them, as well as coffee.

Draco appeared after nine minutes and fifty-two seconds. "Please, Potter," he groaned, "Can't you just drop it. I promise never to drunk dial you again," he added as he slid into a chair and took a sip of his coffee.

"Draco what was the end of that sentence?" Harry asked.

The other man picked up his slice of toast and took a bite, "I don't know. I was drunk off my arse."

"Don't lie to me," Harry replied. "I'm not stupid."

Draco's eyes flicked up to meet his, "I know that."

"Please," Harry whispered, "What was the end of that sentence?"

"You aren't going to let it go are you?"

He shook his head.

Draco's shoulders slumped, "I am in love with you," he whispered. "That's the end of that sentence. And usually I have enough of a sense of self preservation and dignity not to just go spouting that sort of nonsense to someone who couldn't possibly feel the same-"

"But I do!" Harry exclaimed. "I do feel the same. I have for absolutely ages."

"You don't have to lie to me-"

"Do you remember that trivia night we went to eight months ago," Harry interrupted, "the one where everyone else bailed?"

"Yes."

"I knew," Harry said, "I knew that night that I was completely besotted with you. We were the worst team there."

Draco rolled his eyes, "Right. Everyone falls in love with someone who's a complete idiot about a subject school children could play better."

"I fell in love with someone who didn't take himself seriously. Who laughed at getting the answers wrong, who was clever and funny, and made up answers a hundred times better than the real ones." He looked down at his hands, steeling himself to say something hard but real, "Things are hard for me sometimes," he confessed. "I get stuck in my head and it's not," he swallowed, "Not always good."

Draco's hand found his across the table.

Harry looked up, "But I don't feel like that when I'm with you. I can't remember the last time I'd laughed like that before that night. And I'm not trying to put pressure on you," he added, "I see a mind healer, I'm not asking you to fix me," he said. "Just, when I'm with you I feel like there's something to look forward to." He swallowed and Draco waited patiently for him to continue, "And I couldn't let myself imagine that you might want someone broken like me, I wanted to be better before I let myself even think about it. But then you left me that messa-"

"You're not broken," Draco murmured, bringing Harry's knuckles to his lips and pressing a chaste kiss to them that left Harry breathless. "The war changed all of us and we all have healing and growing to do from that, but you aren't broken. You're enough as you are right now."

"You don't know what my bad days are like," Harry said.

Draco shrugged, "And you don't know what my bad days are like, but you're not holding them against me."

Harry rubbed the back of his neck.

"I really like you," Draco confessed. "A lot. And I know that things aren't always going to be easy, but if we wait for either of us to be perfect before we try, we'll wait our entire lives." He swallowed and Harry watched his throat bob with the motion, "Could we maybe try healing and growing together?"

"I'd like that," Harry whispered.

"Good," Draco replied before standing up and moving around the table to straddle Harry's lap, "Then I'm going to need you to kiss me."

"I can do that," he replied, cupping Draco's cheek and leading his mouth down to his.

Their breakfast got cold but neither of them could bring themselves to care.

-------------

Day 57: Text Message | Day 59: Ring

[dameronology]

love in the time of p.t.a meetings {marcus moreno} - 2/5

summary: your kid has taken a liking to marcus moreno - and frankly, so have you {series masterlist}

warnings: swearing, mentions of divorce & very brief mentions of his wife’s death 

i don’t normally update series this quickly but this was originally one imagine that reached about 11k words lmao so it’s all written, just being split up. i’ve also decided it’s gonna be 5 parts instead of 3, cos i reread the ending and realised i was not done by a longshot. enjoy!

- jazz

Mondays. You hated ‘em.

Everything just seemed so...amplified. The peace and relaxation of the weekend was over and everyone had to go back on the grind. The traffic always seemed worst, the clock seemed to tick backwards and you just wanted to be at home, in bed. After an incident involving the dog, a toaster and a small pan fire, you were already running twenty minutes late and you knew in your soul that your child’s shoes weren’t on the right feet. That, and also he was wearing a Chewbacca onesie to school. It had been a compromise. As in, he was refusing to go to school unless you let him wear the damn thing. It was a compromise. You’d lost. 

On the bright side, the past weekend had been the best you’d had in a long time. Jack had spent all of Saturday afternoon at the Heroics headquarters and he was so worn out, he’d slept through all of Sunday. Marcus Moreno must have a been a fucking wizard, because you’d been trying to tire the kid out for five years. You made a mental note to do something in return, though you sensed there was nothing on God’s green earth that could possibly amount to babysitting the world’s most exhausting child for six hours. You were allowed to say that, because Jack was your world’s most exhausting child and you wouldn’t have changed him for anything. 

‘New week, huh buddy?’ You glanced at Jack in your rear view mirror. He was sat on his booster seat, legs dangling back and forth and a power ranger action figure in his hand. ‘A fresh start.’

‘Can we listen to the song from Cars?’ Jack ignored your comment.

‘You gotta try and behave yourself this week. You’ve seen what happens to people who do follow the rules, right? They get to go work at the Heroics-’

‘- I wanna listen to the song from Cars!’

You wanted to have a deep conversation. Jack wanted to listen to Life Is A Highway. That was...actually, it was exactly how you’d expected that to go. It wasn’t that off of the time you were trying to explain your divorce to him and he’d interrupted you to demand that you put Toy Story on. 

‘Sure thing, kid.’ You rolled your eyes, reaching across to hand him on your phone. ‘D’you know how to spell it-’

Your sentence was cut off by the sound of guitars blaring from the speakers. At least he could work out Spotify.

By some miracle, you managed to make it the school with a few minutes to spare. Because most people had dropped their kids off earlier (see: on time), the lot was pretty empty. That meant you could once again dump your car without regard for the painted white lines -- who had time to park properly on a Monday morning? That was for people who had their shit together.

Leaping out the car, you almost cursed when you tripped over your heels. You didn’t have to wear them, but since you’d started working in a managerial role at your office, you figured it made you look a little more professional. And what was the harm in being a few inches taller? It made you feel powerful.

‘C’mon, J.’ You pulled open the back door, helping Jack leap out the car. 

‘You know, I’m starting to think you can’t park your car at all.’

‘Marcus!’ Jack practically flew out the car, his tiny body suddenly jolting with excitement. 

‘Morning, buddy.’ He replied; he then moved his brown eyes to gaze at you, offering a smile. ‘Hey.’

‘Hey, how you doing?’ You greeted him. ‘I don’t normally see you here in the mornings.’

‘Yeah, I normally drop Missy off at the front but it was one of those mornings, you know? She was taking a little more convincing than usual to go in.’

‘My kid is in a Wookiee onesie and backwards Thomas the Tank Engine shoes and you have the audacity to ask me if I know those mornings? I am those mornings.’ You replied.

Marcus chuckled. ‘I think it’s a look. I especially like the Lightning McQueen sunglasses.’

‘Do you have a super suit?’ Jack asked. ‘Can I try it on?’

‘C’mon, Jack. You’ve already managed to get a tour of the HQ.’ You ruffled his hair. ‘And we gotta get going to school.’

‘But I wanna ask more questions.’ He muttered. ‘I have over a hundred.’

‘Don’t I know it.’ You murmured under your breath. ‘But school is more important.’

‘I don’t wanna go anymore.’

‘I let you wear the onesie. That was our agreement, remember?’

‘All good superheroes have to get an education.’ Marcus reasoned. ‘And if you go in, maybe I can show you my suit at some point?’

'Okay!’ Jack grinned. He wrapped his arms around your waist in a quick hug, before peering up at you with a toothy smile. ‘See ya later!’

He turned on his heel and ripped his backpack from your hand, suddenly speeding up the path and towards school. Had...had that just happened? For once in your life, had you not had to wrench him from the car and wrestle him through the school gates? Move aside, Harry Potter, because Marcus Moreno was the new wizard in town. You might have been a little jealous that he was so good with your son but at the same time, it made you like him even more. He was the first parent at the school that had leant into Jack’s wild tendencies. And, whilst you tried not to think too much about it, even his own dad had struggled to do that. It made your heart warm a little. 

‘You are seriously my favourite person.’ You chimed, leaning back against your car. 

‘Kids with character are way more fun than kids who are well-behaved.’ Marcus replied.

‘I spent forty-five minutes scraping string cheese out the USB port of my computer yesterday, but sure.’ 

He chuckled. ‘No, I’m serious. I don’t encourage Missy to misbehave but she does get herself into some situations. I choose to see it as a testament to her intelligence rather than disobedience.’

‘I refuse to believe for a second that Missy ever misbehaves.’ You shot back back. ‘She seems so well-behaved.’

‘What you see in the parking lot is not a reflection of our whole lives.’ He reminded you.

‘Right, because despite appearances, I’m actually a very put together parent.’ You snorted. ‘But I get what you mean.’

‘I gotta get to work now, but it was good to see you.’ Marcus pulled his car keys out his pocket. ‘I was serious about that suit thing, by the way. He saw my katanas on Saturday.’

‘Katanas?’ You spluttered. ‘My kid managed to start a fire last week out of nothing and you want to give him katanas?!’

‘Maybe I can show you how to use them.’ He flashed you a smile. ‘And then you can pass on the knowledge.’ 

‘That’s probably an even worse idea.’ You shook your head with a laugh, pulling open your car door. ‘I’ll see you around.’

‘You as well. Have a good day, pretty lady.’

--

Did you stop thinking about your exchange at any point during the day? Absolutely not. In fact, you’d already written an email to the local deed poll office to change your legal name to Pretty Lady. 

No, but in all seriousness, you’d been a little giddy about it. Had he been flirting? That didn’t seem like a long shot. You got on well, you’d hung out a bit over the weekend and not to toot your own horn, but you were by no means bad looking. Tired and a little frazzled, sometimes? Yeah. But anyone would have been lucky to have you and you were doing a better job at recognising that, especially since your divorce. 

You were almost ecstatic when it got to 4PM and you hadn’t received a single call from Jack’s teachers. That meant that he had behaved, and what Marcus had said had worked. Because you worked past his finishing time, he usually went to the after-school club till you could come to collect him - it had been a lifesaver, especially since you couldn’t always leave early. He usually came home with some kind of weird arts and crafts. Last week, it had been an unidentifiable item made of dried macaroni and glitter. He’d placed it pridefully on the old fireplace in your lounge. 

After saying goodbye to your co-workers, you headed out the building. Your office was right in the city centre and not too far out from the school. It was a nice place to be; your lunch hour, when you could head out to a street cart and eat your food in the local park, was usually the highlight of your day. It was when you could exist just as you. When you were at work, you were in charge on your entire department. When you were home, you were a parent 24/7. That time to yourself was vital.

As you were heading to your car, your phone began to ring. Your heart almost jumped out your chest when you saw Marcus’ name - he hadn’t called you before, only texted to sort out the previous weekend’s plans with Jack. You quickly organised yourself (he couldn’t see you, dumb ass) and cleared your throat.

‘Hey, everything alright?’ You brightly greeted him.

‘Hey! Are you out of work now?’

‘Yeah, I’m literally just leaving. What’s up?’

‘Look, I hate to do this but I’ve had an emergency at work - superhero related, you don’t wanna know - and I’m not gonna be out for hours.’ Marcus sounded stressed. Yeah, I feel that you thought. ‘Would you be able to pick up Missy and possibly have her for a few hours? If not, that’s totally-’

‘- I’d be glad too!’ You interrupted him. ‘I owe you one anyways for the weekend. And this morning, actually.’

‘You don’t owe me anything.’ He sounded surprised that you’d even imply it. ‘But I will definitely owe you for having Missy.’

‘Hey, it’s cool!’ You insisted. ‘Do you want me to drop her off at yours later?’

‘I can come and collect her if you text me your address?’

‘Perfect.’ You smiled. ‘I’ll see you later then?’

‘You’re a lifesaver.’ Marcus said. ‘I’ll text Missy to let her know to find your car instead of mine. I would ask for your plate number, but your car is...’

‘...bright red, covered in dents and hard to miss?’ You finished his sentence.

‘Exactly.’

You’d been in the same situation before; pulled between work and parenting, with Jack stuck at school and an important meeting that felt like it was never ending. It was hard to get a sitter on such short notice - or afford one, sometimes - and it was just another one of the million, stressful situations that single parenting could get you into. If you could help Marcus even a little bit, of course you were going to. You knew he’d do the same for you. Heck, he had done the same for you.

Jack and Missy were both chatty on the way home. Given that she was a little older than him, her conversational skills were strikingly better. It was nice to ask someone about their day and not get where are my Cheetos? as an answer. From what you gathered, she hated science class, enjoyed gym, and her favourite subject was lunch. That didn’t come as a surprise to you - her dad was a literal superhero and probably encouraged physical activity.

(You’d seen his arms, okay? They were more than enough to go on. I digress).

The only thing that made you wish you’d had a little more notice on having her for the evening was the state of your apartment. The place wasn’t bad; you’d lived there for the better part of eight years, and it was crammed with soft furniture and millions of blankets, as well as photos of you and Jack and his questionable art projects. It was just that you hadn’t done the dishes that morning, there was a mountain of shoes by the door and the pancakes from the previous night were still stuck on the roof.

Missy barely blinked an eye; the minute she saw your dog, she’d abandoned her bag and was playing with him. 

‘Hey buddy!’ She grinned. ‘What’s he called?’

‘That’s Oppy.’ You replied, hanging your jacket up. She didn’t need to know that it was short for Optimus Prime. No guesses on whose idea that had been. 

‘He’s so cute!’ Missy continued. ‘I’ve been asking dad for a dog for ages but he won’t budge.’

For some reason, that surprised you a little. Marcus might have been the leader of a super-hero team and a public figure, but you could tell he would do anything for his daughter. You knew because it was the same for you with Jack. He might have ruled your whole life but you would have hung the damn stars in the sky for him if he asked 

‘They’re a lot of work.’ You reasoned. ‘I have to wake up every morning at 6AM to make sure he gets a walk. Then there’s the matter of-’

‘- mum! Optimus Prime pooped in the bathroom!’

‘The matter of that.’ You murmured under your breath.

The rest of the evening went pretty smoothly. You fed the kids some leftover takeaway and between the dog and Netflix, they were easily entertained. Jack seemed to take a liking to Missy, which was good because it meant he wanted to sit with her the entire time instead of bouncing off the walls. She had the same patience as her dad, especially when he asked her a million questions about superheroes. It took her twenty minutes to convince him that Batman wasn’t her uncle, and a further fifteen to make him believe that she hadn’t met Captain America. 

Jack had asked you a few times about whether or not he would get siblings. Of course, it would be different to any interactions with Missy because he would have been the oldest, but it did get you thinking. You were finally in a place where you were moving past your former relationship and healing from the wounds. Time wasn’t much of an issue either - you’d had Jack when you were young and barely out of college. You couldn’t possibly imagine having any more kids right now, not when it was just the two of you, but in the future? You’d never rule out meeting somebody new. If anything, you were hopeful. Your first relationship had been your only one, and it had ended badly. You wanted to experience love for what it actually was, and not what you thought it was supposed to be. 

Not long after 7PM, there was a knock on your door. By that point, both Missy and Jack had passed out on the sofa with Star Wars playing quietly in the background. It had been her idea to watch it - she had good taste. Marcus had clearly done a good job.

‘Hey!’ You greeted him as you pulled open the front door. ‘Come in quick, it’s fucking freezing out there.’

‘Thank you.’ Marcus came inside, dusting a few snow flakes out his hair. ‘Seriously, I can’t say it enough-’

‘- it’s fine!’ You shook your head, offering him a smile. ‘Missy’s been great. She’s really chatty and it was nice to have a coherent conversation with someone that isn’t about Paw Patrol. But was everything at the office okay?’

He was quiet for a minute. ‘Yeah. We uh, we lost someone. A hero.’

‘Shit, man. I’m sorry.’ Your voice fell quiet. ‘You wanna come in? You look like you could probably take a moment.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Of course! Missy and Jack are both asleep on the couch anyways.’ You pointed through to the living room. Marcus leant over to have a look, smiling slightly at the sight. 

‘Thank you. I’d appreciate that.’

He took a seat at the kitchen counter. Your old bar stools were a little old and wobbly, but Marcus didn’t seem to notice. If anything, he admired the place. It was cluttered as hell and filled with useless, old items - cook books you didn’t use, random magnets, assorted toys - but it was nice. His house always felt a little cold and clinical. He’d moved a lot over the course of Missy’s life and now that he was retired from the field, he’d sworn to her that their current house was going to be permanent. Whether or not it felt like home was another question entirely. 

‘I would offer you a drink but all I have is..’ you paused, opening the fridge. ‘Nesquik, vodka or apple juice.’

‘You know what? A Nesquik doesn’t sound too bad.’

‘I like your thinking, Moreno.’

After quickly fixing up the two drinks, you slid into the seat beside him and handed him one. You had never in a million years imagined a situation where Marcus Moreno would be in your kitchen drinking chocolate milk, but here we were. It had clearly been a long day for him and you had enough of those to last a lifetime, so you knew how it felt. Coming home after a day that had beat your ass into the ground and having to put on a brave face for your kids was difficult at best. 

‘Are you sure you’re okay?’ You gently asked.

‘Yeah, I’ll be okay - it just always fucks me up a bit.’ Marcus murmured quietly. ‘Hits a little too close to home.’

He wasn’t an idiot. He knew that you knew what had happened to his wife. You knew why he’d retired, and why he and Missy had moved away from their original city six years ago.

‘Sorry, that was too deep-’

‘- it wasn’t!’ You quickly cut him off. ‘I’ve had random women come up to me at pick up time and say they’re sorry to hear about my divorce. People I don’t even know. So really, after that, nothing is too much.’ 

He smiled slightly. ‘They always say they’re sorry but why would you bring up a subject if you have to apologise for it?’

‘Exactly!’ You replied. ‘Especially when I’ve moved on. It’s been a year.’

‘It’s the same with me. Missy and I miss her everyday but we don’t mope about it. We just...we look back with fondness on the good memories we have. You can’t move forward if you’re stuck in the past, no matter how much it sucks.’

‘That’s...that’s wise.’ You blinked in surprise. ‘S’pose that means I should take down the dartboard I have with my ex’s face on.’

‘From what I’ve heard, he seems like he should have more than a dart board.’ Marcus snorted - then he froze. ‘Wait, not that I’ve heard stuff, I mean...I don’t listen-’

‘- Marcus!’ You whacked his arm. ‘It’s fine. One of the other kid’s mums started telling me about the terrible divorce someone was going through but she realised she was gossiping to the one who was going through it.’

‘I don’t know how much of what I’ve been told is true, but it sounds like it was bad.’ His hand hovered over where yours was rested on the counter. 

‘The rumours pretty much get the gist of it.’ You replied. ‘But we were talking about your thing, so I don’t wanna take away from that.’

‘Hey, it’s okay.’ He finally moved his hand, fingers gently curling underneath yours to intertwine them. ‘If even half of the whispers are true, he sounds like an asshole. You and Jack both deserve better than that.’

Whatever people had said, it had sort of covered the gist of it. You’d married too young and had a kid too young - your ex had been a terrible husband and an even worst husband. He’d chastised Jack for being...well, being Jack. He’d stay out late with his friends, spend money on things neither of you needed and tried to make you take the blame for it all. After giving him a few too many chances, you’d finally reached breaking point and kicked him out. Filing for divorce and taking on being a single parent was single-handedly the hardest and bravest thing you’d ever had to do. In a way, you were glad you’d done it when Jack was still so young - he didn’t really understand any of it, even when you’d try to explain it in child friendly terms.

‘I think people judge me for it a little sometimes.’ You confessed. ‘They see me struggling but they know I made the choice to separate from him, like I brought it all on myself.’

‘That’s bullshit.’ Marcus plainly stated. ‘Parenthood isn’t a dependent thing based on whether or not you’re still married to the other parent. It’s unconditional and permanent.’

‘I should tell him that, but I also don’t want him back in our lives.’

‘I know it’s none of my business, but he doesn’t deserve Jack. He’s one of the best and brightest kids I’ve ever met.’

‘Thank you. I’m glad he doesn’t seem like a complete lunatic.’

‘He doesn’t deserve you either.’ Marcus continued. ‘Again, I might be out of place saying this but you are...you’re amazing. I was a wreck when I was suddenly on my own and you’re still holding everything together and working your ass off.’ 

‘You’ve noticed?’ You quirked an eyebrow.

‘Yeah, in passing.’ He admitted. ‘I remember I once saw you carrying three separate science projects at once and then Carol made a passing comment that you were on your own and...I just kinda admired you from afar.’

‘You, Marcus Moreno, admired me?’ You blinked at him in disbelief. ‘I find that hard to believe.’

‘I wish I’d had my shit together half as much as you did when I lost Missy’s mum.’ 

‘But the difference is you didn’t have a choice in your situation. I chose to boot his dad out-’

‘- you gotta stop discrediting yourself.’ He shook his head. ‘And stop blaming yourself. You did what was right for your kid and that is the most admirable thing of all.’

‘You really think so?’

‘I know so.’

The conversation slowly drizzled away, leaving you two to just look at each other. It was hard to tear yourself away from his brown eyes - there was a lot going on behind them. Fear, pain, anguish, admiration. He was one of the most mind-blowingly impressive people you’d ever met; single dad, superhero, electric car owner. He probably didn’t have a mortgage too and that was kinda hot. You were none of those things and yet, here he was, with you, managing to connect on a level that you never had with anyone. Both of your situations were tough, but they’d brought you together. 

Marcus Moreno was pretty fucking fearless (came with the job, you figured), and he wasn’t afraid to make the first move. He slowly inched his head forward and in return, you gravitated towards him. Your lips met halfway in a soft kiss, his hands moving to firmly hold your waist as he pulled you closer.

You almost stumbled out your chair with the movement, but his grip on your hips meant you didn’t slip. Instead, he placed you up on the counter, standing up as he did. It took you a moment to adjust to the position, but with your legs resting on either side of his, you could reach forward and lean on him. You had one hand tangled in his hair and the other on the back of his neck -  you’d surprised yourself with that. It had been months since you’d kissed anyone, but you weren’t as rusty as you thought. 

‘Oh my god, is the superhero gonna be my new dad?!’

Marcus suddenly jumped backwards at the sound of Jack’s voice. He was stood in the doorway, post-nap hair covered by a lopsided Chewbacca hood. His eyes were like dinner plates, even though he was grinning from ear to ear. 

‘Uh...’ you glanced between him and Marcus. ‘We were just...we were...’

‘I had something in my eye.’

‘He had something in his eye.’ You quickly agreed. ‘But now it’s out, so Marcus is gonna go home.’

He knew you didn’t mean it rudely - it was more of a desperation thing. The longer he stayed, the more questions Jack would come out with. Missy could have overheard too and that would have been twice as much to explain. So really, the sooner he got out, the better.

‘Yeah. I’ll uh, I’ll grab Missy.’ Marcus said, scratching the back of his head. ‘Thank you again for looking after her.’

‘You don’t need to keep thanking me.’ You shot back. 

He disappeared into the living room for a moment, reemerging with a sleeping Missy in his arms a moment later. Your eyes met again, and he gave you a soft smile.

‘I’ll call you.’

‘Yeah, sure.’  You nodded. ‘See you, Marcus.’

--

True to character, the next hour was spent being pelted with questions from your over-curious son. He didn’t shut up once when you were bathing him and he got even louder when you were reading him his best time story. On the bright side, you’d managed to get him to change out of his slightly manky Wookiee onesie and into a clean Buzz Lightyear one. Normally, you would have argued that he couldn’t live in pyjamas, but if it kept him quiet? It was a price you were willing to pay. 

‘Night, kiddo.’ You pressed a kiss to his forehead, switching on his nightlight. ‘Remember our deal, yeah? If I buy you a Happy Meal tomorrow, you won’t mention what you saw to any of your friends?’

‘You said library was bad.’

‘No, it’s bribery.’ You corrected him. ‘And do as I say, not as I do.’

‘Sounds bad, but okay.’ He sleepily murmured. ‘Night.’

‘Night.’ You stood up, flicking out his bedroom lights.

‘Wait, mum!’ Jack suddenly sat up, as though he’d remembered something. ‘You never said no.’

‘No to what, buddy?’

‘When I asked if the superhero was my new dad.’

Well, fuck. 

taglist: @naivara-duneimith @1-2-3-4-5metalfingers @likeshootingstarsinthenightsky @lyanna-the-giantsbane @phoenixhalliwell @crazycookiecrumbles​ @bitchin-beskar​ @comphersjost​ {message me to be added!}

[astranva]

Mustache Dare

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: Absolutely none if you can handle how Harry looks with the stache, or a little strong language (F word).

Category: Fluff!

Summary: Y/N loves a good challenge, French toast is involved and so is Harry’s facial hair.

Or

The one where Harry and Y/N are too competitive over French toast and Y/N shaves Harry’s facial hair…except for one place.

Harry and Y/N’s relationship was one their friends enjoyed to watch and be present around. The couple could go from babying everyone around them, to being the lives of every party, to being the couple who’d take care of you when you’re all messed up, to being a couple who were just simply entertaining to watch.

They had met some years ago through mutual friends and instantly hit it off, Harry later swearing up and down that “the chemistry was unreal” whenever he talked about his girlfriend with anyone, telling them that he knew from the moment he met her that they were in it for a ride – together.

She supported him through everything; the One Direction hiatus, family deaths, road to being a solo artist, his experimenting with everything, and all his music and thoughts. Y/N was the whole package for him; a girlfriend, a best friend and his number one fan.

Don’t get them wrong, Harry supported her through thick and thin, too. He supported her during her confusion, the insecurity, the doubting moments, and even every single time she questioned if she chose the right major. He could be in Japan and be one call away from taking the earliest flight back home if she even implied that she wanted him back there.

But the couple didn’t only kiss and lull each other into peaceful sleep at night, they loved a good banter and challenge, too.

Y/N was used to giving her all to win or to at least face a dignified loss ever since she was a child. She had far too many photographs of her engaging in mind-tickling challenges ever since she was 3, and Harry’s personal favorite – which he keeps in his wallet – is a picture of an 8-year-old Y/N sitting in front of a chess board with her gandpa, eyes squinted in concentration and finger on the corner of her mouth.

Harry admired that they both had the same characteristic. He loved how competitive they both were and loved, even more, how they always turned that into fun banter which always made them laugh the hardest.

Harry had been leaving his facial hair grow, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like it when Y/N would mindlessly poke at it or run her knuckles gently down his cheeks and chin.

“Remember when you couldn’t grow that out?” She said one night, a small smug smile on her face that told him that she was sleepy after a tiring day with work.

He had her seated on the kitchen stool as he made her instant noodles, which she was waiting for to cool. He rolled his eyes with a smile, approaching her to wrap his arms around her waist, “Took me far too long, huh?”

She smiled wider, “Can’t even remember. It’s like I forgot all about that time because of how much I’m getting used to this.” She said as she patted his cheeks.

That night, she ate her noodles and had to stop herself from choking on the soup from laughing at some of the weirdest jokes Harry was reading her off of the internet.

The following morning was when it happened. It was finally the weekend and they both slept in before waking up at 3PM to a dark room – Harry was an angel and had shut the blinds the previous night because he knew they needed to sleep in – and the chirping of birds.

“Can we stay here for the rest of the day?” Y/N asked, cheek pressed against Harry’s chest, not finding it in her to open her eyes for long the moment Harry’s fingers started playing with her hair.

Harry chuckled softly, “We can, but we’re going to need to eat.”

She hummed against his chest, “How do we feel about French toast?”

“I can make that.”

Y/N pulled back, raising an eyebrow at him, “You burn them, baby.”

And while butterflies erupted in Harry’s stomach at the pet name he loved when it fell from his girlfriend’s lips, he still chose to feign shock and look back at her. “I never do.”

She sat up with a jolt as she laughed, “That’s a lie and you know it. You always burn the toasts.”

“I make them extra crunchy!” Harry reasoned, opening his arms, “I never burn them.”

“Bullshit,” she smirked, “How about you prove it?”

He knew where this was going, already feeling the excitement bubble inside him at the slight appearance of his girlfriend’s competitive side. “And then what?”

She thought for a few seconds before pointing at him, “If you don’t burn them, and I mean they’re 100% edible with no big black spots, you get to do whatever you want with me, and vice versa.”

“Like, I can have you work out with me?” Harry edged, watching her cringe before giving him a reluctant nod, “Deal.” Harry sat up, ruffling up his hair as he stared at her, “Get ready to lose.”

Y/N laughed sarcastically as she followed him, linking arms with him as they both walked out their bedroom, “In your dreams, Styles.”

They reached their kitchen and Harry decided to hold her and prop her on the counter, smiling cheekily at her before puckering his lips and pressing them against hers, “for good luck” he said.

Harry liked being in the kitchen, but he loved it when she was around, propped up on the counter with her hands beneath her thighs, swaying softly and gently side to side while humming a song that she had been listening to all damn week.

She was a dream, even when she teased him about losing.

So, he cracked the eggs, added the ingredients, switched the stove on for the pan that had a cube of better ready to melt in, and dipped the toast in the mixture before adding the toast in the pan.

When Y/N said Harry was used to burning toast – especially French toast and she had no idea why – she knew what she was saying, and for proof, the high heat he had set acted as one.

He walked towards her, putting his hands on her knees before spreading her legs, opening the drawer she kept hidden and taking a spatula out before stepping closer to her after closing the drawer. “Think I’ll dress you up for a week.”

She leaned down to have her face closer to his, a smile on her face that made Harry weak in the knees, “You think you’ll win?”

He stood his ground, wrapping his arms around her waist before tilting his head slightly to the side, “You think I won’t?”

Y/N pursed her lips as to stifle her laughter before limply putting her arms around his shoulder, “Harry,” she began before pecking his lips, “The toast is burning.”

Harry’s eyes widened, turning around frantically and groaning loudly at the smoking toast as he quickly turned off the stove before flipping the two toasts – the two charcoal black toasts.

With a bashful smile and a scrunched nose, he slowly turned to look at his girlfriend who had her hands clasped over her mouth to quiet the giggles. She jumped off the counter and walked towards him, eyes a little tearful from how hard she was containing in her laughter and looked at the toast, “Baby, I can’t believe I’m saying this but,” she looked up at him, few giggles escaping as he looked down at her with a fake aggravated face and both arms crossed across his chest, “You’re toast.”

And it was as if she cracked the funniest joke and it was the last straw, she leaned back as she burst out laughing.

“oh, fuck off!” Harry laughed, wrapping both arms around her and playfully and gently biting her cheek as she squealed.

Accepting defeat, Harry and Y/N agreed on eating cereal before Y/N surprised him with what task she chose for him.

She was excited for what she chose for him, trying to visualize it but failing to do so without laughing and imagining Billy Hargrove from Stranger Things.

“Harry Edward Styles, are you intentionally being slow?” She squinted her eyes at him, taking notice of how she finished her breakfast nearly 15 minutes ago but Harry was yet to finish, only milk remaining in his bowl which he slowly sipped on with his spoon.

The childlike smile told him that she was correct, which made her gasp and laugh, “You!”

He laughed along before setting his bowl aside and raising his hands up, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. You can’t blame me; you have the worst dares!”

“Oh, you have no idea.” She rubbed her hands together jokingly, “Come on, get up. Let’s get to it.”

“We have to wash the bo-“

“After we’re done.” She held his hand and dragged him off the couch and up to their room.

“Baby, is that all you wanted? You wanted to-Awe, baby, you know you can just ask.” He teased, knowing that even though he can only see her back, that she was rolling her eyes at him.

What had him confused was when she dragged him to the bathroom, put down the toilet seat before telling him to sit.

“What are you doing?” He asked.

“Hush, Styles. You agreed on anything.” Was all she said with a smirk before walking back to their room and going back to him with her panda designed eyepatch, putting it on him.

“Oh God, what did I agree on?” He rhetorically asked, hearing her rummage through stuff.

But then he heard it. The buzzing sound of his shaver.

“Don’t move, yeah? We don’t want a cut.” She said with giggles.

“What the- Y/N!” He laughed, feeling her step between his legs.

Through giggles and careful work, she worked on shaving his beard.

It wasn’t the first time she shaved or trimmed his facial hair, or even just hair. Y/N loved shaving Harry’s facial hair for him and ever since the pandemic, he trusted her enough to learn how to trim his hair and had given him slight hair trimming.

Harry felt it. She went everywhere with the shaver but not his mustache but he tried to deny that she was done working, that was until she turned off the shaver and took off the eyepatch that covered his eyes so that he could see her face; staring at him in pure amusement and pride, as if she was staring at her best work of art.

She brought her fingers together and up to her lips, blowing a chef’s kiss, “Handsome.”

Harry held her waist, standing up and walking around her to stand in front of the mirror. There he stood, with only a mustache on his upper lips and unruly hair. He brought his face closer to the mirror, running his hand over his facial hairless chin and jaw, then over the mustache before turning to look at his girlfriend. “Do I turn you on like that?”

“Why yes, partner!” She exclaimed in a southern accent, wrapping her arms around his waist from the back and laughing against his back.

“I swear, if I wasn’t so fucking in love with you, woman.”

 1,093,214 likes

yninstagram: I regret doing this because now this lunatic has been telling me he “mustache me a question” but he’ll “shave it for later”🤦‍♀️

[sorry-i-ship-drarry]

20. Safe with me

Prompt used - bandaging/ stitching other's injuries | WARNING- ABUSIVE, NON CONSENTED IMPLIED RELATIONSHIP |

" fuck- Tom- fuck no stop, stop please- red-red-Tom please " Draco cried out in genuine pain but his abusive boyfriend didn't care anymore, he just kept choking Draco while thursting in him repeatedly. Despite his desperate cries for him to stop, he didn't and when he did Draco wasn't more than a broken man. Tom didn't even care to check up on Draco and immediately fell asleep tired and drunk. Draco picked up his clothes from the ground, controlling his whimpers and entered the bathroom. It had to stop, it was so toxic for him but Tom kept pushing Draco back into the relationship, he didn't even had an out anymore and the worst,Draco now was afraid of Tom. He looked himself in mirror covered in tears, his body hurting and faint red marks over his neck from all the choking. He hated the man he saw in the mirror so much, so fragile, so vulnerable, so weak but more so the man who was doing this to him and like every night, Draco cried himself in the bathroom before casting a healing spell over himself and slept on the couch wondering if this would ever stop.

The next morning, Tom left the house without a word, Draco was happy if anything but he still felt so weak that he thought if he ate anything, he'd throw up. He picked up his things soon enough and left for work.

Draco was taking down notes about the new potion and it's precautions when he heard a knock .

" come in " he weakly Whispered not looking up from his paper.

" Draco I need to know if these potions discovered can have a side effect or could be manipulated, can you do that ?" Harry asked as he showed him the file.

" yea- I think it'll take some time but I'll let you know " Draco gave him a small smile taking the file and keeping it over the stack of the files.

Draco immediately subconsciously flinched on feelings Harry's hand lingering over his shoulder " hey, it's alright "

" yeah- I just got scared for a moment. It's dark in here you know " Draco lied clearing his throat. Harry frowned looking at Draco.

" hey would you Stand up for a moment ?" Harry firmly asked. Confused Draco did stand up in front of Harry. He soon discovered Harry was carefully examining his neck. His urge to immediately cover came upon him but Harry pushed his hand away.

" I thought you told him to stop doing this to you " Harry harshly Whispered, almost red from the instant anger.

" everything is fine Harry " Draco sighed. Harry immediately locked the door to get them some privacy and for safety so nobody else heard them.

" it doesn't look like it's fine draco !! These are choking marks, and not just any choking marks, these are brutal. I thought you had told him off " Harry bellowed

" I said everything is fine- you have nothing to worry about " Draco Choked back on his words

" this is not fine. He's using you Draco. W- why are you even letting him do this ? " Harry airily pointed his neck in frustration

" I'm not letting him do this okay, it's natural to him. He's working on it alright. He is-"

" is he really ? You can barely even stand properly Draco. You have to get out of this relationship, this is simply just abusive. That man is Abusing you-"

" and I'm aware of it but it's not as easy as it seems okay. You have no fucking idea what happens with us so stay the fuck out of my relationship " Draco yelled pushing Harry slightly by his chest

Frustrated Harry without a word left the room. Draco sighed, harsh breaths leaving his lips in attempts to not break down while he was at work but it was so hard considering he had just fought Harry. He was the only one slightly aware of Draco's situation. They were once invited to a party of the ministry and despite Tom's refusal Draco had dragged him in but the entire night Draco regretted it because Tom kept hurting him. It was only then Harry had once noticed the way Draco had flinched when Tom had almost raised his hands but stopped himself midway, being in public. Asking a bunch of questions next day, Harry realised whatever relationship Draco was in, was not safe but Draco had turned down Harry to do anything about it and Lying that he'd talk to him about it. It was beyond fixable and the only way Tom would possibly leave Draco was if he was murdered or simply became less interested, but that never really happened.

It was almost the last hour of work when he heard huge rustling from outside and he got up to check what had happened. He walked through the hallway fighting the crowd to find Hermione talking with Harry, yelling at more like but he wasn't having it and immediately slammed the door on her face. Frowning Draco approached Hermione

" what happened ?"

Her eyes softened immediately giving him a small smile " I'm mad at him for fighting for the right reason but the wrong way. I think he'd like to see you "

Confused Draco entered Harry's much bigger office compared to his own " Harry ?"

Harry appeared out of thin air, dabbing cloth to his lip. Draco's eyes widened at the looks of Harry, his hands were covered in blood and his nose was bleeding.

" this time it isn't you but because of you though" Harry pointed his nose. Closing the distance between them Draco took the cloth from Harry and pushed him down over the chair.

" you're lucky this time then " Draco gave him a small smile and leaned Harry's head on the chair and pressed the cloth lightly over Harry's nose to wipe off the blood.

" trust me, this wasn't easy either. Big fist " Harry chuckled letting Draco take control over him.

" who did you even fight ?" He asked as he now pressed the cloth over Harry's lips, gently.

Harry stared at Draco for a moment as if he was considering to just lie but chose not to and revealed the truth " Tom "

Draco stopped for a moment, anger instantly raging Inside him " didn't I tell you not to interfere ? What have you done Harry !! You have absolutely no idea what he'd do now " Draco closes his eyes imagining the treatment he'd receive Because of Harry.

" I'm sorry but I can't just sit here and let that man abuse you into sex everyday just because he's your boyfriend. I maybe an asshole Draco but I care for you more than you can imagine and if anything you should be thanking me, he's getting in prison for sexual assault " Harry rolled his eyes trying to get back up from the chair only to be pushed back down by draco.

Draco must've looked at harry for more than a few minutes until he had finally processed the situation.

" how d- did you ?" Draco whispered

" let's just say I have contacts " Harry sighed.

" listen Draco you can be mad at me all you want for his but one day you'd be glad I did it. I knew you needed help but-"

" thank you " Draco whispered looking behind Harry

" what ?" Harry asked leaning forward, confused if he had heard properly

" t- thank you Harry " Draco immediately wrapped his arms around Harry and let his tears finally flow. Hesitantly Harry wrapped his arms around Draco, tighter by each second, whispering soft and comforting words and letting him dampen his white shirt with tears.

It seemed like ages till Draco stopped weeping in Harry's arms and got back on his feets again.

" let's get you home " Draco said wiping off his face with the back of his hand . Nodding Harry and Draco, collected their things and left the office earlier than usual. Nobody seemed to mind.

They Landed up in Harry's place and without wasting time Draco had dragged Harry into his bathroom, searching for medical kit.

" Draco- I- I don't think it's the right time to say it but you will have to testify" Harry said as he leaned against the sink while Draco started wetting the towels.

Draco must've looked scared, horrified for a moment Because Harry immediately grabbed his hands and bought him closer

" it's fine. I'll be with you. He wouldn't do anything. They all trust you already Draco. You just need to say the truth "

Draco left a harsh breath, thinking about the consequences and the failure's of the plan until he looked up at harry and his worries evaporated second by second. He was here, Harry was here with him now.

" okay " he whispered and put the damped towels over Harry's wounds. He didn't need to ask to know what happened, Tom was an abusive man and he would had definitely tried to over power Harry at some point but Draco knew Harry was much more stronger than him, emotionally and physically.

Minute by minute Draco wiped away all of his injuries and started bandaging them while harry simply there over the sink, looking at Draco. Once the last bandage was done, Harry finally spoke up " you are fine with all of this right? You don't feel - well insulted or violated do you ?"

Draco analysed Harry's concerned expression's for a moment's before he sighed and let out his worries" I'm worried about everything now Harry. I'm afraid if he doesn't end up there and finally come back again and try to you know tor-"

" he wouldn't come back , I promise you " Harry told him clutching Draco's shoulders in a light grasp

" b- but- I'm still afraid if anything goes wrong -"

" you're right to worry but I mean it Draco. Even if he doesn't end up there , I swear to protect you from him no matter what the consequences might be " Harry promised Making Draco look him in the eye as a sort of committment.

It took forever for Draco to finally speak the words on his mind, thinking if he said the words out loud, it would change but they didn't " I believe you then "

Harry gave him a small smile and engulfed him in a small hug and let him hug him until he was sure Draco felt safer in his arms.

" you're safe with me Draco "

" I know " yet he didn't leave him.

Requests open

Day 19 - love have no bounds | Day 21- little jars of love

[twoidiotwriters1]

Written In The Stars CLXVIII (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: :) -Danny

Words: 3,241

Warnings: Mentions of death, depression and loss of virginity (implied).

Series’ Masterlist

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Listen to: ‘Waste’ -by Oh Wonder

Chapter Two: What's Left Unsaid.

They found her family a few hours after she got to Remus's house.

It took four people to stop Mel from leaving, neither she nor her uncle asked to see the bodies, they didn't want that image ingrained forever inside their heads. Moody went to confirm the identities, Mel was under heavy and constant vigilance the rest of the week, her uncle would sleep in her room.

At first, she couldn't process her family was dead. She didn't attend the funeral, instead spent a whole day in bed crying her eyes out, not even the twins' presence cheered her up. Then, on the third day, Mel took a shower, got dressed, and walked into the kitchen. Tonks looked at her without uttering a word, Lupin served breakfast in silence. The girl finished and got up to wash her plate, Lupin grabbed it.

"Let me do it," She demanded harshly.

The man tensed, he handed the plates back.

Anyone that had been around her that week agreed on one thing: She'd turned seventeen two weeks ago, but Emily's death forced her to become an adult completely. Could she be considered an orphan, when she'd been of age the moment her last parent had finally perished?

Mel wouldn't speak unless she absolutely had to, she wouldn't stay in the same room as others unless there was a member of the Order there to inform her of how everything was going. The girl wasn't mad at any of them, she was simply incapable of showing anything apart from grief and anger.

Tonks had spoken to her a day after she'd arrived, Harry tried to contact her but the Order didn't let him, they didn't want to compromise her whereabouts. This only made her even more miserable, he was the only family she had left and they were keeping them apart.

Mel decided to spend what was left of the week training with Tonks, Lupin and Moody whenever they were around and had the time for it. They taught her everything they knew, and Moody turned out to be a good teacher after all; he knew how to repel spells in animagus form even if he wasn't one. Kingsley was a great help when it came to stealth and tactics of negotiation, although she'd decided not to bargain with Death Eaters, she would kill if she had the chance.

Mel was allowed to help the Order pick up Harry from the Dursleys' house, she was even permitted to arrive two hours early with Hestia and Dedalus.

No one knew what she'd planned with Harry, but none was thinking of her as a child now, they trusted her. How couldn't they? Her gaze was one of the sharpest, most intimidating some had ever seen.

Fawkes made an appearance the night before their mission. She was in the garden, trying to find a bit of hope in the night sky. Instead, she saw the creature fly down to the trees nearby, he came and descended on her shoulder.

"You approve of me, then?" Mel asked quietly.

Fawkes brushed his beak against her cold skin, he sang lowly.

"I could use your help tomorrow," She said. "You'll know where to find me?"

Fawkes sang again, this time louder. His claws pressed down on her, then he flew out of sight. Mel made her way back into the house, she found Remus waiting for her in the guest room.

"You don't need to keep an eye on me every night, you know?" She raised a brow. "Your back must be killing you from sleeping on the armchair."

"I've slept in worse places," He retorted. "Can we talk?"

"We're talking."

"We'll talk some more," He leaned back and nodded towards her bed.

Mel stepped towards it and sat down in silence, she waited.

"I know that we said you could come tomorrow, but you don't have to."

"I want to."

"It's okay if you're scared—"

"I'm not."

Remus sighed, he watched her carefully for a moment before continuing.

"I believe you," He leaned forward and supported both arms on his legs. "I'm the one who's frightened."

"You think I'm not prepared for what's coming?" Mel asked defiantly, Remus shook his head.

"I'm not stupid, I've seen what you can do since you were a kid," His eyes scanned the scars on her skin briefly. "I've seen how brave you can be... but Emily left me in charge—"

"I'm seventeen," She interrupted. "I don't need a guardian, Remus. My brother's gone, there are no children here who need to be looked after."

The man raised his eyebrows. "Remus? What happened to Uncle Lu? Moony?"

A tiny smile formed on her face. "I'm trying to make things easier. If I call you by a nickname you'll get emotional, but you can handle Remus."

"You sound like your father," The man chuckled. "He would refuse to call us anything but our names during Order meetings, all formal and proper."

"Clever man."

Remus gazed down at his hands, brows furrowed.

"When he asked me to be your godfather... I didn't think I was worthy. I still think that now," He looked up at her in deep sadness. "I never apologized for what happened to Sirius. I should've stopped him, he should've stayed with Emily— it was far too dangerous—"

Mel stared at him in bewilderment. "That wasn't your fault—"

"He was your last chance to have a real father," He insisted. "Sirius never tried to take Matt's place, but he cared for you almost as if you were his own; ever since he first laid eyes on you... you and Harry were the most precious things we had under our care and I messed up everything. I could've avoided all of this but I cowered at the last second..."

She knew him enough to understand how difficult it was for him to be this honest with his emotions, he was trying to stop her from abandoning him like her mother and his best friends had done. Mel and Harry were the last living remains of the Marauders and they were going away, he would be left to deal with his grief surrounded by nothing but strangers.

He had Tonks of course, but he was too quiet and caring to worry her with his pain, he would never ask for help even if he were sinking and drowning in angst, he was used to it.

"You do know that you exist out of all of this, right?" Mel inquired gently. "Somewhere inside that worn-out expression, there's a beloved man that our parents knew, and he'll find a way to keep on living for himself. I wish I could promise you a happy ending but... I have to fight. Like you and my parents did when you were my age, all we can do is hope we'll be together in the end, in one piece."

"It's a little too late for that," Remus replied absently, looking at the scars on their hands.

She gazed at the empty house and tilted her head in quiet contemplation.

"Go ahead," She told Hestia. "I have to get something..."

Mel walked towards her old home, her hand hovered over the doorknob, as soon as she touched it she realized the door was ajar.

The neighbours thought it had been a gas leak, Mel didn't know if they'd assumed her family had survived but part of her wish they did; at least in their realities her mum and brother would be well and breathing. She walked towards the hall and found her backpack there, she hadn't had time to get it before escaping.

The young witch went upstairs and pulled just one thing out of all the mess: The picture she'd taken back in Grimmauld Place, the one that had Emily and Remus laughing at something Sirius was saying. She put it inside her bag and returned to the first floor, Mel didn't stop to look at anything on her way out.

As she crossed the entrance's garden, a loud cry froze her in the spot. She turned hot on her heel and Grey bumped against her legs, Mel's knees buckled and she fell to the ground, a lump forming on her throat at the sight of her dear pet.

"You're okay," She let him purr loudly against her thigh. "You sly cat..."

She held him and stood up, hurriedly drying her tears as she walked to the Dursleys' entrance. Harry opened the door after she'd knocked one, he pulled her in for an urgent hug and Grey hissed at the way they were squeezing him, he climbed over her shoulder.

Harry moved a little and examined her face as if looking for any injuries. "Where were you?"

"Getting my stuff," She replied calmly. "I couldn't take them with me last time."

"I could've done that for you," He frowned, concerned about her facing such a sight on her own.

"Harry," There was a noticeable amusement in her voice. "I don't need you to do the hard work for me. I'm alright."

"Is it true, then?" Petunia asked from the drawing-room's entrance. "Is your mother..?"

Mel turned to face Harry's relative, her expression turned cold. "My family got killed, yes."

Mr Dursley let out a puff of air, he nodded once. "Alright then, we're leaving."

Harry turned to her rolling his eyes. "He's been changing his mind about it for the last hour."

"Is that so?" Mel walked up to him, the Dursleys stumbled back trying to keep their distance. "Well, you can stay. I'm curious to see how three muggles are planning to defend themselves from an army of Death Eaters. You have a plan, I assume?"

Mr Dursley turned purple, he didn't respond to her question.

"Hurry up!" Dedalus's watch squealed.

"Quite right, we're operating to a very tight schedule," nodded the small man. "We are attempting to time your departure from the house with your family's disapparition, Harry: thus, the charm breaks as the moment you all head for safety. Well, are we all packed and ready to go?"

"Perhaps we should wait outside in the hall, Dedalus," Hestia offered.

"There's no need," Harry started.

"Well, this is good-bye, then, boy," Mr Dursley looked briefly at Mel before grunting. She took this as his way to say goodbye to her.

"Ready, Diddy?" asked Petunia.

"Come along, then," said Vernon.

"I don't understand," said Dudley before anyone could leave.

"What don't you understand, Popkin?"

"Why isn't he coming with us?" He asked, pointing at his cousin.

"What?" Vernon spat.

"Why isn't he coming too?"

"Well, he— he doesn't want to. You don't want to, do you?"

"Not in the slightest," said Harry.

"There you are. Now come on, we're off."

The man walked past her, she decided to speak to him one last time.

"Mr Dursley?" The man turned to look at her in annoyance. "We didn't have to protect you, we chose to do so. Remember that next time you're treating one of us poorly. If you don't, let's just say I've been waiting for an excuse to give you my opinion on the way you treated Harry during our childhood."

He spluttered a few words as he stomped out of the house without making a proper comeback. Neither his wife nor his son followed.

"What now?" He spat.

"But where's he going to go?" Dudley blinked.

"But... surely you know where your nephew is going?" Hestia intervened.

"Certainly we know," said Vernon hastily. "He's off with some of your lot, isn't he? Right, Dudley, let's get in the car, you heard the man, we're in a hurry..."

"Off with some of our lot?" Hestia asked in surprise.

"We didn't tell them," Mel explained patiently. "It's safer this way."

"It's fine," Harry added. "It doesn't matter, honestly."

"Doesn't matter?" Hestia frowned. "Don't these people realize what you've been through? What dangers you are in? The unique position you hold in the hearts of the anti-Voldemort movement?"

"Er— no, they don't. They think I'm a waste of space actually, but I'm used to—"

"I don't think you're a waste of space," Dudley retorted.

Harry and Mel stared at him, taken by surprise. Mel let out a short chuckle for the first time in days.

"What did you say?" She grinned.

"Well... er..." Harry said in confusion. "Thanks, Dudley."

"You saved my life," He added.

"Not really. It was your soul the dementor would have taken..."

"No, no," Mel interrupted. "Let your cousin speak. My God, I never thought I'd say this, but maybe you do have a brain, Dudders."

She stared at him as if he were the strangest creature she'd ever seen. Dudley had changed as much as them, although perhaps in a different way. Maybe, just maybe, he was one of those people who could learn from his mistakes.

"S–so sweet, Dudders... " Petunia burst into tears. "S–such a lovely b–boy... s–saying thank you..."

"But he hasn't said thank you at all!" said Hestia. "He only said he didn't think Harry was a waste of space!"

"Yeah, but coming from Dudley that's like 'I love you,'" Harry retorted, half embarrassed, half amused.

Mel laughed again, she had to cover her mouth this time. The whole scene felt like a fever dream.

"Are we going or not?" Vernon stormed back into the house. "I thought we were on a tight schedule!"

"Yes— yes, we are," said Dedalus. "We really must be off, Harry— Mel—"

"Don't worry, I'll keep the Chosen One safe and sound until the Order arrives," She shook the man's hand. "Thank you for helping us."

"Good luck. I hope we meet again. The hopes of the Wizarding world rest upon your shoulders."

"Oh," Harry exchanged a look with Mel. "Right. Thanks."

"Farewell, guys," said Hestia. "Our thoughts go with you."

"I hope everything's okay," said Harry.

"Oh, I'm sure we shall end up the best of chums," said Dedalus blithely.

He and Hestia left the house, Dudley moved away from his mother and walked towards them decidedly, he held out his hand.

"Blimey, Dudley," Harry frowned, looking at him, "did the dementors blow a different personality into you?"

"Dunno," He said, shaking Mel's hand with hilarious formality. "See you, guys."

"Yeah..." Harry looked at her and she saw a grin forming on his face. "Maybe. Take care, Big D."

Dudley nodded one last time, then he left.

"Do you realize that's the same boy," Mel spoke, "that used to hit you on the head with a walking stick?"

"Yeah," Harry's eyes were fixed on the door. "But I guess I did save his life..."

Petunia blew her nose and reminded them of her presence.

"Well—" She looked around as if waiting to be saved; when no one came, she continued. "Goodbye."

"Goodbye," They responded.

She stopped at the door and looked at them. Mel's mind went back to the days before Petunia Dursley knew her mother was a witch, she remembered thinking the women could've been friends hadn't been for the way she'd treated Harry.

Did it hurt her when she found out Emily was dead? Did it feel just like when she'd heard Lily was gone?

What was going through Petunia's mind as she stared at them? Or rather what was left of them... Wasn't there the tiniest bit of compassion that wanted the last living part of her sister to keep on living?

Mel never found out.

"Now, what am I going to do with you?" Mel seized her cat and held him in front of her appreciatively. "Stay still, will you?"

Mel placed him on the carpet and pointed her wand at him, with a 'pop!' he vanished.

"Ginny will keep him safe until we arrive. I thought he'd been killed too, you know?" She looked around so she didn't have to look at Harry. "The curses were bouncing everywhere and he was with me that morning..."

"I found him in the garden the next day. I've been looking after him since," The boy had an eager expression on his face, waiting for her to start giving off orders. That, or maybe burst into tears.

"Thank you. Where are your things?"

"Upstairs," He moved towards his room. "You know, I cut my hand while cleaning, when I walked out I stepped on this cup of tea... I thought Dudley was trying to upset me— turns out he was being nice."

"Bollocks," She replied. "I can't believe he said all those things..."

They entered the room, Harry wandered a bit and stopped in front of his window, Mel walked up to his bed and sat down.

"I wanted to help," He said quietly. "As soon as I heard the screams... the protection spells had been lifted earlier than expected and I couldn't— I couldn't walk through..."

She sighed. "Someone in the Ministry helped them, obviously, I've gone through it so many times and I still don't know how he knew we'd be leaving that day..."

Harry's hands tightened into fists and he yelped, Mel looked down at his cut. "Come here..."

The boy sat beside her, he opened his palm and allowed her to heal him in the blink of an eye.

"It's stupid," He muttered. "That I have to wait four days before I can do magic..."

"I know," The girl said. "Once you can I promise I'll teach you how to do nonverbal spells properly, and a few extras tricks too. Tonks and Moody have been teaching me, Lupin and Kingsley as well..."

She lifted his hand and placed a soft kiss on his palm, Harry's heart went wild at the gesture. He cleared his throat.

"So what's our plan?"

Mel's brows knitted together. "Why don't we talk about something else?"

"Like what?"

She shrugged. "Dunno... anything but that. I haven't seen you in days."

"We should talk about it, I want to know how you're—"

Mel groaned a bit, her let her head fall on his shoulder gently.

"You know exactly how I'm feeling. Don't make me say it..."

Harry put an arm around her shoulders, welcoming her shaky breath against his skin, her eyes stung.

"You could leave and never come back if you wanted to, you know? You don't have to stay..."

Mel pulled away just enough to lock eyes with him. "I've had enough time to think about it, the reason why I'm still here... then it occurred to me, how everyone always says love has no reason."

The boy stared at her, frowning a little as he listened.

"You're part of me..." She continued. "The best of me. I refuse to leave you behind."

Harry's eyes softened. "Until the very end?"

Mel kissed him.

It was like coming home after a long day; Harry's hands moved on their own, one of them slipped under her sweater and settled on her waist, his other hand moved up, his thumb followed the path of the large scar on her neck. He whispered something against her lips that she didn't hear.

"Don't overthink it," Mel put both hands on his shoulders as she moved to straddle him. "Focus on me..."

The hand on her waist moved upwards, brushing her chest lightly. A shiver ran up her spine, nothing had ever felt like this. They shared a look, the girl silently asking for his consent. Harry kissed her and mumbled a weak affirmation against her lips.

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

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[accioxreparo]

light of my life

synopsis: All Fred wants to do is forget the war and everything that happened and he finds his perfect escape all the way in New York. In you. 

pairing: Fred Weasley x american!reader

warnings: mentions of the war, angst with a happy ending cause I refuse to have it any other way, also a slightly racy scene, there isn’t too much detail, it’s more implied

a/n: basically I’ve been making my way through @ickle-ronniekins masterlist slowly but surely and I know we’re all in a mood tonight but this was stuck in my head and it’s now noon four in the afternoon and I haven’t slept all night cause I was so focused on this whoops

~~~~~~

Fred Weasley has always considered himself to be reckless. 

As a kid he’d sneak into the shed behind the house and steal one of the brooms they kept in there. It took four falls, a sprained ankle, and broken arm until he taught himself how to fly. 

When he and George started at Hogwarts he promised they’d make a name for themselves. One completely unlike their brothers. Only two days passed before they planted dungbombs all over the dungeons. The smell that lingered alone meant Potions was cancelled for the rest of the week. Sure they’d been given a month's worth of detention but they had people from every house congratulating and thanking them for just as long..

It was only their second year when they decided they were going to open their own joke shop after leaving Hogwarts. Despite all the setbacks they’d had over the years Fred had never been more sure of anything. Even his last year, as he and George sat in their dorm late the night before their escape, they were positive they were making the right choice. 

Maybe running a joke shop in the middle of a war hadn’t been the safest thing. Especially not when they were using the basement level as a safehouse for members of the Order. Maybe it hadn’t been the best idea to provoke the Death Eaters wandering Diagon Alley. But it’d been five months since the attack at Bill’s wedding and Fred had been just so completely done with seeing their stupid faces parading around every day while he worried about whether or not his family was dead. 

Finally he couldn’t help himself. A couple well placed tricks lured a fair bit of them to an ambush. Maybe if he’d thought it through a little, listened to the plan instead of going off on his own, their shop wouldn’t have been burned to the ground during the fight. He, George, Bill, and Charlie had taken out a dozen Death Eaters that day though so maybe, just maybe it had been worth it. 

Except his only remaining safe haven was gone. The war he wanted no part in had taken too much from him. His shop he’d spent years building alongside George. His family home that he watched burn down. His youngest brother who he hadn’t heard from in months. So yeah, maybe it made him just a little more reckless. A little more desperate. 

But he was Fred Weasley after all and things had a funny way of working out in his favor. He would go on raids and taunt the Death Eaters like there was no tomorrow, which he supposed in a way there wasn’t. He was on the run for months but never once had he even been close to getting caught. 

There was a war raging and even though the life he’d always known had gotten ripped out from under him, there he was. And by Merlin did it make him feel unstoppable. When the Battle of Hogwarts came he stood tall and confident, a smirk gracing his face. He was Fred fucking Weasley. He was reckless and invincible. 

But then he died. 

Well, almost. 

One moment he was laughing at whatever joke Percy of all people had made and the next...well he wasn’t too sure what happened the next. He remembered bricks, a lot of them, and the sound of people screaming his name. Flashes of black, emptiness mingled with...had those been fireworks going off above the school? They couldn’t have been. He remembered not being able to breathe, this crushing feeling surrounding him until suddenly...it wasn’t. 

There was this strange gap in his memory before suddenly he was blinking his eyes open in the hospital wing. The tear stained face of his mother had been the first thing he saw. It was as each member of his family cried as they hugged him that he realized he may have been Fred Weasley but he was, in fact, not invincible. 

It took two days until Madam Pomfrey even let him sit up in his hospital bed. Another week passed where all he could do was think. Think and watch the aftermath of a Battle he’d missed play out around him. It was during that time that he came to a conclusion. 

“What do you mean you’re leaving?” 

His mum wasn’t too happy about it. It had only been two days since he was discharged and she was smothering him senseless. Though he supposed he could understand where she was coming from, she’d almost lost a son after all. Nevertheless it was a reminder of just that. A well meaning, nagging reminder that he had almost died. And he would have absolutely none of that. 

“I mean that as of tomorrow morning I will no longer be in this house,” Fred didn’t look away from where he was stuffing whatever useful items he could find laying around into a backpack. He wandered from the living room to the kitchen only to have his dad, Charlie, George, Ginny and Harry go uncharacteristically silent at his arrival. 

“And just where do you think you’re going to go?” Molly followed him into the kitchen, hands on her hips as she watched Fred stick some bottled up potions ingredients into his bag. 

“Anywhere,” Fred shot around, a grin on his face and a bottle of lavender sprigs in his hand. “Everywhere.”

“Sweetheart,” She didn’t notice the way he winced at the name. It was never a term he’d heard directed at him before. Dear, sure maybe every now and then. Troublemaker was usually the go to. But sweetheart? Never. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea. Especially after -”

“After what? After you thought I had died?” Fred purposely ignored the way each one of them grimaced at his words. “That’s exactly why I have to go!” 

“Running off to who knows where? That’s your plan?” 

“I don’t have a plan. I just know -”

“Oh, even better!” Molly threw the dish towel in her hand down on the floor and pointed an accusing finger between everyone for a few moments before finally focusing on Fred. “You’ve always been the most careless out of everyone, you know. I will not let you -”

“Will you just listen to me!” All it took was a shout and a stomp of his foot for Fred to feel like a child again. He needed to be heard, though, and nobody was listening. Everything came pouring out all at once without him meaning for it to. 

“I’ve done nothing, mum! I can’t sit in this house, in this place, after being a breath away from dying and pretend like everything is okay! I’ve always thought I was daring and out there and sure, maybe a little careless but I’ve never even left this bloody town. I’ve gone from here, to the school, to the shop and back a thousand times over but never anywhere else. You know what that shop was? It was safe. It was what I knew. I loved it, of course I did. I still do and one day we’ll rebuild. But I can’t go back there after being at death’s door without leaving first because then there’s no point.”

The kitchen of the Weasley house had never been silent but it was now. Nobody dared to speak a word. The more silence that passed, the more Fred’s words sank in and the more everybody realized that maybe he had a point. Even if they didn’t agree with it all, who were they to tell him what to do? Who were they to tell him to stay put and do as he always had when he was clearly so desperate to go? 

A few minutes of tense silence and awkward glances passed before Fred finally sighed to himself, stuffed the lavender sprigs in his bag, and muttered, “I’m leaving tomorrow morning from King’s Cross if any of you care to see me off.”

***

The war hadn’t been easy for you. It hadn’t been easy for anybody, especially for the people dealing with the brunt of Voldemort’s attacks in England, realistically you knew that. Still, it didn’t stop you from firmly believing that the world was conspiring against you for a time. Now that all was said and done you prided yourself on having bounced back quickly. 

You’d been at the helm of several restoration projects at MACUSA and now just a short while later you walked through the streets of Mac Square with ease, a smile on your face. It felt normal. Traces of the battle that had happened there were nowhere to be found. There were no more piles of ashes. No more scorch marks and stains littering the sidewalks. No more ruins to clean up. It was as it had always been. 

Well, almost. 

Standing right in the middle of the Square was a giant display of dark granite blocks, names carved on every inch of the space. Wooden benches sat every couple of feet but hardly anyone sat on them. Everyone had been much too eager to get on with their lives, pretend the past had never happened. There you sat though, staring at the words etched at the head of the display. In memoriam. 

“What do you do here everyday?” The voice startled you. A laugh rang in your ears as you held a hand to your chest, a hopeless attempt to slow your heart rate down again. “Sorry if I startled you.” 

The person didn’t hesitate to sit beside you on the bench. He, like most people, paid no mind to the display. Instead he turned, placing one of his legs on the bench so he was facing you. It took a few moments for your breathing to return to normal and finally you looked at him. Quite frankly, he wasn't what you were expecting. 

He was around your age, quite tall and well built. His bright red hair was an odd length between short and long and rather messy. He was donning jeans, worn white sneakers, a Weird Sisters t-shirt, and a windbreaker jacket whose sleeves were currently pushed up. 

“Do you always sneak up on people like that?” You said after a few moments, not missing the smirk on the person's face. 

“I’ve been told I’m usually rather loud,” He shrugged easily and settled further into the bench. “You were just very concentrated on your staring.” 

“And it didn’t occur to you that maybe that was for a reason?” The faint smile on your face gave away how amused you really were. 

“Well you’ve been sitting on this bench for the last ninety minutes and I simply figured you were either dead, asleep, or in desperate need of a distraction. Lucky for me, it was the last one.” The person reached into his pocket and pulled out a pouch. He plucked one of whatever was in there out and tossed it into his mouth, grimacing as he bit into it. 

“What you’re really getting at is that you've been watching me for the last hour and a half.” You gave in and turned so you were facing the person you had yet to learn the name of.

“No,” He shook his head and ate another one of whatever item was in the bag. Jellybeans, upon closer inspection. “I’ve been watching you for the past week.” Just as you were about to mention how bad that sounded he motioned towards the building behind you. “My flat is just over there and every day I can look out the window and see you sit on this very bench around lunchtime and stare at that wall. Why?” 

His forwardness surprised you. For a brief moment you debated telling him. But he was a stranger, after all, so you decided against it. “Are you always this brash?” 

The stranger didn’t hesitate. “Unfortunately for you, yes.” 

“I don’t even know your name.”

“Then I’ll tell you,” He popped another jellybean in his mouth and nodded. “As long as you promise to tell me why you sit in front of this wall every day after.” 

“I’m not promising you anything. Not without knowing your name.” 

Your statement seemed to please the stranger and he smirked, offering you the pouch. You took a couple jellybeans but didn’t eat any just yet. Silence filled the air and for a moment this strange look flashed in the strangers eyes. It was gone as quick as it had appeared and soon he nodded. “I’ll make an exception but just this once.” 

“Oh how kind of you.” You offered him a smile because you recognized the look all too well. 

“Do I get to know your name at least?” He returned your smile, seemingly relieved to still have you as a distraction. 

“Maybe,” You shrugged and ate one of the jellybeans. Blueberry. “If you’re lucky.” 

“Fair enough,” The person grinned and ate another candy. He spit that one out quickly and made a disgusted face. “Liver.” 

“That’s your name? Liver?” Your smirk quickly softened when he laughed again. It was a sound you would be happy to get used to. 

“No,” He put away the pouch of jellybeans, having been put off by the last one he’d had the misfortune of biting into. “Though it’d be a fine name wouldn’t it?”

“If that’s your thing, sure.” 

He studied you for a few moments, staring in a way that had you wishing you could peer into that mind of his. “Fred Weasley.” 

The sudden beeping of your watch had you quickly standing up, pulling the bag at your feet onto your shoulder. “Well, Fred Weasley, it was nice talking to you but I have to get back to work. The members of the MACUSA Cabinet are sticklers for punctuality.” 

“Wait,” He, Fred as you’d found out, sat up on the bench and you paused your movements easier than you normally would have. “What about your name?” 

Something about him and the way he looked at you in that moment made you want to sit back down beside him, meetings be damned. You weren’t above toying with him a little though so you gave him another soft smile. “I said I’d tell you if you were lucky. Are you lucky, Fred Weasley?” 

Fred thought about what you were asking him. He thought of the countless things he’d gotten away with at school. Of all the fights he walked out of without a scratch. Of the fact that he was sitting on that bench at that moment talking to you. He grinned and finally nodded once, “I’d say so, sure.”

“Well then,” You lifted your bag higher on your shoulder and slowly took a few steps backward. “If you’re so lucky then I’m sure you’ll find me soon and I’ll tell you then.” 

You walked away in the direction of where the MACUSA offices were, a newfound ease to your every step. Meanwhile Fred watched you walk away, already wondering when he’d see you again, until you were just a blurry figure in the distance. 

***

After five hours of running up and down to different meetings the only thing you wanted to do was go home and sit. The last thing you were expecting to find was Fred Weasley standing in the middle of the lobby. Though you had to admit, he as a welcome distraction. He looked out of place, the jacket he’d been wearing earlier a stark contrast to all the suits and dress robes. 

“Told you I was lucky,” Fred pushed himself off of the pillar he’d been leaning on the moment he saw you step off one of the elevators. 

“I wouldn’t call it luck,” You sighed as you approached him, the two of you already making your way out of the building side by side. “Maybe good listening and decent investigative skills is more accurate.” 

“I’ll take it,” Fred laughed and held the door open for you as the two of you left the offices. He had no clue where he was going but he trusted that you did. “Now I believe the grand prize for my successfully locating the MACUSA offices was the pleasure of knowing your name.” 

You didn’t say anything though, not right away. The two of you walked at least three blocks before you looked around to make sure no one was looking and took out your wand. Fred watched as you touched a series of bricks and a portion of the wall faded away to reveal a new alleyway. He followed you without hesitation. 

The apartment buildings looked like every other complex he’d seen. Upon closer inspection though, they were each different. One had flowers painted all up and down the sides, enchanted so they were blooming. Another looked like a dozen single homes stacked on top of each other. Yet another had a phoenix watching over a playground, flying between a couple different buildings. 

You watched Fred spin around a few times, taking in everything that now surrounded him. There was a light in his eyes that you’d seen only a glimpse of that morning, one that held wonder beyond belief. It was going at full force now and you felt a strange desire to keep it there. “You hungry, Fred Weasley?”

***

“Ever heard of twenty questions?” 

“Can’t say I have, Y/N,” Fred answered through a mouthful of waffles. You’d told him your name on the way to the diner and he’d wasted no time in repeating it over and over to himself. He threw his head back against the vinyl booth the two of you were sitting in and made a satisfied noise. “Would you believe I’ve also never had breakfast for dinner. What do you think it is about nighttime that makes waffles so good?” 

“Forbidden fruit I guess.” 

“So how’s this game of yours work?” 

“Pretty simple,” You drank the rest of your coffee and moments later a pitcher came floating from the counter to refill your cup. As the cream and sugar mixed themselves into the coffee you reached into your bag and pulled out a pen, placing it on top of a napkin. “I ask you a question, you answer. Then you ask me a question and I answer. We keep going until all twenty questions have been asked.” 

“Where’d you learn this game?” Fred asked without thinking as he picked up his milkshake. The pen scribbled a single tally mark on the napkin and he quickly put down the large cup, shaking his head. “That doesn’t count!” 

“Afraid it does,” You laughed when he glared at the pen before turning back to face you. “We played it at the beginning of every year at Ilvermorny to make the incoming first years feel more welcome. 

“Ilvermorny.” Fred repeated what you’d told him, as if testing it to see if the word was real.

“You have heard of it, haven’t you?” It was your turn to frown when the pen scribbled down another tally mark. 

“I have,” Fred nodded but avoided your gaze, instead focusing on digging the cherry out from under all the extra whipped cream he’d insisted on ordering with his milkshake. “I just don’t think I’ve ever really realized what was out there in the real world.” 

“Well you’re here now,” The words left you without warning. They brought the smile back to Fred’s face though so you couldn’t bring yourself to mind. “Ask away.” 

And he did. He asked you about Ilvermorny and you told him basic things like your house and what it was like. You, in return, asked him about Hogwarts and all he’d told you about was his own house and the dozens of situations that occurred while he was there. An hour passed and the two of you had made your way through almost the entire game. Fred had ordered another milkshake and you had had two more cups of coffee. 

“Eighteen, what were you doing at the MACUSA offices earlier?” Fred leaned forward on the table, lowering his voice to a whisper as if you were swapping trade secrets back and forth. “You don’t seem like the government type. No offence.” 

“None taken,” You smiled before following his movements, leaning forward and accidentally spilling a bit of your coffee. “And if you must know I was meeting with the officials who are in charge of the classes taught at Ilvermorny. Now that restoration is complete I’m supposed to start teaching there again.” 

“So you’re a professor,” Fred’s response had come out as an observation instead of a question. He’d quickly mastered how to get around the pen marking every single thing he said as another tally. 

“Of sorts,” You gave a shrug and pushed your coffee aside. “Despite what they’ll have everyone believe the curriculum is dated at best and incompetent at worst. I taught myself more than any of my professors did and since then I’ve been working on rewriting the teachings of a school hundreds of years old so you can only imagine how that’s going for me.” 

For a very brief moment Fred thought of his last year at Hogwarts and all the times he’d snuck around for Dumbledore’s Army meetings. He thought of the fact that it was only the start of his career during the war. The lessons they’d worked on had come in more handy than anyone knew. He thought of...no. He refused to think about it any longer so instead he quickly shook his head and forced another smile onto his face. “I believe it’s your turn.” 

“Nineteen,” You didn’t notice Fred’s break in his own composure and thought to yourself for a moment as you dug a pile of dragots out of your bag and set them on the table. “Why are you here, Fred Weasley?” You quickly continued when you saw the smirk cross his face. “Here meaning America, not the diner with me.” 

He laughed at your clarification. The two of you had only known each other for a few hours at best and it already felt like you knew him inside and out. He liked the idea more than he cared to admit. 

“I needed a change after everything,” Fred shrugged, watching your face carefully for any sign of disappointment in his answer. He never found one though. Instead you looked at him, a soft grin on your face and maybe it was the homey feel of the diner or the colored lighting that softened your every feature or maybe even just the ease he felt while talking to you but he knew exactly what his last question would be. “Twenty, would you consider doing this with me again tomorrow?” 

Your answer came almost immediately. “Absolutely.”

***

Two months after that dinner at Red’s Diner, Fred was moving into your apartment in the Art District. Upon seeing the building that was yours, one with painted birds fluttering across the bricks, he’d told you it suited you with a smile. That night as the two of you were eating dinner at Red’s he kissed you for the first time, admitting to you in a quiet whisper that for the first time since he left home he felt okay. 

As much as you wanted to, you didn’t press the topic any further. You were comfortable around Fred and yet everything he did was wildly unpredictable in the best ways. Life with him was never boring and it was exactly what you needed. It had been a long time since you yourself had felt fine with your own life but with Fred it was so much more than that. He was home and you didn’t hesitate to tell him that. 

A month after he moved in you told him about the wall he’d first found you sitting in front of, the one meant to commemorate those who had died in the war. You told him about your own part in it, the fights that raged on for days in the biggest wizarding hubs in America. Despite what was believed, England wasn’t the only place invaded by Death Eaters. You told him about the names you stared at on the wall. Your best friend. Your little sister. Your father. Countless people you’d met at school. 

Fred held you close as you told him everything. You spoke so easily about what you’d gone through while he didn’t even dare think about what he had lived through himself. He came to the realization then that maybe you were stronger than him in ways he couldn’t even begin to fathom. It was after realizing that when he came to the conclusion that he loved you, completely and wholeheartedly. And he told you so. 

Three months after that was the first night you woke up to screaming. The moon was shining high in the sky and you’d been startled awake when Fred shot up in bed gasping for air, eyes wide and bloodshot. You were quick to reach for him but when the sound of your voice couldn’t bring him out of whatever trance he was stuck in you crawled into his lap. Your hands reached for his face, bringing his eyes to meet yours. The sight of tear stains on his flushed cheeks surprised you. So did the sudden realization that he was gripping his wand tightly in one of his hands.

“Hey,” You spoke gently, still cradling his face in your hands. “You’re okay, I’m right here.” It took a few minutes of your soft reassurances before he finally looked at you. He was brought back to reality and relief flooded his entire body. His wand fell out of his hand to the floor and he collapsed into you, wrapping his arms tightly around your frame as he buried his head in your chest. He shut his eyes and tried to keep his cries silent. “I’m right here.”

Two hours later Fred had managed to fall back asleep but he hadn’t let you go once. You were sitting against the headboard of the bed with his head in your lap, gently running a hand through his hair that had grown considerably longer. His breathing had evened out but you didn’t dare move him. A pain shot through you at the memory of him crying into your shoulder and you wanted more than anything to know how you could help him. Instead you were left wondering what it was that had woken him up and left him so scared. 

You were brought out of your own sleep the next morning by the feeling of Fred aimlessly drawing random shapes on the bare skin of your thighs with his fingers. He was considerably calmer now but when he looked up at you you knew he was still thinking about the previous night. 

“Did I wake you?” His voice was hoarse and the usual smile he wore every morning was nowhere to be seen. 

“No,” You lied. Fred needed your reassurance and you were more than willing to give it to him. “Been awake for a while.” 

Fred watched you for a moment as he tried to gauge how you were feeling. He hated being pitied more than anything else but there was no trace of the feeling on your face. A little bit of concern, sure, but that was to be expected after what he vaguely remembered putting you through. Mostly though you met his gaze with the same look of adoration you gave him every morning, one he usually returned. But at the moment his mind was hurtling out of control and never before had he had anybody at his side to deal with it alongside. 

He shuffled a little on the bed until he was more comfortably curled up into you. You felt like peace and that was something he was currently craving. “Can I -” He bit his lip and went silent, suddenly not sure if it was okay. “Can I tell you about it?” 

“Of course,” Your answer was automatic despite not knowing what ‘it’ was. You didn’t have to know, though. Nothing he could say, nothing that had happened, would ever change how you felt about Fred Weasley. You hugged him tighter to reassure him of that.

Several minutes of silence passed. The faint chatter coming from outside the window was the only noise that filled the room. It was almost cruel, Fred thought, the way everybody else went on with their Saturday morning while he sat there helplessly reliving that stupid war for the thousandth time. Finally with a shaky sigh he began telling you his story. 

“I saw it all happen.” You knew what he meant the moment the words left his mouth. 

“I can remember the night Harry yelled about you-know-who being back clear as day. I can remember him crying over Cedric Diggory’s body and the screams of his father when he saw that his son was dead. God, at the time I wanted nothing more than to be in that stupid tournament and I hate the fact that now I’m glad I wasn’t. I hated him, you know. Cedric. All because of a bloody game of Quidditch he beat us in. I’d give anything to take that back.”

You pretended not to notice the damp feeling soaking through your sleep shirt. Tears. 

“Nobody believed him. A boy died and nobody believed Harry. Instead we were all tortured for a year. The ministry likes to pretend they didn’t make it happen but there’s no other word for it. She made us write lines in our own blood, what else do you call it? And my dad -” He stopped, a particularly loud and shaky exhale leaving his body as he gripped you tightly. “He almost died that year all because nobody wanted to believe it. And George and I we’d just had enough of it, you know? So we left. For just a day everyone in that school was a child again and we made it happen. I don’t regret it, not at all. But maybe if we had stayed, maybe if we had made just a little more of an effort...maybe then my brother and my sister and our friends wouldn’t have had to fight off Death Eaters alone. They shouldn’t have had to, they were children. We all were. But nobody believed them and they were children and they watched somebody we cared about die that night. Why didn’t anybody believe them!” 

Everything you were hearing was new to you. Fred had told you about his family countless times, true, but never like this. He’d mentioned them by name a few times and told you stories about the summers they were all home but this? He had literally been in the middle of the war right alongside the Golden Trio you had heard so many rumors about. He was shaking, sobbing into your shoulder again and you had no idea what to say. So you settled for holding him, a silent promise that none of that would ever happen to him again, not if you had anything to say about it. 

It wasn’t until his breathing had evened once more that he worked up the courage to speak again. He swallowed thickly and his voice cracked but he powered through. Oddly enough a small weight had lifted off of his shoulders but there was still something holding him down. 

“I was never scared. I knew exactly what was coming. That’s why me and George opened the shop in the first place. Because people have to find hope somewhere after all. So we laughed and we made jokes and we made other people happy and that was enough. Death eaters burned down our house but we rebuilt it. Ron was poisoned by one of them but Harry saved him like always. Dumbledore was murdered by a professor at the school who we trusted but even then we were okay because we, the Order, knew exactly what to do. Not even at Bill’s wedding was I scared. They attacked and people were killed and others went missing but I wasn’t scared. I was furious. I was angry and I did everything I could to make sure those Death Eaters knew it. I was -” 

Fred stops again. He’s not hesitant because of a bad memory this time, no. He remembers the day he and his brothers fought the Death Eaters in Diagon Alley and what happened as a result. Shame burns through him at that moment. At the reminder of what he did. 

“I wanted them to go away, that’s all. It - It was war and you do desperate things and I didn’t mean to do it. But dark magic is hard to control, most of all a curse like fiendfyre. I’m the one who cast it and I put it out eventually but not before it reached the shop. I stood there and I watched it burn and I told George, Bill, and Charlie that it was the death eaters who cast the curse. They believed me. After that I fought and I ran and I laughed and fought some more and I was never scared, not once. Maybe that’s why.” 

You couldn’t help yourself. Fred had stopped talking but he wasn’t done feeling. That you knew for a fact. It’s what prompted you to ask, “Why what?” 

You didn’t even notice that you’d been crying yourself until Fred turned his head to look at you, frowned, and reached up to wipe away your tears. There was no hesitation in your movements as you leaned into his touch and gently placed your hand over his own. He looked only at you as he continued. 

“Why I died.” He paused once more to reach for your other hand, intertwine it with his own, and press a soft kiss to it, reassuring you that despite his statement he was still there in your shared room right next to you. 

“Madam Pomfrey told me after I was being particularly difficult one night. Percy had brought me to the hospital wing after the blast that knocked down that wall in the courtyard crushed me. She said she was the one who checked me herself. I was dead. She told my mum with tears in her eyes that I was gone and suddenly two minutes later I was opening my eyes again. I didn’t know why they were all crying. I didn’t know why they hugged me and kept repeating that I was alive. I didn’t process any of it until I woke up a couple nights later because I couldn’t breath. I was being crushed under the weight of a thousand bricks but I opened my eyes and there was nothing there. Only me and the dark room and flashes of every single thing that I had done during the war who’s ending I missed. That’s why I really left. Because that night was the first time I was scared. The worst part is that I wasn’t scared of the war that wasn’t even happening anymore. I was scared because I really thought I had accomplished a lot and it took dying to know that I really didn’t.” 

“Look at me,” You said after only a few seconds, once it was clear that Fred had finished telling you his story. He listened to you, sitting up fully and watching as you turned to face him completely. “You are here and well and I could not love you more. What was that thing you said. You made other people happy and that was enough. I’ve heard your stories, each one you tell with the widest grin. I’ve seen you play with those kids from two floors down and the smile you put on their faces. I absolutely know that even when things were dark you did everything you could to bring a little light into the world. And listen to me, Fred Weasley, that is way more than enough and I never want to hear you say or even think otherwise. Okay?” 

For a minute all he did was stare at you. He wasn’t quite sure what it was he was looking for but very slowly a soft smile grew on his face and he found himself nodding. Then without warning he launched himself forward, held your face in his hands, and kissed you. It was hard and passionate and filled with a thousand emotions. He was positive then, as the two of you moved together, wrapped in a blanket of love and reassurance, that he never wanted to leave your side. You were the one who made his world good. You were the one who made him feel better and loved beyond belief and that was really all he could ask for. 

***

The door of your apartment slammed shut behind you and almost immediately you were pushed against the wall. Frantic, wandering hands quickly removed Fred’s jacket and unzipped the front of your dress. Even in between heated kisses you could still taste the chocolate malted milkshake he had drank at Red’s earlier. A laugh escaped you at the fact as you gripped the bottom of his shirt and pulled it over his head. 

“Why are you laughing, this is a very serious moment,” Fred asked, a smile playing on his lips as he slipped the dress off your shoulders. 

“No reason,” You shook your head, kissing him once more as you unbuckled his jeans. Another laugh soon escaped you when he nearly fell over trying to get them off. 

“You’re so mean,” He teased, pulling the long sleeve shirt you’d been wearing underneath the dress off. Then he glanced at the thigh high boots you were wearing and sighed. “Darling, I really do love the sight of you in those boots of yours but they are such a hassle to get off at times like this, you know.” 

“Which is why last time I wore these,” You quickly moved to unzip them, taking them off one at a time with a smirk on your face. “You had me keep them on.” 

Fred wasted no time in reaching for you again once the boots were off, lifting you off the floor and wrapping your legs around his waist, carrying you in the direction of the room. “You know,” He said once reaching the bed. “The lease on the apartment is ending soon.” 

“What a -” You were cut off by your own moan as he sucked a mark on the skin of your neck. “An odd thing to bring up now of all times.” 

“I just thought,” Satisfied with the mark left on your skin, he started peppering wet kisses down your body, stopping every now and then to bite softly and speak words in between. “Maybe we’d try living somewhere else. Like London.” 

“Are you serious?” You couldn’t keep the smile off your face. There had only been a few times when the two of you discussed meeting Fred’s family and each time had ended in a firm ‘one day’. The statement surprised you but didn’t distract you from the feeling of your legs being pushed apart the farther down Fred went. 

“Of course,” Even as he kissed the soft skin of your thighs you could feel the smirk playing on his lips as he heard your breathing quicken. “I’ve been dying to show my fiancée off to everyone, you know.”

“Maybe we should -” A sudden gasp escaped you at the feeling of the fabric of your underwear snapping against your skin. You glared a bit when Fred chuckled softly at your reaction. “We should discuss me meeting your family later. Maybe when we aren’t half naked?” 

A real laugh escaped Fred at your words but he quickly smirked again and resumed his previous actions. “As you wish.” 

***

Nervous was something you hadn’t felt in a long time. But it was all you felt now as you stared at the home you knew was the Burrow. The Weasley family home. An endless stream of butterflies fluttered in the pit of your stomach and you had to resist the urge to fiddle with the glittering ring on your finger to calm yourself. That was how you’d lost it only a few days ago in the middle of moving all the boxes around your new apartment in one of the wizarding boroughs in London, only a couple blocks from Diagon Alley. 

The decision to move came easy for both you and Fred. He was confident that he could face everything and everyone again. The morning he’d told you everything was the morning he realized talking it through with you was more than helpful. And you had happily handed over the revised curriculums to the Headmistress of Ilvermorny only a day before leaving New York. From what you heard, there was another school who could do with the same treatment and you were eager to assist. 

It’d been exactly eleven days since the two of you had moved to London. While Fred had seen his family a couple times now, he was insistent on wanting to give you a big reveal. The only person he’d let into the apartment was George, who upon meeting you loved you instantly. The three of you had spent all day talking, swapping stories usually at Fred’s expense. 

Finally that morning he’d woken you up with a grin, had you get ready, and told you it was time for your first Weasley family dinner. Or lunch, technically. 

“Hey,” Fred stepped in front of you and immediately saw the nervous look in your eyes. He held your face in his hands and kissed you softly, resting his forehead on yours right after. With that one small movement your nerves faded away and you visibly relaxed. “Everyone is going to love you. Promise.” 

“I’m trusting you on that,” You spoke after a few seconds, a smile making its way onto your face. With a satisfied grin, Fred took your hand and pulled you in the direction of the house. 

You were fully expecting to be ambushed the moment you walked through the door, you were prepared for it. Instead you were met with a silent house. Fred wasn’t phased though, he simply led you through the rooms. You walked through a living room whose walls were covered in moving pictures, the kitchen where a pile of pots and pans were washing themselves in the sin, and finally into the backyard. That’s where everyone was waiting. 

“She’s real!” 

“Shove off,” Fred rolled his eyes at the sudden exclamation as he finally stopped, still holding onto your hand to keep you comfortable. He looked at you, the look on his face softening when he did so. “This is everyone.” 

“You aren’t going to introduce me?” You asked, a slight smirk making its way onto your face. 

Fred laughed and glanced around at everyone else before matching the look on your face. “They’re going to ambush you one by one anyway. Figured I’d save at least one of us the trouble.” 

That was all the confirmation anyone needed to hear. Before you knew it you were being pulled into a tight hug by the first person to reach you. 

“We’ve heard so much about you, dear!” Molly was beaming as she held you at arms length. “Even prettier than he said. Told us about you in every letter he sent, you know.” 

“Did not,” Fred, who’d taken a step back and was now standing beside George, met your eyes, saw your smirk widen, and immediately knew he was never going to hear the end of it. 

“He did too,” Ginny walked up to you next and glanced between you and her brother. You recognized the familiar mischievous glint in her eyes and already knew you were going to love her. “Mum read them out loud and everything.”

“Mum!” 

“Sorry, dear,” You could tell by the tone in her voice that Molly wasn’t sorry at all. She simply smiled, squeezed you once more, then walked over to Fred placing a hand on his cheek. “They were adorable.” 

“I think she even has one framed,” You recognized Charlie by the dragon tattoo peeking out from under the sleeve of his shirt. He didn’t hesitate to throw his arm over your shoulders in greeting. “What was it you wrote? ‘Her smile shines brighter than the city lights, mum, I swear.’” 

“Who knew you were so poetic?” Ron mimicked Charlie’s movements, leaning on your other shoulder. He looked at you with an amused smile. “You really bring out the best in our dear, Freddie, Y/N.” 

For once Fred didn’t mind the teasing. It was worth seeing the way your eyes lit up, head tossed back in laughter alongside his family. He wondered as he watched Ginny pull you towards the table why he hadn’t introduced you sooner. You fit right in with everyone and he loved it. He loved you. 

It was Hermione who finally mentioned the ring you were wearing as you piled food onto your plate. She grinned, taking your left hand to examine it. “When’s the wedding, then?” 

“The what?” Came chorused from no less than eight people. 

“Don’t tell me none of you noticed,” Fleur said, suddenly appearing on the other side of Hermione to look at the ring. 

“It was obvious,” Percy, who was already eating, shrugged. He’d been the only one to quietly give you his congratulations, smiling excitedly as he did so. 

“Why didn’t you tell us!” Molly scolded, flinging one of the dish towels at Fred who quickly ducked out of the way. 

“Why’d you think I wanted everyone here? Just for fun?” Fred defended, not moving fast enough to dodge the balled up napkin Bill threw at him. 

“You could have at least said you had news or something,” Bill appeared behind you and Fred quickly, hugging you both at once. “This is huge.” 

“It really is,” Harry agreed, placing a hand on Fred’s shoulder. “None of us thought you’d be next.”

“Well,” Fred only smiled, wrapping his free arm around your waist to pull you close and kissed your cheek softly. You looked up at him, practically beaming. “Only the best for my love.” 

“You should’ve told us sooner,” Arthur happily smiled at the scene from where he was standing right beside Molly. “Your mother’s been waiting to plan another wedding since Bill and Fleur’s.” 

It wasn’t a lie, as evidenced by the flurry of questions that were shot your way. How’s and when’s and everything in between. Needless to say as all of you sat around the table that summer afternoon several decisions were made. Upon being asked by Molly when you two wanted the wedding to be Fred had immediately told her as soon as possible. She smiled at the sight of him looking at you with pure adoration and pushed back the happy tears in her eyes. 

The conversation finally changed topic as the afternoon went on. Night had fallen and everyone had drifted from the table to around a fire that had been enchanted to act more as decoration and less like a heat source. You sat on a blanket that had been laid on the grass, happily leaning against Fred who held you to him. 

“We’re going to reopen the shop,” George announced with a smile when everyone started talking about what they were going to do now that the ministry was finished being rebuilt. Fred had been quick to tell him the truth about the fiendfyre incident after returning to which he only received a nod and an ‘it’s fine, I knew’. “We’ve already started building up our inventory again.” 

“Really?” Everyone had been waiting for the day the two of them would decide to reopen the shop. The structure had been put up quickly after the end of the war. All that was left was the cosmetics on the outside and the matter of stocking everything. 

“Besides,” Fred grinned as he glanced around at his family. “Everyone needs a little light in their life right?” 

It was late at night, after Fred dragged you up to his childhood bedroom insisting that you needed to see it and sleep there at least one night to get the full experience, that he pressed his lips to yours in a way that left your head spinning wonderfully. 

“You’re mine, you know,” He whispered the statement into the night, afraid that if he spoke too loud he would ruin the moment. “The light of my life.” 

The words he said to you were soft and beautifully intimate and unlike anything you’d heard before. After everything, wars and trauma and so much else, you were there together in that moment in time. And you were ecstatic. You kissed him again, softly, and smiled as you spoke against his lips, “And you’re mine.”

[fermented-writers-block]

Just recently, I stumbled across @owls-house‘s post on MSN’s article about some of the first look details of The Owl House while looking through some of the older posts about upcoming news on the show before it came out, and this particular section caught my eye in light of everything we currently know about the Boiling Isles and the cast of the show:

The Owl House:

The Owl House is a living structure that Eda has charmed so that she could live there and be safe from outside forces. Quaint and cottage-like on the outside, with a storefront facade, the inside of the Owl House is full of secret rooms, with a labyrinth for a basement. Hooty, the door knocker, serves as the home’s defense system.

Given how the Owl House is supposed to be Eda’s safe haven and how she hasn’t really shown that much of an interest in puzzle solving and mysteries, the two bolded details immediately stood out to me. 

I mean, from what we’ve seen of her, Eda has never really struck me as someone who’d construct or even want to deal with a labyrinth in the first place - particularly one that’s completely unnecessary if its supposed to be a basement to simply just store things in - and I very much doubt Eda would install a whole bunch of secret rooms into her house that presumably go unused when she likes to collect things so often, let alone go through all the trouble of making entire rooms dedicated to being secret when we’ve seen her be content with the amount of rooms she already uses.

And that’s without asking where and what the heck these secret rooms are supposed to be about specifically, as while they are secret and thus understandably not generally supposed to be easily found, they would have to be VERY small rooms to fit inside with the relative dimensions of all the rooms we’ve seen so far compared to the size of the exterior, and that’s without asking about what purpose they would even serve.

As for the apparent labyrinth, such a word tends to evoke the image of some incredibly huge and complex maze-like structure with single overall path and no dead ends - although it’s often been used interchangeably used with ‘maze,’ which is basically a labyrinth with dead ends, so who knows what it actually looks like here - and yet there is no sign of any kind of tunnel when an animated Hooty stood up in Hooty’s Moving Hassle let alone hardly any implied space for the kind of grand, sprawling structure the word ‘labyrinth’ evokes.

Now, I’ve brought this up in my last theory about the Owl House as a structure, but as a brief summary, I deduced that it is not a place that Eda had constructed completely all on her own, but rather an amalgamation of a bunch of parts of different buildings that had gotten attached to one center section: aka the middle part of the house with white brickwork - or the Owl Temple as I’ve dubbed it before.

And after looking through the flooring and walls of the rooms we’ve seen so far of the Owl House, I’ve concluded that the labyrinth at the very least is located or accessible from either underneath the carpet in the living room:

Or somewhere inside the parapet/battlement thing that serves as the floor of Eda’s balcony:

Obviously, considering the likely size of both of these rooms in relation to the dimensions of the house, they must be hidden away by magic, whether it be through magical pocket dimensions or the like, but this just raises the questions of why these rooms exist in the first place.

For me, I can see only two possible explanations for both questions, both of which I’ve outlined extensively down below:

TLDR: Either the original people who used the Owl Temple a long time ago had build those rooms into it, or they are a potentially significant part of Hooty’s biology as the house itself

Option 1: They were built by the original inhabitants of the Owl Temple

Like I’ve discussed before, I suspect that - from the owl mural and the way the curtains are arranged - the living room used to be used as an altar or ritual room for some kind of owl spirit/deity, so following off that kind of conclusion, it’s possible that the rest of the temple was designed in a similar fashion related to the Owl Deity.

Perhaps these secret rooms are only unlockable through puzzles and riddles to play into how owls are usually portrayed as wise old creatures, hiding away ‘treasures’ not of gold and wealth, but rather of information and books. Maybe these secret rooms could have been like places of study where one could peruse ancient tomes or collect knowledge without being disturbed, or they could simply be full on ordinary rooms that people lived and slept in but with doors that can only be unlocked in a particular way ala the Ravenclaw dorms in Harry Potter.

As for the labyrinth, it could have been meant as a way to test one’s mind and observation skills/as part of one’s initiation, requiring an attentive eye to detail or such to figure out the one single route in and out of it. Maybe it holds some kind of great secret of knowledge or an important ancient artifact that only those who can figure out the path can find/use.

Of course, there IS the small chance it functioned more like a quirky cult with the labyrinth posing as part of kind of bizarre ritual or being used for sacrificial duty, but I very much doubt that this would even get past the censors let alone even got implemented with how un-cult-like the glimpses of the base design of the Owl Temple has been so far.

That said, given how I’ve speculated that something happened that led to the Owl Temple being abandoned, falling into disrepair and obscurity long before Eda first discovered it, she likely has next to absolutely no idea about the existence of at least most of these rooms, so it would be interesting to see exactly how the cast will eventually and inevitably find and explore these hidden rooms and labyrinth, especially with the chance at discovering long-forgotten knowledge or even uncovering dark secrets and old truths that have been suppressed and forgetten by the present day.

However, though I think this explanation and ramifications thereof would be interesting to explore in its own right, I can’t help but think that the second, more likely explanation would easily expand upon and add quite the intrigue to a particular character I’ve had my eye on for a good while:

OPTION 2: They are a part of Hooty and are only increasing in size and number as he grows

We all know that Hooty IS the house itself as demonstrated by his manipulation of various parts of the structure and from statements by Eda, but whereas the prior explanation was based on the idea that the old inhabitants had created the secret rooms and labyrinth themselves before Hooty came into the equation, here I’d like to propose that the rooms are a side result of Hooty slowly regenerating back into a full sized Owl Temple.

With the kind of importance and likely amount of people that would be present or living in such a place, it seems rather likely that what we see of the Owl Temple in the Owl House is but a small-ish remnant of the entire thing, especially with the doorframe in Eda’s room that most likely connected to another section or large area that she either couldn’t salvage in an intact-enough state or didn’t care about to bring with her.

However, though Eda’s additions seems to have been integrated relatively neatly with what she found of the Owl Temple for Hooty to probably be able to affect them, they are likely nowhere near enough to make up for the rest of the missing Temple. 

As such, Hooty could potentially and unknowingly be growing new rooms to make up for the rest of the Temple - kind of like a yolk becoming a baby chick inside of its shell, forming organs and bones and etc until it’s big and strong enough to emerge. 

Though here, instead of breaking apart the foundations and outside of the Owl House entirely, perhaps this transformation would be more like the structure suddenly expanding outwards and quickly stretching everything about itself similar a video about plant growth on fast forward, up until the outer dimensions match the ever increasing inner dimensions. 

With this kind of analogy, it’d make sense why Eda wouldn’t know about these rooms and why Hooty wouldn’t bring them up, as to the former, they literally weren’t there when she salvaged what she could of the Temple, and for the latter, they’re just such a natural part of his body that he simply doesn’t notice.

Now, why I think that this would add an interesting layer of mystique to Hooty’s character is because of the important question of - if and when he finds out about these rooms - whether Hooty would be able to consciously control their structure and arrangement however he wants. 

After all, if the answer is YES, then we might get to begin to see the full capacity of both Hooty’s power and his patience if he gets ticked off and decides to turn the inside of the house into this:

It would not only be an amazing opportunity for some glorious mind screwy animation with the transformation of a location we’ve all become accustomed to into something straight out of M C Escher’s nightmares, but would also give an opportunity to build Hooty’s character MUCH further beyond the complete butt monkey he’s been portrayed as.

Outside of Eda calling him a “state of the art defense system” in the first episode, he has barely gotten any respect and has never been treated seriously compared to even King. And even when he seems to have temporarily died in The Intruder given the crossed-out eyes and the lights going out in the house when they’re apparently directly controlled by him, Luz and King didn’t really stay that concerned for long. Heck, King was more annoyed at hearing Hooty’s voice again rather than being happy that he was still alive.

After enduring all of that, it’s a wonder that Hooty hasn’t snapped any sooner, so how he’d react when he finally can get people to listen to him without them being able to just simply ignore him or leave would open up the gates to his inner psyche and how he really feels about everyone and the way they treat him. 

Exactly how he’d manipulate the interior dimensions would be extremely telling of what kind of character he truly is at heart, what with the sheer kind of power trip from being in complete control over such a space vs how he would be calmed down from it, AND it’d mark a major and permanent shift in how everyone treats the being they live in on a daily basis due to how much mutual trust and respect both Hooty and his inhabitants would likely have to rebuild in each other to be able to go about their day and keep their relationships intact.

That, and it’d be a REALLY interesting glimpse into the full eldritch nature of a house with many more rooms on the inside than the outside suggests, one that actually has a mind and consciousness to drive it and thus one that you don’t really want to piss off if you can. Just think of all the fun horror/mind screw that could be done with such an episode about this.

Of course, this does bring into question exactly what is the deal with the labyrinth, but running off the seemingly one-time joke from the first episode where - instead of simply opening the door like he’s done in every other episode - Hooty lets everyone in by opening his mouth and even burping, the entire living room could easily be equated as Hooty’s stomach. 

I’ve discussed this with @sepublic​ a bit, but because of how he can stretch vertically instead of just his neck as shown above, as well as the likely placement of the labyrinth underneath the living room, I suspect that the labyrinth might be doubling as Hooty’s intestines given the way real intestines fold and twist around while also having one single route through them like a labyrinth does.

That, and that Hooty may have gained Eda’s trust as a good enough defense system for her to rely on by being able to do this to whoever tries to attack the house from time to time:

I would not be surprised if Luz or Eda or whoever checks out the labyrinth later in the series might find the remains of some of Eda’s old enemies down there.

That said, considering how much bigger the original Owl Temple might possibly be than the Owl House, Hooty would likely require quite a LOT of material/energy to build back those rooms and other parts of the Temple. And given how he doesn’t exactly seem to passively be feeding off ambient magic or something alongside the comparison to intestines, well...

It just makes one wonder just what state those remains are in, let alone how recognizable they even still are in the first place.

[hdnprplflwrs]

I read the Tower of Nero in maybe two hours and

Holy.

Mother.

Of.

Hephaestus.

(Who is Hera, but whatever.)

CAN WE TALK ABOUT PIPER FOR A SECOND?!?!?!!!

(spoilers for Tower of Nero ahead)

Let me just say that I won’t really review the series (even though I really want to) because I’m saving that for another project of mine. However, I must admit that I thought that Blood of Olympus left waaaaaay too many loose ends open. Trials of Apollo really completes the character arc of pretty much everyone who was introduced during PJO to HoO and ToA (with the exception of Will and Nico and possibly Rachel, but that’s another post lmao).

I posted about Jason’s death way back when (basically about how Jason was never going to get the future that he saw with Piper) and I never really dug too much into why they broke up.

HOWEVER.

Rick doesn’t really go into this (obviously because a) Apollo is a god now, he doesn’t have the time to stay with mortals, and b) that’ll take a lot of pages) but it’s implied that Piper was questioning her sexuality when she broke up with Jason.

And this makes so much sense.

Looking back on the HoO series, it’s implied that Piper never had a serious relationship before Jason. Also given that her father is in the movie biz, heteronormative stereotypes must’ve been pushed on her at a pretty young age.

Hera puts the memories of Jason in her head, which further enforces the view of a heteronormative relationship with someone who is, quite literally, a golden boy. Her mother Aphrodite doesn’t dissuade her from Jason (which I guess she wouldn’t, given the shenanigans she pulled with Annabeth and Nico) and seems quite supportive of the relationship. Piper never really has the chance to explore other options because it always seems like Jason is the choice that she should be picking.

And they are really good friends. When you look back on all the moments they have together in the series, they do truly love each other. I think Piper could inevitably sense that Jason loved her differently and therefore decided to break it off because she couldn’t understand why she loved him differently. Jason, being the wonderful child he is, didn’t want to say anything out of respect for her (Jason is hella slept on by this fandom because half of the people call him boring but honestly, his arc is so subtle and mostly implied as opposed to eg. Leo’s because of his stint in Ogygia that unless you’re looking actively for Jason’s arc, you won’t be able to see it). All of their interactions could be seen in an amicable sense as opposed to a romantic sense, and they would still work.

Besides, it also makes sense with her character. Piper has always been someone who thought outside the box, so her choosing to go outside what Hera and Aphrodite have made her think was the only option is totally in line with who she is as a person. So her rejecting the norms that she had been quite literally conditioned to think and carving her own path and figuring out her own sexuality is everything.

(Also, Native Americans and indigenous people have been super accepting of LGBTQ+ people and often have multiple genders and sexualities as opposed to just two, so kudos!!!! representation!!!!)

Also, her and Reyna respectively figuring out their sexualities is *chef’s kiss.* Rick Riordan really be the uncle who supports his LGBTQ+ children and gets ALL THE RESPECT. ALL THE AWARDS. YES.

(This is also different from whoever wrote the Harry Potter books because you can find evidence in PJO and the sequel series on the respective sexualities of the LGBTQ+ characters. There was absolutely zero evidence in the HP books that Dumbledore was gay.)

[johns-prince]

Ok so this is going to be a long post but I need someone to explain something to me. I'm a guy, I'm gay and recently I just started to get obsessed with The Beatles and John especially. Let's say I have a mad crush on the guy. I was pleased to hear thanks to some blogs like yours that he was an lgbtq ally, and there is a chance that the man of my life was also a bisexual ( strongly leaning on the male side if I read some of your blogs including yours ). But my adoration for the man has been ---

shattered since I've read on various Beatles forums that he was very homophobic and shit it hurts me to hear that. I know that he has beat up a guy for implying that he was gay, trashed a movie on homosexuality in front of everyone ( I think the movie was called Victim ), that he would openly mock his gay manager Brian Epstein ( bless him ), has called gay people nasty names during a 70s interview like AKOMP stated, that he made fun of a musician by kissing him then pushing him away and called - him a " faggot " and other incidents I can't think of right now. It just hurts a lot because I adore this man, I'm madly in love with him but I'm starting to believe that all this support for the our community had been nothing but a shtick for the " peace & love " propaganda he and Yoko started in the 70s. He also said in a interview w himself that " bisexuality is trendy " which makes me believe that I'm right. I am lost & disappointed & I'm turning to you guys to clarify all of this to me pls.

Well first of all, hullo! I totally understand having a mad crush on John, as well as him being The Man of My Life. 

Yes, it’s true! The Beatles in general were very ahead of their time; none of them had any real issue with homosexuals, though perhaps a bit put off at times because of their upbringing and culture and all that, but they were supportive and never understood why these people were treated so poorly. They had a gay manager, it’d be weird for them to be homophobic while treating Brian like a parental figure, loved him and adored him [even if they did tease him a bit behind his back, or even in front of him-- they teased everyone, doesn’t mean they held any ill feelings towards Brian because he was gay] and being part of the music/artsy crowd, they all had gay/bisexual friends, open or not. 

I truly believe John was bisexual, and while he never outright stated it, I believe he would have eventually directly came out if he had not been killed. 

He was moreso testing the waters though, talking about that when he was 15 he thought he’d have to go and marry off some wealthy old woman or man to continue his passion for art/literature; frequented gay bars with Harry Nilsson, and while he claimed he did it to put off the press-- we know that what he did would have the opposite effect, the press would be constantly on watch, being that there was John Lennon going about gay bars! John could be a terrible liar; even during his Hamburg days, John was described as seeming at home in bars featuring drag queens, and was told he found it stupid how the ‘’culture’’ of gay individuals in industries like music or art, the “scenes” were championed, but the people in general were treated like shit; later on John says gay people are beautiful during an interview [in the 70s I believe]; he’s quoted saying that people should be able to love anyone, that it shouldn’t matter who someone loves; back to the Hamburg era, apparently John had been caught in a drag club/transvestite bar, you know, getting frisky with one by I guess the club runner? and he was all embarrassed of course, but the man didn’t judge him; John is described as someone who was always willing to experiment, after agreeing to a threesome with someone, again back in Germany, one female and another male [though the female was between them, not sure if anything happened between John and the other male]; yes I remember reading somewhere that John did kiss another male performer, before shoving him off and responded crudely; Yoko saying how she’d ‘’teasingly’’ call John a Closeted Fag; Yoko claiming John had told her he would have slept with a man, but he hadn’t found a man beautiful and intelligent enough for him to want to bed him [lies]; Yoko claiming that John had thought about having an affair with Paul; there’s rumors about John and David Bowie; that John had let Brian jerk him off and touch him during their trip to Spain [how John claims it wasn’t fully consummated, that is, no intercourse]; John in an interview saying how he hasn’t slept with a man-- but who knows? Life begins at 40!; John saying how Yoko reminded him of a bloke in drag, and how she was basically like a best mate, but it was easier because with her he could fuck her and love her in public; how he was found holding Brian’s hand by George and Pattie and someone else, and made it a note to showcase his holding of Brian’s hand, because being homosexual was still illegal then-- and there was John, trying to show that “yeah it’s okay.”; and there’s probably much more stories about John when it came to his sexual leaning towards men, though most have probably died with close friends and lovers.

Now, I think what happens is that these people forget the context surrounding John’s life; he wasn’t born in today’s world, he was born in the 40s and raised in the 50s-- being homosexual was illegal, and taught as something shameful, wrong, sick. Even though the boys were relatively very open and ahead of their time, they still grew up in all that, and so of course they still had ignorance and “fear” of homosexuality, of being anything but the expected standard of masculinity. 

John wasn’t the only one who mocked or teased Brian about being gay-- the other boys did it too, though moreso behind his back. John only did this when he was in a very sour mood though, as he did with anyone, he’d hone in on what was considered a sore spot, or weakness of theirs, and jab at it. He’d never mean anything by it though, and would often go talk to them afterwards an try to explain that-- his roundabout way of “apologizing,” that he never meant it, he was only joking, and he might hug them. No one was really safe from John’s sharp tongue when he got into those low points, aggressive and biting. John loved Brian, absolutely did, Brian was a very important paternal figure in John’s life as John never had a good one. When Brian died it devastated all of them, especially John, because again he had lost a very close male friend, too soon or too young, they’d always leave him. John loved Brian, and if anyone tries to tell you otherwise, they’re either lying or ignorant themselves. 

Now, I think it was actually pretty important for John to tell that story about beating up Bob Wooler, and be as honest as he could about the whole thing, and owned up to his rather intolerant reaction to someone suggesting John was “a queer,” essentially [this was indeed after going off with Brian to Spain, so really everyone had been making sly comments– but that time around, John was drunk, and Drunk John is not at all sensible or cool]

“Bob had been insinuating that me and Brian had had an affair in Spain. And I must have been frightened of the fag in me to get so angry. I was out of my mind with drink - you know, when you get down to the point where you want to drink out of all the empty glasses; that drunk. And Bob was saying, ‘Come on, John, tell me about you and Brian - we all know.’ You know when you’re twenty-one, you want to be a man - if somebody had said it now I wouldn’t give a shit, but I was beating the shit out of him, hitting him with a big stick, and for the first time I thought, ‘I can kill this guy.’ I just saw it, like on a screen: if I hit him once more, that’;s going to be it. I really got shocked. That’s when I gave up violence, because all my life I’d been like that.”

- John Lennon, 1972 Anthology [x]

I think it says a lot, you know, John claiming he was afraid of the fag in him-- I mean, wouldn’t that mean that John knew a part of him was queer then? I think this was part of John confessing, though again, barely anyone caught onto it around that time. This is where I think John was projecting, and most of the ‘’homophobic’’ behavior he showcased was simply a product of internalized homophobia/biphobia. 

Also apparently John was INCREDIBLY, horribly remorseful and ashamed of what he had done to Bob-- I think he had gone to him and tried to apologize and show how sorry he was, how ashamed. 

I haven’t heard anything about John trashing the movie because of it being homosexual, so I can’t say much about that. 

So yeah, my conclusion is that a lot of what John did or said was a product of not only his upbringing/society and of internalized homophobia/biphobia. 

John grew up as a musician and individual in the “gay” scene, had many gay and bisexual friends from the industry, seemed to adore and love drag queens, was close friends with Elton Jon, David Bowie, Mick Jagger, loved and truly did look up to his manager Brian Epstein, thought it stupid gay people were treated like shite despite their contributions to the culture they all loved, thought Elvis was beautiful and was often caught commenting about it by friends, was always willing to “experiment,” his wife thought he was a bit of a closeted fag, that he would have slept with a man though he had never found one that met his expectations [liar], how his first love was Paul, that he fell for Paul’s looks like everyone else, thought Paul was the prettiest, Yoko claiming John had contemplated having an affair with Paul-- like, the list goes on. 

His support and acceptance of LGBT individuals was there long before Yoko-- so I wouldn’t really put the two in the same area, that being, yeah the whole political-era and “Peace and Love,” was brainwashing and influenced by Yoko, but not his beliefs towards the LGBT. 

Also, bisexual was seen as ‘’trendy’’ as, you see, bisexuality was actually considered a bit of a “new” thing; you were either gay or straight, even if you loved both men and women, you were considered a queer. I think that also messed with John’s already confused and frustrated view of his sexuality. And before that, it was considered a Bohemian Lifestyle-- try everything, sleep with men and women. 

I think if anything, John was possibility irritated with the fact bisexuality was considered a trend. 

I dunno, I try to remember the period and cultural context when talking about John, or anyone really, because it’s not very fair to judge them based on today’s culture and societal acceptance. It’s easy for us to judge them, not to try and understand them.