#in honour of Harry's birthday

[almondmilknosugar]

Dance Dad (33k) by me (15_blossom_15)

“She looked amazing but you yelled at her like she did horrible.” With a scoff, Louis turned back to his mats. “You have no idea how she did, you know nothing about dance.” And that just made Harry even angrier. “I have eyes!” “Well, apparently they’re not working really well, because your daughter was shit for half her practice.” Louis didn’t even turn to face him. Determined Harry walked over to the pile of mats and held on to the one Louis was about to pull away. “She wasn’t shit!” he insisted. “If you can’t put aside what happened between us…” “Oh, you’re really that full of yourself, are you?” Louis chuckled, letting go off the mat. “Incredible. I thought having a kid would’ve forced you to reflect a little, but you’re still that same narcissistic arsehole.”

Harry's twelve-year-old daughter Lara loves to dance. And he loves watching her. If only her dance coach wasn't Harry's childhood crush/ex boyfriend, who makes Harry feel an immeasurable amount of rage whenever he's near him.

[princesshair]

10 days of Harry Styles ↳ day 10 → HAPPY 30TH BIRTHDAY HARRY! (insp.)

[kenni33]

Sirius: happy birthday Harry!

Harry: happy Christmas

Sirius:..what?

Harry: what

[w2soneshots]

Birthday boy -W2S

words: 0.8k+

warnings: smut, unprotected sex, p in v, cream pie, alcohol consumption.

summary: you and the sidemen film the pub golf in Benidorm video, when the clock strikes twelve and it’s officially Harry’s birthday you decide he deserves a special present once you return to your hotel room.

notes: long time no fic!🙈 You can see the request here. I hope you’re all well and you enjoy this spicy one shot in honour of yesterday being our man’s birthday, love ya!!!💘

Liked by ksi, sidemen and 934,237 others

y/username: I wanted to wish you the very best but you already have me... so happy birthday my love!!😉💞 @wroetoshaw

-comments-

behzingagram: done him dirty there mate

calfreezy: I'm actually cracking up at these pics😂

y/nfanpage21: why on earth is he sleeping in a sand box?

-> y/username: 🤷‍♀️

user63298712: this is the kind of relationship I want

All seven of the sidemen, me and a few of the camera crew sat at a table in the last and final pub as we wrapped up the Benidorm pub golf video. My head was softly leaning on my boyfriend's shoulder when Ethan spoke. "Wait! Is it Harold's birthday now?" He asked.

Harry smiled shyly. "Ha, yeah it is," he replied. "Ohhhahhh!" Ethan rose promptly from his seat. A bright smile spread across my face as we all began singing happy birthday. Harry was clearly uncomfortable but he took the slight embarrassment like a champ as all of his friends drunkenly cheered.

"I'm old, I'm old man, I'm old," Harry repeated as JJ fist bumped him. "Join the club mate!" JJ laughed as he sat back down. We finished the last part of the video and then all made our way out of the loud pub.

"Happy Birthday," I whispered as me and Harry slowly walked behind the rest of the group, my hand gripping his bicep for stability. He smiled down at me. "You know what I'd really like for my present..." he wiggled his eyebrows. "Mmm, we'll see," I replied with a wink.

When we all arrived back at our hotel everyone went up to bed. Harry was on me as soon as I closed the hotel room door. I giggled softly as he trailed kisses over my shoulder from behind, his arms snaking around my torso.

I turned around in his arms and lifted his head up so that his lips could meet mine. The kiss was slow but hot. Throughout the night we'd both been teasing each other. I'd sat on his lap when there wasn't enough seats, which would've been fine if I wasn't purposely shuffling around. He'd repeatedly squeezed my thigh under the table and would slowly edge it up until I'd have to move it off of me before anyone clocked. So we were both already extremely horney.

I wrapped my arms around his neck as his hands hoisted me up using the backs of my thighs, I followed by encasing his hips with my legs. He moved us over to the king sized bed, lowering us both down in the centre of the fluffy sheets.

We took a moment to take in each other's features, it was like the world around us stopped for a moment as we both anticipated what was about to happen. Then, as if a switch had flipped, we both jumped into action.

Within seconds I'd kicked my heels off, he'd done the same with his trainers and we were both topless. I was becoming impatient as he struggled with his pants. "Haz..." I trailed off. "I know, I've got you baby, gimme two seconds," he muttered, voice horse. The room was dark though I could easily make out that he'd moved up onto his knees so that he could properly remove his pants.

When I felt his fingers unbuttoning my jeans a soft sigh left my lips. I lifted my hips off of the soft mattress so he could pull the denim off, along with my underwear.

Once his body finally pressed against mine our lips immediately attached. He was holding himself up using his forearms as one of my hands slowly rand down his stomach.

Harry groaned softly into my mouth as I wrapped my hand around his aching and painfully hard cock. "Fuck, need you so bad love," he muttered. "I'm right here," I whispered before lining him up at my entrance.

He pushed into me with such force a sharp gasp escaped from my lungs. "Jeez, Haz- ohh..." I moaned as pleasure flooded my body. My hands gripped his shoulders tightly as I attempted to ground myself.

The bang of the headboard hitting the wall continuously, our bodies connecting and the little "ah!" that escaped my mouth every time Harry thrusted into me was the only sounds filling the hotel room, along with Harry's soft grunts.

When his hand reached down to rub my clit I entered a different dimension. "Yes! Oh my- don't stop," I moaned, body on fire. His head moved to press gentle kisses down my jaw. "So good for me. Love you so much- 'm close baby," he rambled into my neck.

I chanted his name as I came. My vision turned white as I arched my back into him. "That's it, my girl- hmf..." he thrusted his hips deep into me as also came.

His weight pressed onto me as we caught our breaths. Harry lifted his head so he could see my face. "Best birthday present ever," he whispered with a cheeky smirk before pressing a gentle and soft kiss to my plump lips.

[clemswinecorner]

Birthday [Harry Lewis/W2S]

Summary: You and Harry have barely been dating when his birthday rolls around.

Wordcount: 2.1k

Warnings: swearing probably, nothing major

Happy Birthday to our favourite!! In honour of his birthday, I wrote this (don't mind this being published when his birthday only has like an hour left)

Main Masterlist

You and Harry had only been romantically involved with each other for a month or two when his birthday rolled around. You’d sent him a birthday text in the morning, of course, but didn’t see him until later in the day. He spent the morning with the Sidemen recording some golf video, and them and his friends would all meet up at his around 5 p.m. You were kind of nervous when you showed up, because it was your boyfriend’s birthday. Especially because the relationship was still so new, you were a bit nervous about how it would go and what the deal would be. You knew his friends since you’d met through Josh years ago, being Freya’s lifelong best friend. You made your way into the friend group when you moved to London, and had celebrated his birthday with him plenty of times before, but this year was different. It was Josh who opened the door, not Harry, and you greeted him with a smile. 

“Ah, look who’s here!” You give him a quick hug and greet Callum, who was just walking out of his room, with a smile. “I’ll tell him you got here, yeah?” He says, before he walks back to the living room. Harry’s roommates were both aware that you guys are more than friends, though you hadn’t explicitly told them. You’ve just taken off your coat and shoes when Harry walks in. “Oh, hello,” you turn around to him and smile. “Hey birthday boy,” you smile, holding out your hands for a hug, which he accepts. You smell the sweet cologne he usually wears when recording on his hoodie, as he holds you tight. You lean back, still looking at his face with your hands around his neck. “Happy birthday, my love!” You smile, placing a kiss on his lips. You can feel a smile form on his face as he pulls you closer to him. “Thank you, baby. Glad you could make it,” you jokingly roll your eyes. “What, you think I’d miss your birthday? I haven’t in years,” He lets out a nervous chuckle, scratching the back of his head. “Yeah, no, you haven’t. You look really nice, by the way,” he tells you, finally able to check you out. “Thank you. Now, do you want your present now or later?” You ask, and you interrupt him before he’s able to talk. “I know I didn’t have to get you anything, but I wanted to,” He smiles at your kindness, “Okay, thank you. I don’t know, I think a few people want to do it during dinner, but up to you,” You nod and think about it for a second. “I’ll give it later, then,” you say, dropping your tote bag on the floor. He nods, and walks back into the living room, with you following him. You greet everyone enthusiastically, not having seen most of them for a while. 

At around half six, Harry walked up to you, nudging your side. You turn your attention away from Simon, who you were in conversation with. “I’m going to get changed, and then we’re going, yeah?” You nod, excusing yourself as you put down your empty glass. You quickly pack two wrapped presents out of your bag, before you walk into his bedroom. He turns around, his shirt already off. You still weren’t tired of that view, and you shameless looked him up and down. He was already in his black trousers, and it was a shame he had to put on a shirt. “Sorry, could’ve knocked,” You softly say, and he shakes his head, “No it’s fine, was just confused who it was.” He sticks his arms through the sleeves, and god, this shouldn’t be as hot as it is. You sit on his bed, and he looks at you curiously as he buttons his shirt. “Sorry, just admiring my view,” you admit, and you can see a slight blush spreading on his neck and chest. He doesn’t say anything back. , nervously smiling as he focuses on his shirt. “Anyway, I have some presents with me as well,” He looks up again with a smile, taking a seat next to you. You first hand him a flat, squared present, making him look up curiously. “Did you talk to Cal about this?” He asks, glancing over to the record player that was still in its box in the corner of his room. You shrug, not wanting to give away anything. He carefully unwraps it and takes out the vinyl cover. “Oh wow,” he says, looking at the cover on the front, a photo you took of him and his friends last Halloween. He smiles, looking up at you, before he goes back to inspecting the cover and turning it around. He looks up at a soft smile of the picture of you looking at him, love evident in your eyes, and him looking down laughing. “Wow, that’s amazing. Is there an album in it?” He asks, looking at the pictures again. “So, Callum did mention to me how they were getting you a record player, yes. It’s, err, actually been custom pressed, it says the songs on the cover as well,” His eyes widen. “Oh wow, that’s incredible. Holiday pub golf version oh I love that,” looking on the A side, which had the picture with his friends. He turns it around, reading the B-Side, “Tiny Dancer, Elton John, oh that’s the one that played when we went on our first date, isn’t it?” You nod, and smile at the memory. “Yeah, I wasn’t sure if you’d remember that. Side A is like, Sidemen related songs, and like, Wild Ones and then the other one is like… Songs that remind me of you, and us,” she explains. “Ooh, Wild Ones, that’s a gem. Wow, thank you, this is really cool,” he embraces you, setting the Vinyl down on his bed for a second to embrace you. “Thank you, that’s wonderful,” he whispers, pulling back to give you a kiss. You smile, and kiss him back, the same butterflies exploding as the many times before. “Harry, we have to get to the restaurant,” You remind him when you take a second to catch your breath. “Yeah, yeah.”

The group arrives at the restaurant around seven, walking there from Harry’s place. You and Harry go in first to inform the staff of the reservation, whilst the group waits outside and chats. Because it was a slightly bigger group of about 15 people that were all relatively well known, he’d rented the small upper floor that was a small extension of the restaurant that would normally fit about twenty people. You go outside to get the rest of the group and enter the cosy room, that has a classy Italian aesthetic. They’d put the tables together, so everyone could fit around, and you take place next to Harry and Callux, Ethan sitting on the other side of Harry and Chip and Callum sitting across from you. You grab his hand under the table as everyone orders their drinks, shuffling a bit closer. When everyone has ordered, the boys decide it’s time for presents, before people get too drunk or too engaged in conversations. The boys make their rounds, at least the ones that didn’t give him anything already, before it gets back to you. Harry looks at you, not expecting you to have anything from him, as you get a small box shaped wrapped present out of your bag. “Y/N, you already got me something,” He lowly says, “No, it’s just something small, please just open it,” you ask, giggling at the thought of the present. Harry reluctantly takes it, tearing off the wrapping paper. He looks at the box, opening it to reveal six golf balls. “Wait, are these…” He looks at you with a laugh on his face, and you nod. “Oh my god, that’s amazing,” he lets out a genuine laugh, taking out one of the golf balls to look at it closely. Ethan looks over, also laughing at the images on the balls. A few of the guys look confuse, so you look at them to explain it, “They’re golf balls with pictures of me on them,” you tell them, and everyone laughs, wanting to see them. When Harry has the box in front of him, now empty as the balls are being passed around, he turns towards you. “Thank you, baby, I love that,” he says, leaning a bit closer. This was kind of dangerous, knowing his friends all surrounded you, but you didn’t really care. They’d know at some point anyway. “It’s just a silly thing, but I’m glad you like it,” you say, looking into his eyes you can see his smile in. He leans closer until your lips are touching, whispering another thank you before he gives you one last peck, moving back. He moves his arm onto the back of your chair, lightly grazing your shoulder, as you see Josh looking at you with raised eyebrows.  Tobi clears his throat, “Anything you want to tell us, guys?” Harry’s eyes widen at the realization of what he’s just done, and you give him a reassuring smile. “Oh. Well, we’re, like, together. Please no big deal though, we’re just, you know,” Harry rambles, and you smile, taking his hand under his table. He briefly looks at you, and relaxes when he realizes you’re okay. “Ayy they both finally did it, everyone give it up for Harry and Y/N!” Chip exclaims as everyone cheers, and you hide on Harry’s shoulder as you chuckle in embarrassment. You sit up again and see Callux give you a small smile, leaning closer to you. “I’m glad you have each other, he has been happier because of you. And you seem more yourself, too. I’m glad,” he shared, making you smile. “Thank you, genuinely. And also for not really asking, took us a while to figure out what we wanted,” she admits, and he nods, “Of course. Oh, is it time for the thing yet?” He changes the topic, and you look back at Harry laughing with Ethan, Simon, and Callum. “Oh, yeah, can you ask Theo? He has the present,” Callux nods as you turn back to Harry, nudging him. “There’s one more present,” You say, interrupting the conversation. The boys all look at you, understanding the signal to shut up, and Harry frowns, trying to work out whom he missed.

Theo speaks up, “Okay, so, this is from all of us, really,” he tells him, looking around the group. “I do think I speak for all of us when I say you mostly have Y/N to thank, though, because she did a wonderful job working it out, but it’s a bit of a group effort, from us, to you,” He explains, handing over a square, somewhat thick, package. Harry looks around the group curiously as everyone expectantly watches him unpack it. “Harry through our eyes, a reminder of our love for you,” he reads curiously, opening the book. He opens it to a written page surrounded by group pictures of him and his friends and family. ‘Harry,’ it reads, ‘You’ve done so much for all of us, we wanted to give you something back. You mean so much to every single one of us individually, and you deserve to know. This is who you are through our eyes, hopefully you see the same magic we do in you.’ He looks up around the group, before he flips to the next page filled with crazy pictures of him. He lets out a chuckle, turning the page to see a combination of written texts and pictures. “You can read it all later, but it’s basically all of us and some more people sharing what they think about you. Stories, pictures, memories. Your parents and siblings are in it as well. Just, for whenever you need it,” you explain, as he flicks through the book. “Wow. Thank you guys, wow, that is so, umm, my god. Thank you,” he says, truly meaning it. You smile, resting your hand on his thigh. You make relaxing motions, Harry clearly a bit overwhelmed with his emotions, as he briefly looks through. “Oh wow, these are old,” he chuckles, looking at a picture Chris had taken of him the first time they’d met. He looks around the group once more. “Thank you guys, thank you,” He expresses once more, and everyone reacts with a smile, “Of course,” or some other form of reaction. Harry kisses your cheek as a thank you as he turns to you once more. “Thank you, it’s wonderful.” You smile, looking into his eyes. “You deserve to know how loved you are.”

[hldailyupdate]

Each year, in celebration of Louis and Harry’s birthdays, we choose a cause that resonates with the fandom to support through donations.

This year, we have decided to do things differently. Instead of separate fundraisers, we’re coming together for a joint effort, and following the immense loss of Liam Payne, we have decided to partner with The Dinner Party, a charity that focuses on helping people navigate the difficult journey of grief.

Read more on the wonderful work The Dinner Party has done, honour Liam’s memory and consider donating if you can ❤️

[startanewdream]

A small Harry and Minerva moment, set after the final battle, in honour of Minerva's birthday.

*****

"I am not coming back," Harry blurts out. Next to him, Minerva's only reaction is a flicker on her spell: for a moment, the broken chairs of the Transfiguration classroom get extra pairs of legs that make them look like spiders.

When the chairs go back to normal, she turns to Harry with an impassive look.

"I imagined so."

Harry blinks. "You did? You never mentioned anything."

Minerva shares his surprise. "It was not my place to say anything. You are of age now."

"So all this time I've been helping here at Hogwarts, you just knew and went along with it?"

"Would it please you if I say I do not agree with your decision?"

"Yes, actually."

There's a hint of a smile on Minerva's lips. "I think you should come back to school."

"Oh." Harry looks down at his feet before moving to fix the bricks on the wall. Despite what he just told her, it's undeniable that this was not what Harry wanted to hear. "You think I am not ready?"

He sounds young. It's difficult to match this adult Harry — nearly eighteen-year-old, tall like his father, and spotting too many scars for his age — with the eleven-year-old who was sorted into her House, but that's the memory that resurfaces: Harry is eleven and he was caught out of his bed at night, losing 50 points to Gryffindor. He'd looked upset at the idea of being a disappointment.

That's how he looks now.

"You are of age," she repeats, her voice more tender than she allows herself around him, lest she betrays her soft spot for him. Harry's eyes are hungry as he turns to face her. "You faced more than any exam could measure — you faced things that cannot be measured." She thinks about the unconfirmed tales of a sacrifice and master of death, and it's not easy to match this with a boy worried about homework and deadlines. "From an educational point of view, I believe your time at Hogwarts has concluded."

Harry watches her. "But?" He guesses.

She allows herself a little smile. "But education is not all Hogwarts has to offer." She remembers seeing that scrawny kid laughing as he first took flight on a school broomstick; three friends sitting outside on a winter afternoon, bundling up next to a warm blue fire and sharing tales; a boy and his girlfriend, walking hand-in-hand through the halls, oblivious to any gossip. "I would be glad if you returned only to enjoy your Seventh Year as a common student. No threat. No drama. Just school."

"Just school," he repeats, his gaze far away now as if he could see it. Then Harry blinks. "Hermione and Ginny are coming back. Ron is not, though."

Minerva nods. She won't say it, but sometimes she wonders if the fact that Ron Weasley isn't returning isn't what's weighing most on Harry. Inseparable like brothers. Like father, like son.

"Do you think my parents would be okay with it?"

This time, the question baffles her; she's glad she wasn't transforming anything because it might have been disastrous.

"I do not believe I am qualified to answer this, Harry," she says.

"Ah, it's just —" He holds the back of his head, ruffling his hair, unaware that this was what James did when he was embarrassed. "You are one of the last people that knew them."

And this, as far as Minerva is concerned, is a terrible thing. James and Lily would be only thirty-eight if they were alive. She has lived now nearly four times what they did; how is it that there are now so few people that knew them?

Harry looks young once again. She knows he's made up his mind — and like Lily, he's adamant once he's decided something —, so this need for validation isn't what she associates with the young man she saw standing up to Voldemort one month ago.

But for all his deeds, Harry is just a boy who grew up longing for his parents — parents who had loved him fiercely, she knows. She doubts Harry might ever do anything that James and Lily wouldn't support — God knows Minerva supports him, and she isn't even his relative — but she also thinks they would insist that Harry return to his final year.

Seventh Year. That had been the year when James and Lily were Head Boy and Head Girl, and the future had looked promising to both. That had been the year when they had started dating; when the darkness of the war hadn't yet tinted their lives. When they had been the happiest. How could they not want the same for Harry?

But that's not what she tells him. "Yes," she lies calmly. "James and Lily would approve it."

Harry breathes easily. "Thanks." He moves to fix another desk, not noticing how, a long time ago, someone carved JP+LE in the wood.

Harry's spellwork is good. He might enjoy some refinement, but she doubts he will be fixing desks in his future job, so instead of commenting on it, she just lets it slide.

"Of course," she notes with a hint of humour, "if you came back, it would not have been all fun. I would have high expectations for you."

"Quidditch?" Harry guesses. "I'd say that Gryffindor is safe in Ginny's hands."

"I enjoy the Quidditch trophy in my office," she agrees. "But alas I was thinking about another responsibility. A Head Boy badge would suit you." Harry's eyes widen; she is once more sorry for not insisting harder with Albus that Harry should have been made prefect. "As it did your parents."

Harry smiles. "I would enjoy that."

"There are tons of paperwork, I might warn you — though not unlike being an Auror." Harry chuckles. "But either way, Harry, your parents would have been proud."

As I am proud of you, she thinks.

[tinyhrry]



Angst

untitled (@avatar-anna)

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[musicforastylesrestaurant]

The Finish Line.

masterlist || ask me anything <3

my blurb masterlist is here.

authors note - in honour of the london marathon being held today, and my dad running, enjoy this little blurb.

word count - 1.3k

in which, harrys wife is running the london marathon, having been signed up by her sister in law gemma as a joke and now as she is nearing the finish line, harry is determined to be there to greet her.

2023.

As you sit in your cozy living room on your birthday, your husband Harry by your side and your one-year-old son peacefully asleep on the cushion next to him, you feel content. Gemma, your sister-in-law, suddenly interrupts the tranquil moment with a mischievous grin on her face.

"Happy birthday, sis! I've got another present for you," Gemma announces, holding out an envelope with excitement.

You accept it, exchanging puzzled glances with Harry. "Oh, Gem, you didn't have to get me anything else. You've already spoiled me enough."

Gemma shakes her head, insisting, "Trust me, you're going to love this one. Open it!"

With a mixture of curiosity and apprehension, you tear open the envelope. Your heart skips a beat as you pull out a letter. Your eyes widen in disbelief as you read the words:

"Congratulations! You've been signed up for the 2024 London Marathon."

Your jaw drops, and you stare at Gemma in shock. "What?! Are you serious?!"

Gemma's grin widens. "Absolutely! I know you've been talking about wanting to challenge yourself, and what better way than running a marathon, right?"

You can feel the panic rising within you. "But Gem, I've never even run a half-marathon before! This is insane!"

Harry chuckles, trying to lighten the mood. "Well, looks like you've got some training to do, m’love."

You shake your head, still in denial. "No, no way. I can't do this. I'm not ready for something like that.”

2024.

And now, just under halfway through,just seconds away from reaching mile ten,doubts start creeping in, and your legs feel heavier with each step.

The cheering crowds blend into a blur of noise around you.

Just when you're on the verge of giving up, a familiar voice cuts through the chaos, calling your name.

You glance up and spot Harry and your son standing behind the barricades, their faces lit up with pride and encouragement.

With a surge of determination, you veer towards them, pushing through the throngs of runners, apologising when you get in the way.

When you reach them, you're breathless and exhausted, but seeing their smiling faces fills you with a renewed sense of hope.

"H-Harry," you pant, trying to catch your breath. "I don't think I can do this. It hurts."

Harry wraps his arms around you, offering comfort and support. "Hey, hey, you've got this. You've trained so hard f’this moment. Y’stronger than you think."

Tears well up in your eyes as you lean into his embrace. "But what if I can't finish? What if I let everyone down?"

Harry gently tilts your chin up to meet his gaze. "Listen to me, m’love. You've never been a quitter, and you're not about to start now. Remember why you're doing this – for yourself, for our family, We believe in you, and we'll be right here cheering you on every step of the way."

You glance down at your sleeping son, his innocent face a poignant reminder of the love and support surrounding you.

With a determined nod, you straighten up, wiping away your tears. "Okay, I'll keep going. For us."

Harry flashes you a proud smile, planting a kiss on your forehead. "S’my girl. Now go show 'em what you're made of. We'll be waiting for you at the finish line."

It takes you around another two hours to near the finish line, every step feels like an uphill battle.

Your ankle throbs with each stride, threatening to give out beneath you, and a wave of nausea washes over you. The cheers of the crowd blend into a distant hum as you focus all your energy on putting one foot in front of the other.

Your vision blurs with tears of pain and exhaustion, but you can see the finish line looming ahead like a beacon of hope. With every ounce of determination left in you, you push forward, the crowd's encouragement spurring you on.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, you limp across the finish line. Tears stream down your face as you collapse onto the ground, the rush of emotions overwhelming you. The volunteer at the finish line rushes over, their concern evident as they kneel beside you.

"Hey there, are you alright? Do you need medical attention?" the volunteer asks, their voice filled with genuine concern.

You manage to nod weakly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I-I think so. Just... just give me a moment."

The volunteer nods understandingly, offering you a bottle of water and helping you sit up. "Take your time. You did an amazing job out there. You should be really proud of yourself."

As you cling to the poor volunteer, you turn to the her with a hopeful expression. "Um, excuse me, could you... could you help me over to my husband, please?"

The volunteer nods understandingly, offering you a supportive arm. "Of course, let's get you over there."

With the volunteer's assistance, you limp over to Harry, each step feeling like a small victory. As you draw closer, Harry's eyes light up with relief and love, his arms open wide to welcome you.

"Thank you so much," you murmur to the volunteer, tears still streaming down your face.

She smiles warmly. "It's my pleasure. Congratulations on finishing the marathon. You're an inspiration."

You nod, touched by her words, before turning your attention back to Harry. His eyes are filled with love and pride as he opens his arms to you, and you melt into his embrace, feeling the warmth and safety of his love surrounding you.

"Oh, Harry," you whisper, tears of exhaustion and joy streaming down your cheeks. "I did it."

He holds you close, his embrace a comforting anchor in the midst of your overwhelming emotions.

"Yes, you did," he murmurs, his voice soft and full of admiration. "I'm so proud of you, m’love. You're incredible."

You bury your face in his chest, inhaling his familiar scent and reveling in the feeling of being wrapped in his arms. "I couldn't have done it without you," you admit, your voice muffled against his shirt.

He presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head, his touch tender and reassuring. "Y’stronger than you know, darling. And I'll always be here to support you, every step of the way."

Your heart swells with love for him, overwhelmed by the depth of his devotion.

"I love you, Harry," you whisper, your words a vow of gratitude and affection.

"I love you too, my darling," he replies, his voice filled with warmth and sincerity. "Now let's get you some rest. You've earned it."

Your son looks up from the stroller, his face breaking into a wide grin as he reaches out for you.

"Mama!" he exclaims, his little arms outstretched.

"Hey there, my little champion," you coo, scooping him up into your arms. His giggles fill the air as you pepper his chubby cheeks with kisses, each one a testament to the overwhelming love you feel for him.

Harry watches with a tender smile, his eyes shining with pride and adoration.

"Look at you two," he says, his voice filled with warmth. "My heart could burst with how much I love you both."

You laugh through your tears, the exhaustion and elation of the moment blending together in a whirlwind of emotion.

"I love you too, Harry," you say, your voice choked with emotion. "So much."

With trembling hands, you reach for the medal hanging around your neck, the weight of it a physical reminder of the journey you've just completed. Carefully, you drape it around your son's neck, the metal cool against his warm skin.

"There you go, my little marathoner," you say, your voice catching in your throat. "You deserve this just as much as I do."

Harry wraps his arms around you both, holding you close as you bask in the glow of this precious moment.

"I couldn't be prouder of you, love," he whispers, his breath warm against your ear.

"You're my hero."

[draco-dormiens]

FOR ALL THAT IS RIGHT AND JUST - Chp. 2

auror!draco x auror!fem!slytherin reader / post-war au

warnings: mild violence, draco is an insufferable flirt, mutual pining, drama!!

wc: 2762

tags: @yeolsbubbles @send-me-styles @shinytalent @malfoylover4l @satorulevi

tag list open!!

masterlist

Suspicious Wizard on the Hogwarts Express

Draco made sure to meet you outside of your apartment complex that morning. As much as his sarcastic and humorous nature shone through, he was also a very worrisome person, especially when it came to those close to him. Within his circle of remaining friends, it was safe to say that you were the most precious and cherished one of them all.

Many years ago, as you grew up in the countryside of England, you had met Draco Malfoy for the very first time. Perhaps four or five years old, hiding behind your mother's skirt as the Malfoy family graciously welcomed you to their home one New Years Eve. Draco's mother, Narcissa, was one of the most elegant women you had ever seen, and you remember thinking how she looked like a lady from your fairy-tale books. She knelt down to your level and introduced herself, little Draco holding on to her hand, as she kindly asked your name.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," she said softly, "this is my son, Draco. What's your name, dear?"

From that moment on, it was as if you had known Draco in a past life. The two of you, along with children from other pureblood families, played in the ginormous garden that backed onto the magnificent Malfoy manor, and hours were lost hiding in the hedges from one another and running, screaming and laughing until the sky went dark. You would sleep in his four poster bed with silky green bed sheets and throws knitted in the Slytherin house colours, attend birthday parties, Christmas parties, and all matter of occasions at Draco's home. Life was a bottled dream of endless fun and contentment, and the first five years of school were just as momentous.

It wasn't until your third year that you started seeing Draco a little differently. When he'd returned from his family holiday and met you on the train platform, a new feeling erupted in your body and took the words right out of your mouth. You distinctly remember how long you embarrassingly stared at him, upon realising that the little boy you once knew was growing into a fine young man. His hair was different; not long and slicked back, but framing his face in the most wonderful way. He was taller, his body more refined from Quidditch, and his facial features had matured. In fact, he wasn't Draco at all - he was a handsome boy you'd just met for the first time in your life. He laughed at your gawking expression, before playfully pushing your shoulder and saying, "You'll catch flies, Y/L/N," before embracing you in a bone crushing hug. And it was in that moment, when he hugged your body against his, that you knew the feeling blossoming in your chest was different.

Unbeknownst to you, however, Draco was having just as hard a time absorbing the look of your maturing self. Your uniform fit different now, and your hair was silky and neatly presented. As you were growing up, certain elements of adolescence were kicking in, and Draco was starting to forget the little girl that would cry when she scraped her knee and ran around after him claiming he was far too fast to keep up with. Now, he was seeing a young woman, and realising how undeniably pretty his best friend truly was. In fact, he thought you were simply divine.

And he still does - to this very day.

"Ah, there she is," he announces, as you appear from the entrance to your building, rolling your eyes as he dramatically holds his arms out towards you, "the most wonderful woman in the world. Do me the honours of a hug, would you, ma'am?"

You oblige him, of course, still completely oblivious that his sarcasm was in fact his honest truth. He seemed more relaxed than yesterday in Harry's office, but you knew it was his most trained ability to bury his emotions. It was a sad reality, really. The two of you had cared for one another in a way that surpassed friendship for so long and yet, here you still were, hugging as friends. The fear of losing what you had built throughout your lives together; the friendship, the bond, the trust  - it was terrifying to think it could all be lost at sea if you pursued those bottled feelings, just to end up severing the golden ties that had kept you together for so long. The unknown of it had kept you the same all these years, trying to feel that fire with other people and getting a cold, frosty breeze instead.

"Draco, you're squishing me." You mumble into his shoulder, and he lets go, smiling down at you with a toothy grin, "we have to do our best today," you then tell him seriously, "going back will be... hard, but we have an important job. Harry is depending on us."

"Do you have no faith in me?" he holds a hand over his chest, looking completely devastated and ignoring how you were trying to make him feel more at ease with returning, "how could you say such a thing, to your best friend? Honestly, I like to think myself rather serious."

"You know that's not what I mean," you then say, slightly softer, and he swallows thickly, the sarcastic look he was so well known for wiping from his face immediately.

"Let's not start with that," he then smiles, as if he pressed a switch and his steely exterior was back in place of his much more vulnerable one, "Potter's depending on us, like you said, right?"

Platform 9 3/4 was practically teeming with people. Students you had known as teenagers now fully grown adults, some even with families and children, all arriving to take part in the memorial that afternoon. Professors from past years and even representatives from other wizarding schools were all waiting to board the train to Hogwarts. Being back there after so many years felt very foreign. So many memories, good and bad, were shared on that train. Tears were shed and smiles were shared on the platform where you stood. You feel Draco's hand on your waist as he leaned in to whisper something.

"Don't be alarmed," he said lowly, "but I've already seen someone I'm not too keen on."

"Where?" you ask quietly, and Draco tells you to look towards a man dressed in a tweed suit, smoking a pipe as he leans against far wall. By his feet is a briefcase, in his hands the Daily Prophet. The front cover had large letters that read: Memorial at Hogwarts: Ten Years On. "What's raised your suspicion, Malfoy?"

Draco begins to walk you along the platform, hand still on your waist. "First," he begins, "he's alone. Do you see anyone else standing by themselves? He's deliberately standing out of the way, covering most of his face with that paper. Second, he has a briefcase. What would he need that for? Staying for a few nights at Hotel Hogwarts? Don't think so." He stops you both at the entrance to one of the carriages, "and lastly, I just don't care for his demeanor. Something feels off about the way he's watching everyone. It's like he's looking for someone in particular."

Sometimes Draco reminds you why his talents as a Auror were renowned. Thanks to his family's name, much like your own, the war had affected him in ways others couldn't comprehend. It was his chance to make a difference and break out of the mold that his family had set him in, and his success is proof that he's not the cowardly accomplice everyone once thought he was. You admire him for a moment, in awe of his observation skills. When his eyes meet yours again, he gives you a lopsided smile. "Like what you see?"

A furious heat spreads over your cheeks as you pull your eyes from him. You can feel the way he's looking at you in such a smug way, knowing full well how much of a kick he gets out of casually flirting with you. You push his hand from your waist.

"Shut up," you snap lightly, "None of your... jokes, Draco. If you feel strongly about what you said then we should keep an eye on him. Watch what carriage he gets into."

The whistle on the Hogwarts Express bellows throughout the station, signalling its passengers to get on board. Carriage doors open, and people begin piling on. Both you and Draco hang back slightly, taking a mental note of where the suspicious man enters the train, and follow the crowd that he boards with. As he takes his seat at the farthest end of the carriage, Draco leads you to a seat just behind him, but with enough of a view to keep a watchful eye. You both sit, eyes flickering to the man every so often. You notice how no one interacts with him, as if not a soul on that train knew him. He opens up the paper once more, and stays on the same page for a curious amount of time. With so many people around, it was hard to communicate with Draco to see what he was thinking, but with one wink in your direction, you knew he was on the same page.

"Can't remember it taking this long," Draco says in your ear after some time chugging along the English countryside, "how did we pass the time back then?"

"I remember playing eye spy with Daph and Pans," you smile at the memory, "you, Blaise and Theo just talked about girls mostly. Or sometimes the next Quidditch season."

"Blaise and Theo had way more ladies than me," Draco then defends himself, and you look across at him, head resting against the seat and another one of those smirks on his face, "I can't even remember dating anyone back then."

"I thought you had a thing with Pansy at one point?" You laughed quietly, and he grimaced.

"That was... yeah. Not fond of that memory." Draco shakes his head and scrunches up his nose. You giggle that sweet sound he's always been so fond of, "anyway, what about you? Remember Marcus Flint? He had a huge thing for you."

"Flint?" you exclaim softly, "oh Merlin, Dray. I can't get into that."

He adored when you called him that. A little piece of your school years that never left. It may have only been a nickname, but it was said with such warmth that he'd long to hear it. Even now, he cherishes the moments it falls from your lips. Then a rather sickly feeling starts to swirl in his stomach, remembering that recently, you'd gone out on a date with a guy called Eddie Carmichael. Eddie was a Ravenclaw in the year above you. It was a shock to hear from him after such a long while, but he had recently visited the Auror office regarding some miscalculations in his business he couldn't quite explain, and his case was assigned to you.

Three dates later and he was ready to be serious - unfortunately for him, that was never on your agenda. He was nice, and would surely treat someone right one day, but that someone just wasn't you. Eddie tried to owl a few times since, but had given up not too long ago. Draco, after eyeing the man you were watching and noticing he hadn't move a muscle, had the sudden urge to ask you about it. He didn't usually pry on your dating life. After all, he'd rather not know.

"So, Carmichael," he says, his usual confident tone masking any sincerity, "are you a thing?"

"I haven't seen him in a month," you say dismissively, wanting to talk about anything other than this topic of conversation, "he was nice and all. Just wouldn't work out."

Draco nods, and then a thick silence falls over the both of you. It was awkward for a moment, as it normally was when either of your romantic escapades were mentioned. Then you decide to give him a taste of his own medicine.

"Anyway, I heard you took a Hufflepuff out," you say as casually as possible, "take it she was just for the night, then?"

Draco laughs and runs a hand through his hair, worried that you might hear how hard his heart was thundering against his ribcage. His romantic life was anything but that; mostly made up of one night stands and unanswered letters, and he hated that you knew that. It wasn't his proudest trait, but he just hadn't found anyone to settle with.

His mind was always everywhere but the person in front of him.

"She was alright," he clears his throat and looks out the window at the passing fields, "not much to talk about. She's much better off dating someone else."

You decide not to say anymore, already regretting the decision to ask. The conversation was quickly forgotten however, when the castle appeared over the brow of a hill, basking in the sunlight of the Scottish highlands, as majestic as ever. People in the carriage began to point and comment on its beauty, as the man who you were watching began to get up. You nudge Draco hard, and his attention snaps to the man now walking down the aisle of the carriage. The two of you rise, the commotion about the castle acting as a smoke shield to your movements, and follow him, at a distance, through your carriage and into the next. You both take a seat at the back of the next carriage, in case he turns to see you behind him. As he walks, he appears to drop a small piece of paper on the ground. You look at it suspiciously, and before you can say anything, it bursts open with a thick, black cloud of smoke that begins to fill up the carriage to the ceiling. The passengers begin to panic, confused voices and parents desperately calming their children. Draco grabs your wrist, as to let you know he's still there. Feeling your way through the smoke, you eventually end up at the door to the next carriage. Draco's hand is still around your wrist, and you feel him pull you into his chest as he leans over and opens the carriage door. The smoke begins filtering out, and as it does, you notice the man from before, desperately trying to detach the carriage connection.

"Oh no you don't." You shout, and kick your heel into his hands. The man retracts with a wailed cry, and looks up at you with disgust in his face. Draco grabs his wand as the man draws his own. You tell the passengers to get back into their seats, as a spark of red spurts out the end of the man's wand. Draco deflects it expertly, but the man wasn't finished. He opens his mouth, raising his wand in the air as the forbidden words begin to leave his lips.

"Avada-"

With the wind whistling through the carriage, the train flying along the track at break-neck speed, passengers screaming, Draco decides to resort to the old fashioned way of doing things before the man can finish the curse. He grabs the man by the collar and drags him back into the carriage, all the while the speed of the train causing his white-knuckle grip to loosen against the side of the carriage. As soon as the man hits the floor with a thud, you point your wand and yell; "Petrificus Totalus!" The man freezes, Draco slams the door shut, and for a moment, an ear piercing silence falls over the carriage. You look up at Draco, his chest heaving, leaning against the door with his hand in his hair.

"Who is that man?" a woman asks, clutching her child to her side, "how did he get on here?"

"Don't worry, ma'am, we're from the Ministry," you take your badge out of your pocket and relief floods her face, "I can't answer any questions yet, but I can promise that you are safe with us."

Draco lifts himself off the door and wanders over to stand above the frozen man on the floor. He plucks the wand from the man's hand and inspects it before shoving it into his pocket. He then takes the newspaper sticking out of his briefcase, and kicks the briefcase along to you. You stop it just under your foot. He then reminds you why it's best to be on his good side, as he flashes the nastiest, tethering on evil smile you've ever seen at the culprit.

"Thanks old chap," he says in a condescending tone, "hope you haven't done the crossword."

disclaimer: i do not own harry potter or any of the characters or storyline associated with it

[wearingaberetinparis]

Happy belated Birthday to my girl Lily!

I've got the flu, so I do apologize in advance if this is not the quality you would normally expect. I just wanted to post something real quick to honour Lily's birthday as she had too few good ones!

[metalomagnetic]

---Voldemort spends Sirius' birthday with him.---

I remember very late in the day that today it's Sirius' bday, so I wrote this very fast, because I just had to honour our man.

I decided what he'd most like for his bday is Voldemort simping for him, so there you go!

[goodqueenaly]

Hi I loved your thoughts on Myranda Royce and was wondering what your thoughts were on Bronze Yohn? He seems an honourable sort but almost a bit to Ned Starkish for his own good. Do you think him and Sansa will end up saving each other by bringing down Littlefinger?

I think Bronze Yohn Royce is in many ways about as typical a Westerosi aristocrat, and specifically a blue-blooded Valeman, as we’re likely to find throughout the Seven Kingdoms. Even before we meet Lord Royce on page, we hear of him through social-political reputation: he is the head of Ser Waymar’s “ancient house with too many heirs”, the great lord whom Lord Commander Mormont was too afraid of insulting to refuse the under-experienced Ser Waymar command of his fatal ranging, the high-ranking guest of Winterfell welcomed at table with Lady Catelyn and in the yard and at hunt with Lord Eddard. His place among the top tier of Westerosi aristocracy has been long assured: Royce attended both the tourney of Harrenhal and the tourney at Lannisport, tilting at both, and defeated at least Thoros of Myr at the melee held to celebrate Joffrey’s twelfth birthday. Nor does Lord Yohn appear less than impressive when he comes into the story himself: Sansa counts him among the “heroes of a hundred songs” who pass by her at the Hand’s tourney, and almost reverently describes his namesake runic armor to Jeyne Poole. Indeed, Catelyn indirectly acknowledges Bronze Yohn’s stature in Westerosi, and particularly Vale, aristocracy by describing Nestor Royce as “Bronze Yohn’s cousin, from a lesser branch of House Royce”; even another aristocrat in his own right should, in Catelyn’s mind, be defined by his relation to the much greater Lord Royce.

Unfortunately for Bronze Yohn, being so typically aristocratic has at times influenced his decision-making, occasionally leading to unwinnable situations where traditional blue-blood lines of thought and operation simply do not work. If Royce was not alone in rejecting Tyrion as a bridegroom for one of his female relations, his refusal reflects the widespread ableism found among Westeros’ elite. Along with the majority of the other great (male) aristocrats of the Vale (at least according to Kevan Lannister), Lord Royce sought to court the widowed Lysa in order to exercise power as a sort of jure uxoris regent; unwilling, perhaps, to engage in a sort of Ainslie Bond-like approach to forcing Lysa into an aristocratically appropriate marriage (much less actually trying to imitate the historical Earl of Bothwell), and convinced that the Vale could only be ruled by an Arryn or one of the highest birth who was himself (specifically himself) closest to an Arryn, Bronze Yohn was perhaps, like his countrymen, stuck with simply trying to woo Lysa into marrying him in order to effect the changes he wanted. Even more problematically for Bronze Yohn (and his allies), in their approach toward Petyr Baelish the Lords Declarant were simply outmatched, caught by the very aristocratic forms they were trying to enforce. Certain that only a blue-blooded Valeman would do to raise Jon Arryn’s son, disdainful of the relatively lower born second husband of Lysa Tully controlling the Arryn heir, Bronze Yohn was, like his allies, limited to making bald but impotent threats against a man with sufficient personal and royal resources (themselves largely one and the same, of course, as the late great Steven Attewell explained) not to be intimidated by such posturing. In turn, Bronze Yohn seems to have poured at least some of his energies into cultivating the would-be Arryn heir, Harry Hardyng, staging (in every sense of the word) a melee at Runestone and knighting the victorious Harry thereafter; it is perhaps not unlikely, if no better for it, that Bronze Yohn, intractably opposed to Littlefinger, encouraged young Harry to look down on Littlefinger - a snobbishness that for Harry has extended, at least initially, to open rudeness toward “Alayne Stone”.

However, Bronze Yohn’s ironclad (or should it be bronzeclad?) belief in his aristocratic position does not preclude him from a willingness to act in the name of honor, and to lead his family accordingly. While he might have been pursuing Lysa as a suitor, Bronze Yohn was nevertheless not shy about “stirring up all sorts of trouble”, in Lysa’s opinion, by demanding that “[Lysa] call [her] banners and go to war” on the side of Robb Stark - a recognition by Lord Royce, I think, not just of the historical kinship between Stark and Royce (and the threat to him personally, as one of those identified in Cersei’s initial demand for homage) but also of the generally dishonorable conduct of the Lannister-Baratheon regime. Too, though Yohn Royce obviously did not know about the secret agreement between Lyn Corbray and Littlefinger (nor, by extension, the pretended dramatics Lyn acted out during the Lords Declarant meeting), Bronze Yohn responded with honorably appropriate fury - denouncing the man he believed was his ally to defend the hallowed tradition of guest right (even where the beneficiary of that tradition, in this scenario, was the much-loathed Petyr Baelish). Likewise, I think due credit should be given to Bronze Yohn for raising at least two of his sons (certainly those two most familiar to us as readers) with a sense of duty and bravery even in the face of unwindable odds: though both Waymar and Robar demonstrated some of the haughty self-assurance typical of young Westerosi aristocrats of their rank (albeit perhaps not totally for Waymar), both also proved willing to die in the name of honor - Waymar distinguishing himself as a man of the Night’s Watch in doing battle against the Others, Robar allowing Catelyn and Brienne time to flee while he himself fought the grief-stricken Loras Tyrell following Renly’s murder.

Ultimately, I do believe that Bronze Yohn will be an ally to Sansa, both because of that aristocratic standing as well as his personal sense of honor. Sansa already considered revealing herself to Bronze Yohn when the latter came with the Lords Declarant to the Eyrie, and while she decided against doing so in the moment, she had no way of knowing that her reasoning was wrong: Royce did want to fight for Robb, and with Sansa the last remaining legitimate Stark (or so Sansa and Bronze Yohn believe for now, anyway), I think there is a very good chance that Royce will want to fight for her once Littlefinger’s plan to reveal her kicks into gear. Moreover, if Sansa, learning of Littlefinger’s crimes against her family and her friend Jeyne, calls upon northern and Vale lords to cast him down, I firmly believe Royce will be first in line, ready and more than willing to cast down the man Sansa knows was responsible for Jon Arryn’s death (among much else).

[princesspogue]

social media au

pov: mick fleetwood’s daughter being harry’s gf

pairing: harry styles x y/n

face claim: madelyn cline

ynfleetwood

Liked by harrystyles, dualipa and 358,993 others

ynfleetwood dad/daughter date at harry’s house

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fan34 this is father daughter goals omg

fan19 i want a dad that’ll come to concerts with me 💔

gemmastyles Hope you enjoyed! xxx

↳ Liked by ynfleetwood

fan12 harry liked this post so quickly lmao

fan04 why didn’t harry bring mick out to play 😤

celebritysights

Liked by fan84, fan01 and 218,941 others

celebritysights Looks like Harry Styles and Y/N Fleetwood are stirring up some Rumours themselves- being seen getting into the same car yesterday after Harry’s show. 👀👩‍❤️‍👨❗️

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fan88 Mick was seen getting in the car too y’all stop speculating 😭

fan03 they’d make such a good couple omg

fan39 Y/N living her best nepo baby life

fan61 did you see this @/fan73 !!!!

ynfleetwood

Liked by harrystyles, annetwist and 411,112 others

ynfleetwood Honoured to be a part of this campaign with my dad. Shop Shroom Bloom, the second micro-collection, now at Pleasing.com 🍄🍄🍄🍄

Find your Pleasing.

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fan74 this is so cool 😍

fan44 but i’m broke Y/N don’t do this to me 😭

gemmastyles ❤️🍄

fan61 iconic

fan04 harry and yet again liking Y/N’s picture within 1 minute… 👀

ynfleetwood

Liked by harrystyles, mickfleetwoodofficial and 331,119 others

ynfleetwood date night

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fan77 coincidence that harry is also in paris????

fan21 so pretty 😍😍😍

dualipa angel girl

↳ Liked by ynfleetwood

annetwist ❤️

fan46 WHY IS ANNE HERE

celebritysights

Liked by fan30, fan84 and 390,584 others

celebritysights Y/N Fleetwood adds further fuel to the Harry Styles dating Rumours as she’s seen stood with Harry’s family at his Paris concert last night- a place where 12 hours prior she was on a date with her mystery-or not so-man👀

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fan22 yh they aren’t subtle

fan40 this is such a power couple

fan29 please no 😭 that should be ME

fan93 Y/N seems to get on with Anne & Gemma so well I bet it makes harry so happy

mickfleetwoodofficial

Liked by harrystyles, annetwist and 11,393 others

mickfleetwoodofficial special surprise organised by Mr Styles celebrating my sweet Y/N’s birthday

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fan32 Mick practically soft launching the relationship lmao

annetwist ❤️

fan21 MR STYLES !!!!

fan09 😭🥹

ynfleetwood love you Dad xxx

harryynnews

Liked by fan23, ynfleetwood and 10,493 others

harryynnews Harry asking the crowd tonight to sing happy birthday for “his girlfriend yn” and then dedicated stockholm syndrome to her because it’s her favourite 1d song yeah she won

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fan77 finally 🫶🏼

fan17 Y/N LIKED

fan03 omg i’m so jealous

fan58 i was stood near Y/N when he did this and she was blushing and smiling so much it was so cute

ynfleetwood

Liked by mickfleetwoodofficial, harrystyles and 799,848 others

ynfleetwood suppose I should thank my dad for the introduction

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fan37 omg 😍

annetwist ❤️

fan58 THANK YOU MICK

dualipa gorgeous couple

↳ Liked by ynfleetwood and harrystyles

fan81 😭💔❤️

[prose-for-hire]

Toil and Trouble:

(Second part Here)

Pairing: Spike x Harris!reader

Request: Not requested, promise I am writing my requests it just happens so slowly (sorry). I got a bit overwhelmed! So when I get a random burst of inspiration like this it helps get me back into writing what I’m supposed to be writing lol.

(As always reader is gender neutral unless stated otherwise.)

Desc: reader is Xander’s twin, they aren’t a scooby they have their own friends and Xander has always tried to hide the truth about demons from them. What will happen when reader discovers an unexpected house guest in Xander’s basement room?

Warning: mention of heavy drinking (Xander’s uncle) and dysfunctional families. Cigarette.  Reader has hair long enough to be tucked behind an ear.

You and Xander had always been close. They called you and your twin double trouble, when you were younger. You had been partners in crime, if you will. You spent a lot of time together despite your different personalities. You shared the same sense of humour but after that, you were almost completely different. The arguments you had between you over what movie to watch could go down in the history books. But five minutes later you would be sharing popcorn together and cracking jokes about the movie you were watching.

However, ever since High school there was something of a rift between you. You no longer told each other everything. He started it, in your defence.

Xander was evasive and him and his friends were incredibly secretive, especially around you. You liked Buffy and Willow fine enough but you were always only an acquaintance of theirs. You had your own group of friends in high school and again in college. What you didn’t know about Xander’s increasingly comedic and unconvincing excuses and explanations was that he was trying to hide from you the dangers of Sunnydale. The demons and apocalypses and life or death situations.

He felt he was protecting you, despite Willow’s pragmatic arguments in your favour all the Scoobies agreed to keep it from you.

Where Xander had moved into the basement, you had moved on campus for college. You had promised to come home and stay for your uncles birthday weekend, however, and annoyingly Xander had the excuse of work to miss the predictably dysfunctional meal that was being held in his honour. He had passed you on the way out in his pizza uniform, grabbing you in a side hug before he left with an apologetic glance.

As predicted, it was torture. You had sat there whilst your uncle drank his way through the meal and had seemingly made it into a game of ‘how many comments can I make before they snap’. It reminded you just how glad you were to have got out of the house. The only real reason you came back was to see Xander and he had dashed out of the door.

Once the meal was over and everyone had stopped talking after the inevitable argument that had been brewing since you had stepped through the door, you slid away to try and collect yourself. Rather than going to what had been your room, which had quickly been changed when you had left, you walked down into Xander’s basement.

It was dark, you hadn’t switched the light on. You were going to sit in the chair he had down there and wait for him to rant to him about your uncle. As you felt around for the chair, you managed to touch something unfamiliar, you and the chair let out a yelp at the same time.

You scrambled for the light and saw a man sat in the chair, no, not sat in it. Tied to it. Tightly, too. He was cute, just your type too. You couldn’t help staring at him, something he caught as he smirked in your direction.

“Like what you see?” He raised his eyebrows, eyes not leaving yours. When you grinned at his words, he swore he felt his heart soar in his chest. A feeling he quickly tried to beat back down again. He wouldn’t do this again, fall for someone like this. Not so quickly, so easily.

“I’ve seen better, I suppose” You beamed when he chuckled, moving to sit on the edge of Xander’s bed.

“Hidin’ are you? Gotta say, your family aren’t exactly winners, pet”

“And there was me thinking I had won the ‘rental lottery” You offered before explaining, “I was only really here for Xander and he didn’t even stay for dinner. Just needed somewhere to…”

“Relax?” Something in his voice told you that he understood. Or at least

“Yeah, I’m not gonna even ask why you’re here tied to a chair” You smiled, you had been the kindest human he had met since getting chipped. In fact, probably of all time. He didn’t really want to tell you what he was and make you leave him here in the dark. He was enjoying the company.

For the first time in a while, he was feeling like himself again. Or at least some version of himself. One he actually liked. He decided to explain to you how he had got here, perhaps a slightly edited version. Well, a heavily edited version. One that would also make him into the hero, of course.

He spoke like a poet, you were hanging on every word. Every syllable. The story was clearly edited, but you really didn’t care. You felt it in the emotion, in the feeling of what he was saying. That couldn’t be made up.

As he spoke, the night had gone darker and the streetlights had turned on. You smiled softly, both of you were feeling a little lost in your own ways. You felt connected to him, even after only a few hours of knowing him.

“You know, in the light from that streetlamp, you glow” He let the words hang in the air, trying to gauge your reaction. In that moment, you knew he had sensed it too. Some spark. Some potential.

“I need a drink. You wanna go to the Bronze?”

“Kinda tied up at the moment, love” He moved his palms to prove it, showing a flash of black nail varnish.

You leaned in and untied him, your face so close to his. The proximity made the atmosphere around you both intense, your breath tickled his cheek and he closed his eyes slowly.

Once the ropes were loose, he jumped to his feet instantly, gripping your elbow as if to steady himself. Tiny surges of electricity fizzled through you at the contact. Though he didn’t need it for balance, he just wanted an excuse to stand close to you. His hand moved towards you, eyes never breaking from yours, catching a loose strand of your hair and tucking it behind your ear.

He looked as if he was going to lean into you, closing the space. You swallowed thickly, his brilliantly blue eyes dipping to your lips just as-

The door of the basement slammed open, hitting the wall beside it. Heavy footsteps could be heard descending the stairs towards you. Spike stepped backwards and you already felt cold from the absence of his presence.

You turned to find your brother, mouth agape as he stared between the two of you.

“Wh- why is Spike-?!” words escaped your brother in his shock.

“His circulation was getting cut off, stop panicking”

“I’m not panicking. I’m not. I’m not. Stop looking at me like I’m panicking!”

“Kinda looks like panicking, mate” Spike said, rolling his eyes and sliding on his leather duster.

“Me and your friend hit it off, I asked him out” You explained, tugging on your own jacket.

“Goin’ for a bite aren’t we, love?” Spike’s eyes sparkled as Xander caught his intended meaning.

“Tell them not to wait up. Or better yet, don’t tell them anything-” You gestured upwards as you started to leave when Xander, clearly in an argument with himself on whether to tell you something he had kept secret for a long time, decided he needed to say something.

“He’s my hostage!”

“I’ll bring him back, God, Xander you are so annoying”

“Don’t I get a bloody say?”

“No!” You said together, which almost put Spike off you entirely until you smiled at him again and then he was wrapped around your little finger.

He had never met anyone like you. You were strong, clearly, but so in touch with your emotions. All throughout the conversation you had for the hours before Xander walked in had felt more of a connection than anything he had said in decades to any other.

“Y/n, he’s dangerous! You can’t take him! This is my foot, and it’s going down!” Xander pointed to his foot and you gave it a light kick as you replied.

“What is it with you? It’s always, it’s my turn with the hostage, you’re a minute younger you can sit in the sandpit and wait!”

“BOTH OF YOU, SHUT THE HELL UP! NOW!” A call came from upstairs, masking Xander’s yelp at your kick and  sent you both into a whisper argument that even Spike could barely hear.

“Ought to get goin’ pet, we could go for a nice, secluded walk after” Spike’s smirk widened as you nodded and started for the door. Xander’s panic had reached it’s peak, he was flailing his arms around in urgency.

“Y/n, there are things- complex things that you don’t know about. Spike is… Spike’s a…”

“Vampire? Yeah, Xander, I know. He’s whiter than snow, I’m not an idiot” You rolled your eyes at your brother, how dumb did he think you were?

Obviously Spike was a vampire or this hostage thing would be entirely too weird for you to get involved in. Plus, Spike had explained that he had been chipped by the Initiative and you had told him that you were definitely not (and never would be) part of your brothers lame little Scooby gang.

You knew all about demons and vampires and the like. You and your friends had been fending them off since high school, just perhaps not as well as your brother and the slayer. And what’s more, you knew all about the slayer too. You had accidentally walked into the library one afternoon when your librarian and Buffy had been fighting something spooky.

You had hidden so they hadn’t seen you but you overheard them say something about the chosen one, the slayer and then you had done some research of your own. You waited for Xander to tell you himself but it had been too long now and you had just never confronted him about it.

“How long have you known?”

“About as long as you’ve been keeping it from me”

Spike, who had weirdly known better than to get involved again, just stared between them. He was bored, he just wanted to spend more time with you. Who knew being chipped would have led to something like this? Finding someone that he lo-

Really liked. You just really like them, you nit.

“We’ll talk, Xander. Just, tomorrow, okay? I’m going out”

Spike grinned evilly over his shoulder at Xander as he slung an arm over your shoulder, whispering lowly in your ear as you walked away. You and your brother would have to talk, maybe shout at each other for a while. But it could all wait.

Spike lit up a cigarette and offered you took a drag as you walked by his side. The night was young and full of promise. Spike spoke almost non-stop on your way there, something he hadn’t found himself doing in an age. He tried to impress you with stories of past fights he had won, historical events he had witnessed. He just wanted to see you smile.

Yeah, you could definitely get used to this.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Ana Faguy at BBC News:

Jimmy Carter celebrates his 100th birthday on Tuesday, making him the first US president to reach the milestone. Carter, a Democrat who served in the White House from 1977 to 1981, has spent the past 19 months in hospice care in his home state of Georgia.

But the former peanut farmer, who first entered politics in the 1960s as a state senator, is "emotionally engaged and still having experiences and laughing, loving," his grandson, Jason, said in September. And the centenarian still has political ambitions: "I'm only trying to make it to vote for Kamala Harris" in November's election, the humanitarian and Nobel Prize recipient said, according to his grandson. To honour the occasion, volunteers with Habitat for Humanity - the housing charity Carter has worked with for 40 years - are building 30 homes in Minnesota this week. There will also be events in Plains, the former Georgia governor's hometown, to celebrate the occasion on Tuesday. There will be a flyover of military jets and 100 new citizens will have naturalisation ceremonies in his honour.

Happy 100th birthday to former President Jimmy Carter. 🎂