#it also makes me wonder if i will ever love someone as hard as harry loves louis

[phas3d]

Hello love<33 i saw ur requests were open if it hasn't been done before can i request a Potter! Reader x Slytherin boys like the reader is Harry's twin sister?

Absolutely inlove with your writing btw🫶🫶

Potter!Reader || Slytherin Boys

type :: fluff

tw/cw :: abuse mention (tom, mattheo)

contains :: draco, tom, mattheo, theodore, lorenzo

notes :: i love this idea so much, i didn't think it would be this fun to write for - also i know neville technically killed voldemort BUT, just go along with me when i say harry killed voldemort

DRACO MALFOY

Getting a crush on someone was already hard enough for Draco to do

To be able to look past someone's flaws and finally see the beauty inside of someone

But all of that was quickly ruined once he found out you weren't just Harry Potter's sibling but his TWIN?

He genuinely gets so upset and angry not only at you but himself

He's not sure how to handle this information

But at the end, he decides that he can't stand the idea of dating Harry Potter's twin and possibly growing to be Harry Potter's brother-in-law

So he tries to avoid you at all times

But he can't, his body just won't allow him

And also, you're really good at finding him

In the end, he learns to accept it but Harry and Draco still bicker and fight

Even when you guys are 20+ years old, they still fight like siblings - which is actually perfect since they're brothers in law now

TOM RIDDLE

After Harry defeated his father, aka Voldemort, and brought "peace" to the world - he's hated his guts

Because although Voldemort was a mass murder, genocide supporter, blood racist, classist, backstabbing, asshole... That was still Tom's dad

But even then, Voldemort wasn't a great father. He was actually the worst father to ever live. For all of Tom's childhood, he was brain washed and tortured to believe his father was amazing, and sadly it worked on him

So finding out that his s/o, which was already an EXTREMELY rare sight since he can't tolerate anyone, was Harry Potter's twin....

Oh, he goes fucking insane and runs away to the forbidden forrest to "process" all of his emotions (he kills almost every animal in there out of pure strength)

Falling for the person who's related to your father's killer is not easy to handle

So,,, honestly I think Tom would break up with you and never give you a shot again

But, he still owns you - he just can't be with you duhhh

If you ever try to move on or get a new boyfriend, he simply make them "disappear"

It makes you isolate yourself from the dating world - but thank god Tom is there to offer to be fwb!

(this was his plan all along. he will never stop loving you but he doesn't have the guts to fully commit to a relationship anyways but he still wants you - so fwb is the easiest solution for him to avoid the guilt of actually dating you whilst still getting to own you in some way)

MATTHEO RIDDLE

He's the exact opposite of Tom, he actually really respects and likes Harry

After Harry killed Voldemort, he felt so free. It was like Harry got rid of the shackle that was keeping him down for so long

Unlike Tom, Mattheo always knew that what their father was doing was wrong and cruel - but he was forced to go along with the family's plans because he'd be punished if he didn't

Not only that, Mattheo and Harry both play Quidditch and are good rivals - he loves the competition

So he actually gets along fine with Harry

When he finds out you two are actually TWINS he's so shocked like omg

He wonders what would have happened if you ate Harry while in the womb or smth

And he also wonders why you and Harry aren't exactly identical (you are identical... mattheo just doesn't understand why harry has glasses and you don't....)

Doesn't mind bringing Harry on a couple of dates - But when Harry does come... it's basically like you're third wheeling

Your cute dates are ruined because these two dumbass men decide to do stupid stuff

Like for example, a cute date of mini golfing got ruined because Harry and Mattheo decided to see who could chuck their golf ball the farthest

They ended up breaking multiple windows...

Or when Mattheo took you out to go ice skating but it got ruined because fucking Harry surprised Mattheo with hockey gear

The two ended up playing hockey,,,, just a 1v1,,,, and crashed into so many bystanders that they just shut down the rink

They are now brothers for life... you must deal with this

THEODORE NOTT

When he finds out you're twins, he takes such a big sigh of relief

"Oh my gosh, that why you guys always hang out... I thought you might have been dating."

Instantly, you want to vomit in your mouth

Theo has little to no history with Harry, besides bullying Harry during their first few years at Hogwarts

But Theo was never a good bully... especially when he was younger

Because he was still learning English and had the THICKEST Italian accent that you barely understood him

One time in their 2nd year, Theo came up to Harry and insulted his nerdy glasses

But Harry simply tilted his head, "Sorry, no espanol."

From that day, it's a strong inside joke between all the Slytherin boys and Theo can never escape it

Harry's unintentional roast made Theo study English 10x times harder than he ever did before

So he's kinda grateful to him in a way but he does wanna get back at him

He's super chill around Harry and the two get along fine and dandy but nothing too special

They both respect each other a lot actually and don't cross any boundaries with each other

Since they're kinda similar actually: quidditch players, pull tons of bitches, decently smart, and "foreign" in some way

Basically: coolest in laws ever

LORENZO BERKSHIRE

Oh my fucking god these two suck each other dicks

The amount of glazing they do for each other is CRAZYYY

When Enzo finds out you're twins with Harry - he's so happy because Harry and Enzo are actually really cool with each other

They both play quidditch together sometimes, play the same games, and they love the same shows

You basically lose your boyfriend... to your brother

Everywhere you two go,,, Harry is invited against your will

Going to watch a movie? Harry and Enzo are gonna share a blanket and leave you in the cold

Going to an arcade? Harry and Enzo will play every single game against each other and even take selfies of their wins

Fuck, even going shopping, the two banter and chat while you try on clothes

One time they got bored of waiting for you to try stuff on so they LEFT YOU and went to go get MATCHING T-SHIRTS???!?!??!?!?!???

Of course,,, you and Enzo do get alone time - some times

But you honestly love seeing how strong Enzo and Harry's bond is because it makes you happy that you picked the perfect boyfriend for your family

It's even better when Harry get his yearly girlfriend (that he will eventually leave heart broken)

So now you can go on double dates!!!

And hopefully the girl that Harry is with is cool, so that way you can also share a strong bond just like Enzo and Harry

But you can't get too attached.... your brother is a man-whore after all... 😞

[seventies-arcana]

PAC: what type of lover do you attract?

hello lovies, i hope this reading reaches you well. in this pac reading, you will find out what type of lover/romantic partner you naturally attract. this reading is for entertainment and enjoyment purposes. ask upon your guides/higher self to help guide you to whichever pile/photo you should choose, then read the message. images are not mine. pick a picture to begin ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

pile one (the nails): the type of person you attract is kind-hearted and good-intentioned. they bring out the best in you, which makes you very happy whenever you two spend time together. they also have a tendency to spend their money on you, whether it be for buying you lunch, drinks, gifts, or covering your tab. they enjoy spending their money on you, no matter the price. they might, however, play a little game of hard to get. once they've gained an interest in you, starting to leave hints of their attraction, they want to make sure you'd put an effort into the relationship. they might even want you to make the first real move, beyond the lingering gazes and fleeting touches. but it's worth the effort. it might take some time, but once you two are officially together, the relationship is very fun. enjoyable, like dating your best friend or partner in crime. you'll tease each other in light-hearted fun, and you'll wonder what took you two so long to get here.

pile two (the lily pads): the type of person you attract is charming and exciting to be around. they make you feel flustered inside, butterflies in your stomach, because they're so alluring. you're like a moth drawn to a flame. maybe their a little impulsive, but it's never too much, and it adds to their appeal. you probably spend a lot of time with this person in social atmospheres, like bars, clubs, or social gatherings. if you're a more introverted person, they try to convince you to spend time with them at these kinds of events. but they enjoy nights in as well-- they use it as a time to simply talk. they are a great conversationalist, and a great person to confide in. beyond their outgoing persona, they could be a relatively sensitive person deep down, and don't handle jealousy well. conversations with them regarding what both of you seek in a partner might be a way they try to hint at their admiration for you. once you're together, they'll want to brag to everyone about how great you are, and probably post you on social media often.

pile three (the florals): the person you attract is someone whose intelligent and mysteriously compelling. they are someone you've met before, who reappears in your life after a few months or so. they have a cool front, it's hard to read them, and they keep things to themselves, however deep down they are so immensely passionate. they're the type to yearn and pine for weeks before they ever make a move. because of their stoic upfront, you might not even notice their admiration for you, and may not consider them in a romantic way-- at first. because once they finally make a move, maybe with a bold flirt or innuendo, you realize what you've been missing out on. and the relationship, once it begins, is cool as fuck. they'll take you out on dates that have you try new things, that ignite your senses. their kisses and their touch practically set you a flame, you can't get enough of them.

pile four (the bunny):

the person you attract is so adorable and considerate. they're someone who expresses love through physical touch, in romantic and platonic relationships. they care so deeply for the people they love. they dote on you, making sure you've ate, that you got home safe, and that you're having a good day. they are a great listener, and this might be something about them that you find attractive. they love getting to learn things about you, interested in what you like, your hobbies, your goals, etc. they may struggle with admitting their feelings towards you, possibly having a fear of rejection or having bad experiences with love in the past. you'll likely have to make the first move, but once the relationship is brought to the next level, their doting increases ten fold. they'll offer to give you massages, make you dinner, and spend time doing things they know you enjoy.

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[itsharleystuff]

↳ II. 𝘍𝘐𝘓𝘓 𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘝𝘖𝘐𝘋

Read part one here.

— 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dbf!Joel Miller x afab!fem reader (no outbreak au).

— 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 10.6k (once again, I’m sorry)

— 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: after your steamy encounter with Joel during your homecoming party, things between you have been stagnant. Although, fate seems to be on your side when both Sarah and your dad have to leave town for a short while.

— 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬/𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: 18+ content (minors dni!), sex, p in v sex, Joel hits it from behind, blowjobs, some teasing, a bit of spanking, pet names (darling, sweetheart, honey), unprotected sex (pls do not attempt), cum eating, taking nsfw photos, Joel tries to be dom but fails, age gap (reader is twenty four, Joel is late forties), reader is kind of a brat, fluff and feelings (yes, this is a warning), alcohol consumption, brief mention of family death. Barely edited, sorryyy. No use of y/n.

—A/N: this can be read as a stand-alone but I suggest reading the previous part for a better understanding. Btw, there’s a couple of Easter eggs from the game in this! Also— I tried making a moodboard and I’m not sure how I feel about it. I’ll probably stick to gifs in the future, lol.

“I like Indiana Jones," you babble, taking a sip from your coffee without looking at anyone in specific. "I was twelve and in love with Harrison Ford..."

"Okay, so that's one movie we're definitely not going to watch." Sarah chimes in, lazily chewing on her scrambled eggs. "How do you feel about Robert Pattinson?"

"That depends," you reply, moving your head side to side in a contemplative manner, "are we talking twilight or Harry Potter?"

You hear your dad snort on the other side of the table and see Joel chuckling beside him. Sarah crosses both arms over her chest and raises a brow at them. “What's so funny?"

"Nothing," your dad clears his throat and side-eyes his friend. "Just thought you two were a bit old for those crappy vampire movies. Maybe watch-"

"Forgive me, but I don't think it's a good idea to take recommendations from either of you," you cut him off, leaning back on your chair. "You're both obsessed with die hard, think The Godfather is incredibly complex and in your spare time watch construction programs. We'll be fine on our own."

"Touché..."

It's been three weeks since your homecoming party, and ever since then it has become a habit to have breakfast together every weekend. Today, Saturday, it was the Miller's turn to cook, which consequently had you and your father sitting at their table. As of now, you and Sarah were discussing your movie night, which had to be postponed due to her road-trip to San Antonio— apparently, she and her friend Ellie were going to visit some college campuses there.

It's also been three weeks since that little, hot encounter you and Joel had in your kitchen. And, contrary to your better judgement, both of you were more than eager to spend some extra time alone. Things since then had been uneasy, specially when being surrounded by others; always worried that someone might notice those stolen looks you'd share or sense the palpable tension that rose when you would stand too close to each other.

You try not to think about it. Except when you do. A swirl of memories would come flooding your mind in the most inappropriate moments, creating that heat that made you remember exactly how his fingers felt inside you, his tongue between your folds, the sloppy kisses and that feral, hungry look in his eyes while eating you out, touching you like you were the most precious thing on earth.

"How about pride and prejudice?" the girl wonders, standing up to clean her dishes and snapping you back to reality.

"Shit, I love period dramas!" your dad shoots you a reproachful glare at your language, but you chose to ignore it. "As a matter of fact, most of my designs are inspired by the Victorian and regency eras."

"Oh, yeah," Sarah recalls, "I remember I read about it in one of your blogs. Dad showed it to me, by the way..." Joel clears his throat loudly, making her giggle.

Although she had mentioned it before, it was still kind of weird that he acknowledged your work. At first you thought it was merely because he wanted to connect with you somehow, but lately he'd been asking if he could see your new sketches and would let you borrow some old magazines he had around the house. Your best friend, Sophie, mentioned he might've been trying to show his interest in you subconsciously. And she was that one psychic friend who believed in zodiac signs and angel numbers, so you decided to believe her.

In that moment, your dad receives an incoming call on his cellphone; he excuses himself and heads to the living room. Your eyes lock with Joel's, and the fact that he was uninhibitedly staring back at you drew a smug smile on your face.

"Are you interested in fashion, Mr. Miller?" he sulks out a dry 'no', but you could see him fidget with his watch nervously. "Pity. I thought maybe you could model some of my male designs."

Sarah genuinely cracks up at your comment, slapping one hand on the table. "You want dad to pose for you? Seriously?"

"Why not? I brought my Polaroid camera, I can get some very nice shots." You were partially joking, but deep down you just wanted to see how he'd react.

"I mean, I know dad's got his charm with women, or so they keep saying-"

"No way anyone says that," he rambles.

"But the idea of him modeling is probably the funniest thing I've ever heard."

The fact was that you didn't want to take pictures of him so anyone else could see them. You wanted them exclusively for yourself. A couple of naughty Polaroids to keep around for whenever you were aching for him —which has been nearly every fucking night since your arrival—.

"It was a silly idea," you finally agree, shrugging. Joel stands to take his things to the sink. "Do you really have to leave for the weekend? You're like, my only friend here."

"Uh, about that..." she leans in towards you and you can practically smell a scheme on her. "Would you be mad if I gave your number to someone?"

You can quite literally feel the man standing behind you tense up. "Huh?"

"Yeah, like... To a guy." She moves in her place, but there's still no answer from you. "He's my English teacher. His name is Will and he's super smart, young, really funny and very handsome, I might add. I believe he can be your new male model." Sarah adds that last bit with a grin.

When you turn your head to see Joel, there was a deep scowl etching on his face, his body remaining still as a stone.

"I don't know... As friends, maybe." You weren't sure why, but the idea of meeting anyone new didn't really sound appealing.

She opened her mouth to say something but before she could actually do so, your dad walked in again. He appeared upset, gesturing nonsense and muttering impassively.

"What's wrong?" your tone comes out concerned.

"I have a meeting in Boston," he sighed, resting a hand on your shoulder apologetically. "Apparently it's urgent and I have to catch the next flight if I want to be there by nightfall."

"Oh, don't worry," you smile at him warmly. "I understand. Besides, I'm an adult. I can manage a weekend by myself."

He nods, still seemingly aloof. "I know but- I just wanted to spend some more time with you."

And of course you wanted that too, but saying it out loud could literally bring him to quit his job. He was always very extreme when it came down to you.

"What time d’you leave?" his friend asks him.

"Half past four. Why?"

"I can drop Sarah off at Ellie's and then drive you to the airport, if you'd like." Such a caring friend, Joel Miller. So selfless. Helping your dad out, attending his daughter's every special need...

"Yeah, thanks a lot, man. Take care of my little girl while I'm away."

You see his eyes gleam with a mix of unknown emotions, "Will do."

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

The last few days had been no less than torment for Joel. Each moment that went by in which he didn't get a chance to be near you had him losing his mind. Badly. And it wasn't necessarily a physical thing— not always, at least.

Every morning, he would wake up and go to work, knowing for certain that when he comes back home he'll find you hanging around with Sarah or sitting out on your porch with a sketching notebook on your lap.

He liked to guess what you'd be doing.

Would you be playing board games with his daughter? Watching a movie or baking desserts? Maybe you were thrift shopping with your dad or simply going to the mall. And later on, when he finally gets to see you again, you'd tell him all about it.

Joel also liked to imagine what kind of clothes you'd be wearing. One thing he noticed is that you never stick to one particular style or aesthetic. One day you could be wearing pastel sundresses with ribbons in your hair; the next one could be long, black skirts paired with basic tank tops and multiple necklaces, or even something more extravagant, depending on your mood.

Seeing you was an experience— one that he could never get tired of. It's like every time he sets his eyes on you there's a certain color palette that changes constantly, or the feeling of gathering all your favorite songs into one playlist and then hitting the shuffle button. He never knows what to expect. Hence why he had given up on trying to relate you to the silly things around; like seasons, animals, artists or foods. Instead, he started associating you with feelings.

You were creative, unique and incredibly fearless. In a way, you made him feel uneasy, excited, thrilled, confident and many more emotions at the same time. If he had to describe you in one word, he'd say evoking.

Oh, how you pestered his brain.

He hated how much he thought about you, and how little guilt he felt from it.

Right now he was sitting on the drivers seat of his truck, waiting at the airport's parking lot. You asked him if you could walk your dad to his corresponding gate and he agreed. The downside: it had started to rain, probably not too bad for your dad's flight to be delayed but enough for your clothes to get soaked on your way back.

"Shit, I'm sorry," you muttered, shutting the passenger's door behind you. “The seats are gonna get all wet..."

"Here," Joel takes off his jacket to place it over your shoulders.

It feels warm and it smells like him, "Thanks."

He starts the car without saying anything else, keeping his eyes glued to the road. You, on the other hand, could not stop staring at him. Now that no one else was around, there was no shame in admiring his side profile, the way his muscles flexed and his hands grasped the wheel. There was something inherently attractive about men driving, but- Jesus... This image had your mind roaming around dark places.

Suddenly, realization sinks in— you're alone.

Alone with him.

"I, uh..." he taps the wheel with his thumb, still avoiding your gaze. "I wanted to take you out for dinner. The weather kinda ruined it."

The corners of your mouth hitch up in a silly smile. "Too bad. I really didn't want to be alone tonight."

Joel hums, appearing somewhat distraught. In reality, he was fighting for his life. The clothes you chose to wear today were not fitted for the rain; denim mini-skirt, high pair of boots and a white top that complimented your upper body. He tried not to look at the raindrops rolling down your thighs or note how transparent your shirt has become, forcing himself to stare at your hands and the many rings that decorated your fingers, seeing there the one he gifted you.

"How about you come over to my place?" you suggest, trying to catch his attention. "I'll need a shower and a change of clothes but... Maybe we can do something afterwards."

His tongue darts out to lick his lips, still avoiding your gaze, "Like what?"

This time your voice goes lower, a smirk spreads across your face and something in your eyes flickers; a darker, sensual spark.

"Oh, you know..." your hand carefully comes to rest on his knee. His thigh tenses but he doesn't say or do anything to push you away. "Whatever you want."

He swallows hard, feeling the pads of your fingers run circles on his leg, your nails mildly scratching over the jeans in a way that raises goosebumps on his skin and eases his nerves.

"I've got a better idea," he says, keeping his tone calm —barely—. "Why don't you come to my house instead?"

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise, "Sure, but- what about my clothes?"

And then he smiles cockily, as if this had been his plan all along, "Wear mine."

Well, there was absolutely no way you were going to turn him down. With a bit more boldness, you slide your hand a few inches up his inner thigh, still rubbing soothing patterns. His jaw clenched, but remained silent and apparently unbothered.

"Joel?" his name rolled off your tongue sweetly, in a way only you knew how to. He uttered a 'hm?' in retort. "Did you miss me?"

"I've seen you nearly every day," he answers playfully.

You laugh, stopping your movements and simply resting your palm there. "So... No?"

"Didn't say that, darlin'." The truck suddenly stops at a red light as he exhales heavily, giving in to you at last. "But I'll let you guess."

A push and pull game, like a cat chasing a mouse. Your smirk widens. "I don't think so. Not as much as I have."

His eyes scan your body from head to toe, the way you sit with your legs slightly parted, back laying flat against the seat and face turned towards him with heated cheeks and low gaze. Unexpectedly, your hand draws back from his lap as you start looking through your purse and a frown forms on his face, baffled by the loss of contact.

"Which is why..." you take the Polaroid camera out and see a whole shift in his eyes, like he's about to burst in laughter. "I brought this."

"No," despite his categorical denial, you still held the object up.

"You have a green light," he curses under his breath and you hold back a chuckle. "Just let me have one, please."

He sighs in defeat, "Why'd you want that?"

The rain had started to settle down but the air was still pretty cold, all that could be heard besides your own voices being the drops that crashed against the car.

"Cause you're handsome," he rolls his eyes sarcastically. "And I like you."

Hell, you were always so straightforward. It made his heart jump inside his chest, wondering if it was gonna burst out.

"You won't like me as much once you meet that Will dude," Joel prattles through gritted teeth, remembering his daughter's suggestion from earlier.

"The guy Sarah mentioned?" your brows furrow subtly. "Why? What's up with him?"

He yanks his head to the side, glancing over at you for a second, "Nothin'. Just thinkin' out loud." In spite of your puzzled expression, he decides to grant your wish. "I'll let ya' take it. But only if I get one in return."

Your lips purse in a smile, "As many as you like, Miller."

He doesn't say anything in response, but his grin doesn’t fade either and you managed to capture it on paper. The image slowly started to become visible and your first thought was how well it captured the whole 'Joel Miller' essence. It was a simple photo of him driving with one hand on the wheel and the other arm thrown lazily over the backseat. That denim shirt hugged his arms exquisitely, the rolled-up sleeves adding to his appeal. He was looking at you when it was taken, so you could see more than half his face— and the way he was grinning, you couldn't help but think he appeared so much younger when he did that. The entire thing felt so much like him: snuggly, blue, genuine and you absolutely loved it.

"There," you show it to him as he started to pull over. "Isn't it nice?"

"Just keep it to yourself, aight?" the man grumbles.

"F'course," with a spark of joy, you slide the photo inside your wallet. "Wouldn't want anyone else peeking at that gorgeous smile of yours. That's a treasure of my own."

"Shut up-" he rumbled, turning his face the other way and opening the door, seemingly flustered. And out of all the amazing things you've accomplished in your life, making this rugged looking man blush was probably your greatest pride.

When he helps you out of the car, holding your hand firmly and cleaving to your waist; you wanted nothing more than to kiss him under the pouring rain, wildly and unhinged, just like last time. But this particular spot possibly had too many curious eyes of which you were unaware of. He obviously doesn't need to guide you through his house, since you already know nearly every corner of it, except for one. His bedroom. And apparently, that's the precise location he's taking you to.

"Please excuse the mess," he says, placing one hand on the door handle, "I haven't had a woman in here for ages, so I'm afraid I probably won't live up to your expectations."

"Joel," you snort, "it's been a decade and a half since you last dated anyone. Trust me, my expectations are pretty low."

He scowls, squinting both eyes. "You didn't have to say it like that..."

It's honestly better than you thought. His bed is nicely done, brown bedsheets striking as warm and welcoming; the walls were painted a pretty, light shade of blue that matched the grayish curtains on the left. The drawers in front of his windows had a bunch of stuff scattered on top of them: a CD player along with a few music discs, some papers, a cap and a pair of reading glasses, batteries, one screwdriver and a framed picture of him and Sarah at the beach. Meanwhile, the nightstand simply had one lamp and an alarm-clock on it. Over the bed's headboard were one poster of a music festival, the image of a landscape and an advert of what you guessed must've been a club, that read 'tacos and beer" on it. The door to the bathroom was on the right.

Messy, yet tidy at the same time. Very Joel-like.

"No way..." you murmur, eyeing the guitar beside his bed. "All this time I thought it was a myth."

"What?" he asks from behind you.

"Dad told me you used to serenade girls back in college and that you wanted to become a singer." A giggle escapes your lips, unable to contain it. "I remember saying he was surely making it up, but..."

"I didn't- I mean..." he clears his throat, scratching the back of his neck and feeling his chest swell with your laughter. "Oh, shut up!"

"Make me." The lingering, mischievous smile on your face made his heart pound and blood rush. "Come on, Miller. Shut me up, I dare you."

His eyes darken, but you don't falter for a second. He doesn't move a muscle, solely watching as you took off his jacket and threw it to the bed.

"You dare me?" his voice goes drops an octave, following your every move closely. "That's rather bold of you, sweetheart."

"Mhm," without breaking eye contact, you start taking off your boots. "And yet you're doing nothing about it."

Joel starts walking towards you slowly, holding your gaze intently. Your hair was damp and your clothes were still wet; it didn't really matter that the air was chilly cause you still felt warm all over. He soon invades your space, cupping your chin in his big hand and lifting your head upwards.

"Well, you're awfully quiet now, aren't ya'?" his hot breath fanned across your cheeks, the gap between your faces being basically invisible.

"I'm just waiting for you to start singing some random song by Alabama or Johnny Cash," you scoff. "Like a good ol' Texan ma-"

He doesn't let you finish the sentence, abruptly crashing his lips into your own. Joel isn't delicate about it and the fervor with which he kisses you makes your body stumble a few steps backwards. Your shoulders hit the wall and he pins you against it as your mouths find a way to mold perfectly, at a much nicer pace than last time. You throw your hands around his neck and let your fingers tangle in the curls around his nape, tasting the fresh mint on his lips. His hands rest on your hips, chests pressed together as the temperature kept rising with each second that went on.

You part your lips in order to grant him deeper access, feeling his tongue slide past your teeth and meeting your own in an ardent, heated way. It was perfect, until he broke apart, looking down at you with an asserted confidence.

"You really know nothing 'bout country music," he says in between shaky breaths, beaming. "S'that what you wanted?"

"Yes," you manage to say.

"Then say 'thank you'," Joel indicates petulantly, stroking your bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. "Go on, don't be such a brat."

You blink twice, your brain still buzzing with the sensation of mouth on you, barely capable of processing anything else. "But I want more..."

"You'll take what I give you."

Shit, when he said it like that- "Thank you."

"That's my girl," he straightened his back, opening the door next to you. "Now, get your pretty ass in the shower before you catch a cold, 'kay?" You roll your eyes and hear him chuckle. "There's clean towers under the sink. You can take some clothes from my drawers, or Sarah's if you feel like it. I don't think she'll mind."

"Understood." He can tell you're annoyed, which he finds funny.

"Don't be mad at me, angel." Joel tugs a strand of hair behind your ear. "Promise I'll make it up to you."

You nod distractedly, lost in the cocky spark on his eyes. "I'm not mad. Just hoping you fuck me real good if you're making me wait for it."

Your words almost make him choke on his own saliva. "Sweetheart, you're making it real hard for me to be a gentleman."

It makes your ego boost, in a sense. "I'll be quick. Can you get something for dinner, though? I'm starving."

"Shit, darlin', pick a struggle," he mocks as you enter the bathroom, "are you horny or hungry?"

"Oh, you jerk!"

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

6:15 pm.

You take a quick glance at Joel's alarm clock once you come out of the shower. It's been little more than an hour since your dad's plane took off. You hope the rain hadn’t made his flight any difficult, cause the weather turned out to be quite a blessing for you.

The cozy feeling of a nice, warm shower after being soaked under the rain was starting to settle in your bones, making your limbs relax. Then you realize, you smell like Joel. The scent of his soap, his shampoo, even his laundry detergent, is all over you. It's intoxicating in the most fantastic way possible, making your insides burn with a thrill of excitement. You took one on his flannels, —dark green with red stripes— and decided to wear it without anything besides your underwear. It was pretty big anyway, and covered just the necessary areas.

You slid your socks back on when all of the sudden you hear the faint sound of music from the floor beneath. Curious, you walk towards the noise, finding out Joel was in the kitchen, crouched down in front of the opened fridge. The CD player that you saw earlier on his room was now on the table, playing a melody that you recognized almost immediately.

"I like this song," you say, leaning against the wall. "That's Billy Idol, isn't it?"

"Yeah," he recalls, taking out a medium sized plastic box from the fridge. "Tommy made that mix. There's plenty of hits from past decades. I think you'll enjoy it."

The man finally turns around to face you and his face fails to hide his surprise. The way his prying eyes sweep your body in detail, taking his time particularly on your bare thighs, almost made you feel self-conscious if it weren't for that shadow of desire that crossed his eyes and the way his nostrils flared from a contained breath.

"How is he, by the way?" you ask, still on the subject. "Haven't seen him in a while."

"Who?" he clearly forgot what he had just said.

"Your brother," you call to mind, "how is he?"

Joel sets the box down on the table and drifts his gaze back to your face. "Fine, I guess. Last time we spoke he said he'd go to Dallas." He takes two glasses from the pantry and what it looks like a bottle of wine. "I-uh... There isn't any real food in here besides those strawberries and chocolates that this guy brought for Sarah. Should I order something?"

You shake your head and walk over to him, "This will do. Won't she get mad if we eat them, though?"

"Don't think so," he replies, pouring the red liquid into the glasses. "I'll blame you if she does."

"Oh, okay-" you cock an eyebrow at him and hold back a giggle. "Thought you didn't like wine."

"It's a fancy drink," he explains, "s'only for special occasions."

"Oh?" you take a sip from it, eyes boring into his. "And what's tonight's?"

Joel smiles conceitedly, jutting his chin out. "I've got you all to myself."

You snort, feeling the heat soar across your cheeks. He takes the snack box and with a sly gesture asks you to follow him into the living room, the melodic sound of the eighties tune turning to background noise as you do. The only lights on are the ones in the kitchen and the lamps beside the couch, shining a perfect light on his features.

"Come here," he calls, the leather squealing under his weight when he sat down. You set the glass down on the coffee table in front of the tv, going to sit next to him. "No, sweetheart," he grabs your waist and pulls you closer to him. "I meant here."

His legs part slightly, making room for you to sit on his lap. Your smile broadened toward a soft chuckle, settling yourself on his thigh. Joel immediately gets his hands on you, one on your lower back and the other merely resting on your upper leg.

"So, who's this mystery man that's been giving gifts to your darling daughter?" he scoffs in response, reaching for a chocolate from the box.

"Honestly? No fuckin' clue." You hum in surprise, drinking from your wine. "She never involves with them, thank god, and once they meet me they never come by again."

"I see,” you muse, “you're the overprotective type," you bite on a strawberry next.

"I wouldn't say it like that..." he sees the sarcastic glimpse on your expression and holds back laughter. "It's a dad reflex, I can't control it."

"Right, sounds convincing."

You stretch your arm behind the couch, setting your elbow and laying the side of your face on your palm. His face is very close to yours but all you do is simply stare at each other; Joel's big brown eyes glimmer with infatuation. “Can I ask you a question, sweetheart?" he asks lowly. "Somethin' more serious."

You wince in confusion, but still nod, "Sure."

He inhales sharply, taking a couple of seconds to actually say what he meant to. “Why are you here?" your frown deepens at his words. "I mean- Texas. I know you said you wanted to make up for the lost time with your old man, but... I feel like there's something else you're not saying."

It takes a minute for you to really sink in on his question. You nearly gulp down the alcohol before setting the glass down, avoiding his ardent gaze.

"Honestly?" you sigh, "There's so much to unpack that I don't even know where to start."

"Try." Although he didn't sound harsh, the effort he was asking you to put in wasn't something of your liking.

"Well, first of all," you meditate, clearing your throat, "the city didn't feel like home since my mom passed. It made me realize how much I missed here." He nods comprehensively, caressing the exposed skin of your thigh in a reassuring manner. "And then there's this- fear. Yeah, I guess it is fear... I've managed to accomplish so much in such short time that it actually fucking scares me to go any further and see that-" you stop, sighing and shaking your head. "That I've reached my limit."

For a moment, there's just silence floating between you, all that could be heard were the rain and a song by tears for fears.

"Darlin', look at me," he asks softly but you can't bring yourself to do it, embarrassed by your confession. "Please, let me see those pretty eyes of yours."

And it's practically impossible for you to deny him anything. Specially when he asks so nicely, when his hand grabs the side of your face so gently— you give in, just like that.

"You're afraid to succeed because you don't know what to do with yourself afterwards. Is that it?" You nod faintly. "Can I speak frankly?"

"I have a feeling you will anyway-"

"Yeah. A bit of tough love, but you need’a hear it." Joel strokes your cheek sweetly and you get shivers from the affection in the action. "Sweetheart, I know what you're going through. Shit feels like it's either moving too fast or not moving at all. And I know how scary that is. Trust me, there's still plenty of time for you."

You square your eyes to his, "Sure, bet you were frightened when you were twenty four."

"Terrified," he spoke truthfully. "Everyone I knew was getting married, moving out or working their asses off."

"And you?" he grunts, taking a strawberry from the box. "What were you doing?" Joel eats the fruit patiently, simply staring at you silently. "Come ooon, don't play hard to get."

"Gotta promise you won't laugh."

It's a tricky business for someone who makes fun of everything, and yet you simply reply: "I swear."

"Fine," he rasps out in fake annoyance. "I used to make my own guitars and- sell 'em sometimes. I'd also teach guitar lessons and horseback riding."

Your eyes widen in surprise and something flutters in your stomach. "Shit, that's actually pretty cool!"

He groans, rolling his eyes at the same time, "I told you not to make fun of me."

"No, no- I mean it." You shuffle on his lap, resting a hand on his chest. "And you sound passionate about it... Why'd you stop?"

The man shrugs his shoulders, tightening his grip on your waist. "It went well for a couple years but I eventually had to get something more solid. More so after Sarah was born." He takes a deep breath in, the smell of his own shampoo on your hair hitting his nostrils and catching him off-guard.

"You should teach me," you suggest with a smug grin. "I always wanted to learn."

"What, guitar or horseback riding?" he wonders, suddenly nuzzling his face on the crook of your neck.

"Guitar. I'm pretty good at riding, if you must know." You feel him chuckle against your body, his facial hair scratching your sensitive skin.

"We'll see 'bout that," his voice comes out husky as he starts kissing along your jawline.

Joel's common sense jumped out the window long ago, but the string of self control that kept him sane all this time couldn't bear the weight of you wriggling on top of him, semi-naked and with his scent all over you. Something primal took over him, a glimpse of possessiveness that he didn't believe himself capable of feeling towards you specifically. He wanted you to wear that flannel around town so people would look at you and know who it belonged to; whose bed you've been visiting. He wanted you to smell of his cologne so other men would know that you weren't free for them.

Your fingers run through his soft curls, messing his hair while he grabs the back of your thighs and manhandles you onto straddling his lap. He nips and licks over all your vulnerable areas, making your breathing start to labour. How could he possibly know this well the easiest ways to have you so desperate this quick? Leaning into his touch, yearning for him even with the smallest action? He wasn't aware of the answer himself, he just knew.

Joel instinctively throws his head back when you tug at his hair and seize the opportunity to duck down and lay a sweet kiss on his forehead. His hands coast up your thighs, splaying his fingers on your ass to squeeze the flesh. You hold back a giggle, kissing the curve of his nose before catching his soft, soft lips on yours.

He slides an arm around your waist, pressing his palm between your shoulder blades to keep you as close as possible. You feel your nipples harden when his tongue ran along your bottom lip— tauntingly slow, until you allowed him full access to your mouth, letting him taste the sweet mixture of wine and strawberries on your tongue. But his vehemence didn't make you any less eager, kissing him back with just as much passion and vigor, sinking your teeth into his bottom lip and mildly pulling at it with minor strength.

The action ignites a fire within him, seeing you on top, feeling your fingers roam around his cheekbones and along his jawline like you knew just how much fucking power you had over him... It was a new sensation, a new kind of desire he didn't recognize at first.

Joel's lips were swollen and his own excitement was starting to feel evident underneath you, which created a blunt ache between your legs. He usually appeared so big and mean, with those broad shoulders and permanent scowl on his face. Now, though... He seemed like he'd let you do just about anything with him, to him— it didn't really matter as long as you kept staring at him like that; through heavy lids, eyes sparkling with a profound, desperate need that spoke without words, saying 'only you get to see this side of me'.

You start grinding your hips against his, rubbing your clothed core above his growing boner in small, calculated circles as you shore yourself up with a hand to his chest. He merely admired you from his position, letting you have your way with him; all the while his gaze reflected patience, like he could take over the situation any second but enjoyed watching you lead.

"Joel," you call his name, leaning forward to kiss his chin, moving your lips all the way down his throat and feeling the nice scratch of his beard. Your hands grab the collar of his shirt as you come up to whisper in his ear: "Stay still."

Panting, he narrows his eyes in confusion, "What?" Though you don't give him enough time to figure out your words, getting back on your feet and parting his legs further with a light thump of your knee.

He observes your every move quietly, amused by your confidence and determination when you drop to your knees in front of him. Joel's cocky expression doesn't sway, not even when you drag your nails across his inner thigh, inching closer towards his very visible hard on. However, his body betrays him, selling a whole different story. His muscles tense, his jaw clenches and his Adam's apple bobbed up and down.

"Stop being such a fucking tease," he hissed, refusing to place his hands on you.

"Or what?" you drawl, coming to rest your palm on his crotch. A simple, feathery touch that made his pulse accelerate.

"You'll regret it," he warns grimly.

"S'that so?" you start to unbuckle his belt, way too slow for his liking, tugging down the zipper of his jeans. "I think I can handle it."

He smirked, his hand slithers to the back of your scalp and forces you to lock eyes with him. "Don't test your luck, sweetheart."

You pout mockingly, doing exactly the opposite of what he was saying while dragging down the fabric just enough to free his cock. Your new found courage falters for a second, finally seeing him in all his size and girth. He was, by all means, a big one, the amount of precome oozing on the tip telling you just how much he loved being teased, despite whatever words came out of his mouth. The mere sight of it sent a new heated wave of slick between your thighs.

Joel mimicked your expression scornfully, brushing his thumb across your cheekbone, "Too big for ya'?"

"None of that," you wrap your hand around the base, not really applying any pressure; though the sole warmth of your touch was enough to give him goosebumps, "we'll make it fit."

"That's my girl."

With a chuckle, you lower your head to kiss the inside of his thigh, the pads of your fingers softly grazing the veins on his length. His whole body shudders, leaking onto your hand and letting out a subtle gasp as you spread kisses all along his shaft. Your eyes peer into his soul when you gently place your lips to the slit, tasting the salty precome as he calls your name in what resembles a desperate plea. In a swift move, you finally take the tip in your mouth, swirling your tongue around it and deciding to put an end to his suffering. He mutters a gruff 'fuck' when you attempt to take him farther, pumping what you couldn't yet fit and snaking your free hand under the hem of his denim shirt to caress the soft skin of his belly.

"Shit, darlin'-" you feel the heaviness of his palm simply resting on the back of your head, not pushing or forcing you in any way, but allowing you to adapt to his size. "The only way to get ya' to stop talking is with a mouth full of cock, ain't it?"

You hum in response and the sensation is completely enrapturing for Joel, his callused fingers tangle in your hair to ground him as he releases a shaky breath. It's a huge challenge to focus on anything else but him; your mind whirring with a familiar dizziness while you bob your head up and down his shaft, intoxicated by the taste of him, the smell of him and every sound that escapes his lips, making your clit throb with need and your arousal pool in your panties, uncomfortably sticking to your skin.

For Joel, it's overwhelming.

He's never really been the noisy type during sex but heck— you were doing it for him. He's a panting mess above you, his hips buck ever so slightly in tandem with your mouth, trying not to lose it entirely. Your spit drools down his dick and the way your dark, dilated pupils sparkle with lust as you hollow your cheeks around him pulls a groan deep from his throat.

"That's it, you can take it," he coaxes when your nose nudges his pubic bone, the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat. "Good fuckin' girl, just like that..."

Enticed with the praise, you keep repeating the motion, sliding one hand to hold his hipbone for support and feeling his burning skin under your touch whilst the other plays with his balls to aid his pleasure. The obscene slick sounds mix in the air with his hoarse cursing, the rain and the faint music of kings of leon, sex on fire.

He looks so good from this angle, chest rising and falling with heavy, irregular breaths, head thrown back and both hands on you, keeping you angled for his cock. Drops of precum roll on your tongue as you keep changing the pace at which your head moves, tears welling in your eyes and jaw going slack. Shit, you're aching for him so bad that the only thing you can think of to relieve the need is squeeze your thighs together in order to create some friction. And it works, the action eliciting a moan from you that makes him fucking whimper your name.

"Bet your cunt's drippin' just from sucking my dick," he muffles a laugh that turns halfway into a sigh when you pay special attention to the ruddy, sensitive tip. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum-"

You can tell he is by the way his cock twitches in your mouth; his spine straightens at the heat gathering between his legs and he tries to pull you off against your will, uttering a warning that you chose to ignore. Joel's lips part in a throaty groan when he reaches his high, feeling the outline of your fingers digging harshly on his hip, your hand rubbing his length and your tongue lapping at his slit, taking in every single drop of his release until he's spent, right before pressing a soft kiss to it that makes him shiver. And hell— contrary to others, he tasted good; warm and thick, coating your senses.

His heart beats aggressively against his ribs and he loosens his grip on your hair, allowing you to get back on your feet while resting your hands on his waist. Although his eyes are barely open, he can quite literally feel your smile when you chastely kiss his lips. He chuckles breathlessly as you sit beside him, tugging himself back in his pants.

"We're not done yet," he says, grabbing the back of your knee and promptly engulfing your leg around his waist, maneuvering your body so that your back rests against the couch and he's crouched down, caged in the middle of your thighs. "I said I'd make it up to you and I will."

"Well, you've certainly got some stamina in you, old man," you poke fun at him, raising a hand to move those rebellious curls away from his eyes.

Joel smiles, caressing your cheek affectionately. "Always got somethin' to say, don't ya'?"

"Oh, Mr. Miller," you coo, enveloping your arms around his neck, "we both know just how much you love to hear me talk."

"Mhm," he leans down to kiss the corner of your mouth, "yes, I reckon you're right."

His big hand covers nearly half of your face as he holds you still, crashing your lips together. He kisses you deeply, vigorously, in a way that makes you wonder if you could possibly drown in a person's essence. His other palm slides between your bodies to start undoing the buttons of the flannel —his flannel— you were wearing. You can't help but whine when he draws back, watching you from above.

"Joel-" blood rushes through your ears and can feel your cheeks warm up as he takes in the sight of you, his fingers coasting down your throat and to the valley of your breasts, licking his lips when he sees your hardened nipples.

"You're fuckin' beautiful," he speaks freely, without holding back emotion, and it makes your heart skip a beat. "Such a sweet, sweet girl I can't get enough of."

"Then take a picture," you purr, "it'll last longer."

He stares at you through a measuring squint, a lighthearted smile forming on his face. "Since you insist." It takes a moment for you to realize what he means, until you finally recall that there's actually a camera inside your purse; one that he reaches for. "If I remember correctly... You said I could take as many as I like."

You lightly squeeze his waist with your thighs, feeling your whole body burn with anticipation. "I did say that..."

"Let's just pray your dad won't find these hanging around," he ponders, turning your face slightly to the side. "He'll have my head."

"And that would be terrible..."

He takes the Polaroid with one hand, the other coming to grope your breast as he backs off for a better angle, ultimately deciding to wrap his fingers loosely around your neck instead, purely holding you there. You glance at the lens, making your best "fuck me" eyes added to a cheeky smile, hearing him curse under his breath prior to snapping the picture.

"You've got the prettiest fucking tits I've even seen, sweetheart," he snarls, laying a palm flat over your lower abdomen while he waited for the photo.

"Has anyone ever told you you've got such a marvelous way with words?" he suppressed a laugh, safeguarding the picture on the back pocket of his jeans.

"Just a few women." Before you can even begin to act annoyed, he sets the camera aside and leans down to kiss your collarbones, the pad of his thumb kneading circles around your sensitive nipple. "Look at you, honey," he murmurs, "you're so easy to please... Or is it just because of me?"

You're panting, your back arching in response to his constant ministrations, every inch of your skin blushing under his attention. "I think it's-" you're cut off by the sudden need to swallow when he sucks a mark on the vulnerable skin between your breasts, "you."

His body vibrates with a laugh and you feel his hand palm your clothed sex, dragging his tongue over your delicate nipple, gently nibbling at it. You screw your eyes shut and let a single, fluttery moan slide past your lips when his thumb nudges your clit.

"So wet just from giving head?" Joel shakes his head in fake disapproval. "Who knew you were such a horny little thing?"

You are holding onto his bicep for dear life, fearing you might collapse into oblivion if you part from his body. His index glides across your slit over the drenched cotton fabric, making you squirm beneath him.

"You- you tasted good," you babble, mind all over the place. 

"Yeah?" his chest swells with pride, "you should taste yourself, angel," his mouth travels across your abdomen, "sweetest thing I've ever had."

It's pointless trying to conjure a response, you're simply too far gone by now. He hooks your legs over his shoulders and buries his head between your thighs, flattening his tongue against the bundle of nerves. You whimper, running your fingers through his locks and bucking your hips to meet his face.

"Please," you blurt out, "Joel, please..."

"What, sweetheart?" he asks, moving the underwear aside to directly touch your clit, fondling it as he watched your slick coat his fingers. "What do you want?" But you can't conceive an answer, all that could come out of your mouth were those pathetic, desperate moans. "Use your words."

With his free hand he plays with your nipple, grabbing your breast with his entire hand. "I want you."

He tauntingly moves his fingers around your seam, refusing to go any further. "Say it again."

"I want you, Joel."

Cocky bastard.

He licks his fingers clean and starts getting off the couch, leaving you with a confused, dumbfounded expression that nearly makes him crack up.

"You didn't really believe I'd be fucking you on the couch, did ya'?" he teases, but all you can muster up is a barely audible 'oh'. "Come on, let's take this to my room. And don't forget to bring that camera of yours."

Mind still dazing, you obey his instructions, following him silently upstairs as he undoes the buttons of his shirt. For a second, he glances back at you, gifting a soft, reassuring grin before extending his arm to grab your fingers, holding your hand in a pure, intimate touch.

And just for that moment, you forget that he's actually your dad's oldest friend, that he's Sarah's father or any other thought of the sort. He's just Joel. Joel Miller, the only man that has managed to make you feel butterflies in the pit of your stomach, or that made you blush with merely a few compliments.

"Ask me to kiss you," he urges, taking the camera from your hands and carefully placing it on his bedside table, his eyesight fixed on you.

"Kiss me," you don't ask, you downright beg.

He does, though it's not like the previous times. He's tender, almost languid about it. His hands are on your bare hips while yours cup his cheeks; Joel's fingers reach to remove the flannel from your shoulders and moves his lips to the newly exposed skin, murmuring constant admirations. You feel your lungs clench and a tingly sensation on your lower belly.

"I'll take care of you, darlin'." You let the shirt slide down your arms and fall to the floor. "Gonna show you what you've been missin' out on by fooling around with those stupid boys." His words go straight to your core as he takes a step back to sit on the edge of his bed. "Take them off," he gestures to the last piece of clothing on your body.

You compel to his wish, stripping under his prying eyes while he lazily gets rid of his boots. His lips twitch in a smile when he sees the glistening mess he's made of you, promptly dragging you on top of him. Your hands lay flat on his exposed chest shortly before he switches positions, readjusting you on the middle of the bed.

"Joel, please just-" you whine when he keeps playing with your entrance, stretching you with his fingers. Your skin scorches with desire, knees weak from the growing heat on your lower body.

"Stop nagging, sweetheart," he grits through his own lust, his gaze impossibly dark. "I wouldn't want to hurt you."

"Joel, I'm too worked up, I-" you gasp when he curls his fingers inside you, hitting that particular spot that made your toes curl. "Fuck..."

"Come on, baby." He ducks down to kiss the skin behind your ear and his beard tickles nicely. "It's just the two of us now, feel free to be as loud as you need to."

His pants are undone and hanging loosely on his hips, the image being so blatantly erotic that only managed to get you more aroused as you fumble to get rid of his shirt. He chuckles at your eagerness, shrugging it out of the way and haphazardly kicking off his jeans and underwear altogether, discarding them on the floor with the rest of the clothes.

You take a second to revel on his naked figure, his tanned skin, broad shoulders and sturdy chest, the marked collarbones and every noticeable mole. His hair is messy from your fingers, a thin layer of sweat sticks some curls to his temples as his wild, hungry eyes bask in the view of your sopping pussy when he parts your shaky legs further. But the moment of appreciation is brief, both of you being edged and spurred on.

He maneuvers a hand to your lower back and aligns your hips with his, watching the way your hole drips for him, wetting his bedsheets. You're a panting mess beneath him, lightly scratching his shoulder-blades and biting on your bottom lip, looking up at him doe-eyed and all splayed out for him to take. Joel wants to tell you just how badly he's longed for this— how he's been yearning to have you so achingly bad. But right now, feelings overrun his thoughts, especially after hearing his name spilling from your lips, begging for him to take you.

"Relax, darlin'." Joel teases your slit with the head of his cock, rubbing it along your sex and coating it with your slick. Your head tilts backwards, dipping on his pillows, small whines keep spilling from your mouth. "I won't go easy on you."

"Great, cause I don't want you to-" your slurred words get muffled by the sudden feeling of intrusion as he finally buries himself in your cunt, letting out a filthy, guttural groan.

You close your eyes, feeling lightheaded and staggered from the way he was filling you up so nicely, the stretch being a tad painful at first, but the kind of pain that could only ever feel good. Then your whole body quivers from head to toe.

"That's it, you can take it," he mutters, peppering kisses to your chin and collarbones as he bottoms out. "Fuck, you feel divine-" The tight, warm grip you welcome him with resembles nothing he's ever had before. This is new, this is you.

You bear down on his cock, enveloping your legs around his waist and lifting your hips to encourage him. He holds you down with a firm grip around your neck, starting to set a pace with his hips as he draws out and then back in slowly, roughly, making your back arch. Your erect nipples brush against his strong chest and create a delightful friction that has you moaning louder than you could've expected. You're amazed by the way he thrusts into you, somehow mindful to hit every right spot inside you —needless to say that it was something that others could hardly manage before—, his pubic hair tickles the skin below your belly button, sending shivers down your spine that prompt you to drag your nails down his back.

"Look," he indicates, despite your inability to even think straight. "Look," he repeats harshly, using the hand that was on your hips to tilt your head downwards, forcing you to stare at where your bodies connected. It was obscene, the wet noises of your pussy and skin clapping against skin sounding purely pornographic. "Look at the mess you're making."

"Joel, I-" you can't form sentences properly, all your attention being focused on how good he's making you feel. "I'm so close, for god's sake..."

"Lemme help with that," he speaks breathlessly, pining your leg over the crook of his elbow to make his thrusts deeper, more precise. You cry out in bliss, feeling the heat expanding from your stomach to your legs. "Yeah, you're close, I can fuckin' feel it- fuck..."

Your walls flutter around him, squeezing his dick just right. He knows he's in too deep when you call out his name like it's the only word you can remember, when he wallows in the glorious view of your pretty face contorted in pleasure. He looses the grip on your neck and strokes your lower lip with his thumb, prodding you to keep eye contact as your orgasm washes over you. It's electrifying, a feverish kind of sensation that gratifies every nerve on your body.

He rests his forehead on your shoulder, overcame by the intense feeling of euphoria that your body was providing. You realize in that moment that the reason why Joel could fill that void so easily was because he kept prioritizing you above him. Your pleasure was his, too.

"Jesus Christ, Joel-" you mewl when he abruptly pulls out, “… Worth the wait.”

He laughs shakily, kissing your lips shortly. "Turn around, sweetheart. I want to fuck you from behind."

With a buzzing dizziness, you follow his instruction. God, right now you'd do just about anything if he asked you to. You notice movement from his part and patiently wait with your butt up in the air for him to stuff you again; instead, you hear the familiar clicking sound of the Polaroid camera.

"You fucker," you chuckle, "did you just take a picture of my ass?"

"Couldn't help myself," he groans, caressing the soft flesh before lightly slapping it. "You look too damn gorgeous." The hit on your skin burns nicely and you can't hold back the gasp that escapes your lips.

"Shit- do that again..."

You can practically hear his smile when he talks, "You into that?" he repeats the action with a little more force and the pain sends a shock of pure pleasure between your legs, your own fluids dripping down your thighs. "F'course you are, I should've guessed with that attitude of yours."

He plays with your swollen pussy, enjoying your tiny moans and the way your legs tremble as you fist the sheets underneath you, burying your face on his pillow when he spanks you again— this time so hard that it probably left a mark. But before the sting washes away he takes the opportunity to enter you in one swift move, holding your hips steady and trailing his fingers along your spine.

"That's my sweet girl," he praises a midst, starting to grind his cock inside you. "Taking me like you were made for it."

This is way more intense, the angle allowing him to hit deeper, harsher. His gruff moans become more frequent as he speeds up his pace, letting you know just how good you were making him feel. The sensation was purely fantastic, melting every thought away and just leaving Joel Miller to fill you in every sense of the word. His hands are never still, roaming your responsive areas, caressing the most sensitive and always taking care of your aching clit.

You might cry from the overwhelming ecstasy— the way his tip constantly hits the depths of your cunt with each relentless thrust has you seeing stars. Joel gets a thrill from the way you can't seem to get enough of him either, throwing your hips back to meet his unwavering pace, clawing at the pillows and moaning helplessly, pushing him close to his climax.

"Joel, it's too much..." you mumble. "Please, I can't-"

He hunches over you, kissing your nape to ease the overpowering sensations, "Yes, you can. You're a big girl, you can take it." And then your vision goes blurry, all you're able to hear being his disjointed, lewd moans; all you can feel is his hard, hot body flushed to yours, his cock twitching inside you and the wetness of your own body. "That's it, give me another one, baby- fuuuck..."

The buildup is so strong you nearly collapse, feeling yourself tremble as he chases his orgasm, fucking you through yours. His fingers reach your bundle of nerves and apply barely any pressure, which has you coming undone in seconds, absolutely soaking his dick and the sheets beneath you, chanting his name like a prayer. A string of curses falls from his lips as he pulls out and quickly manhandles your fucked out self to lay on your back. He exhales sharply through his nose, spilling his load all over your stomach without even touching himself.

You both stay there for a while, catching your breath and looking intently at each other’s eyes before he rolls over, going limp beside you. You stare blankly at de ceiling, suddenly feeling aggressively aware of your sticky skin covered in sweat and cum, the numbness on your lower body that will surely feel sore in the morning and all the marks he's left dispersed on you. You feel satisfied, fulfilled even. Joy bubbles up your chest and comes out in form of a giggle, one you're unable to hold back.

"What?" he asks, turning his face towards you with a half-smile.

"I don't know, I just..." you shake your head, still laughing. "I don't know."

He chortles in disbelief, holding out a hand to take some tissues from the bedside drawer and going to swipe his mess off your tummy and inner thighs. "Shit, I think I might’ve just fucked the sense out of ya'."

Joel sets himself between your parted legs, laying the weight of his upper body on top of you, resting his chin on your chest, eyes boring into yours. He looks so young like this, despite the greying hair and the small wrinkles, his beautiful brown orbs sparkle ever so brightly under your attentive gaze.

"What will your dad say when he returns and finds out his only daughter has completely lost her mind?" he jokes, cradling you in his big arms.

"Come on," you roll your eyes playfully, "we both know that if I had been in my right mind since the beginning, I probably wouldn't be in your bed right now." He doesn't reply, but his smile doesn't fade either. Joel nuzzles his face on the crook of your neck, kissing your pulse zone briefly before closing his eyes. You run your fingers through his hair, softly massaging his scalp in utter silence.

The wind was howling outside, rustling the tree branches, but at least it wasn't raining anymore. You can feel Joel's heart beating against your ribs, his deep breaths fanning across your shoulder and his unique scent all around you, on you. In spite of the cold air, your naked bodies are warm enough to stay comfortably in this position, at least for a while— however, there's something deep inside you that doesn't want this moment to end.

"Hey," you call him lowly and he hums in response, "can we order pizza?"

He nods faintly, "Anything you want, honey."

Anything.

If only.

"I'll call," you say. "Any specific requests?"

"As long as there isn't any pineapple on it, we're fine." You glance down at him, almost appalled.

"You don't like pineapple on pizza?"

"No. That's disgusting, come on."

"Oh, grow up!" he opens his mouth to retort, but when he sees your dismayed expression he can merely bark a laugh that you get infected with.

"Order whatever you want," he whispers in your ear. "But you'll have to promise something."

"What's that?" you raise an eyebrow, intrigued.

"Say you'll stay," he murmurs, slightly hesitant. "Stay here and spend the night with me."

The proposal takes you by surprise, so much that you actually stopped breathing. You ponder wether if you could or you should; because, at the end, what would a night really mean? What could possibly change?

Nothing, right?

Besides, no one had to know.

(...)

A few moments later you're downstairs looking for your phone, wearing nothing other than his green flannel. Joel decided to take a shower while you ordered the food and you chose to walk around the house, paying attention to the little details you hadn't quite noticed before.

Now that you see it, there are plenty of horse images here and there. Very Texan of Joel, you can't deny. Lots of pictures of Sarah growing up, some of him and Tommy and a good deal with your dad. None of his ex-wife. In fact, there's no proof that she even existed. You decide not too think too hard about it, since it was none of your business after all.

You pour yourself a glass of water and wander your eyes across the amount of pills he usually takes. Anxiety pills, painkillers, vitamins. What could possibly be troubling this middle-aged man so bad? Again, you decide to turn a blind eye and simply pick up the phone, expecting a message from your dad to tell you he arrived in Boston well and safe. Instead, you find that your direct messages in social media have new requests. Curious, you open them to see what the fuzz was about.

Hi!

This is Will

I don't know if Sarah mentioned me...

I'm her English teacher, haha

I hope you don't find this creepy, your profile popped up in my 'people you may know' section and since Sarah said she wanted to introduce us, I thought I might just say hi 😉

Honestly, with everything that went down you had nearly forgotten about Sarah's 'you should hang out with people your age' speech. And now that you were stalking his profile, he appeared to be maybe a couple years older than you— handsome in a boyish, intelectual way, if that made sense. Apparently, he studied in New York too, and lived in Queens.

Hi!

Yeah, I reckon she did

What's up, Queens? :)

You don't really expect a reply, not giving much thought to anything in the moment. Though, an involuntary smile twitches your lips when there's a quick message that reads "Not much, Brooklyn" and the writing bubble underneath.

After all, having a friend in Austin wouldn't hurt.

[1d1195]

Dolcezza IV

Read Dolcezza here

A little fluffy, a little angsty; hope you like it! :)

~8.6k words

“Who’s Harry? He’s cute,” she smiled excitedly.

Shaking her head, she sighed. “Harry’s a friend.”

“A cute friend,” she whispered peeking over at him still chatting with her father and sister.

Her face warmed and she shook her head. “Stop.”

“Don’t know many boys who would drive them home to their crazy family and spend the day baking and running errands.”

She nodded. “I know.”

“Yes Mom, I know. I understand,” she listened to her mother at the other end of her phone. She piled her stuff in the back of her car and rubbed her forehead. Slamming the door shut, she continued listening to her mom ramble on and on. “I’ll be there in an hour and a half,” she assured her rolling her neck from side to side. A day off was rarely a day off for her. The peacefulness of her personal day was over. It was onto the chaotic portion which would no doubt leave her feeling unrested and anxious.

Thinking about her book, she heard her mom’s continued chatter. Her complaints of how no one helped her around the house and “did I tell you about who I ran into at the grocery store?”

“Mom! I have to go!” She longed for the book she was reading only an hour prior. Thought about the deep breathing from the online yoga class she followed from YouTube only two hours prior. Ending the call, she sighed heavily again, squared her shoulders, and fell into the driver’s seat.

With a frown, she looked at the empty restaurant, lights off, closed sign hanging in the window. She didn’t even get to see Harry before she left, and she really wanted to. Since Harry took care of her, she ached to see Harry more frequently but was trying to keep her distance so as not to overwhelm him. The last place she would ever want to see her stalker was at work (not to mention it would be worse since she mostly worked from home). For anyone, it was uncomfortable when someone was flirty and there was no escape (because it was their job to be there).

She should have just texted him. That’s what Harry gave her his number for right? To be friends?

To flirt, hopefully. She thought to herself.

But since he had given her number, she hadn’t been the first one to text. Call her ridiculous or playing hard to get. Part of her couldn’t believe someone as handsome and wonderful as Harry wanted to chat with her. She never wanted to bother him, and she imagined that if she started talking, she would never want to stop. Harry would need space and...

Well, it spiraled pretty quickly.

So, all their conversations over text had been through Harry sending the first message.

Since she helped that busy night a few months back, she made her way to the kitchen at least once a week. Antonio enjoyed her help and found her adorable and helpful in a way that he couldn’t find in many employees. “Don’t get me wrong tesorino, I love my employees. They’re family. But they’re also in high school and college and they don’t care nearly as much as I do about this place.” She overheard him tell Niall, “It’s nice to depend on her as a tenant, someone I can trust Leo with, and someone that cares for the restaurant like she’s worked here her whole life.”

It made her feel warm, and she loved helping. It had been nearly routine; working from home, going to the gym, running errands, eating eggplant and spaghetti, and smiling at Harry through the kitchen window. It was so nice to relax and be around people who liked her company. People who didn’t make her feel crazy like her family.

It was nice to relax and not worry about being followed for the first time in a really long time.

I could send a simple, “good morning, have a good day” text. She thought. It was harmless. She could do that.

Right?

Sighing, she decided against it. Maybe he was sleeping in. She tried to remember what day he had off that week but was coming up short. Maybe she would come say hello at the end of her long day if she wasn’t too exhausted. But it was unlikely that would be the case at the end of what would be a long, long day. There was always tomorrow.

Plus, if Harry ended up texting her back, she would probably crash her car to answer him. Shoving the key in the ignition, she was trying to be positive, but it was hard to do so when she was not going to see Harry and she was not looking forward to the rest of her day off.

The feeling was only amplified as her engine did not turn over. She groaned. “No, no, no…” she whined. She knew very little about cars. Every year she asked her parents to renew her AAA membership for her birthday. She was ever practical, and it was a huge joke among her extended family. It was something she hated paying for herself but wouldn’t be caught dead without.

Right when the car didn’t start, she should have just called AAA. But instead—maybe because she was already frustrated and anxious about dealing with her family—she got out of her car to look at the mechanical engineering, as if she even knew what she was doing. With her phone’s flashlight, she peered under the hood, like she would suddenly know what she was looking for. She readjusted the strap of her purse to keep it from falling into the greasy, mechanical things and getting disgusting. Always one to take the time to learn a new skill, her dad showed her how to change a battery, check her oil, and replace various things in her car once she got her license. She was praying the battery was somehow disconnected. Because even if she had called AAA right then and there, it would ruin her whole schedule. Her whole day. She would let her family down and that would...well that would be really bad for her psyche.

But at the heart of it, it really made no sense for her to look under the hood. The thought of seeing her family tended to wreak havoc on her mind and make her do things like this.

A gust of wind made it’s way down the road. It blew her hair in her face and as she tried to blow it back out of her mouth, she heard the thunk of her car door closing. She bounced at the sound because it scared her. Making her hit her head on the open hood. “FUCK!” She hissed, rubbing the sore spot. She hurried to look at the door that had betrayed her. “No, no, no,” she whined reaching for the handle, but her gut already told her it was too late.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me!” she groaned rubbing her eyes with the heels of her palms. After thirty seconds of silence and utter disbelief, she began smacking the window with the open palms of her hands repeatedly. She made grunting and grumpy noises and kicked the tire for good measure. “You stupid piece—!” She hissed and continued to beat up the inanimate object.

Harry saw her from his own car when he pulled into the parking space nearby. Niall looked up from the passenger seat while Harry checked to make sure he was safely and adequately in the spot.

“Oof, that doesn’t look too good,” Niall murmured, just as she began attacking her car.

Harry hurried to throw the car in park and get out of his vehicle.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Harry rushed seemingly from nowhere. He quickly raced to her, pulling her by the hips swiftly so there was small distance from her vehicle to keep her from hitting it and preventing her from self-injury. “Principessa,” his voice was so soothing. Even though she was livid and frustrated, she couldn’t help but feel like he was speaking directly into her soul, his voice warm and perfect.

The few times she ended up in Dolcezza’s kitchen, Harry was somehow kinder to her than when they were interacting elsewhere. His voice was gentle as he walked past her with a hot tray. “Behind y’principessa,” or “watch y’hands, kitten, this one’s hot.” Something of that nature. Even when it was busy as could be, he would gently place a hand on her lower back and walk by her making her stomach flutter.

Harry touching her and physically pulling her away from her vehicle, on top of that soothing warm voice, almost made her feel remorse for attacking her car. “The car is gonna win, every time, kitten.” His hands now gripped the top of her arms holding her in place even though she strained ever so slightly against his hold to return to her frustrated movements. Niall was close behind. He tried all her doors to see if they were unlocked. But no dice.

Her face crumpled and Harry thought he would cry if she did. “This is the worst day off in the history of days off,” she moaned.

Harry released the top of her arms, skimmed down the length of them and rotated her hands for injury. All the while she explained the awfulness of the last ten minutes, all the things she had to do and why she was upset that this was the time her car had chosen to break down. Niall frowned at her story, no doubt feeling bad for her, but Harry could see the delight in his eyes. “Well, tesorino, don’t count today out just yet. Harry also has the day off. I’m sure he would be happy to drive you to your mum’s,” he clapped Harry on the back of his shoulder. “I’ll keep an eye on your car. Make sure they get your keys safely in my hands and your car to the dealership.”

Harry smirked awkwardly and coughed as Niall volunteered him. Of course, he would do it, but he knew that she would be upset.

It was evident by the way her skin pinked with the suggestion. The thought of Harry doing something kind for her without any return on his time investment? “No way,” she snorted almost bitterly. “This is an all-day expedition,” she shook her head. “I can’t ask you to give up your day off for me.”

This was great for Harry on fifty different levels, minimum. He would get to see her in her element, talk to her about a ton of stuff, meet her family, and see her hometown. There wasn’t a better day off to be had. Except she looked infuriated, and Harry wasn’t sure he was exempt from her frustration. She texted rapidly on her phone. “Could y’go another day, kitten?” Harry asked softly. She shook her head. Tears were definitely filling her eyes at the mere thought. “Okay, so let’s go,” Harry shrugged and walked toward his car. She frowned.

“You really... don’t mind?”

“Not at all.”

“Harry,” she whispered so quietly, and he turned around as he held the passenger door open. Her heart nearly stopped. She forgot why she was so mad. She wasn’t sure anyone had held a door open for her like that. Ever. “It’s... a lot,” she told him.

He smiled looking back over his shoulder. “Then we better get moving.”

She stayed put and felt so utterly awful, but Harry was waiting. It felt wrong to keep him waiting. Especially when she could only imagine what the day would bring without him really knowing.

“Did you desperately need anything in your car?” Niall asked, trying the handle once more.

“Yeah, like all that baking stuff,” she rubbed her forehead not having any kind of backup plan for that scenario. Harry frowned and closed the door to the car and started for the restaurant. At least Harry could come up with a backup plan for her.

“Why are you bringing baking stuff?” Niall peered into the backseat to see a bag of groceries and three cupcake pans, ignoring Harry’s path to Dolcezza’s front door.

“Uhh…” she swallowed hard. Obviously, whatever the reason was not something she felt like sharing. At least not right then. Harry frowned.

“It doesn’t matter, Principessa, don’t worry. Ni, can y’help grab some stuff,” he said opening the door to the restaurant. In a matter of minutes, she had replaced the groceries and metal pans that she had brought from her apartment.

“Niall, can you give them to Antonio when you get the car open?” She asked her eyebrows pinched together in worry.

He nodded. “Course, tesorino,” he smiled. “Don’t worry about a thing.”

“I would wait and ask Antonio for his key, get my spare car key, everything...but—”

“Principessa,” Harry said pressing a hand on her lower back making her feel like she might pass out. It took every ounce of restraint to not let the shiver threatening to roll through her body viciously for him and Niall to see her completely lose her mind over Harry’s touch. “S’okay. He’ll understand. Let’s go,” he smiled opening his car door again for her to sit in the passenger seat.

“Thank you,” she said gratefully. Harry rolled down the window as he started his car.

“It’s what friends are for, tesorino,” Niall winked at her. She was only a half hour behind schedule. An easy comeback.

She nodded. Other than Eleanor and Louis, she wasn’t sure she knew what that was like. “Well, still,” she said softly. “I’ll make it up to you,” she promised.

Niall smiled gently at her and caught Harry’s gaze very briefly before he pulled away from the curb.

*

Once on the highway, she made a call to her sister, and explained the problem. At the same time, Harry called Niall and gave specific instructions not to let her keys out of his sight. Overcome, once more by the worry of someone stealing her keys and finding her apartment upstairs. Throwing that thought out of his mind, he told Niall that he had to pass the car one off to the tow truck driver and hold her other ones until they got back. He also left him in charge of making sure her car was properly taken care of, and he was to text Harry if there was an issue. She spent the first hour of the drive near silence. Instead, texting and scrolling on her phone. It didn’t upset Harry, but it did worry him. “Do y’need anything kitten? Wanna stop for coffee or...?”

She shook her head. “Maybe later,” she answered.

He nodded. “Alright.”

It very much seemed like she didn’t want to talk. But right as the GPS alerted her that they would arrive in half an hour she started to squirm ever so slightly.

“Y’okay, Principessa?”

She sighed and put her head in her hands. “My family is a lot,” she told him. “Like just chaotic and a little crazy; it’s embarrassing.”

He frowned. “Okay, I’m... I’m sorry that y’feel embarrassed. But... every family has something, y’know?” His voice was gentle and quiet. Encouraging. “M’not going t’like... say anything.”

She nodded. “Thank you,” she looked at her lap, inspecting her fingertips.

“Plus, if... if you came from them... they’re already the most wonderful people I’ll ever meet,” he shrugged as if that wasn’t the sweetest, kindest thing she’d ever heard. He didn’t get a good look because he didn’t want to take his eyes off the road, but he hoped her cheeks were that pretty pink color.

“They’re good people...but...” she sighed.

“Kitten,” he reached over and put his hand on her squirming fingers. He gave them a reassuring squeeze. “S’okay. I promise,” he whispered.

She took a deep breath and looked out the window. Harry glanced at her briefly. It was the safest he had ever driven in his life—and he was already a safe driver. But even though he was desperate to hold her hand the way he was right now; he couldn’t help but feel bad about removing his hand from the two-position. She was the most precious thing he had ever had in his car and wanted to keep her safe no matter what—even if he really wanted to keep holding her hand and assure her it would be alright.

She looked at Harry in her peripheral. “My sister is going to fall in love with you.”

He smirked. “M’a bit older than her, yeah?”

“She’s eighteen,” she sighed. “But we think she was born as a thirteen-year-old.”

“S’a bit young for me,” he winked. She squeezed his hand as she smiled softly. Harry wondered if she knew she did that but didn’t want to bring it to her attention.

“Also,” she took another deep breath. “They don’t... I’ve never told them about the person following me,” she mumbled. Harry very nearly stopped the car.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Oh?”

“They would...” she shook her head. “I don’t know.”

“Isn’t y’brother a dispatcher? Does he want t’be a police officer?”

“Yeah...but...” she shrugged. “I don’t know. Please don’t mention it, not that I think you would but—”

“Kitten,” he frowned. “S’a pretty big thing t’hide from your family.”

“Well,” she was skimming her thumb along the back of Harry’s hand, and he had never enjoyed hand holding so much in his whole life. “It would just worry them,” her voice was quiet. Like she wanted to tell them. Maybe she wanted them to worry about her. “I don’t... they don’t need to worry about me,” she mumbled. “It’s not a big deal, really. You know?”

It was. Every time Harry saw her, there was the smallest part of his brain thinking about how someone was so obsessed with her that he watched her every movement for over a year. So much so that she had to move. It wasn’t a way to live, and she didn’t see it as a problem. Didn’t see it as something that people who cared about her should worry about. Harry wanted to cry about how sweet she was. She deserved... everything.

“I won’t say anything, Principessa,” he squeezed her hand. She smiled.

“This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me... someone that isn’t Eleanor or Louis,” she explained.

“Eleanor...” he followed the GPS’s directions to get off the highway. It wasn’t quite a city, but not a small town either. There were lots of stores and restaurants right off the exit and Harry stopped at the red light. “El mentioned y’had an ex-boyfriend—”

“Course she did,” she rolled her eyes.

Harry ignored her comment. “—he must’ve... helped.”

She shrugged. “Yeah... but...” she looked at how her hands were holding Harry’s. It was so warm and somehow more intimate than every kiss she had with her ex. It felt like holding Harry’s hand was holding a piece of his heart and she didn’t necessarily think it was as simple as that... but she really liked it. “He... he complained a lot,” she mumbled. “I told you my family is a lot, and they are. But... they’re good people and I love them so it’s...” she sighed. “It’s complicated. I shouldn’t have dated him for as long as I did. Eleanor was probably right to not like him. By the end of it... it was like we lived two separate lives. I just did what I wanted and he...” she shrugged nonchalantly.

“You deserved more,” he finished.

“Well...I don’t know about—”

“No, Principessa,” he interrupted, cutting her off. “S’not a negotiation. You deserved more,” he promised squeezing her hand. They turned off the main road. Harry let her contemplate his statement in silence and continued following the GPS.

Her neighborhood was quaint and looked like a great place to grow up. It was the type of neighborhood little ones probably loved to Trick or Treat in. The kind where you could go to a neighbor’s house and ask for a cup of sugar and chat for so long you forgot to finish baking. Harry wondered if people sang Christmas carols or had block parties. But her grip had stiffened around Harry’s hand, and he could see her physically steeling herself. Her shoulders stiffened, everything about her seemed to be almost defensive. “If it’s too much for you,” she said getting out of the car and grabbing the baking items out of the back seat, “you can leave... there’s a cute mall with shops and restaurants back toward the highway if you need time to get away. I wouldn’t... I won’t blame you,” she turned her attention to the house she grew up in and looked at the Christmas lights still hanging from the gutter, draped on the shrubs.

It was February, now. Her heart felt heavy.

Harry had gotten screamed at during culinary school four and a half out of five days of the week. She was the kindest sweetest soul on the planet. There was no way her family could be so bad that he would feel the need to leave. “Thank you, kitten. M’going t’be fine,” he winked at her taking the bag of supplies and the pans from her, so she had free hands to open the front door. With a deep breath, she turned the knob and stepped inside.

It was loud. That was the first thing Harry noticed. There was yelling from one room to the other. In her defense, it wasn’t angry. It was as if they didn’t want to leave their rooms. The smoke detector was going off and a clang of pans coming from the kitchen. “She’s here!” A voice shouted from somewhere upstairs. Harry glanced around quickly catching pictures of when she was younger. He hoped he had a chance to look at them again later.

Harry watched her as she took in the scene. The living room and dining room were a bit cluttered. But it wasn’t as bad as she thought it was going to be. She hoped after she told them a friend was driving because of her car situation that they would clean up a bit. Maybe they did, or maybe her sister finally found better lighting in her room to do her makeup and skincare routine each morning instead of the living room. She pulled the items from Harry’s hands so he could take his coat off. He did so silently, and quickly took the items back from her so she could do the same.

Obviously, the smoke detector and kitchen were her first stop. “Mom,” she said evenly as she walked into the kitchen. Harry followed behind. It was a little more cluttered. Especially considering they knew she was coming over to bake cupcakes.

“Hey sweetie!” The woman turned. Harry could see his future. The sweet girl would grow up to be a pretty mom just like the woman in front of him. “Oh hello; I thought Eleanor was driving you.”

Harry saw her entire body flinch then, somehow, stiffen more. “Eleanor moved, Mom. I told you that.” The smoke detector was still going off and it somehow wasn’t fazing any of them and Harry found that rather funny and cute. But he was surprised that her mom didn’t remember her best friend had moved.

“Silly me, must have forgot,” she laughed and shrugged. She turned and took Harry’s items once more and set them on the little space left on the kitchen island.

“This is Harry,” she gestured to him.

Harry held his hand out. “Nice to meet you. You have a lovely home.”

She grinned and Harry could see every facial feature of the sweet girl had come directly from her mother. It was almost uncanny. “Thank you, Harry. Thanks for driving her,” she smiled. “Emma, honey! what are we doing with the smoke detector?”

“Nothing? Why?” The female voice responded.

Harry watched the girl’s face drop with exhaustion. The poor thing. They hadn’t been there longer than two minutes. Her mom rolled her eyes. “Can you turn it off?”

“I don’t know how!”

“I got it!” A male voice answered.

There was a clatter and a thud, but the alarm stopped. She felt the ringing of it still in her ears. “Honey, your daughter is here,” her mom sang.

After a moment, her father stepped into the kitchen joining them. “Hey sweetie,” he smiled. He nodded at Harry and gave his daughter a hug. She returned the hug, the light in her eyes seemed dead making her look stoic and tired. “No Eleanor?”

She nodded. “No Eleanor,” she sighed.

“Eleanor moved,” her mom answered pulling a casserole dish out of the oven. It smelled delicious.

“Really?” her dad said in surprise.

“M’Harry,” he said holding his hand out again for him to shake next. She was watching her mother with her casserole dish, she quickly moved things off the counter, so she had room to set it down. It wasn’t the most unusual thing, but it was very obvious that she was used to anticipating her family’s every movement. Maybe that’s why it was so nice to work with her in the kitchen at Dolcezza.

“What brings you here?” He asked.

“Emma’s bake sale,” she answered and began throwing used cooking utensils in the sink. She peeked into the dishwasher and noticed it was full. “Is this clean or dirty?” She asked.

“It’s clean. I asked Emma to empty it.”

“When?” she muttered under her breath looking at the stack of plates and dishes in the sink piling high enough that she thought she would have to run two loads while she was here. Harry was taking it all in, looking at the pictures on the fridge. “What’s she doing?”

“Who knows,” her mom smirked with an eyeroll. “Our princess is something else,” she explained to Harry with a smile.

Harry returned the smile but didn’t think Emma could be a princess. Not if she didn’t unload the dishwasher when she was asked. Nor if she knew how to handle a smoke detector. Harry got the sense that she was perhaps a bit spoiled—not through any fault of her own but ten years younger than her oldest sibling, she had to be waited on throughout her childhood.

Not to mention the only Prinicipessa in Harry’s life was the sweet girl he had spent an hour and a half with in the car. “Emma!” Her dad called.

“Coming!” She shouted and Harry heard a flutter of footfalls on the stairs coming from around the corner.

Her jaw dropped when she entered the kitchen. “You’re not Eleanor,” she said in surprise. Harry smirked. The poor girl looked ready to cry right there. Not one of them remembered. He wished he had her brother’s phone number just so he could warn him in advance. If he said Eleanor later Harry would lose it. He found it so unbearably sad, he thought she was going to cry. She flexed her jaw.

“Eleanor moved,” her dad explained.

“Huh,” she shrugged.

“M’Harry,” he said for the third time and held his hand out.

It seemed the genes she got from her mom were extremely strong. The three of them could have been mistaken for triplets. Her sister stared at him in surprise and nodded. “Emma,” she mumbled in surprise.

“Emma, can you empty the dishwasher since we have to make cupcakes and need space?” She asked.

Her sister rolled her eyes and Harry turned his attention again to the pictures on the fridge. Harry had his fair share of arguments with Gemma growing up. But he knew two sisters who argued could be on another level. “Did Mom ask you to ask me?”

Their mom opened her mouth, but she spoke before her mom uttered a syllable. “No Emma, but it’s courtesy to do what mom asks you to do, you know?”

“I was going to get to it after I finished my makeup.”

“Right because the dishes need you to be looking your best to get in the cabinet. Forget it. I’ll do it,” she sighed rubbing a hand on her forehead. “Why are the Christmas lights still up? I thought you were taking them down last week while James was home?” She wondered.

“James didn’t want to,” Emma shrugged. “Who cares? It’s pretty in the snow.”

She shared a look with her mom who once more looked so much like Harry’s sweet Principessa. She looked exhausted.

Oh.

Her mother’s genes were really strong. The exhaustion wasn’t something that just happened to her, it had been happening for longer than she had been alive.

“Alright,” she sighed and rubbed the back of her neck. “I will...manage that too.”

“Sweetie, you don’t need to do everything,” her dad said.

She turned to him briefly with an irritated expression. One that said, by all means, you do whatever you want. But it stopped as quickly as it started. After her expression returned to neutral, she began to unload the dishwasher. Harry wanted to keep a mental list of things to mention to her while he was here. The first being the look she gave her dad.

“Why are you making cupcakes?” Her mom asked quietly.

“I don’t know,” she sighed in frustration. “The winter carnival is expecting them or something...” she rolled her eyes. To her sister’s defense, she used to always make them when she was in high school. A “secret” recipe of hers (even if it was by all accounts a pretty standard cupcake recipe). But it had been talked about since she graduated. She made them for her brother and every year someone’s sibling of someone she knew from high school knew her and would ask.

Unlike her sister, everyone else had the courtesy to ask months in advance. Not a week like Emma. “I thought you knew!” She had exclaimed when she told her about it. “You always make them!”

“You didn’t ask!”

“I didn’t know I had to!” Emma was nearly hyperventilating on the phone thinking that she wasn’t going to make them because she had waited too long. But that was too much to explain to her mom. It was expected of her, and she should have known that she needed to make cupcakes. How could she not?

Harry was chatting with her father. Inquiring about how they had met and so forth. If Harry was into sports or if he liked fishing. She hoped Harry wouldn’t let it slip why she moved. “We haven’t seen her new place,” her dad admitted.

“S’nice. Y’should come by. We’ll make y’a delicious dinner too at the restaurant,” Harry promised.

She continued glancing over while the dishes were put in the correct cabinet, and she reloaded items from the sink to the machine. “Why don’t you make her do things, Mom?” She asked tiredly. Emma was inserting herself into the conversation with Harry and her dad. Her mom helped by clearing off the counters as quickly as possible.

She shrugged. “You know how Emma is,” she said.

“Kick her out,” she knew it was dramatic, but maybe even a threat would be helpful.

“Sweetie,” she rolled her eyes and shook her head. “You know that’s not how I operate. I could never kick out the three of you.” Plus, if she did kick her out, she would end up right at her doorstep. Right outside Dolcezza. “Who’s Harry? He’s cute,” she smiled excitedly.

Shaking her head, she sighed. “Harry’s a friend.”

“A cute friend,” she whispered peeking over at him still chatting with her father and sister.

Her face warmed and she shook her head. “Stop.”

“Don’t know many boys who would drive them home to their crazy family and spend the day baking and running errands.”

She nodded. “I know.”

Once the kitchen was mostly cleared, she was certain her dad loved Harry. To be fair, it was pretty easy to fall in love with him. She had done it about a thousand times. Emma was starstruck. She eyed his tattoos and his muscular arms. Harry had the best smile and the nicest eyes. Emma was going to be a giggly mess.

“Alright, I made shepherd’s pie for when you finish baking and before you go see James. What did he say he needed that you had to come?” Her mom asked.

Harry turned his attention back, wondering as well. She hadn’t said anything about the reason for her brother and added it to the list in his mind for when they headed to his off-campus apartment. “Just haven’t seen him in a while,” she shrugged.

“Probably needs money,” Emma snorted.

Her mom looked at her. “Sweetheart, don’t you dare give your brother money.”

She rolled her eyes. “Better me than you,” she mumbled.

Harry was starting to understand why this was going to be a long day.

*

Everyone left the kitchen and she got to work getting bowls, preheating the oven and all the other things she needed in a flurry of activity.

“M’not much of a baker, kitten. S’gonna have t’be all you. But m’really good at taking direction,” he promised with a smile. “Jus’ tell me what t��do.”

It was the cutest thing ever to see her put an apron on that was decorated with flowers on the print. She rolled her sleeves up to her elbows and twisted her hair back out of her face. She was adorable. “You’re sure?” She asked.

“S’all you, Principessa.”

“Okay, I just work really quick because I have to do other things so—”

“Okay,” he interrupted with a nod and a deeper smile. One that made the dimple in his cheek poke through. It poked right through her heart. “S’fine. I can do that,” he assured her with a head nod.

“Thank you, Harry,” she said gratefully.

“Course, kitten. M’happy t’help you. You’ve been helping so much in the kitchen. S’least I can do,” he squeezed her upper arm as he gazed at her hoping she would just see how much Harry liked her. They worked quickly, stirring all kinds of batter. They were making three different cupcakes: chocolate, vanilla, and red velvet. Her recipe was easy to follow. He liked her extra touches that made it her own and he thought that he would have to tell Antonio to hire her full time just to make cupcakes. “How come y’not a baker?” Harry was pulling the cupcakes out of the tins so he could place more paper cupcake holders to dole out more batter. He lined the cupcakes on every available surface. He insisted on this job since as he kept telling her, his fingertips were immune to the hot temperatures of the cupcakes right out of the oven.

“It’s a nice little hobby,” she smiled. “I don’t think I have enough good stuff just to open a little shop and sell cupcakes.”

“Would y’want to?” He wondered.

She shook her head. “No...I like my job. I’m good at it.”

“M’sure you are jus’ good at everything y’do, kitten,” he chuckled.

She smiled and put her hand on Harry’s arm as she walked behind him. In between rounds of trays going in and out of the oven, she was working on the pile of dishes and the dishwasher. It was almost done, and he was impressed (but not surprised) by how efficiently she worked. They chatted more about her job—she was a finance manager for a big company in the city near Dolcezza. She enjoyed it; her coworkers were nice, and people valued her skill. Not that that surprised Harry in the slightest. She found it nice to work from home as long as she maintained specific working hours.

“That was the hardest adjustment about working at home. I was worried I would just work all the time.” He nodded understandingly enjoying the passion she had for everything she did. “I think maybe if I wasn’t doing this, I would want to teach people about finance,” she shrugged.

“Y’would teach bratty teenagers?” Harry asked in surprise with a smile.

“I’m pretty good with them,” she winked and jutted her chin toward the empty hallway coming off the kitchen indicating Emma, of course. Harry laughed and shook his head at her.

After more chit chat, there were about 130 cupcakes cooling and waiting to be frosted after a while. “Do you mind helping with the lights?” She asked quietly. The last batch of cupcakes just went in, and all the cleaning was almost done.

Harry turned to see her pink cheeks. It was hard for her to ask for help, Harry could see that. But it was really exciting for him to hear her ask. It was a huge step. Even if it was already implied that he would help her with whatever. “Course, Principessa,” he smiled. “M’happy to.”

“This has to be the worst day off in the history of the world for you.”

“I don’t know. Cupcakes and a pretty girl?” She dropped her gaze to the sink and Harry smiled at her shyness. “S’better than me jus’ sleeping the day away,” he smiled.

“Don’t you have... a date or something?” She wondered, looking as far away from Harry’s face as possible. She didn’t want to catch his expression in her peripheral. “It’s Friday. I imagine you only get a Friday off once in a while.”

He smirked with a shake of his head. She was oblivious.

Or maybe she just didn’t want to see it because of who she was. Harry adored her and that probably scared some part of her, even he could recognize that. “It rotates,” he agreed. “But... no. M’not really interested in dating anyone,” he told her.

“No?” She frowned before she could stop herself. Immediately, she regretted saying it. But was desperate to know the answer.

His heart sped. He wondered if the strong, rhythmic beating would break one of his ribs. Closing the oven, he turned to see her still working on the dishes. But after a near silent moment, he stopped her movements, grabbed her by the wrists and turned her around from the sink. Her hands dripped water on the floor, and he shifted her so that her back was to the counter. His hands pressed on either side of her hips against it, and he put a breath of space between them. “I’d make an exception for you,” he promised and scanned her face. Her eyelashes fluttered and she swallowed hard.

“Yeah?” She whispered.

“Always, Principessa,” he murmured and dropped his gaze to her lips.

Her brain got the better of her again, making her mouth speak before she could comprehend what she was about to say. Her breath was airy, her mind spinning with the scent of vanilla cupcakes and Harry’s shampoo filling her nose as he leaned toward her. “You’re really going to kiss me in my parents’ house? When it’s crazy, and I’m crazy, and they’re—”

Harry chuckled, bringing a hand to the side of her face, and brushing his thumb against her cheek. As hard as his heart was beating, it felt so suddenly slow. Like this was normal and what he was supposed to do. It didn’t need a crazy heartbeat. It was simply what he was supposed to do. He glanced briefly around to see if her family was nearby—he wouldn’t want to intentionally embarrass her. “Yeah, kitten. Guess I am,” he shrugged and leaned the final distance to press his lips solidly between hers.

The moment his lips touched her, she felt her knees soften. Like she was going to fall over. All the blood in her body rushed from her extremities to her heart. It made her feel weak all over. His lips were so soft, like little down pillows. They weren’t chapped at all like she thought they’d be. Her whole body felt a rush of warmth, like the oven was open and brushing hot air over her. Her lashes fluttered, making her eyes close and she wished she dried her hands because she wanted to hold onto him, but didn’t want to get his shirt wet when he had nothing else to wear.

She sighed deeply. It was so sweet. It made his chest ache with want; he wanted to be closer. Wanted to kiss her longer. Wanted to wrap her in his arms and never ever let her go. Harry had never kissed anyone that had sighed so softly like that while kissing him. It was so very her and it made him feel like he was going to melt into the floor. Her lips tasted like chocolate from when she tested the batter. His hand kept hold of the side of her face while he nipped and pecked at her lips. The other pressed against the counter, the length of his body pressed to hers, the only two things keeping him upright and not bringing them down to the kitchen floor.

He released her lips after a moment causing a beautiful breathy sigh to leave her lips. His gaze was so intense she felt it in her stomach. It couldn’t have been more than forty-five seconds of kissing, but he would have taken an hour, and it wouldn’t have been enough. She wiped a hand on her apron and then brought it to her mouth to touch her tingly lips.

Harry’s breath was a little shallow and she was grateful he sounded a little worse for wear only because she was worried, she was going to pass out right in the middle of the kitchen. “Thanks,” she whispered.

He chuckled, shaking his head. That was very much a her thing to say at a time like this. It made his stomach flutter with excitement. “Pleasure was all mine, Principessa,” he mumbled pressing a kiss to her forehead and gently squeezing the side of her face as he held her cheek.

They stood for a moment staring at each other like they had never seen each other before. As awful as her day was, and as frustrated as her family could make her feel, this was infinitely better than what she thought it would be.

“We should... take care of the lights,” she whispered. Not that she wanted to, but kissing Harry with three quarters of her family one room away did not seem ideal.

He nodded. “Okay,” he released her cheek making her regret her choice because she felt utterly cold. She shivered and Harry sighed as he stepped away from her. Right as she turned back for the sink, the water still running, Harry caught her wrist again and pulled her so quickly to him her heart skipped a beat. “One more,” he mumbled and brought their mouths back together just as quick as he pulled her toward him, she hardly had time to react. His tongue gently tracing the length of her lip making her sigh again and he thought he would surely explode from how much he liked her.

*

“Where are the boxes?” She asked as she put her coat on. Harry pulled her hair from getting trapped and smoothed it softly on the back of her jacket. He found about a hundred excuses to touch her in the last half hour while they waited for the cupcakes to finish and for her to finish cleaning. The kitchen looked better now that she had been in there.

“In the attic,” her sister said looking up from her phone briefly. She sighed, frustrated that her siblings hadn’t even gotten the boxes down last week. Harry followed her upstairs. In the little hall between all the doors leading to what he assumed were bedrooms and at least one bathroom, was the ceiling door for the attic.

She pulled the cord to bring down the ladder, the hinges of the door groaning.

“Sweetie, wait!” Her mom shouted suddenly. Harry yanked her so hard around her waist as the door opened widely. He pulled her back toward the empty half of the hallway, causing them to fall in a heap right as the ladder half fell, dangling, unhinged to half of the frame of the opening. She would have gotten a serious smack to the face had Harry not pulled her out of the way. She felt so warm in his arms. Even if her falling on top of him with her full weight could not have felt good. She could feel her face burning in embarrassment.

“Emma, are you fucking serious?!” She screamed. She scrambled to get to her feet. She helped Harry back to her feet. “Are you okay?” she asked nervously, her eyes looking him over quickly and her mom had reached the top of the steps. Her eyebrows pinched together. She looked so emotionally hurt. The poor thing.

Harry shook his head looking at the ladder and then at her, still worried she hurt herself. He definitely yanked her really hard, and he did his best to take the brunt of the fall, but that couldn’t have felt good. “M’fine, Principessa, are you alri—”

“How is that my fault?!” Emma shouted.

“You knew it was broken and didn’t tell me?!” She hurried down half the steps to yell at her sister.

“Harry, I’m so sorry,” her mother said.

“It’s okay. We’re alri—”

“Is that why you two didn’t do the decorations?” She was seething. From the top of the steps Harry could see her shoulders heaving with each breath. “Are you serious?”

“What?!”

“The ladder almost hit Harry and I!”

“Kitten,” he started down the couple steps and he touched her shoulder gently.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Her mom asked.

“I was going to fix it tomorrow,” her dad called from another room.

“I’m fine, I promise,” Harry smiled gently at her mother wondering how she could be ignoring the screaming match.

“Why are you even dealing with the decorations, you came to bake cupcakes!”

“Emma you’re being a selfish brat, not once did you say thank you—”

“Principessa,” Harry’s voice was low, and he moved his hand to her lower back.

“You always make cupcakes!”

“—you do nothing but make messes that Mom has to clean up you could have at least put the decorations away!”

The screaming was reaching levels Harry hadn’t heard before. Especially not from his sweet, pretty angel. He worried about how her throat would feel from yelling so loud and of course the anger that was rippling through her made him worry she would shake so much she would fall down the steps.

“Sweetie,” her mom said pushing past Harry very gently. “It’s okay—”

“Mom, it’s not okay. She is a lazy, spoiled brat and you don’t—”

“Just because you’re older doesn’t mean you get to come over and act like you run everything! You act so high and mighty! We’ve been fine without you living here and bossing all of us around. Can’t you just relax for two seconds and stop being a bitch?!” Emma did not once get up to look at her sister during this conversation.

She finally stopped. Her breathing no longer heaving, she stopped shaking. She flexed her jaw. “The cupcakes need to cool. We’re going to see James and I’ll be back to frost them when we get back,” she snapped and headed down the steps.

“Sweetie,” her mom said softly.

“Dad,” she called stiffly.

Harry followed as quickly as he could.

“Yeah?” His voice was quiet.

“Can you bring the ladder inside that will reach the attic while I’m gone?” She asked.

“Sure thing, sweetie,” he promised.

She walked right out the door and closed it behind her.

“I am so sorry, Harry,” her mom whispered.

“It’s alright. M’gonna make sure she’s alright. I have a sister,” he said encouragingly with a gentle smile. “I get it,” he shrugged. “We’ll be back,” he promised following after her.

*

They drove in silence to her brother’s apartment. Harry reached over and placed his hand on the top of her thigh, but she didn’t hold it the way she had when he drove earlier. She stared out the window the whole time. There wasn’t a word of discussion. Harry didn’t speak, he didn’t play music, just gently moved his index finger back and forth, trying to soothe her as much as possible from the small movement.

James was a half hour away from their house and when there was only ten minutes left of the drive, Harry cleared his throat. “That wasn’t nice of your sister,” he whispered.

“Can we do this later?” She answered.

He frowned. “Principessa.”

“Look, it was really bad and I’m so embarrassed that you saw that and heard that. I’m sad you gave up your day off to deal with my insane family. I feel bad you’re stuck with me for the remainder of the day so I would rather just have you tell me to leave you alone when we’re on the way home—”

Shaking his head quickly, Harry thought about pulling over because surely they had entered an alternate dimension. “Kitten, what on earth are y’talking about?”

“I don’t want to do this, Harry. I’m so close to crying, it’s not even funny.”

He was quiet for a full minute. “Y’don’t have t’be embarrassed around me, Principessa. M’not going anywhere. The only reason I wish we were on our way home is so I could walk y’upstairs and kiss y’outside your door for a lot longer than we did,” he squeezed her thigh gently.

Another silent minute. They were five minutes from James’ place. “Really?” She whispered.

He glanced at her. He could see her teary gaze. The one that broke his heart when she wasn’t feeling well. It broke his heart all over again. “Really, kitten,” he promised. “We can talk ‘bout it later. But y’family doesn’t make me like y’any less. Other than worrying ‘bout you, m’having a lot of fun,” he promised. “Got a new cupcake recipe, got to see cute baby pictures of you, and got to kiss you. So...this is pretty much the best day off I’ve had in years.”

Her heart felt splintered and broken by her sister’s mean words. She was certain Harry would hate her and wouldn’t want anything to do with her. “You still want to kiss me?” She asked.

“Always, Principessa,” he nodded. “I’d ‘ve kissed you the whole way here if it were possible,” he assured her.

Taking a deep breath, she nodded. “I’d like that,” she admitted.

He chuckled, smiling happier than he felt the last twenty-eight minutes worrying about her. “I really, like you Principessa,” she turned that pretty pink that Harry liked so much. He could see it in his peripheral. “I don’t think you’re bossy or mean. I think you are the kindest, most caring person ‘ve ever met,” he put his car in park outside the apartment building the GPS directed him to. He cupped her face again and kissed her forehead. It felt perfect. Like Harry had kissed her a hundred times before. He peered into her eyes with the same look he had right before he kissed her in the kitchen.

“I’m sorry. I think... we have to wait,” she whispered her breath catching in her throat. She felt dizzy with his breath filling her senses. He frowned.

“Don’t want to kiss?” he asked worried she was still going to push him away.

“No... no...” she shook her head her breath uneven. “I do. I very much do. But I won’t...” she sighed nodding quickly. “I won’t want to stop. And I—”

Harry chuckled dropping his lips to press a line of kisses from one cheek to the other over the bridge of her nose. “S’okay, kitten. I’ve waited nearly nine months t’kiss you. Can wait a few more hours,” he promised.

--

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[chasingstardustandmoonbeams]

I was wondering if you could write headcanons for the Bone Boys as dads. ( you can pick one or multiple) (ie. Seeley, Jack, Lance, Zack, or any of the squinterns) I loved your hodgins fic sm <3 take your time!!! Thank you!!!

Oh, I love you for asking this 💕Any opportunity to write for my Jeffersonian family. And my squinterns? You didn't have to ask twice. If anyone want a part 2 let me know. I didn’t include a bunch of squints or my boy Aubrey

Seeley - over protective, caring, goofy, stern, willing to do whatever he needs to to make his kid happy. I mean, just look at Parker - that kid turned out so well adjusted and happy. Booth just loves him to pieces - and Christine? Apple of his eye. Any kid this man has will want for nothing and know nothing but pure unrelenting love. Sunday afternoons of throwing a baseball around - I don't care what gender, any child of Booth will know how to throw a curve ball. And the hockey games? Oh, the kid(s) will be wearing Flyers jerseys before they can walk.

Lance - we were robbed. Robbed of seeing this beautiful man raising a child. Sweets would be such a good dad too. Caring, affectionate, understanding, patient, hilarious, and with one disappointed look have his kids in line apologizing.

Oh, I could just imagine the first few weeks of sleepless nights. Lance, being so excited, but also so terrified of messing up. He knows what its like to have shitty people looking after you, and he'd never want to be that way. But he also knows what it's like to have two loving (amazing) people take care of him and love him with unconditional love.

This of course, would cause him to take the brunt of the middle of the night feedings/check-ins. Lance, sitting in a rocking chair, softly singing Coconut by Harry Nilsson. It's no surprise when the kid knows all the words before they know the alphabet fully.

Just, ugh, nothing but love and laughter.

Any child of Jack's will be showered with affection, over the top gifts (what do you mean a thousand dollar playhouse is too much? It has a fully functional kitchen and a mini lab!), and a love and appreciation for all the beautiful things around them (bugs and all).

"Whose my little prince/princess of the lab?"

Jack would realize his mistake during the preteen phase. "Honestly, I don't know where the sarcasm is coming from. They're too quick for their own good." This of course, would be met with eye rolls, and really? No DNA test needed here. King of the Lab? More like King of Sass.

Jack would love to take the kid(s) to the lab. "This is a Carabidae, they belong to the Adephaga." He'd love to see their little faces light up with wonder. He'd never feel more elated then hearing the little giggles when he puts the beetle into his kids tiny waiting hand.

Wendell would be the sweetest most down to Earth dad. No child of Wendell's would ever know what it means to struggle - not if he had anything to say about it. That doesn't mean his kids wouldn't know the meaning of hard work - that's the one thing Wendell prides himself in. Working hard and knowing you deserved to be there.

Considering his own mother induced labor on a roller coaster, I'm sure Wendell would be there for unconventional methods. His kids would also know how to defend themselves - verbal and physically (No one would ever talk down to his kids and get away with it. And boxers fracture? His kids would know how to throw a punch and mean it - "only if they deserve it, you can't just go around just starting fights with anybody."

His favorite memory would be the first time he took his kid(s) onto the rink. Seeing them persevere and keep going until they got the hang of it - "That's right, you got it!"

Wendell would raise his kids to be prepared for absolutely anything. Car broke down? They would know how to fix the engine. Someone broke their heart? Cry, feel it all, then take a deep breath and keep going. Because no matter what - he'll always be there to back them up.

Vincent would be a dotting dad. A little over the top, but that's why his kids would love him. Any child of Vincent's would know more random facts than any other five year old. The calls from the kindergarten teacher would always be...interesting. "Yes, yes, I can see why talking about the amount of insect legs found in chocolate would be upsetting to the other children."

That of course would not and could not stop him from prattling out more facts every night. Facts were his love language - his bonding time. Every night, without fail, he'd tuck his little one into bed, rambling about any random thought that popped into his head until his child fell asleep.

Colin, sweet morbid hopeless Colin. Would have no idea what to do with a child until one evening when he hasn't sleep for four days straight - he can barely see, his mind and body more fuzzy than normal.

He's looking hopelessly at his baby in his arms, "What? what do you need from me?" His voice growing more weary and desperate. Until he see's it, a smile - then a small gurgle that could be mistaken for laughter. "Oh, you like that, huh, my misery?" He's welcomed by another gurgle and big beautiful eyes blinking slowly back at him. He feels it then - the warmth- the happiness creeping up in his bones. He's got a shot now - at something he never thought about before.

Oh, his kid wants to paint his nails? Sure, he's always got the time, and maybe some tips, a little sloppy on the corner there. It's okay- you're only six we'll get you there, kid.

Colin would be the type of dad to always complain about being dragged to something, but he would secretly love it. Sappy teen movie playing in the background? No, he's not interested. He's just going to stand here for 30 minutes eyes glued to the screen. No, he doesn't want to sit down. Wait- rewind - what are they arguing about? He missed it.

Colin would have a little mini me - both the complete opposite of him and so similar it was scary. His little partner in crime.

Zack would like to think he knows exactly what he's doing but he has no idea. He buys every parenting book known to man. Spends hours of research looking up different child development theories.

No, the baby did not in fact laugh. It's only been a month, a baby can't laugh until at least 5 months. He states that firmly until the next few days when Zack swears up and down he made the baby laugh doing an impression of Hodgins. I know I said that, but perhaps the baby just has my intelligence and early development.

Zack will be there front row and center for every recital, game, or event. Doesn't matter if he has no idea what the rules are or what is going on. He'll be there cheering from the side lines.

His favorite afternoon snack to make? Macaroni and cheese.

Zack is just happy to have made his family a little bit bigger. He never thought he'd be proud of anything outside of the Jeffersonian, but he was happily proven wrong everyday.

[cutielando]

cry me a river | h.p.

synopsis: in which he breaks you

my masterlist

Harry Potter.

Also known as the boy who lived.

Also known as the boy who broke your heart into a thousand pieces and stomped on it.

You had been together for 2 years, having been friends ever since you could walk. You did everything together, spend every moment with each other.

But it wasn't enough for him.

He needed more, felt like he was wasting time with you when he could have someone worthy of the chosen one.

What a hypocrite.

From the moment you broke up, you tried to act tough whenever you would catch his eye, try to show him that you weren't as affected by the break up as he had hoped.

But you were wrong.

You were broken, getting more and more tired every day from having to put on a fake smile every morning and pretend like you weren't dying on the inside.

Only one person could see through your charade. Hermione. The girl that you didn't know what you would do without.

She was always there for you to pick up the pieces of your broken heart, always there to make sure you didn't stop taking care of yourself, that you were eating and staying healthy.

Harry had negatively surprised her when he broke up with you, so she distanced herself from Harry and Ron and spent almost all of her free time, which admittedly wasn't much, with you.

"You know, I have a proposal for you" Hermione said to you one day when she appeared in your shared dormitory.

"What is it?" you put down your book and paid attention to the smiling girl.

"So, I know you're still hung up on Harry, and you're trying to put up this front that you don't care anymore. If you really want to move on and show him what he lost, I think you should consider starting dating again" she said all in one breath, which made it a little hard for you to follow her.

But you did. And you were surprised that it'd taken her so much to propose the idea to you.

"I was wondering when you were going to suggest that" you said in a small voice, staring at a spot on the wall.

"I figured I would wait a little more, let you get back on your feet a little" she explained, putting a hand on your thigh.

You looked at her and saw the sincerity in her eyes. She meant well, you knew that, but you just weren't sure dating was the right thing for you at the moment. Not after the whole fiasco with Harry.

"I don't know what to say"

"I'm not trying to pressure you into doing anything right now. I was just suggesting it" she quickly said, thinking that you misunderstood her.

"I know, Mione. Don't worry" you put your hand on top of hers and thought about it for a second. "You know what? You're right. I have to stop mopping around and feeling like hell all the time. I have to do something for myself"

"Yay!" she squealed and pounced on you, hugging you tightly.

You laughed and hugged her back just as tight, your thoughts drifting to different things.

You didn't know if you made the right choice, but you couldn't sit around all day and not even make an effort to move on from Harry.

You will get back to your old self and take care of your needs. No more putting yourself in second place. You're the priority.

♡♡♡♡♡

You didn't think things would work out the way they did.

It had only taken a month for you to get back on your feet. You had got back to your old self, you were taking care of yourself both physically and mentally, you hang out more with your friends who are just as happy to see you better.

You still weren't talking to Harry, but the tension that was between you had somewhat eased. You didn't avoid eye contact anymore, you greeted each other on the corridors and that was about it.

As for your love life, well that's another story. After much thought and consideration, after finally making the decision to open up your heart again, you began a relationship with Fred Weasley.

It was unexpected, to say the least, even for you. You had always been close to Fred, but something more developed after you began hanging out daily, laughing at his jokes and him helping you heal, on your own terms.

He helped you so much, not pressuring you into anything you weren't ready for, listening to you rant after having a bad day, helping you learn how to love yourself again. He was an angel, just the person that you needed.

You were finally happy and free of the negative thoughts that clouded your mind after Harry, and there was nothing that could ruin that.

Or so you thought.

♡♡♡♡♡

It was a warm Saturday night, the common room was deserted except for you and Fred. You were laying on the sofa, your chests pressed against each other as well as your foreheads. Your arms were wrapped loosely around his neck while his were wrapped around your waist.

"Um, sorry, I didn't know you were down here" you head a voice say from above you.

You turned your head to the side and were met with Harry. He was looking awkward as ever, which made you tense up.

Fred sensed it and began rubbing soothing circles on your waist, which helped calm you down.

"Can I talk to Y/N for a minute?" Harry said, breaking the thick silence.

Fred looked at you for a moment, waiting for your answer. You nodded, kissed his lips and watched him climb the stairs to his dormitory.

You got up and straightened your back, not looking into his direction.

"What did you want to talk about?" you asked, keeping your tone neutral and void of emotion.

"I, uh, I wanted to see how you were doing" he said, taking hesitant steps towards the sofa you were sitting on.

When he saw you weren't commenting, he took a seat at the far end of the couch.

"I'm fine" your response was short, which was something you were certain he was expecting.

"That's good. I'm glad you're doing better"

"Is that all?"

He didn't speak for a moment.

"Actually, no. I've been going over this in my head for a couple of days, and I think you deserve an explanation as to what happened between us"

His words made you freeze. This was the least thing you were expecting. Of course you wanted to know what happened, why he chose to break your heart and what changed in such a short while. But the timing just wasn't right. You finally got back on the right track and now this happened.

"I'm listening" you managed to say after realizing you had been quiet for some time.

"Okay" he cleared his throat before getting into the story. "I don't know how it started, but all the attention I was getting because of Voldemort sort of got to my head. I was feeling superior to everyone, thought I was too good to be hanging out with my friends, and I felt like our relationship was keeping me from reaching a further point into my stardom. I realize that what I did was completely wrong and you can't fathom how awful I feel for the way I treated you. You deserved none of it and I acted like a complete idiot. It wasn't fair, and I am sorry"

You finally looked him in the eyes and saw that they were full of tears. Seeing him crying made tears well up in your own eyes, but you didn't want to show emotion in front of him.

"Your timing sucks" you let out a little chuckle, which made the corner of his mouth move upwards. "You can't understand how you made me feel, what kind of pain you put me through. I didn't sleep for weeks, I was beating myself up for not being good enough for you. Nothing that you just told me justifies your behavior"

"I understand that and it was never my intention to hurt you. I love you, and I would do anything to see you happy. Even if that means letting you go forever"

"I'm happy, Harry. I'm finally happy after being in despair for so much time. I loved you, I really did, and I thought we had something special that would last. But it wasn't the case, and that's okay" you put your hand over his, feeling his soft skin.

"Yeah, maybe we're just not meant to be" he whispered, tears running freely down his cheeks.

"I'm willing to put the past behind us and try to be friends. But there is never going to be anything between us again. I just got back on the right track and I don't want to risk getting hurt again just for the sake of the memories we have together" your voice wasn't louder than a whisper, mainly because you didn't trust your voice.

"I'd like that"

No more words were exchanged between the two of you, and after a minute of silence, you got up and made your way up the stairs to Fred's dormitory.

You opened the door and saw that the other boys were asleep and Fred was waiting for you, his torso up and resting against the headboard.

You didn't say anything as you climbed into bed with him, burying your face into his chest and letting out quiet sobs.

Fred knew there was no need for talking. He just held you and let you cry, rubbing circles on your back.

You were crying a whole river, finally feeling relieved after closing that chapter of your life. You finally felt like you had some peace of mind, knowing the true reason why your life turned upside down.

But, on the brighter side, the whole situation made you realize how strong you actually were, how much you could actually swallow.

Your heart felt at peace, your mind was serene, everything was perfect.

And to think, all it took for you to be happy was get your heart broken.

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[drarrily-we-row-along]

Hey friends. I always promised that I would write a disclaimer if I ever wrote something sad. So here is that disclaimer: this is sad. Harry is also experiencing some internalized “ace-phobia”, if you will. Just really struggling to believe that being ace is ever enough in a relationship with someone who is not. Yes, the author is hardcore projecting on the poor character.

“I’m sorry,” Draco said, and it sounded sincere, even Harry could hear the ring of truth to it over the splintering sound of his heart. “I just,” Draco swallowed, looked down at the glass in his hands, “I think living alone would be what’s better for me right now.”

Harry nodded, shoving down the emotions, pushing back the hurt, the yearning, as he forced a smile, “no. For sure,” he said, keeping his voice light, pushing every ounce of happy-for-you-undertone that he could. “Yeah. You have to do what’s best for you,” he agreed, and he meant it, even though it hurt the way that it hurt when you sliced open your foot on a piece of glass; sudden and sharp, terribly painful in its unexpectedness.

“It’s not you,” Draco said, reaching across the table and squeezing Harry’s hand, giving him a smile and Harry wondered what the other man could see on his face. “It’s not that I don’t want to live with you,” he said.

He nodded, “right. I get it.”

“And you can come over all the time, we can have a movie night whenever we want since I won’t have Pansy and Blaise to worry about.”

“Yeah,” he said, smiling. Smiling, smiling, smiling. Please Godric, let it be enough that Draco can’t see past it. “Yeah. That sounds great,” he agreed.

“Dinner once a week,” he promised, “and we can cook together!”

He nodded, plastering the smile even harder to his face, “I’d love that,” he said. Not as much as he would have loved doing the shopping together, and cooking together in their shared space but… best not to think about it.

“I love you too much to live with you,” Draco said, like that made any sense at all.

“Yeah,” he said, pushing down the tears threatening to spill, heart throbbing in his throat. “I love you too,” he said. Not too much, he thought, more than his body could hold sometimes but not so much that he couldn’t live with the other man.

“I’m sorry,” Draco said again.

And Harry wanted to make up a lie, wanted to tell Draco he had another appointment or something, but Draco was his best friend. More than that, Harry had thought. They’d started planning a life together; he’d told Draco everything, given him his entire heart. Draco had said that he wanted Harry forever too. Harry’s worked so hard to actually believe him. But that was probably just the mixed signals that Harry sent, confusing everyone that he loved because he couldn’t love them in the way that they wanted. “Don’t be. I still have Ron and Hermione.”

“You could try living alone too,” Draco offered, and Harry knew it was because of the conversations they’d had, about how hard it could be living with people who were in love. About how alone Harry felt even when he was in the same room as them sometimes.

He knew Draco was trying to offer a good solution, “nah,” he said, aiming for casual and hoping that he hadn’t missed the mark by as much as it felt like he had. “I don’t do well on my own. It’s okay. I’m okay,” he assured.

“Okay,” Draco said, giving him a little smile. “I toured an apartment today.”

“Oh,” he said, “tell me about it!” And he let himself get lost in Draco’s joy, lost in how excited he was for his own adventure.

“And it just feels right, you know?” Draco asked when he finished describing his viewing.

“I’m really glad,” he said, genuinely because he loved Draco. Loved him with his entire heart and wanted what was good for him. But he couldn’t say he understood. He couldn’t. Because all Harry wanted was to be able to come home to Draco at the end of the day. All Harry wanted was someone to sit on the sofa with and eat dinner with. He wanted to be able to take care of Draco, to love him on his hard days and to listen to his stories. Harry wanted a place to come home to where he could just shut off the facade, could just be Harry.

But they didn’t want the same things. That was clearer now than it had ever been. Someday, Draco was going to get married. Someday, he’d fall in love with someone else, someone who could love him the same way, someone whose body wasn’t broken, someone who’d want to have sex with him. Someday, he’d meet someone who could be enough, who would have the capacity to accept the love that Draco felt like was too much for Harry.

And Harry wouldn’t deny him that. He wouldn’t stand in the way. It didn’t matter that Harry loved Draco with everything that he had, with all that he was, in every way that he was capable of loving another human. It wasn’t enough.

It hadn’t ever been before Draco. It had been foolish to believe that could have changed.

How could he have hoped that it might be now? How could he have let himself dream that he might ever be enough for the best person he knew?

He loved Draco more than anything, so he did the only thing that he knew how to do.

He loved him with every beat of his bruised and bloodied heart. Harry set aside his own needs, his own wants, his own desires and loved Draco in the way that he needed and not in the way that Harry wanted. Harry set aside his hopes, and dreams, the plans they’d made together and begged his heart to be happy for the other man.

Be good, he begged himself. Be kind.

Love was sacrifice. How could he have let himself forget?

[gnashingwailing]

GIRL (gender neutral) HELP NOT THE PEER REVIEWED HOMOPHOBIA

@fireflywritesgt sending u my ch 24/25 thoughts <3

⬆️How Harry looks processing how upset he is that Joe nearly died in a lake while lovingly making him tea for his hangover

Meanwhile, Joe: I hope sober Joe knows how to deal with this Sober Joe:

First off. this is primarily a reflection on Joe & Harry throughout these last two chapters but I would be remiss not to mention how EXTREMELY fed I am by the Gutters lore ... was HE a pet or was it someone he cared for... either way... woof. Plus Calloway coming to Joe's rescue once again... even though there are now rumors and Gutters saw something. In parallel with the marking scene ... this story does such a great job of balancing the horror with the levity. maybe it's for the best Joe isn't telling Harry the particulars of his visiting Calloway's bcuz Harry might just have a heart attack if he stops and thinks through the implications of all this. Wonder if he realizes how much danger he might have put Joe in... he seems to kinda forgor everything else where saving/supporting Joe is concerned (as seen in ch21 when he wanted to bring Joe to see O'Grady...)

(Btw I love the way (sober) Joe will NEVER admit anything re: Harry saving his life lol. “You just threw me into a curtain 🙄“ “I don’t even remember the turtle 🙄”)

“He knew what the medical journals had to say about homosexuals; hell, he had read them! He had to give himself some credit, however. The little bastard had been drunk as a skunk, lying helplessly in his hand, and the worst Harry had done was march him straight upstairs to tuck him into bed. Whatever pathology Harry himself had, it had not gotten the best of him yet.”

GIRL (gn) HELP NOT THE PEER-REVIEWED INTERNALIZED HOMOPHOBIA… The Harry chapters always hit soooo hard for me when you read between the lines of what he’s thinking. He is SUCH a poor little guy… We can see pretty clearly that Harry thinks of his affections as something poisonous but Also apparently as something predatory? “his pathology” “getting the best of him” being like… what? That he’d take advantage of him because he’s attracted to him ? Is that the kind of thing the research said? UGH IT BREAKS MY HEART. I hope he’ll reject his coping mechanism of rationalizing and dissecting everything and just let go and trust Joe to know what he wants! It would be really tragic if Harry tried rejecting Joe much the same way Georgie rejected him :’(

“Harry, though he hated to admit it, was afraid – not of Joe himself, but what Joe represented.” - OUUUUUGHHH THE PARALLELS… the way Joe thought the exact same thing after the night of the thunderstorm… ouuuuughhhhh save meeee...

And the parallels continue in their tendency to self-harm… Joe may be more overt about it (lol if Harry ever learns that Joe has purposefully eaten poisoned chocolate three. times. and fully thought he was doing it a 4th with Harry’s own offering … #girl…) but Harry’s absolute repression of any self-expression or vulnerability is equally a form of self-harm… questioning Joe’s ability to make his own decisions is such a sad expression of how Harry (maybe unconsciously?) views things — safety and staying alive is worth more than authenticity. Maybe he won’t stick Joe in a cage anymore but he still wants to exert control over him — in the relatable way many of us do when we feel like our loved ones are making bad decisions. And Joe is making some of those! But so does everyone! And in Joe’s case the worst of them are likely driven from years of internalized self-loathing and self-neglect !! He would probably chill out if he just had a good man waiting for him at home……. Taking Harry by the shoulders and shaking him. U are both two sides of the same coin

Except

“Unseasoned. The word crept back into Joe’s mind. Calloway had a point, he realized; Harry wasn’t acting all that different from some of the lesser-experienced boys of Joe’s own size that he had toyed with. Surely, though, Harry didn’t find Joe attractive. That would be absurd!” Holy shit this whole chapter is so good but this part is hysterical. 1. TOYED WITH⁉️ 2. Watching Harry’s brain overheat in real time while 3. Joe getting to enjoy flirting shamelessly (clapping and hollering that he got to do that AND got to be sober to remember it) WHILE SIMULTANEOUSLY BEING LIKE 🤨 there’s no way he finds me attractive tho. How do they both manage to be such conniving little bastards and also so innocent. So clever and yet soooo dumb. 💕

But even tho he’s somewhat in disbelief about how Harry feels about him, Joe knows himself so very well lmao. At first I thought he was lying about not remembering their conversation but. I don’t think so. Harry telling him he said “something very nice” to him and Joe being like. Was it that you had a nice ass. LIKE HE WAS THIS 🤏 CLOSE TO THE MARK BDDJSHHD but ALSO even just calling Harry handsome made him a blushing mess!! It fascinates me that Harry is so terrified of receiving affection but he felt much more at ease when he was giving it. I mean, he was calling Joe handsome two chapters ago‼️ I think Joe can be forgiven for his romance-novel-brain idealizing Harry as a seductor. It says something interesting about Harry’s character that he’s been so comfortable complimenting Joe until it might lead somewhere … Is that open, easygoing kindness, the sort that compliments other men readily, the ‘real’ Harry? Was Joe seeing his unvarnished personality before it got hidden under the internalized homophobia that has come out in force since ch22? I get the sense Harry is just the sort of guy whose true feelings sometimes spill out of him in a way he is barely cognizant of. We know that’s true for his anger, but I could see that being true for his affection, too. I’m guessing that is why his internal monologue goes “wow! He’s like a movie star :) and he’s so brave and cool and I respect him so much. He looks like a dancer. And his clothes look so good on him. And I notice his haircut and whether he’s getting enough sleep and every scratch and scrape and other intricacy of his appearance immediately. Yeah, I can’t help but love him - you know - like a brother or a friend!!” 👈 UNSEASONED

"“So you admit it. I’m up here because I manipulated you, and not because you manipulated me.” Joe said." — omfg. On the one hand, I love that these two are so good at unhanding each other, and it’s very cute to me that they’ve both at different points felt proud for “catching” one another. On the other hand, Harry & Joe when they are tasked with cultivating a mutually nurturing and vulnerable relationship:

WHAT IF NEITHER OF YOU ARE MANIPULATING THE OTHER AND DOING THIS BECAUSE YOU LIKE ONE ANOTHER AND YOU’RE BOTH CHOOSING THE UNKNOWN. WHAT IF THAT WASNT BEYOND BOTH UR KEN RN. What then. One day they will quit playing Tom and Jerry-esque mind games with each other but not today. I know the rituals are intricate. I know. I know they’re intricate 😔😔😔

On a lighter note so glad to see Joe’s other go-to behavior is back. If he doesn’t wanna Just Walk Out then he wants to Fuck Around & Find Out <3 I luv how compatible the two of them are… Joe is not only moving in he's turning Harry into the u-haul service and Harry is just enamored with him for it. Faithful hunting dog retrieving game indeed. Submissive in the way a livestock guardian dog is submissive to its sheep. 10/10 Joe got his ass so good.

"“I’m sure you[‘ll listen to me]. You have to. If I’m gonna be the tiny, then it means you have to be the giant and do everything I say all the time.” He said." — Hmm. Joe and I have the same g/t fics bookmarked I think 👍 I sort of get the same sense that Harry got when Joe was talking about “luck” — that maybe the idea of “being the tiny” vs “being the giant” has some cultural connotations for him we don’t quite grasp.

OH this reminds me of the question I meant to ask you and promptly forgot about. If miniatures have a taboo against taking things without giving something in return… what does it feel like for Joe when Harry just keeps giving him stuff? Does “paying me in sleep” really work in borrower cultural norms? Hazarding a guess, I’m assuming romantic partners don’t necessarily operate on the same principle of equivalent exchange… given “Joe’s got a rich boyfriend that’s spoiling him” being something Calloway reads as normal/expected … That is to say. Hmm. Is Harry giving Joe all these things something that a romantic suitor would do? 🤔 Harry the unknowing seductor…

Parting thoughts… Miss Wilkins’ dad suddenly came down with tuberculosis, huh. Gang, do we know how Harry’s mom died, other than that it was sudden and traumatic? How do we think Harry is doing re: pushing all his feelings & unprocessed trauma down at this time. 👍/👎?

[seven-meds]

A few interesting Letters to the Editor published in various adult magazines between the 50s and the 90s. Transcripts and sources below:

1: Future Sex (Issue 6, March 1994)

I love your magazine. The articles are well-written, and it's refreshing to see adjectives other than the words "throbbing" and "turgid" being used. Bless you and your thesaurus as well.

I particularly enjoyed Kim Teevan's essay, "Self-Service" (Issue 4), but some of the terminology was used improperly. One woman commented on the power of her 12volt vibrator being powerful enough to bore her with men. Well, that may or may not be true, but it's not voltage that determines the output power of vibrators. (I am an electrician by trade so I'm quite familiar with how vibrators work.)

The "vibes" or "pulses" that come from a vibrator are dependent on its rate of electrical cycles, expressed in hertz. A really good vibrator will have a "rate of fire" of about 60-180 pulses per minute. That translates to about

1-3 hertz. Other good rates lie in the 3003,000 pulses per second range. If this sounds a little fast, don't worry about it. Three hundred to 3,000 hertz is the average frequency of the human speaking voice. It's a nifty little vibration but it doesn't carry as far as the electrically generated vibrations due to limitations in the body's ability to maintain a sustained tone.

If I can make a personal recommendation to heavy vibrator users, you can get about a 40% increase in output power on your vibrators by bypassing the resistors that send power into the vibrator itself. Just solder a little wire around them and you'll soon be able to come so hard you'll shatter windows all up and down your block.

Charles Harris San Francisco , CA

--

2: Night and Day (November 1952)

Dear Sir:

It's wonderful to pick up your magazine a letter from a fellow uniped such as Beth O. I, too, think it is about time we were being heard from. 1 am 27 years old, blonde and not bad looking at all. I lost my left leg at mid thigh in an automobile wreck. Also I have never been able to wear an artificial limb. I use one special crutch, and my boy friend says I get about as well as a girl with two legs. I wear a 6B shoe and would like to swap with any girl that wears that size. Maybe Beth O. wears that size.

I have been walking on crutches for over ten years, I play tennis, dance and bowl. Can anyone top that? I don't believe there is a one-legged girl in the world that can get about better on crutchés than me. I challenge all comers. It is quite a nuisance being one-minus, but as Beth said, it has its compensations. I haven’t bought any hose in years as my friends give me all their odd stockings. I am waiting with bated breath for your picture spread of us one-legged girls — might even send in one of mine if I can find a good one.

E.C. CONCORD, N. C.

--

3: Eqqus Eroticus (Spring 1997)

Dear Sir,

I’m a middle aged white male living in the Cleveland, Ohio area. I took an early retirement from the Federal Government over a year ago. But I stay in good physical condition by doing my exercises such as walking, bike riding and playing golf. So I can keep up with if not ahead of just about everyone my age and usually guys who are years younger.

I want to be a cart pony and I could be a cart pony, if only I knew of someone who could train me.

I have almost always been in control. I usually am in charge of what¬ ever I am involved in. At work, I was always the boss. Usually when I joined any club and social activities at some point I became the leader. That may sound great, but it is not easy being the one who has to make the decisions, to be the person people wait to hear from, to always be the responsible one.

Through it all or maybe because of it all, I have always had a suppressed interest in bondage. To “be” in bondage, that is. To be tied strapped, shackled or whatever into complete submission. But there was no one who could or would control me, and I still yearn for bondage. I want to know at the deepest level what it is like to be controlled, forced to respond to any whim of the person who controls me.

In my spare time I found a newsgroup that had all kinds of photos of people in bondage. What attracted my interest most was the pony girls, especially the cart ponies. They were totally controlled, physically and mentally. They weren’t just in bondage; they weren’t held in one position. They were forced to behave and obey just as their masters or trainers instructed them. They were in body harnesses, stiff high collars, with a bit in their mouths, and harnesses holding their heads just right. You might see them in a corral, practicing their gait. They might be shown in a stall, chained to a wall by their neck or ankle or pulling a cart with the whip ready to give them extra incentive to obey. They were always total slaves with no will or choice.

I want to be the one who is being trained as cart pony boy. Held by my reins in a stable or my bit secured above me, holding me straight as my trainer works on my gait. To know that the littlest mistake would be rewarded with a crack or two of the whip. A whip crack I have yet to feel. Taught patience by being left chained naked in my stall, to wait for whatever would come next. I even long to be the one locked to the cart, my head held high by collar and head harness, reins telling me where to go, proudly pulling my trainer. To know that when the trip was done I‘d be back secured in my stall, left alone to await my trainer’s next pleasure.

I’m not interested in appearing in public, or being in competition. I just want to experience what it is to live the training of a cart pony. Maybe out there somewhere is a trainer who would give me what I am looking for. I want this experience so much and I would be forever grateful. I’d prefer female, but since sex isn’t the object, a male would be acceptable. If there is anyone who would train me, they can reach me at my e-mail address shown below. Please help me fulfill my desires.

PonySlaveX@aol. com

--

4: Eroticon (Fall 1980)

Dear friends of Eroticon,

I read porno magazines secretly, because my husband would not like having such “dirty” things in the house. Couldn’t you show more close ups of the male models muscular buttocks? I also would like to see cocks being soft and nice before the erection. I would really love that!

Finally! A lady with desire. We shall try to get some of the models to overcome their vanity and show “him” in a relaxed state. I definitely agree with you — not only womens asses are tempting.

--

5: Divinity 7 (1994)

I am enclosing a cutting from the DAILY TELEGRAPH of the 8th September. This indicated the flogging of a bishop.

There are no details and I would be very interested to know more about it, there is no doubt that it was a severe thrashing, but the culprit did not need to have hospital treatment afterwards, and he was fit to sit and walk next day, therefore no real injury.

I think that many of us would like to have details, such as how was he dressed for the flogging, did he have pants and shirt on? Was he standing or laying down?

It would also be interesting to know the conditions for flogging in other countries like Pakistan, Arabia and Turkey, with descriptions of the faults for which one can be flogged.

A photo or two would be interesting or better still a video of an actual flogging in public or in private.

This being an item siutable [sic] for the DAILY TELEGRAPH, and the true record of a news event I would think that a video or photos would be quite OK and legal imports, am I right?

As you are In touch and a publisher, I would like to hear from you on this subject, you may already have information or know of videos available.

Douglas Finlayson Essex

--

6: Transformation (Issue 6, 1994)

Dear TRANSFORMATION,

| recently picked up your Magazine #2...it’s great! | like what I’ve read in your magazine, especially a story titled “Dominant Lady Turns Boyfriend into Crystal” on page 10. | have this fantasy...about a dominant lady dentist who has a thing about a trampy TV, and fetish PVC or latex clothing.

Sometimes | am the patient, all dressed in shiny PVC. Other times I’m the nurse, in a white PVC uniform, long blond hair and a shiny nurse’s cap. The dental equipment is an old belt-driven drill and a sit-up chair.

If possible, I'd like to get in touch with Karyn R. and Crystal. But anyone...please write me!

K. Johnson

--

7: High Heels (Vol. 2 No. 7, 1965)

Dear High Heels.

I would like to see more pictures of handicapped girls in high-heels... I am enclosing some of mine, showing my 6" heel—some also show my peg. I have other pictures showing me in 7" heels...

Thank You,

U.N.A.

[peleksstuff]

goodbye l harry styles x reader

*gifs not mine*

Summary: Harry Styles and (y/n) had been together for two years, but they recently broke up due to their busy schedules. Harry and (y/n) meet backstage at Saturday Night Live where they had met before.

-------

As Harry Styles walked into the backstage area of Saturday Night Live, he couldn't help but feel a sense of nostalgia wash over him. This was the same stage where he had performed as a musical guest so many times before, and it was also where he had met (y/n).

But now, things were different. Harry and (y/n) had been together for two years, but they had recently broken up due to their busy schedules. It was a decision that had been hard for both of them, but it was necessary if they wanted to pursue their careers to the fullest.

As Harry made his way to his dressing room, he saw (y/n) walking towards him. She was dressed in her SNL costume, ready to perform her latest sketch.

"Hey," Harry said, trying to keep his voice steady. "How are you?"

"I'm good," (y/n) replied, giving him a small smile. "How about you?"

Harry shrugged. "I'm okay. It's weird being here without you, you know?"

"I know," (y/n) said softly.

The two of them stood there in silence for a moment, each lost in their thoughts. Harry couldn't help but remember all the good times he had shared with (y/n) at this stage. He remembered how she always made him laugh, even on his most challenging days. He remembered how she would look at him with those beautiful eyes, making his heart skip a beat.

"I just wanted to say that I'm sorry things didn't work out between us," Harry said, breaking the silence.

(Y/n) nodded a sad smile on her face. "It's okay, Harry. I know that our schedules just didn't line up anymore. It was nobody's fault."

Harry felt a pang of regret as he heard (y/n)'s words. He had always thought that they could make it work, even with their busy schedules. But he knew deep down that it wasn't that simple. Being in the public eye and constantly on the move made it difficult for them to find time for each other.

"I just wish we had more time," Harry said, his voice laced with sadness.

(Y/n) placed a comforting hand on his arm. "I know, Harry. But sometimes, things just don't work out how we want them to. We just have to accept it and move on."

Harry nodded, feeling grateful for (y/n)'s understanding. He knew it wasn't easy for her either, and he appreciated that she was willing to put their differences aside and be there for him.

"I just want you to know that-"

"Harry, Please don't make this harder. I know you loved me. I don't want to hear it again for my sake, please." (y/n) said while laughing, but Harry knew he was hurting her again.

Harry felt a lump form in his throat as (y/n) spoke. He knew he had hurt her deeply with their breakup, and he didn't want to make things any harder for her. He could see the pain in her eyes, breaking his heart.

"I'm sorry," Harry said softly, reaching to take her hand. "I didn't mean to bring up old wounds."

"It's okay," (y/n) replied, her voice softening. "I know you didn't mean it that way. It's just hard for me to hear those words right now."

Harry nodded, feeling a sense of relief wash over him. He didn't want to hurt (y/n) more than he already had.

The two of them stood there in silence for a few more moments. Harry knew that he needed to move on and focus on his career, but a part of him still longed for (y/n). He couldn't help but wonder if they would ever find their way back to each other.

"I should get going," (y/n) said, breaking the silence. "I have to get ready for my sketch."

"Right," Harry said, reluctantly letting go of her hand.

As (y/n) turned to leave, Harry couldn't help but feel a sense of emptiness in his chest. He watched as she walked away, her figure getting smaller and smaller until she disappeared from view.

Harry knew this was truly the end of their relationship, and it hit him hard. He had lost someone who meant everything to him.

As Harry sat in his dressing room, he couldn't help but feel the weight of the situation crashing down on him. He remembered the times they had shared together, their memories, and the love they had once shared.

The tears started to well up in Harry's eyes, and he tried to hold them back, but it was useless. He buried his face in his hands and let out a sob. He missed (y/n) so much it hurt.

The sound of a knock at his door startled him, and he quickly wiped away his tears before getting up to answer it. When he opened the door, he saw (y/n) standing there, looking just as sad as he felt.

"I couldn't leave without saying goodbye properly," (y/n) said softly, her voice trembling with emotion.

Harry's heart skipped a beat as he looked into her eyes. He could see their pain and sadness, and he knew that she was hurting just as much as he was.

They stood there for a moment, just looking at each other, before (y/n) stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Harry in a tight embrace. Harry felt his heart break into a million pieces as he hugged her back, knowing that this was probably the last time he would ever hold her like this.

"I'm going to miss you so much," (y/n) whispered, her voice barely above a whisper

"I'm going to miss you too," Harry replied, his voice cracking with emotion.

They held each other for what felt like an eternity, both unwilling to let go. But eventually, they knew that they had to.

As (y/n) pulled away, Harry could see the tears streaming down her face. He reached up and gently wiped them away with his thumb, feeling the urge to kiss her one last time. But he knew it wasn't fair for either of them to reopen old wounds.

"Goodbye, Harry," (y/n) said, her voice barely audible.

"Goodbye, (y/n)," Harry replied, his voice choked with tears.

As (y/n) turned to leave, Harry watched her go, feeling a sense of emptiness in his chest. He knew that he would never forget her and that a part of him would always love her. But he also knew that it was time to move on and focus on his career and future.

[wowzah2nd]

The Lioness and her Serpent lover: A forbidden love story (Draco Malfoy x reader)

Forbidden Attraction

Part 1, part 2, part 3, part 3.5

word count:1.9k

Within Hogwarts many secretes and mysteries were held some solved and discovered. The castle may hold many secretes but within those wall were student holding their very own secrets. Y/N potter being one of them holding a secret that would shock not only her brother and friends but the whole school it self. What is that secret you may ask well. She was dating non-other the Slytherin prince Draco Malfoy

In the bustling halls of Hogwarts there was a girl named Y/N potter, yes you heard correctly harry potter had a sister, a twin sister to be exact. This was her third year and it was one she was very excited about. The 2nd term of last year was a surprise for Y/N since she had received a letter asking her to meet someone at the owlery at midnight this worried her but also excited her so she decided to go. Once there she had notice no one was there think she was early she stayed but as the night went on no one had arrived for 5 mins thinking someone had pulled a cruel joke on her she decided to leave but just as she made it to the exit someone else came into view. It was hard to see who it was until they came into the light emitted from your wand. It was Draco Malfoy confused and shocked you stayed silent until he decided to speak 

Draco: I’m sorry I was late no one was asleep yet so i had to sneak out 

Still in shock you remained silent waiting for him to carry on speaking 

Draco: you must be wondering why im here. Actually you probably know your pretty smart uhhh i sent you that letter and wanted to tell you something.

Finally snapping out of the feeling of shock you decided to speak 

Y/N: I won’t lie im very surprised that it’s you, i mean you and my brother hate each other id assumed you hated me too

He looked a bit surprised at that statement

Draco: I could never hate you i mean i dont have a reason to not even you being related to potter could make me hate you

Y/N: But you never really interacted with me, i even tried to talk to you once and you ignored me 

Draco: that on me sorry im not very good with people outside my own house but its a bit more harder with you 

That caused you to furrow your brows confused

Y/N: what do you mean its harder with you 

Draco stayed silent for a bit then taking a deep breathe 

Draco: well thats the reason i asked you here to night i want to confess something to you 

He paused again

draco :im actually in love with you Y/N potter…ever since i saw you in our first year i have been in love with you. From the kindness you showed me that day.

Y/N  Pov

You remember that day very vividly it was the day you were to begin your journey as a witch but also the day you saw the most beautiful grey eyes. 

You didnt rember much of that day only when you first saw him he looked smug and cocky but you didnt really care you were just focused on those eyes they were beautiful then you heard the boy speak to harry he introduced his friends crabe and goyle then finally himself finally finding who this boy was. Draco Malfoy 

He tried to befriend harry but failed due to insulting ron his new found friend which was a bad move on his part after harry rejected dracos offer professor mcgonagall had returned to usher the students to the great hall to be sorted. Before it was draco turn to be sorted you made your way to him no one really noticing since they were distracted with watching the students ahead of them being sorted

You tapped his shoulder to make him face you 

Draco: who are you? 

He asked confused at the thought someone would come up to him like that 

Y/N: Im Y/N potter 

You said with a big smile 

Draco: your related to that other potter

Y/N: yes i am, his actually my twin brother

Draco: In that case what do you want? Here to rub it into my face he said no to me

I lookd at him confused why would i do that seemed a bit rude and mean 

Y/N; no, why would i do that? Im actually wanted to say sorry about my brother being like that but you did insult his friend

Draco: And? Not my fault he was offended 

I giggled at that answer

Y/N still you could have done it alot better then insulting his friend 

Draco: oh yeah and how would you have gone about it then

Y/N: well id ask them nicely and not insult their friends like this

You first held out your hand for a hand shake then said

Y/N: would you like to be friends draco malfoy

You said with a big smile showing how genuine you were in your question 

Dracos Pov

I looked at her shocked. I knew for a fact she didn;t know who i was seeing as her brother didn’t know either. Most of the time people only wanted ot be my friends for family gain since my family is very influential in the wizrding world meaning most oh my friendships were transactional and non-genuine just people trying to social climb by being my friend. But she actually wanted to be my friend not cause my family was well known but just wanted to 

Draco: I-

I was going to answer but i was interrupted 

Magonagoll: Draco Malfoy

I made my way to the seat to be sort but before the hat was placed on my head it yelled slytherin

The slytherin table clapped i decided to look at Y/N direction seeing her happy for me and clapping as loud too.

After the ceremony i tried to talk to her again but her brother always stopped me from talking to her saying “ leave us alone” or “ leave her out of this” i never really could get near her so i decided to stop

End Flash Back

Y/N: so youve liked me ever since that day why didnt you talk to me then after that\

I said a bit angry

Draco: i could never get near you or alone your brother was always stopping me thinking i was gonna have a go at you too but i wasn’t then one day i just stopped cause i thought you didnt wanna be friends anymore cause maybe your brother said something

Y/N: draco i still wanted to be friends nothing he said changed anything all i sw was someone who wanted a friend not the bully they saw and to be hinest ive always had a crush on you but thought id never geta chance due to us being different 

Draco: you always had a chance more chances then any of the slytherin girl that try to talk to me all i ever saw was you Y/N only you

At that i smiled, blushing even this is so romantic. He walked towards be taking a hold of both of my hanf and bringing it towards his chest 

Draco: i love you and would you do me the honour of allowing me to date you and eventually maybe be my girlfriend

That made me smile so hard my cheeks hurt i let go of his hands and swang mine around his neck in pure joy and excitement 

Y/N: yes yes yes absolutely yes draco i love would love that.

And every since that day she’d be in and abnormally good mood. Over the last term draco and her had been going on date and eventually after enough of them he had finally asked her to be official which she of course she said yes.

And that brings us back to today walking though the bustling halls of hogwarts towards her next class potions excited to see her boyfriend even though they were allows to be public due to dracos family and y/ns brother they still dhows some form of affection even if it diddnt look that affectionate to other 

Walking into potions i already noticed students waiting for the class to start. Making her way towards her seat she noticed draco was already seating there waiting. Honestly harry wasnt happy about the seating plan and i wasn’t to bothered of course but was surprised that we were sat together and thought draco might have had something to do with. I giggled at the thought 

Taking my seat next to draco he greets me 

Draco: Hello Potter 

Y/N: Malfoy 

As i sat down making sure no one could see i held his hand giving it a little squeeze this was our way of saying it nice to see you 

As class started i pulled out a special book along with my quill and paper to take notes as well. What was this special book? Well it was a thoughtful gift that draco made that would allow me and him to talk with out having to exchange letter or passing notes.

Book Pov

Draco: how was your day love?

Y/N: it was pretty good but had a bit of an argument with harry in the common room again

Draco: what did the git do this time 

Y/N: he was mad that im nice to you and i argued im nice to everyone. He then tried to counter that statement by saying that you should be the exception. So i shut that down then and there

Draco: sorry to hear that love i wish i could do something about it 

Y/N: dont worry about it draco really it not your fault plus nothing he can say will make me stop loving you 

At that he turned towards you giving you a smile and you giving one back. Unbenounced to you harry saw the whole thing 

Class had finally finished and you stand up to head of of class but before leaving you decided to say bye to draco

Y/N: Bye malfoy

Draco: Bye 

It may have sounded mean to other but you know he didn't mean it to be as walk out the door to go to lunch you were pulled harshly by someone 

Y/N hey what the hell 

 You turn to look at who had just pulled you seeing that is was harry

Y/n what the hell is wrong with you that really hurt you idiot

Harry: what the hell was thay

I looked at him confused

Y/N: what  the hell was what im so confused 

Harry: you know what im talking about dont you lie to me 

Y/N: im not lying what are you on about harry 

Harry: why did you look at him like that 

Y/N: who the hell are you talking about

Harry: malfoy. Why were you looking at him like that 

I tensed up a little 

y/n: looking at him like what i just looked at him i cant really help having eyes you know 

Harry: dont play dumb i saw that way you looked at him, you smiled at him like you liked him 

Honestly does he have better things to do then monitoring my every move jeez this boy 

Y/N: harry i smiled at him cause he helped me he didnt even smile at me back 

I was really hoping he couldnt see draco smiling form his angle or else he’d know i feed him a dead lie

Harry: Still why would you do that you know his evil right 

Y/N: oh my god not this again harry you dont know him that well stop pulling theories out your ass 

Harry: yes i know that his family are death eater his dad tried to kill me second year 

Y/N that may be true but his not his dad his him 

At that i walked away he was ridiculous throwing accusations like that yes his father are those things but Draco would never

[bangpop91]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

I was tagged by the wonderful and fabulously talented @cliophilyra

1. How many fics on AO3?

57

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

357,820

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Currently it's predominantly 9-1-1, but I also write for 9-1-1 Lone Star, and used to write for Roswell New Mexico.

4. What are your top 5 fics by Kudos?

Sipping Him Like Whiskey

For this Child I Have Prayed

A Contractual Kiss

Growing Pains

Stay With Me

5. Do you respond to comments?

Yes. I don't my best to

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I generally as a rule of thumb make sure my angst riddled stories end on a happy or at least hopeful note.

But my WIP Carry On My Wayward Son, which should be completed some time this week will be my angstiest ending

7. What is the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Ohhhhh. That is a hard one. Really that would probably be every story in the Bedtime Stories Series

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Once on a rare pair fic. I deleted the hate and went on my merry way. It was properly tagged so there was no point arguing with someone who was mad I wrote this Flint/Kyle story.

9. Do you write Smut?

Absolutely! I write all kinds. Soft and sweet, emotional, humorous, kinky.

10. Do you write crossovers?

Technically? I have written 911 and 911 lone star into most of my stories even if it is just Easter eggs of the other show.

Otherwise, I'm open to it just haven't found the right inspiration to yet.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to the best of my knowledge. I'm not where near that popular of a fan fic author for anyone to steal my stories.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated.

I have not! I'd be extremely honored though if anyone ever wanted to translated my work though.

13. Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

@girlwonder-writes and I have something in the works! I am very excited about it!

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

This is like asking which of my children are my favorite 😂. My original ship from way back when I was just starting to make my way into fandom was Gemma Doyle/Felicity Worthington from The Gemma Doyle Trilogy. But I also have fallen in love with a great many other ships over the years. These days, Malex, Lizobel, and Flint/Kyle from Roswell New Mexico still hold a special place in my heart. Then there is Luc and Oliver of the London Calling Series, Henry and Alex from Red, White, and Royal Blue, and Joe and Nicki from the Old Gaurd.

And I refuse to pick a favorite 9-1-1 universe ship. I love them all.

15. What's the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

It's my tarlos/Campbell(tarlossoup) fic I started but have been struggling to write. I still have hope but it won't be for anything hot minute if I do.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Oh man. I want to say it's coming up with interesting concepts. I don't know if I am always the best as executing them. And I am notoriously hard on myself and my own writing. So. I dunno send praise I guess 😂 feed your local artists and writers with compliments.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Spelling, grammar, executing my ideas without getting lost in unnecessary details, sometimes putting the things in my head onto the page in the way I want in a satisfying way.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I LOVE IT! I am in awe of people who can do it and do it well. I wish I was better with language as so I could do it properly. I don't my best to include it where I can but I get self conscious about it

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Oh man way way back in the day I wrote Harry potter fan fiction on Fanfiction.net.

20. Favorite fic you wrote?

Again with asking me to choose a favorite child 😂.

Paul Strickland and the Case of the missing Lion

Madam Vega and the Sensational Six

I Wasn't Looking for You

Every story in the Calypso universe

Just a Kid From Roswell

Lancing the Wound

A Soft Glow

No pressure tags for @marvelousbuckley @girlwonder-writes @nine-one-wanton @racerchix21 @rdng1230

And @dr-lizortecho @winged-fool @thepinkcrayon @thecarrott @dadbodbuck

And @30somethingautisticteacher @judymarch15 @herrmannhalsteadproduction @missmeryl92

[judginess]

condensing all of today's dramione posts into one place because i'm so nice. um regular dramione content warnings so basically csa sa incest dv murder torture etc

first of all.

anyway i was reading something called bloody slutty and pathetic which caught me attention (well for being the biggest new dramione entry on ao3 but also) because the tone of it is so jarring i felt lije i was losing my mind the whole way through and kind of have to share some of this.

basically it's a marriage law fic which is i guess a thing in the harry potter fandom in general (?) where former soldiers in the war are forced to marry someone from the other side (extremely convoluted way to pretty much make gryffindors and slytherins date each other with varying degrees of taking it as a serious dystopic concept) where, as expected, draco and hermione are forced to marry, he's controlling and abusive, she thinks about how controlling and abusive he is, they fall in love, they take over the world etc etc

but there's a twist! in this one draco is the over the top sub who has a lot more power but like yeah he very much has a terrible humiliation kink that takes over his entire life.

i think the point where i really said "huh?" is this gem

where, and i cannot stress this enough, hermione is talking to her CAT and draco is like wow i want what they have. and that's basically his entire deal.

what makes it so insane though is that the author does not stop bringing up actual domestic abuse (her words) into what is one of the most ridiculous things i've ever read.

1. insane lucius malfoy quote

2. you don't understand just how much of it is this exact fantasy repeated over and over. like as a fantasy not as something that happens. though it also does kind of happen.

3. this just made me laugh. sexy

4. 🤔

5. geez i wonder if i'm supposed to think that these two are a little bit toxic and a little bit quirky

6. i hate these fics that try so hard to make hermione's friends sound awful and draco's friends sound awesome

7. also specifically not a fan of the oooooh we're slytherins we're evil and craaazyyyy we kill people and laugh thing. sexy clown slytherin i like to call it

anyway i'm tired of writing this i don't remember my point. but i hope you enjoy

[thestuffieguardian]

I was going to dm you & thankfully I saw your pinned post first!! So I hope this is okay to leave here.

But the comment you added onto that reblog hit so hard to home. Having shit parents really fucks up your perception of life & people, really had you feeling like it's your fault that you were treated that way & emotionally & physically neglected, that we are unworthy & unloveable, yet we are the ones that have to fix ourselves they never take blame & they never answer for the actions. It fucking sucks so bad & I'm so sorry to see that you understand this!

It's honestly one of the worst feelings having parents that put the responsibility on us to make their lives better, when they should have been doing that for us. We all deserved so much better, we aren’t the bad ones, they are. We just unfortunately have to live with the pain that they put us through 😔

I hope you’re okay & again I’m sorry to see that you know what it’s like, you seem like such a loving, kind & wonderful person & you have clearly done that yourself, you should be proud of the man you’ve became! I hope you have a nice night & a really happy life ❤️

(Also sorry for the rant haha)

Ah it's okay. I'm over it. I got tired of begging for love from those who were supposed to give it unconditionally. Told my own father if he ever approached me again I'd tear his throat oot. I'm 30, dude. They lost me as their son the moment they abandoned me and left me on the doorstep of an abusive family. Like some Scottish Harry Potter. That's why I love Harry Potter so much, it resonated with my soul, even as a child

We should never have went through what we did. I did bad things. Things that I never should have. I regret them every single day. All the pain I had burning inside me, I took out on others. Pain that was never supposed to be mine. But you're right. It's made me the man I am today

I'm not proud of what it's took for me to become him. The...trials and the tribulations I've undergone just to become him, because it haunts me. Every single day. I fear I will always have this pain in my heart & darkness in my mind. But I do my best to be the best man I can be, no matter the cost. I'm the only one of my friends or family who ever done a single ounce of self-reflection

Which left me alone without them. You can't grow when you're around poisonous soil. Flowers can't bloom without the water to feed them. These people, they made us who we are, we just have to do our best to make sure we become better than we were, not stay the same. Because that's what it means to be human

The most kind humans were most likely not that way before. Kindness comes with pain and lots of it. Because to understand ones pain is another level of growth, I never even expected to make it this far, I should never have made it this far. But I'll make sure before my time is up that any kindness that grows inside me can be spread. Even the smallest amount. Thank you for saying these things

We don't get to choose our cards. We just deal with the hand we're given. We don't choose our parents. Siblings. When you grow up with your entire family hating you, it kinda puts shit into perspective. I'm over it.

A light switch flicks in your mind when you tell your family you tried to take your own life, and they don't bat an eyelid. We become better. We kill the bloodline we are born into, because I will not use this pain to hurt others any longer, I will use it for good, no matter how much overwhelming darkness engulfs me & my lantern dims. My pain is my pain. I will bear that burden

It is however nice to see someone else who had the same thing. You and I sitting together in a wee sandbox playing together, bonding over this. But unfortunately as an adult that's not safe. I'm happy you're still here and you didn't let them poison you. Take care of yourself 💙

[indiaalphawhiskey]

i was just wondering do you think there really is a chance that harry might be less popular when he comes back (whenever that will be) and not be at his career peak anymore? i find it really hard to imagine him not playing stadiums/ being extremely popular etc anymore tbh for me it obvs won‘t make any difference i will always love him just the same (and wouldnt mind annyoing tiktok stans and fans who only like him bc hes „trendy“ to leave lol) i just wanted your thoughts on that :)

Okay, so I’m not a music industry buff. What I know, and what I’m about to say is based entirely on my general knowledge of pop culture (that’s heavily influenced by American pop culture, btw) so if I make any leaps, or if there’s an alternative view from a non-America-centric perspective, please forgive me.

But, for all intents and purposes, if you look at Harry’s profile as an artist and compare it to other artists of a similar profile (super popular boyband member + teen heartthrob turned solo pop star), historically you don’t really have many examples of successful solo careers, and even less of career longevity.

If you compare it to The Beatles, for example, they weren’t a traditional boyband (and arguably, neither was One Direction after TMH, but still), and if I’m not mistaken, though John Lennon and Paul McCartney both went solo, (and Paul obviously has the longevity down), their individual work still wasn’t comparable in popularity to their work while they were in The Beatles.

More modern examples, like George Michael, Robbie Williams, and Justin Timberlake, have a similar story in that while they were all able to launch solo careers, they all had a relatively short shelf life because pop music (and their fan bases) are very synonymous with youth, and they all eventually “aged out” of that marketing bracket.

So, really, the only example I can think of, of someone who was more popular solo than he ever was in a band and still managed to hold such a wide and devoted fanbase over multiple career eras, is Michael Jackson. And that’s like, music legend level.

I think Harry has already currently surprised people on many counts by being able to equal and arguably surpass his success and popularity in One Direction as a solo artist, especially without having to drastically rebrand or pivot his genre of music. He’s managed not only to hold on to what people thought was a very age-specific fanbase, but also broaden it massively. That’s beyond rare in pop music, and if you add that to the fact that a lot of people still attribute a big part of his success to his looks, the music industry is expecting him to age out soon, and therefore, for the steep decline in his popularity to start. That’s why people think it’s crazy that he’s taking a break because the industry is constantly pumping out new young artists and so, there’s always going to be a ticking clock.

Personally, I think Harry is a once in a generation performer, and has everything it takes to get to that legend level. But it’s something that is so rare and impossible to predict or orchestrate because so many factors have to go into making that happen, and the pressure of setting that as the ultimate goal of creating music could very, very easily break a person. I think he’s much more content to take a break, cultivate his connection to music, and just let those dice fall where they may.

[greenerteacups]

Hi! I made this account just so I could interact with you like this and tell you that your writing got me back out of a reading slump! Should you ever choose to author and publish a book please let me know, I will be the first to pick it up at the nearest bookstore available. I'm very excited to see where you take us in the fifth installment of your rewrite for this series! And quick question, which Hogwarts house do you align yourself with? ∼ Cheers and much love from an anonymous Hufflepuff

You're so incredibly sweet, thank you for warming my heart on a very cold day. Hearing someone say 'I would pay for your work' is kind of the highest compliment a fanfic author can receive. In the meantime, it's my honor to give you something that you can enjoy for free!

I waffle on the House question, since my view on Sorting is very contextual and volitional. Like, Sorting happens when you're eleven, right after you're boated up to the castle in this big stinking display of magical grandeur that's probably shit-slapping levels of scary, and then you get stood up in front of every peer you have and asked to decide what you want your place in that universe to be. That makes for some panicky, spur-of-the-moment decision-making! No wonder a lot of pureblood kids default to the House their parents picked! No wonder Harry ends up Gryffindor basically by default after blurting "not Slytherin" (which is the Hat's first suggestion — remember that the first two things Harry wants to do when he finds out he's a wizard are (1) jinx Dudley (avenge himself) and (2) buy a pure golden cauldron (status symbol). Canon!FirstYear!Harry is like, probably a Slytherin by temperament, being a neglected eleven-year-old child who's almost violently desperate for safety and approval and love, but that's okay, because being in Gryffindor turns him into one. Ron Weasley, in particular, turns him into one, but that's too much for me to get into right now.) Obviously, this all informs a lot of how I write character and socialization in Lionheart. House isn't destiny, it's culture! I could go on.

So like, if you sorted me right now? Gryffindor. Because I think bravery is the most important value in my life, it's what reminds me to be kind and patient and thoughtful, because it takes bravery to do those things in a world that is, frankly, much easier to navigate if you shut yourself off to others' feelings and ideas. But it's also a much worse world. That doesn't mean I'm not ambitious or curious or loyal, it just means that bravery is the value I consciously try to practice. But if you Sorted me at eleven, I'd probably get Slytherin, because I was — without doing The Backstory of it all — not the most jazzed-to-be-alive child, and I really, badly, desperately wanted to GTFO of my hometown and like — I dunno, succeed so hard it retroactively justified every time I was ever lonely? Somehow?? Details of that plan were always a bit unclear. But general "I am going to get a good grade in Life, something that is reasonable to want and possible to achieve" type vibes. Horrendous. Point being, I'd have likely asked for the House I identified with at eleven — Slytherin — because I considered "ambition" the most important virtue of my (again: eleven-year-old) life so far. (This is assuming that I don't run into a Hermione- or Ron-type character who warns me away from all the pureblood/classist nastiness; if that happened, I'd probably end up in Ravenclaw.)

I have no idea whether the Hat would have agreed with me. In canon, we never see it actually veto a choice, only grant requests. Which makes me wonder — if someone asked for a House that they were really, profoundly ill-suited for (as I think some of the canonical Slytherins might have done), what would it do?