#so i cannot blame them. but i think the books i liked at their age r things theyd like so ! yk.

[itsalwaysdark]

read asoue to weeman as a bedtime story he liked it YAYYYY

[diamondcitydarlin]

Just fair warning- I said on my personal post about this that I wasn't going to talk about Neil Gaiman anymore, but as it's becoming clear that him and his publishers and anyone else who makes money off of him is circling the wagons and trying to bury these allegations, as well as some fans still defending and trying to 'rationalize' this information, I feel like, actually, we need to keep talking about him (as much as I cannot stand him and feel physically disgusted now when I so much as see his face somewhere). Specifically, the fact that he's a liar, master manipulator and should not, under any circumstances, be given access to his fans like he has in the past. At the very least. (And if you need to blacklist his name or even unfollow me so as to not be triggered, I completely understand, but I will always try to tag these posts accordingly and I think it's crucial right now that the truth be put where people can see)

This post specifically is in response to those 'rationalizations' I've seen, some that have gone as far as to blame the young fans/groupies that hooked up with him for being 'golddiggers' or just making a mountain out of a molehill for something they now regret. It's not that simple, yall. (And, again, this requires some amount of completely ignoring the story about him extorting his tenant for sex under threat of eviction of her and her three young children, I'm not sure how you 'rationalize' that under the best of circumstances)

So let's be clear here. What we know is that NG has routinely, for possibly an upwards of 30 years, pulled sexual 'partners' from his fan groups, most of whom are 18-22 year old young women (though possibly younger, accounts are coming forward of 16 year olds having allegedly been inappropriately touched/flirted/propositioned by him, which ig is the age of consent in the UK but still?? 16 year olds!!). This wasn't one or two times in the course of three decades, this was a constant pattern of behavior for him and for a very insidious reason.

This isn't to try to infantilize those fans or young women/young people in general or try to suggest that they couldn't have consented to sex with an older person or famous person. In fact, the onus isn't on them at all. This is about an older guy with a lot of fame, power and wealth choosing to sleep with people that he had already conditioned to idolize him and using that power imbalance to coerce them into doing things they didn't want to.

Regardless of one's age or gender identity, it can be difficult to impossible to say 'no' to someone like that. After all, you've been 'chosen' by the chosen one, you're special and not like everyone else, and if you don't do what the popular person everyone trusts is telling you to do you could end up ostracized. Alienated. Or worse. And you know what? Gaiman knew that! He knew it when he was crafting his 'approachable dad' persona on tumblr. He knew it when he was cultivating a fandom of personality. He knew it when he was having huge meetups to try to ensnare more victims. I hate to even think it, but I'm starting to believe he knew it when he was writing children's books too.

It's been talked about again and again in separate issues, but needless to say something not being strictly illegal does not make it inherently, morally okay. It does not erase the fact that this man has been essentially grooming his fandom to feel safe meeting/speaking with him so he can coerce those he can snare into sexual acts they're not comfortable with. That is predator behavior, whether strictly 'illegal' in the eyes of a court or not (but ofc I think he should be criminally punished even if I'm not naive enough to think he actually will be, because this IS rape and rape should be criminally punished)

I'm not personally advocating for anyone to give up being in his related fandoms, but what I am personally advocating for is that people don't forget who he is and what he's capable of, especially when he tries to crawl back to where he was (I'm almost certain he will eventually, as I've said).

Again, at the very least, we need to use what little influence we do have to keep him from infiltrating fan spaces again. He should not be on tumblr yukking it up with young people, he should not be at public appearances hitting on teenagers, he should not be given the unrestricted access to fans that he's 'enjoyed' for the past 30+ years because he is not a safe person. While I wish there was more in the way of restorative justice that could be done, I think at very, very least we should do what we can to limit his proximity to people he could hurt in the future. Make sure no one forgets, because sweeping this under the rug means Gaiman gets to hurt more people.

Lastly, no one is the wrong for having been manipulated by him. Let's make that very clear. What we're NOT gonna do is blame ourselves, each other, the victims, etc, for evil acts that Gaiman chose to do himself, time and time and time again. It doesn't help the situation and it certainly doesn't protect future potential victims. We were all duped because we're human and we attach and a lot of us want to believe there are good people out there, particularly those who make art that means so much to us.

And there are. But let's also use this a teaching/learning tool about how much faith we place in famous people in the future, regardless of how 'approachable' and 'safe' they might seem. Let's remember to have a healthy suspicion of creators/famous people that are oddly immersed in fandom spaces- yes, even the ones you still currently like that seem fine, as difficult as that may seem.

At the end of the day, we don't know them or what they're capable of doing or what they might be plotting to do to us. Support victims. Amplify their voices. Don't forget.

[blood-starved-beast]

I've read this line before actually getting it in my game but it's still so insane to hear/see for oneself like. Just how little Melinoe cares for them I mean. It's straight up bigotry, and frankly I'm not surprised at all that Melinoe thinks this of them.

Think about it. Melinoe is a child soldier raised to kill Chronos. Failure is not an option, the titan has to die, or otherwise what purpose does she have? We see how intertwine this view of herself is with her purpose in her Book of Shadows entry - she blames herself for the fall of the House

In her Mind, Melinoe has to "redeem" herself, prove her worth to exist. So she cannot fail. And most importantly, she cannot be weak.

To a god, mortals are insignificant. They live short lives full of survival. They fear death and what comes after, so they cannot live to fulfill a purpose or cause as it could mean their death. So they avoid that. To Melinoe who whole life for a purpose, that is weak of character, and also lacking sense. And any that do have influence, it is short lived, and usually forgotten, their influence ends there. What is life, if not to live for a cause of sorts? For a singular purpose? That is alien to Melinoe, whose whole life she has lived in the company of gods and shades during a war whose stakes go as high as to threaten the very nature of godhood itself.

So when she sees someone who sides with Chronos, Chronos who represents the "Golden Age" for mortals, she sees a traitor. This is antithetical to her purpose, her existence. Melinoe groups people into two kinds: those who fight for Chronos's demise, and those who wish to help him succeed. She cannot entertain the nuance of the side that wishes to see him succeed - cause that means her purpose - to right the wrong to her family and the error of her existence - will be for nothing. They are wrong, the mortals who support him are wrong. And they are weak. For supporting survival over the Cause of defeating Chronos. Why do they fear death? When being a shade means no longer worrying for death and can thus work to defeat Chronos cause the lack of fear for it? Hearing Nemesis or Prometheus out - that would mean that what she's been raised for her whole life: that is wrong. And if that is wrong, that defeating Chronos is wrong, then what is she good for?

[gurugirl]

A Good Boy | 5. When In Greece

Summary: A family vacation to Greece is meant to be peaceful and relaxing but when Y/n is forced to confront Harry about her feelings everything is turned upside down.

Note: This is stepmon!reader x stepson!harry - both are adults in this story but don't read if you don't like it.

Word Count: 17,236

Warning: 18+ only, NSFW, smut, inappropriate & forbidden relationship, age gap, cheating, lying, angst

A Good Boy Masterlist

Y/n stumbled bleary-eyed to her car as she tried to catch her breath. She felt like she was in a cloud of red, full of stinging bees trudging through a telescoped tunnel of hopelessness. She’d never experienced that particular feeling before but she forced her brain to stop its thoughts and found a safe spot to release her tears and sobs into her leather steering wheel which was at the campus café parking lot just a half mile from Harry’s dorm. Not ideal but she was unable to hold her despair in for another moment when she pulled into an open space and shut the engine off.

When she finally hiccupped through her tears and numbness began to take over she dialed Marla.

“Where are you?” Marla knew the call was coming. And being the best friend anyone could ever ask for, anticipated needing to keep her day free for her friend.

“I’m at the campus café,” Y/n gasped and closed her eyes. A ridiculous woman. From the beginning of the affair to the end. A terrible, vile, and evil person.  There was no redemption for her.

“Stay where you are. I’m coming to get you–“

“No. I’ll come over. I can–“

“No, you cannot. I will not let you drive while you’re crying and upset. We can get your car later. I don’t want you getting into an accident. Stay put. I’m already on my way.”

And for Harry? The moment he slammed the door shut behind her he fell to the floor on his hands and knees and let his salty tears pool under him onto the stupid cheap rug he bought to make his room look more “homey”. He wanted to rip the rug to shreds but he couldn’t manage to stand up and pull himself together, much less begin to shred woven cotton and polyester into bits out of anger.

He couldn’t begin to make sense of his emotions. The sadness and rage. He wouldn’t be getting over her for a long time. He knew it. He was devastated and the worst part was that she really did like him but she was trying to protect them both from further hurt. He would have learned to deal with it. He would have adapted to the rules. He just needed time. Just a little more time. He was still trying to get used to it.

It was hopeless. He knew all along that it couldn’t last. He just didn’t think it would be over so fast. He’d barely gotten over the thrill of having her for it to all suddenly be ripped away.

He didn’t hate her. Not even close. He was mad, yes, but he could never hate her. Everything that led up to her breaking up with him wasn’t her fault.

He blamed his father.

He blamed the arrangement, which he knew was his dad’s idea. He hated that it was Y/n that Leo wound up picking. She deserved love and affection and she needed it.

He swallowed the bile that rose up in his throat. His hangover was not helping matters. His muscles were stiff as he tried to sit back onto his shins. He was shaking from how he’d tensed his body and from the heartbreak and the tears and the grief.

When his phone chimed with a message his heart leaped and he crawled across the floor to snatch up his phone from his table quickly. But then when he saw it wasn’t Y/n, but rather Tyler letting him know he’d forgotten his wallet, he felt a sharp dejected anguish he knew he was going to have to get used to.

.           .           .

Y/n was in charge of selecting their ocean villa. It was a detached, private villa with a pool overlooking Agni Bay. They would be staying in Corfuand near where they could book private charters to islands and to surrounding beaches. She had booked some excursions and day trips for them but mostly they’d be lounging by the pool on the huge outdoor terrace.

She learned a few days prior that Harry was joining them and bringing Tyler. Leo had told her. It stung a bit that Harry hadn’t told her himself. But then again, it made sense. After breaking it off with him she hadn’t heard from him at all. She missed the daily texts and nightly calls. Missed his voice.

Two weeks without hearing from him at all had been difficult but she immersed herself in tennis club, booked extra sessions, found a nice murder mystery book series to read, and kept herself busy with the girls.

Marla was supportive and helpful. Cyndee and Gina still didn’t know anything but Cyndee did bring Harry up on their last Friday outing. Y/n wanted to strangle Cyndee for bringing it up at all because she was barely hanging on that evening as it was. But of course, Cyndee didn’t know better. She wasn’t in on the secret. Y/n wanted so badly to text Harry and just send him a quick I miss you message. But that wouldn’t help anything.

Leo went out of town for a couple of days for a conference upstate and so Y/n did her best to keep busy. Booking the vacation trip was actually fun. Cathartic even. She’d had the villa reserved far in advance but tacking on the little details felt really nice. Though she was nervous about the idea of Harry being there with them. Maybe it would be okay. Maybe it wouldn’t be a problem with him there. Perhaps things could go back to how they had been before everything happened.

She doubted it but hoped. Plus Tyler would be there to distract Harry. She would do her best to enjoy every minute of her vacation.

And as booked and busy as Y/n made herself during the day, the nights were not kind. When she was finally alone in her room in the dark with her thoughts she cried. She’d let her emotions pour out and soak her pillow. She’d cry in the shower and sit under the water for far longer than she should, being that water was such a scarce resource.

The worst part was that Leo had initiated sex the night after she broke up with Harry. It was awful. She told him she wasn’t feeling well so he backed off. But the following night he wanted her in his bed.

So she went to his bed and tried to perform. She tried to focus on the man she was with but it felt like betrayal. It felt bitter and nauseating. She couldn’t stay wet and she couldn’t finish. But of course, Leo did and once that was done she went back to her room and scrubbed her body until her skin was raw and her eyes were red with tears and her sinuses were clogged in that annoying way that you can’t even manage to clear them.

It had never happened to her before. Her feelings for Harry were much deeper than she allowed herself to realize. But on top of her own feelings for him was the worry that he was also hurting the way she was. She didn’t want to hurt him. She didn’t want him to feel this way.

But he did. He felt the same stabbing pain in his chest every time he thought of Y/n. He cried any time he was alone and he composed message after message to her but never sent them. He couldn’t get the lump out of his throat. He couldn’t eat much. He forced himself to have lunch midday with his friends during the week but it was torture pretending he was fine.

Tyler was worried about him. He checked on Harry every evening before quiet time in the dorm.

“Let’s go out this Friday. We’ll invite a bunch of friends. Let loose. No pressure for anything. Just some fun.”

Harry was indifferent. He didn’t care if he went out or stayed in. It was all the same. He was numb anytime he was with people so he knew he wouldn’t enjoy himself and if he stayed in by himself he’d just write a letter to her and cry and also wouldn’t enjoy himself. Nothing mattered.

The only thing that had him moving forward was his anger about the situation. He told his dad he was going to Greece with them, which he immediately regretted but then knew he couldn’t take back because Tyler was going and plans had been made. But part of him looked forward to going and seeing Y/n. Maybe… just maybe she’d change her mind. Maybe she’d want him again if she just saw him. Maybe he could convince her…

And the third week that had gone by since they’d seen each other was another blur for both of them. Harry was just going through the motions. Studying, school, forcing a smile, crying, sleeping… And for Y/n she was barely paying attention to anything that was happening during her busy days, never letting her mind wander too far from her current activity whatever that may have been. But her nights were clear and painful. She allowed herself to think of him and to cry and to feel.

Her girl’s night out was something she usually looked forward to but this time she was dreading it when Marla told her they’d be going to a new place. Leo hadn’t been home all day and Linda finished cleaning the house early and so Y/n was left alone for a big part of the day. It had been a mistake to assume she was going to relax and lay by the pool and read. She couldn’t focus. So instead she let herself think of Harry and wonder about him. The lounge chair she was on was the one that she and Harry had come to after their pool escapade.

Putting her hands on the fabric of the cushion she imagined that day so vividly. Then the girls came over and later that night they’d had sex in his room but Marla had overheard. She winced from the memory.

Everything reminded her of him. So she was feeling more like drinking a bottle of wine and smoking a joint and passing out rather than dancing the night away in a busy bar.

But, just like every other girl’s night out, Marla arrived in the Uber to pull Y/n out of her slump.

She hadn’t even bothered to wear makeup. She did put on a dress but it wasn’t anything that would draw attention. Her flat sandals were more cute than sexy. She hadn’t showered that day.

“Not to be rude, my love, but you do not look like you’re ready for a night out. We’re going to that new spot in Malibu. Remember?”

Y/n nodded, “Yeah. I remember. Maybe I shouldn’t go. I’m okay just to stay home,” she shrugged.

“Absolutely not. You’re coming with us. You need to get out of this big empty mansion and have some fun. Stop thinking about him. Just… come out and enjoy yourself the best you can. It’s better than wallowing here alone.” Marla was right of course.

The club in Malibu was a very popular spot. They’d never been because Malibu was a bit of a hike but they figured a change of scenery could be good (Marla suggested it).

Cyndee had gotten them in at a spot with a VIP table and bottle service. The table was in the middle of all the action. The room was dark with flashing lights and loud music and the ceiling opened up to the night sky. It was actually quite posh.

Lots of young pretty things were dancing and grinding together. The dance floor was packed. Y/n felt out of place. She normally dolled up but tonight, she looked more like an 8th grade math teacher.

“Please smile. You’re making me sad,” Marla whispered into her ear as they took their spot in the circular booth. Cyndee was dancing already and Gina was sitting at the table with a man who she knew from some social club she frequented. He just happened to be there at the club that night.

Gina introduced him, “This is Elias,” he stretched his hand out to shake Marla’s and then Y/n’s.

Elias was attractive and friendly. He was also really funny, which Y/n found refreshing. A good laugh. That’s what she’d needed.

She wasn’t in the mood to dance at all but Marla kept trying to convince her to let loose, “Come on! You’re gonna regret not dancing the night away. I think it’ll do you good!”

“Yeah! Come out and dance! I’ll go up with you too.” Elias smiled down at her and raised a brow.

She shook her head and sighed before slipping out of the booth and ambling to the dance floor.

And both Marla and Elias had been right. It was fun. It made her feel better. She almost forgot about Harry for a solid five-minute stretch.

She hadn’t had much to drink. She knew that the more alcohol she consumed the sadder she’d get and there would be a chance she’d wind up drunk texting Harry. She didn’t want to do anything to mess up any progress of moving on.

Elias was a terrible dancer so he fit right in with the girls. The DJ was playing some interesting music choices, some not so good to dance to but Y/n tried to ignore when the next song came on. In fact, it was so hard to transition from dancing and the beat at the end of the previous song to the next she gave up, “I’m going to grab a drink,” she spoke to Marla.

She needed a breath, despite the fact that the club was packed, getting off the dance floor cleared her mind up a bit.

The setup at the bar was very different from how it was at Murphy’s. It was in the shape of a large circle in the center of the room with neon lights that lit all the colorful bottles underneath.

Leaning her hip to the bar wall she tried to catch the eye of one of the bartenders. People all around were dancing slowly to the beat, couples smushed together enjoying the new pace of the song. The lyrics weren’t clear but Y/n knew it was something that had couples grinding together.

When she finally caught the eye of one of the bartenders she smiled and watched as they made their way toward her. But then suddenly her space was crowded by someone far taller and then she heard his voice, “Having fun?”

She thought she must be dreaming. Must be mistaken. Perhaps she’d had more alcohol than she realized. She rotated herself to look up and saw the light green eyes and soft strawberry lips of the man she’d been missing for nearly three weeks.

“Not really,” she replied honestly.

“What will you have?” The bartender interrupted their moment.

“Just a water for me, please,” Y/n nodded and smiled politely before Harry asked for a tequila. Neat.

Harry kept his eyes on Y/n. He could see she hadn’t worn makeup and hadn’t done anything with her hair at all. It made him feel the tiniest bit better to know she wasn’t trying to look sexy for anyone. Especially since she wasn’t with him.

“Who’s he?” He’d had enough tequila that he didn’t care if he sounded jealous. He was jealous. He didn’t like that she was out and dancing with some guy.

“I just met him tonight. A friend of Gina’s,” she shrugged and took in his appearance. Dark circles and stress lines between his eyes. Unshaven face. She felt like his appearance reflected her own sadness. “How are you doing, Harry?”

He scoffed and peeled his eyes from hers to look across the bar, “Just great.”

She nodded quietly and let her eyes drift off into a corner as she felt the weight of everything on her. The way this wasn’t fair. The way they were both hurt but there was nothing they could do about it.

When the bartender came back with their drinks Harry finally looked back down at her, “So you’re not drinking?” He took a quick sip from his own glass as he kept his eyes pinned to hers.

“I had a couple but I’m not trying to get drunk. It’s not wise probably.”

Harry tilted his head, “And why’s that?”

“Because alcohol kind of exasperates sad emotions. I don’t need to feel any sadder.” She spoke honestly. She didn’t need to tell him that. She could have just kept that to herself but he was being a bit cold with her, a bit standoffish and she didn’t like it. Her hope was that the confession would resonate and he’d lower his walls a bit. She wanted his warmth. Missed it.

He nodded and smirked as he looked over her head and lifted his glass upward gesturing to someone before looking back down at her, “Don’t be sad. You got exactly what you wanted.”

Suddenly he waved over at the bartender to get her attention again and Y/n figured it was best if she left. He was not budging with the attitude and she was beginning to feel her face heat up from frustration and grief, which soon would turn to her nose getting filled and tears breaking from her eyes. So she pushed herself off the bar and began to make her way through the packed floor back to her friends.

But she felt his hand wrap around the back of her arm before she could get too far and she felt the melancholy rise of undeserved hope sneak up her skin and to the back of her neck as she turned, “You did get what you wanted didn’t you? Tell me you got what you wanted.” He spoke into her ear as the song changed to something more up-tempo.

Shaking her head she scanned his face, “No. I didn’t get what I wanted. I got what I deserved.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I didn’t deserve what I wanted, Harry.” She swallowed as he stared down at her, his face close to hers so he could hear.

“What did you want, Y/n?”

“That’s not fair. We can’t talk about this here.” She looked to her peripheral and back to him.

Harry’s eyes roamed her face as the bartender called out to him to pick up the second drink he ordered. He looked over his shoulder and then turned back to her, “I want to talk to you. Where can I find you?”

Y/n turned and jutted her chin toward the round booth her group was at, “Just there at that booth.”

She floated across the floor in a daze toward the table. She almost couldn’t believe it. What kind of luck was this? Los Angeles was massive. Knowing that Harry was at the same bar as she was, in Malibu of all places, seemed impossible. Highly highly unlikely. She settled into the booth opposite Cyndee and Gina and looked around the bar in search of Harry. She wasn’t sure where he’d gone off to or who he was with so she didn’t know where to look.

But after a few minutes, she saw him cut through the crowd toward her and behind him, not following, a young woman, Y/n recognized as Leslie. He was in the club with Leslie. She wondered if he’d perhaps been seeing her. That would be a good thing in regard to their situation. She didn’t like the idea but it would be good for him.

“That’s Harry!” Cyndee spoke loudly across the table, looking from Y/n to Harry as he neared the table.

Everything appeared to her in slow motion as he smiled and greeted the two ladies and then looked at Y/n as he leaned in to speak close, “Will you come with me? So we can talk?”

The hallway toward the bathrooms had tiny square mirrors all over the ceiling, walls, and floor. The music was still evident from the main room of the club but things were quieter once they’d passed the threshold into the hallway.

Y/n leaned into the cool wall behind her and crossed her arms as she looked up at Harry who stood in front of her, “Who’s the guy?”

“I told you, Harry. A friend of Gina’s. First time meeting him tonight.”

He nodded, “Seemed to be getting pretty friendly with him out there.”

“We were just dancing. Plus Marla was with us. Doesn’t matter anyway. What about Leslie? You’re here with her?”

“Here with a bunch of friends. And I asked Leslie to come. Yeah. Doubt you really care.”

His words were cold and very unlike how she’d been used to him behaving around her. But it was probably better this way. She shrugged, “I just want you to be happy. If you like her that’s good.”

Harry sighed, “So you gonna tell me what it is you wanted that you didn’t deserve?”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to talk about that. I mean…” she dropped her arms to her sides and bunched the material of her dress nervously, “I think you know. You know how I feel, Harry.”

“See that’s what I’m confused about. The more I think about it the harder it is for me to wrap my mind around it. You said you broke up with me to spare me but I feel like the real reason is because it’s too hard. I think if you really liked me enough you’d have tried harder. You didn’t even give me a chance before you dropped me.”

“No. I saw how much it was affecting you. I can’t stand to hurt you so I needed to do it. Yes, part of it was because it’s hard. The situation was –“

“You hurt me the most by breaking it off,” he put a palm on the wall next to her head as he spoke, “Now I’m just angry. It didn’t make things better. And now what was the fucking point? You said you didn’t even get what you wanted. So why do it? Tell me what you really wanted. I just need to hear you say it, Y/n.”

She blinked her eyes as she looked into Harry’s. She was suddenly glad she hadn’t worn makeup because she was already feeling the beginning of the sting of tears behind her eyes, “You. But you know that.”

His features softened immediately. His berry lips parted as he wet them with his tongue and he brought his other palm up to the wall to narrow the space between them, “If you wanted me, you had me. You have me.”

She shook her head, “I don’t deserve you, though. That’s why this–“

“Fuck off with your bullshit. Like you’re some kind of martyr. You took everything from me. I just wanted to be with you. I wanted to be yours,” he kept his voice low but he spoke with heat and emotion, “I would have learned to be okay with it but you dropped me so fast I didn’t even have time to get used to it,” Harry pushed himself back and ran a hand through his hair.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know what to do. I still don’t. I have no idea what I’m doing at all. I feel evil. I feel like your feelings are far more important than mine,” she felt the first tear make a warm trail down her cheek and then as she blinked a second and third. “I’m sorry.”

Harry watched as she tried to hold back her emotion but he saw the tears on her face and he felt bad for his outburst but he was still so raw and angry from everything. “Please, don’t…” he softly brushed the back of his hand upward over her cheek to wipe her tears, “don’t cry. You’re gonna make me cry.”

She put her hand over his and closed her eyes, “I don’t want you to cry. You deserve to be happy, Harry.”

He shook his head and reached up to cup the other side of her face with his hand, “You don’t want me to cry? It’s all I’ve been doing. Every night for the past 19 days. I miss you, Y/n.”

She looked up at him, “I miss you too but you know we can’t… you deserve to be with someone you can have a real relationship with.”

Harry stepped in close and rested his forehead against hers, “Don’t want anyone but you.”

The world stopped and the only sound she could hear was her heart pumping in her chest. Having him so close to her was comforting and overwhelming all at the same time. It hurt but it felt good. She was confused. Maybe it had been a mistake to break up with him. Maybe that was the mistake.

“Harry?”

The pair separated quickly when they heard Leslie’s voice. Y/n’s face began to burn with embarrassment. She’d let it go too far. She hadn’t been in her right mind. Harry’s words and his eyes had her spinning and in a daze.

Leslie said something that Y/n couldn’t hear as her ears began to ring and regret blanketed her skin. She should never have allowed it to get that far. To let him touch her and stand so close… she knew better.

She looked between Harry and Leslie when Harry turned to whisper in her ear, “Will you come find me when you leave? I want to see you.”

Leslie’s face told Y/n everything she needed to know. Leslie was curious about what was going on. Suspicious. Leslie clearly liked Harry. And Harry could like Leslie too if it hadn’t been for Y/n.

Looking back at Harry she shook her head, “Harry… this can’t. No. We can’t.”

His hand wrapped around her wrist, “Yes, we can. Please don’t do this. Please, Y/n.”

“Leslie is right there, Harry. Go have fun with your friends. Pretend I’m not here.”

Harry stepped back and let go of her. He shook his head in disappointment, his eyes piercing into hers, “Fine.”

The way Leslie kept her eyes on Y/n until Harry pulled at her arm had Y/n feeling her guilt and shame bloom and swell.

She closed her eyes as Harry led Leslie out of the hallway and back into the main room of the club. It hurt too much to watch. She felt like she was back to day one when she broke up with him. She hoped that he’d begun to move on but he hadn’t. And neither had she.

“So what was that about?” Cyndee asked as Y/n slid back into the booth.

“He just had a question about our family vacation,” Y/n lied. She was glad the club was dark and the lights that illuminated could hide that she’d been crying. It was ridiculous. She was ridiculous.

Harry had effectively ruined her girl’s night out. Of course, it wasn’t totally his fault. He was in the same boat she was. And she tried not to let her eyes rove the features of the people dancing or standing at the periphery to perchance spot him again, but she couldn’t help it. She wanted to see him. Just another peek.

But Harry had moved so that she wouldn’t be able to lay her eyes on him, though he knew where she was and he continued to look toward the booth where she was sitting.

“Why do you keep looking over at your stepmom?” Leslie pulled him down so she could speak into his ear. He’d assured her that what she saw was just them talking and that it was loud so they had to stand that close. He said that Y/n had been upset about something. But Leslie wasn’t quite so sure. She’d seen his forehead pressed to hers. Had seen how he was cradling her face in his palms and how tense the moment was.

“Oh, didn’t realize I was. Just worried about her.”

And that was kind of the truth. He was worried about her. But not for reasons he could explain. Not to Leslie.

More alcohol. Shots, beer, martinis, dancing. A full hour had gone by. Y/n was on the dance floor again and trying to let the alcohol cover up her sadness but even in her state she couldn’t stop thinking about Harry. Especially when she’d finally caught sight of him on the dance floor. Especially when he was dancing with Leslie. Kissing Leslie. Hands on Leslie. Hips pressed to hers.

She swallowed down the jealousy the best she could. It was better to have Harry with someone his age. Someone who wasn’t his stepmom.

Marla danced with Y/n and kept asking if she was okay.

“I’m just trying to not think about it,” Y/n spoke into her friend’s ear as she watched Leslie’s hand sneak up the back of Harry’s shirt.

And it wasn’t that Harry wasn’t enjoying Leslie touching him and grinding against him. He thought Leslie was cute. He liked her. And in another world where he hadn’t gotten involved with Y/n, he’d be over the moon about where the night was leading. He’d already invited Leslie back to his dorm room, to which she enthusiastically said yes.

He was going to forget about Y/n the best he could. Do normal 21-year-old college guy shit and have sex with someone after a night out. He could see himself dating Leslie. Enjoying her company. And maybe he’d get over Y/n after enough time.

But it didn’t help that he couldn’t stop stealing glances at her. She was dancing near the other man. Not in a way that should have Harry feeling jealous but he couldn’t help that part. He was jealous. He didn’t think anyone should be near her. If he couldn’t have her then no one else should either.

“I’m right here, Harry,” Leslie put her arms up over his shoulders to pull his attention back to her. He didn’t know what he was doing. He was really trying to enjoy the girl he was dancing with and ignore the one he was not but it was almost impossible. He’d do almost anything to have the girl in his arms be Y/n rather than Leslie. To have Y/n’s hips glued to his, her eyes on him, her warm skin stuck against his…

When he looked at Y/n again and caught her gaze he caved. Maybe it was all the alcohol, or it was his jealousy, or his heart thinking for him rather than his brain but he put his hands over Leslie’s arms and moved her off of him, “I need to um...” he didn’t finish saying what he needed to do. But he knew it was a need. He had to convince Y/n of what he was already sure of himself.

Harry trudged through the sweaty bodies with his eyes on her and she watched him approach. His eyes were dark and his face set with a menacingly chilly expression.

He stood in front of her and pulled her in by her waist and she gasped, “What are you–“

“Dancing with my stepmom.” Harry began to sway and Y/n grasped onto his sturdy biceps, “Harry we can’t. Someone will see–“

“I don’t fucking care, Y/n,” He leaned in and spoke lowly into her ear, “Just listen. I want you. I don’t care if I’m just the side piece or whatever shit you want to call it. I fucking don’t care. Let it be messy. We’ll be together when my dad’s not around. I can give you what he can’t. Don’t punish yourself because you don’t think you deserve that. You do. We both do.”

She darted her eyes to Marla who was next to Harry before turning her head to respond to her stepson, “It doesn’t matter what we want. We can’t have that, Harry.”

His grip on her waist tightened, “We can and you know it. Unless you tell me you don’t want me. Tell me right now that you hated being with me and that you don’t miss me and I’ll leave you alone. Tell me all those things you told me about how you felt were just lies and I’ll never bother you again.”

She couldn’t help the way her body trembled as he spoke and the breath she let out bloomed over his neck. He knew she couldn’t deny it. He knew she wouldn’t take back what she said. And that was enough for him to feel like it wasn’t over.

“Harry…” she breathed his name as his thumbs dug into the material of her dress at her waist.

Suddenly it felt as if there was no one in the club except for them. She could feel his cheek against her temple, the whiskery bits scratching her skin. Their bodies moved together slowly as the next song came on.

When she felt his mouth move as he spoke she had been unable to stop the way her chest rose and fell deeply, pants leaving her mouth.

“You can’t because you need me just as much as I need you, Y/n. Fuck everyone else. I don’t care. Fuck my dad. Come home with me.”

And despite the pair forgetting about everyone around them, all their friends watched on as Y/n and Harry danced close, Harry's lips moving next to her ear, Y/n’s breaths deepening, her hands on his arms, his on her waist.

“Y/n,” Marla tapped her arm, and the sudden shock of being brought out of Harry’s spell was clear on her face when she looked from Harry to Marla. “We should get going. Okay?”

And that was it. He’d lost her again. She shook her head at Harry as she slipped out of his arms and pulled herself away from him and out of the club.

.           .           .

She had been thankful that Marla had come when she did. She was just about to give in. Just about to let the alcohol and Harry’s convincing words do all the thinking for her. She wanted to go with him. Wanted to just forget about it all. She wanted him. She could admit that. And part of her did need him. That was what was so hard. Because, yes, the sex was fun and she really loved it with Harry. But it had gone beyond sex. Their connection was deeper than just sex.

Waking up the next morning in her bed with Marla asleep next to her she felt crushed. Felt suffocated. She didn’t know how she was going to handle going on a vacation with him. Seeing him every day. She didn’t know if she was strong enough to stay away from him. Strong enough to keep denying herself or him.

She was in too deep and she knew that. She knew her feelings weren’t just physical. She knew it wasn’t just a phase. She knew that, to her, Harry was more than just a man she’d gotten involved with that she had begun to have some kind of attachment to.

It was more than that. And she knew it. But she just wasn’t ready to admit it to herself yet. Not aloud. Nor in her mind would she connect her thoughts and her feelings and recognize that one unmistakable emotion.

When they got back to Y/n’s house after that disaster of a girl’s night, Marla had given her a stern talking to. The truth. The reality.

“That was dumb, Y/n. Everyone watched you and Harry practically make out on the dance floor.”

“We didn’t kiss, Marla.”

“I know, but that was… very intimate. You might as well have had his tongue down your throat. He was talking with his lips on your ear and holding your body against his. It was obvious that it wasn’t just a friendly chat. And that girl he was with? Well, she saw it too and you should have seen the look on her face. Poor thing.”

Y/n knew that was what she deserved to hear. It was the truth and she had a moment of weakness. But Harry made her weak.

“I know. I’m just having a hard time not… I’m fucking so confused. I hate this.”

“You’ll feel better in the morning. Want me to stay the night? I’ll keep your phone away so you’re not drunk dialing him or something.”

And so that’s what happened. Marla was trying to help. She was a good friend. Y/n was thankful. But she also hated that she wasn’t waking up in Harry’s bed. Hated that she didn’t give in and that they couldn’t just be together. She wasn’t sure she’d ever get over him.

Harry’s stunt with Y/n had been the nail in the coffin with Leslie. She was planning on going back to his place. But after seeing the way he was behaving with Y/n, twice in one night was all she needed to see to know that there was something going on.

So he woke up in his bed alone thinking about Y/n. Thinking about how she didn’t deny the way she felt. But she still left him standing there like an idiot. He’d gone out on a limb and fucked up the sure thing he had with Leslie that night and wound up not getting any at all. His hope had soared and then crashed once again as he saw her look over her shoulder before stepping deeper into the crowd of people and out of sight.

.           .           .

The private villa Y/n selected was five bedrooms. Looking online at the photos of the property she hummed to herself as she imagined being dragged into Harry’s room and fucked against the door. He’d be angry with her for making them wait so long. He’d growl into her ear quietly about how she was his and how she needed him as he held his palm over her mouth to keep her quiet.

She swallowed and tried to push those dirty thoughts away. Leo was in his office as she was in her room imagining doing filthy things to his son. She couldn’t help it. Even though they hadn’t spoken since that night at the club she knew that they’d be seeing one another again soon. And that the private villa was spacious and there would be plenty of opportunity for them to have privacy.

For better or worse she couldn’t stop thinking about it and hoping they’d get the chance. She knew she shouldn’t think that way. But it was hard to stop those thoughts from taking over. Because she knew how he felt about her. She figured he’d try and convince her again and if it was just the two of them in a room with the door locked she wouldn’t say no. She wouldn’t be able to.

.           .           .

The airline lounge was quiet. There weren’t that many people to be seen at 5 am. Y/n sipped a latte and tried to distract herself by looking at her phone but she knew that Harry would show up soon with Tyler. She’d been unable to get much sleep the night before. Which was a shame because the flight with a layover was nearly a full day of travel.

They had a layover in Dublin and from there they’d fly into Corfu where they had ground transportation waiting to take them to their private villa on the ocean. She couldn’t wait to get to their destination.

“Harry texted. They just got through security,” Leo spoke suddenly.

Y/n nodded and looked back down at her phone, trying to act less affected than she was.

When Tyler and Harry arrived at the lounge they sat in a different area closer to the breakfast bar. Harry wore a baseball cap that covered his brown curls and he had his eyes closed until it was time to board their flight.

Y/n was glad that Harry and Tyler were not sitting near her and Leo on either flight. Traveling for nearly an entire day was already stressful enough. She didn’t need the extra tension of seeing Harry the entire time. She’d be getting enough of that in Greece.

.           .           .

The villa was even more gorgeous in person. The terrace was massive with lovely little lights attached to the outdoor canopies and was set on a hill that overlooked the ocean bay. The pool was huge and the property was totally private, surrounded by olive trees and plenty of land for them to explore if they chose. The interior of the villa was rustic but chic. The stone walls and floors with arched doorways and high ceilings with wooden beams were stunning. Every bedroom in the place had a view of the bay. It was literally quite breathtaking.

Leo and Y/n’s room was massive with a large window and terrace and hammocks swaying in the wind. Plants gave them some privacy but Y/n shuddered when she thought about that. She didn’t know how this vacation would go down. If Leo would want sex. He probably would. He was already relaxed and in quite high spirits she could tell.

Y/n was already in a cute bikini by the time Harry and Tyler had come outside to enjoy the terrace and pool and the view. She had her eyes closed, lying flat on her back on one of the lounge chairs.

But Harry wasn’t going to give her anything. He was going to act like he couldn’t care less about her presence or her body or what they’d gone through. If she could act so nonchalant about it so could he.

When Y/n heard the guys jump into the pool she sat up and glanced at Harry’s strong chest before turning her gaze away to watch the gorgeous view of the sea. It was difficult, though, to not let her eyes drag over his pecs and to his tattoos. His arms and his shoulders.

He looked happy. He was laughing with Tyler and seemed relaxed. And that was a good thing. Yes, it was better that he was happy rather than upset about the way things had ended.

Leo jumped into the pool with Harry and Tyler suddenly, the three of them laughing and enjoying the first official day of their vacation.

And Harry could tell that ignoring her was already working. He didn’t look at her but he could feel her eyes on him. He could tell she was trying not to look but failing.

“Thinking about going out tomorrow night. There’s a really nice bar in town. You’d be okay with that if just me and Tyler went?” Harry spoke to Leo but loud enough for Y/n to hear.

Y/n looked down into her lap and tried not to frown. Tried not to let her emotions take over her face. She didn’t know if this was payback or if Harry was actually trying to just move on. Or… perhaps it was just a ploy to make her needy of his usual attention.

“Of course! The driver can take you wherever you need to go and bring you back too. I expected that you and Tyler would want to go out and meet some girls or something.” Leo laughed.

Y/n pouted before blinking her eyes shut and trying to ignore the conversation. She didn’t want to even think about Harry meeting anyone. But what a selfish thing to consider. Her fantasies of Harry begging her to be with him or dragging her to his room slowly began to fade with the reality of the situation. She needed to let it go.

Bedtime came early. Everyone was exhausted from the long trip. Harry had still barely spared her a glance, though he did politely offer her the bottle of wine to refill her glass. But that was it. It was quite the blow to her ego. She figured that was what she deserved, though.

Tyler knocked at Harry’s cracked open door before stepping into his room, “You doing all that on purpose?” He gestured toward the door behind him.

“What do you mean?” Harry’s smirk gave away that he knew just what Tyler was talking about.

His friend cocked his head at Harry and rolled his eyes as he walked deeper into the room and sat on the edge of Harry’s bed, “What do you think I mean?”

Harry shrugged, “Just want to have some fun while I’m here on vacation. Trying not to think about Y/n or anything.”

“Dude you’re so full of shit. You had the chance to do that when we went out to the club but instead, you scared Leslie off for good trying to get with your stepmom in front of everyone.”

Harry shook his head, “Today’s a new day. She doesn’t want me so I’m just gonna have some fun.”

.           .           .

Y/n woke up before anyone else and made coffee. The place was beautiful. She couldn’t get over how bright and paradisiac the place was.

But even with how lovely the villa was… she tried not to pay much mind to the little voice in her head that told her Harry was doing it on purpose. That he was trying to make her jealous. Make her miss him. Make her eat her words about him finding someone his age to be with.

She’d gotten lucky that Leo was so tired the night before. He did kiss her goodnight, though. She rarely got that from him. But she knew he’d want something. He was in way too good of a mood the night before. She could tell he was going to want a roll in the sack soon.

She thought that with Harry and Tyler out that evening it would be a good time. It would be much easier to go along with it if Harry wasn’t nearby. She could pretend to be into it. Maybe he’d go down on her and she could pretend–“

“Up so early.” His raspy, deep morning voice was maybe her favorite sound. Ever. Her cheeks immediately warmed up at his voice coming from behind her, cutting her off from her thoughts.

She turned and watched as he walked around the large stone table to pour himself a cup of coffee.

“Yeah. I got to sleep right away and slept hard. Woke up and felt like I’d had enough rest.” She sipped her coffee as she watched Harry turn around with a mug, take three long-legged strides toward the table and sit down right next to her.

Without looking away from her he took a drink from his cup and Y/n continued to speak to fill in the awkward silence, “So, anyway. And you’re up early. Did you get enough rest?”

Harry smiled thoughtfully as he placed his mug down, “Sure. Slept pretty well. Fell asleep pretty quickly.”

He didn’t miss it when she mentioned that she got to sleep right away. To him, that meant that nothing happened between her and his dad the night before. Which of course he felt relieved by. He tried not to wonder when the last time they slept together was.

Y/n nodded, “Good. I think it’s so peaceful here too. Maybe that’s why we slept so well.” Her smile was genuine and her eyes told Harry she was taking all of him in. Soaking up his presence. Want. Longing.

Good.

“Well, I mean I’ve slept better before. Can think of a couple of times in particular. Ya know?” Harry raised his brows knowingly and licked his lips.

She softly nodded her head and the smallest smile broke out on her lips, “Yeah.” Memories of just how well they could sleep after the kind of intense sex they always seemed to have filled her thoughts.

Neither of them budged from their spot as they kept their eyes agaze on the other.

It was quiet and soft. She could stare into his eyes all day if she were allowed. She wanted to reach across the space to him and pull his shirt collar to bring him down for a kiss but she wouldn’t He wished she would.

Their moment was interrupted when they heard footsteps, quickly both taking their mugs in hand and sipping the hot liquid.

“Morning, early risers,” Leo yawned and stretched his arms overhead.

Tyler didn’t wake up until nearly noon. Y/n stayed most of the morning in a hammock by the pool reading while Harry sauntered around in only athletic shorts, baring his chest and abs. She was glad to have a book to read to distract her from the expanse of his skin littered with inky sketchings. The last thing she needed was to have Leo see her ogling his son.

After Harry and Tyler had left the big villa felt odd. It wasn’t that she hadn’t been used to being in such a large dwelling. Leonardo’s home was nearly as big. It was that the sudden weight of what she knew was coming felt paralyzing. She wasn’t going to be able to get out of this one she knew. Sure she could just say she didn’t want to have sex but that’s what she’d been doing far too frequently lately.

And just like she knew would happen, Leo was pulling her into his chest and trying to talk dirty to her. Two months ago it would have been welcomed.

“They’re gone for the night. What do you say we have a little fun?”

Y/n plastered a fake smile on her lips and drew her hands up over his shoulders, “What did you have in mind?”

“Haven’t felt you in a while. Missed you.” Leo pushed his mouth over hers and she closed her eyes and tried to shift her thoughts from the moment. Tried imagining she was doing anything else. Playing tennis with her trainer Margaret, swimming in the pool, shopping for new shoes…

But by the time they’d gotten into their bed, it was getting difficult to imagine that anything else was happening. So she switched tactics. It was Harry kissing her neck and pulling her clothes down and exposing her breaths. It was Harry whispering to her how pretty she was and what he wanted to do to her.

When he’d slid her panties off and he was bare between her legs she pushed herself up by her elbows and looked at his cock and gulped hard, but not out of lust or want. This wasn’t Harry and it was obvious. It was hard to trick herself that she was kissing Harry and touching his naked body when it wasn’t him. She didn’t want Leo. Not anymore. Not at all.

She blinked her eyes at him and grinned as she placed her palm over his dick before he could put on a condom, “Let me suck you off. Haven’t done that in a long time. And then you can come on my tits or something.” She figured a blow job didn’t feel as dirty as sex. Though choking on a cock was not fun when she wasn’t into it, it felt better than having sex with him, though.

And it wasn’t fun. Leo was well endowed and she had to work for him to come. He kept trying to pull her off so he could fuck her but she insisted that she wanted to get him off with her mouth.

She half regretted the route she’d taken. It probably would have been much faster if she’d just let him fuck her. He would have nutted in under ten minutes and she could fake an orgasm easily and that would be that. But instead, it took nearly double that for him to begin shaking with his release bursting down her throat before she pulled off of him and stroked him over her tits and tummy.

It was also no surprise to her that he didn’t even try to offer her anything once he was done. Which she was thankful for. This was one of those times she was relieved that he was a selfish lover.

.           .           .

Y/n startled awake when she heard Harry and Tyler stumble toward their rooms, with attempts to keep their voices down but failing quite miserably. It was just after 1 am. But when she heard the giggle of a female voice she sat up and strained her ears to listen closer.

Had they brought girls back with them?

She heard stomping and laughing then shushing before one door closed and then seconds later another. She considered going to stand outside of Harry’s door and pressing her ear to the wood to listen. But that was insane. He deserved privacy if he did bring a girl back. And that would be a good thing if he had (this seemed to be her mantra lately). A good thing for him to have some fun. With someone that wasn’t Y/n. That’s what she told herself anyway. In reality, it made her want to vomit.

She laid her head back onto the pillow and sighed. She closed her eyes and tried to let her mind think of anything but what might be happening in Harry’s room. She didn’t want to think about him joking around with another girl in that flirty confident way he does, taking her dress off, kissing the exposed parts of her skin as he lowered the fabric down over her hips. She couldn’t let herself imagine him with his soft raspberry lips doing things to some other girl that he’d done to her. And certainly, she refused to picture him having sex and coming on her tummy when they realized they forgot the condom because they were too caught up and horny.

She hated it. Hated the idea of any of that. Hated being jealous. Hated that she wasn’t being snuck into his room to do all of those things with him.

But the silence was a gift. She could hear nothing from their room and so she eventually convinced herself that she’d only imagined hearing a female’s voice, that there hadn’t been girls with them. And that thought was the only thing that helped her ease back into sleep.

.           .           .

When she finally woke up the following morning she had a feeling of dread and sadness in her tummy. Leo was already up as his side of the bed was empty.

She didn’t want to get up and walk into the kitchen and find two pretty girls sitting with coffee while Tyler sat next to one and Harry the other. Then it would be real. Because she had convinced herself that she’d only imagined hearing things the night before. But she knew what she heard. The distinct voice of a female, maybe two. She hoped she was wrong.

Freshening up her sleepy appearance first she put her messy hair into a ponytail and splashed her face with water. Her pajamas were cute. Little silky shorts and a tank top. It was her regular sleepwear. She had no idea what she was about to encounter but at least if she was going to see the young woman that got a taste of Harry the night before she could look somewhat cute.

But then she heard Leo’s voice. The window in the bathroom faced the balcony of their bedroom. She hadn’t seen him out on the balcony when she went into the bathroom so he must have been standing at the far corner away from where he could be spotted.

“I miss you, honey. I know…” his voice was quiet and soft. He never spoke to Y/n that way. He seemed so gentle with her. Sounded so malleable. So tender.

He chuckled breathily and spoke, “12 more days, Parker. Wish it was you here with me…”

She looked at herself in the mirror and shook her head. What had she gotten herself into? The man she was married to was clearly in love or falling in love with another woman. Y/n wasn’t upset that Leo was finding love with someone else. Y/n didn’t love Leo. But everything felt so fleeting suddenly. So finite. Things weren’t always as they seemed and now she was hyper-aware that the kind of agreement she had might be coming to an end.

She took a deep breath as she walked out of the bathroom, not needing to hear anything else from Leo to understand what was happening, and braced herself for what she might encounter in the kitchen.

But what she found when she got there was not quite what she’d imagined. There was indeed a young woman. Harry was seated at the table with his head drooped down and a mug of coffee in his hands while on the opposite side was Tyler sitting next to a sleepy girl. It was clear that the girl was with Tyler. Though, that didn’t mean there wasn’t another girl somewhere. Perhaps even still lying in Harry’s bed.

Harry appeared to be painfully hungover.

“Morning,” Y/n spoke as she eyed Tyler and the girl.

Everyone���s eyes were suddenly on Y/n.

Tyler cleared his throat, “This is Alex. We’re just waiting on the car to get here so she can go home.”

“So soon? You can stay for breakfast if you like,” Y/n smiled at the girl as she poured coffee for herself.

“Oh that is so kind of you but I have to be at work soon.”

Y/n glanced at Harry who couldn’t even force a smile onto his face. She wanted to ask if there was another girl in the house somewhere but based on Harry’s appearance she thought she knew the answer to that question.

Once Alex left Y/n tasked herself with making a big breakfast for everyone. Cooking made her happy and she figured if the guys were both hungover they’d want something to eat to soak up all the alcohol from the previous night. And also just the knowledge that Harry hadn’t brought a girl home, made everything in her own tummy settle and she was feeling quite peckish as well.

Y/n learned that Harry had gotten on a table and danced the macarena after housing some girl's martini. The girl was apparently into Harry but then he’d gotten quite trashed and that’s when Tyler suggested they head home. With Alex in tow of course.

“Shut up, dude,” Harry grumbled his words.

“Totally blew your shot with her man! And the funniest part of it was that she was so pissed that you drank her drink in one go. Like you just yanked it from her hand, gulped the whole thing down, and then climbed on the table and–“

Harry punched Tyler’s shoulder, “Shut. Up.”

After breakfast, Harry lay by the pool fully clothed. In fact, Y/n was quite sure he was wearing the same clothes as he had been the night before.

Y/n hated that this news made her happy. Hated that she felt smug that he’d gotten too drunk to bring a girl home. Hated that that idea improved her mood at all. But it did.

She was cleaning up the dishes and putting the leftovers away when Leo walked into the kitchen and clapped his hands together, “Today is a beach day. The boys can nurse their hangovers by the sea.”

Most of the morning had been wasted at the villa with Harry trying to recover and get his shit together before they could finally head to the bay.

The water was deep blue and the sky above was bright and clear. The beach had chairs with sun umbrellas all along the shore. They found a few chairs together and draped towels over them.

Harry seemed to be feeling better. Especially when two girls came up to greet him. It was clear they both were interested in Harry. Tyler was an attractive guy too, but Harry was… well he was Harry.  

The girls were from Italy and spoke English perfectly. They were pretty with pretty hair, pretty skin, pretty lips, and pretty accents.

Watching Harry flirt sucked. She didn’t know any other way to feel about it. She tried to pretend she didn’t notice. But it was impossible being that they were only a few chairs away. She could hear everything too. The girls were giggling and Harry was being cheeky and cute, trying to say something to them in Italian and they ate it up, correcting his words and making him repeat but it seemed to only endear them to him even more.

Harry wore a pair of short green swim trunks that did little to hide his tight ass and strong thighs. Tattoos on full show, lean and well-muscled torso flaunted. Harry knew he was attractive. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise that the girls introduced themselves to Harry and Tyler.

Y/n let her sun hat slip over her eyes as she laid back and tried to focus on the sound of the waves in the ocean and not the flirtatious laughter coming from Harry’s direction.

“Will you rub sunscreen on my back, Y/n? Feel like I didn’t get enough toward the shoulders,” Leo put his hand on Y/n’s arm to get her attention.

She scooted in behind Leo on his beach chair to reapply sunscreen to his back but with the angle she was at she had a better view of the boys.

Harry was draped casually on his chair. His smile drew deep dimples into his cheeks and the tiger tattoo on his thigh was being traced by the girl sitting next to him on his chair. They were no longer laughing but speaking quietly to one another.

She watched as the young woman pointed to his butterfly tattoo and Harry took her hand and urged her to put the pad of her finger along the lines of the ink.

Harry could tell Y/n was watching. He did feel a little bad. Just a little, though. Because he wasn’t interested in the pretty Italian girl with her hands on his skin, which was a bit rude of him. And he was reveling in the fact that Y/n might be getting jealous. Also rude of him.  

But when he did finally allow his sight to take his stepmom in he noticed that his dad was rubbing lotion on her back and shoulders. He watched fingers graze along the side of her boobs and noted how his dad was grinning and whispering into Y/n’s ear.

Y/n was holding her hair to the side so it didn’t get sunscreen all over it and her other arm was out in front, palm flat on the chair between her legs so she was slightly bent at the waist. Her cleavage nearly spilled out of her yellow bikini top.

He didn’t like the way Leo was touching her or how Y/n was grinning at whatever was being said.

Harry took the girl's wrist and pulled her hand higher, now pressing her palm over the sparrow on his right pec.

“You work out a lot,” the girl spoke as she looked at Harry with her big brown eyes. She wanted more he could tell.

Harry turned his attention back to the girl fully and shook his head, “Just a few times a week. You obviously work out too.”

Y/n could pull the girl’s hair out. Her hands were on his pecs, feeling the firm muscle that Y/n enjoyed kissing and touching herself. But the worst was the way Harry was looking at the girl. His eyes dragged down her body as he spoke quietly to her. And when he pinched her thigh and she laughed loudly, hopping up from the chair, Harry followed after her and they ran playfully toward the water.

“Want a drink? I was thinking about bringing back some wine or something. There’s a shop just over there.” Leo spoke as Y/n stood up and moved back into her own chair.

“Yeah. Maybe some wine would be good.”

.           .           .

Leo had had a bit too much to drink. And Y/n hated, hated to think it, but it meant he’d pass out and would be unlikely to try anything with her. She could avoid sex with him. At least that evening.

It also meant, much to her devious delight, that Harry and Tyler had to bid adieu to the lovely young ladies, but not before getting some contact information so they could meet up later. Y/n needed their help to get Leo back to the villa in one piece.

Tyler was already setting up plans for that night to see Gia by the time they helped Leo to bed.

“Dude they’re both gonna be there tonight. Gia and Bambi.”

Yeah. The girl that Harry had been flirting with was named Bambi. Of course, that was her name. She was adorable with long legs and big brown eyes. She could pass for a Bambi.  

“I don’t know, man. We just went out last night. I got so wasted and sick. Not sure I’m into it.”

“Really? Bambi was all over you. She wants to see you. You don’t have to drink, H. You know that right?” Tyler laughed.

Y/n was not purposely listening. She just happened to be in the kitchen wiping the countertops as the guys were in the sunroom connected to the kitchen. The fact that she could hear was totally a coincidence. Totally.

“Nah. You go. It’s fine.”

There was a pause for a beat and Y/n strained to hear if they were speaking. Whispering perhaps?

When Tyler responded his voice was much quieter so Y/n wiped her way toward the stone island in the center and perked her ears.

“It’s because of Y/n. Isn’t it? I know you’re still hung up on her but you gotta move on.”

“Tyler, I just don’t feel like going.”

“You’re not gonna be mad if I do then?”

Smiling to herself she moved away from the island and tossed the rag into the sink. Harry wasn’t going out to meet up with Bambi. She shouldn’t have been pleased with that but she was.

Tyler left after the sun had already gone down. Y/n hadn’t heard a single peep from Leo when she settled onto the terrace with a book and the yellow bikini she’d been wearing at the beach. Even at night, the weather in Corfu was warm.

Harry had been in the kitchen for a bit on his phone and then he disappeared for a while. She wished that things could be easy between them. Go back to how they were before.

But when he strutted out to the terrace and walked in front of her before splashing into the pool she was a little surprised that he’d come out with her at all. She thought perhaps he’d keep his distance. But of course, she knew better. She knew he wouldn’t.

And like they had been doing, mostly effectively since arriving in Greece, they ignored one another. Harry swam laps and Y/n read her mystery book and the stars twinkled down on their little paradise by the beach.

Y/n connected her cellphone to the speaker and put on music she had in her saved favorites. A random mix really.

Harry watched her walk across the stones to the outdoor mini fridge and pull out a bottle of beer before turning to Harry with a brow raised, “Want a beer?”

He nodded as he pulled himself out of the water and began to walk toward her. Droplets trickled down his skin and dripped from his trunks that were hung low on his hips.

She did well not to stare at his wet body as she handed him the cold bottle.

“Surprised you didn’t go out with Tyler. Seemed like you would have enjoyed seeing that girl tonight.” Y/n spoke as she sat down on the chair next to her book.

She immediately regretted asking. It made her look desperate, jealous. But perhaps she was.

Harry took the lounge next to hers and put his feet up as he took a swig from the bottle.

“Yeah. I would have enjoyed seeing her. She was really nice.”

“So why didn’t you? This is your vacation, Harry. You should enjoy it.”

Harry leaned his head back into the chair and turned to look at Y/n, “I am enjoying it. Maybe another night I’ll go out. Last night was too much for me.”

They sat silently for a bit as Y/n picked her book back up and tried to concentrate on the words on the page but her mind was racing.

When the next song came on, it had changed the mood entirely. A slow song and the lyrics were maybe somewhat ironic given their circumstance.

Harry stood from his chair and stretched his arms overhead before taking down the last of his beer.

“You done with yours?” He gestured toward her bottle.

“Oh. Yeah. Thanks, Harry.” She was about to pick up the bottle to hand to him but he reached across her and picked it up. Their faces coming within just inches. He’d done it on purpose. But she didn’t say anything as he straightened himself and took the bottles to the trash.

She looked back down at her book but the lyrics of the song and Harry’s fit body were far more interesting to her.

“You’re staring,” Harry spoke with a smile.

Y/n scoffed and rolled her eyes, “No. No, I’m not.” But she didn’t remove her eyes from his frame as she grinned.

Harry kept his gaze set on hers as he adjusted his swim trunks, plucking at the fabric near his crotch where the lining was irritating his skin. He’d done that on purpose too. A reminder to her of what she was missing out on.

She tried not to imagine him without the shorts. She knew what he looked like underneath.

Blinking her eyes she looked down at her lap and took a breath.

“So, Tyler’s having fun. He brought that girl back yesterday and now he’s out with another tonight. Quite the ladies' man,” Y/n tried changing the subject or at least the trajectory of where her mind was beginning to wander.

“Yeah, I guess so,” Harry shrugged as he plopped back down onto the chair and stretched his arms behind his head. “Kind of funny…” Harry chuckled, not finishing his thought.

Y/n turned to look at him, “What’s funny?”

Harry’s bright eyes binged on her exposed skin, “Cause I should be out with him. Bambi was cute. Coulda had fun. Yet here I am.”

Nodding she turned to face him, putting her feet onto the stone below the chair, “You should have gone. It would have been good. You can still go you know.” “Would it be? Is that what you want?” Harry mimicked her stance, turning himself and putting his feet onto the stone, their knees facing one another.

“What I want? What do you mean?”

Harry’s pink lips opened and then closed as he considered his words, “Want me to go out and have fun with someone else? Someone who’s not you?”

Y/n shook her head and looked away from his deep gaze. Of course, she didn’t want that. What she wanted wasn’t fair. Wasn’t right.

She stood up so she could pace. To put some distance between her and Harry because even though he was a couple of feet from her it was too close. But she didn’t get far when she felt his hand on her hip and he was standing over her, “That’s what you want?”

It wasn’t fair. Her feelings weren’t fair. The way he felt for her wasn’t fair. Nothing about their situation was fair.

She looked up at him and the slow riff of the new song made their proximity feel even more intense. It just wasn’t fair.

“Stop, Harry. You already know the answer.”

When his other hand landed on her hip and pulled her in so she couldn’t back away from him he nodded his head, “I do know the answer. That’s why I’m here. With you. Because we want the same thing. Don’t we?”

She dropped her eyes toward his chest, just about where his heart would be. The heart she longed to keep for herself. The most tender heart she’d ever known.

She nodded her answer but did not look up at him. Because it wasn’t fair. Her answer wasn’t fair. His feelings weren’t fair.

“See? You’re just torturing yourself, Y/n. Torturing me. I need you in a way I’ve never needed anything, and I know it’s the same for you. Please look at me.”

Harry didn’t know he could be so relentless about something. He was generally very easygoing and didn’t bother to push anyone in the way he did with Y/n. But it was different. Because he knew they had something special. Something rare.

Slowly she gave in and looked up at him again, bringing her hands up to his chest, palms flat. He looked down at her hands and then back up to her eyes, “Can you feel my heart?”

She nodded as Harry took one of his hands and pressed it over the back of hers to hold her palm in place. The unmistakable frenzied thudding of his muscular organ below vibrated against her skin, “It doesn’t do that with anyone else. Not like this.”

She didn’t want to cry. Didn’t want to let her feelings overwhelm her like they had been since she broke it off. Wanted to keep strong. Didn’t want to give in. Didn’t want to not give in.

“I know you feel the same way. Why are you doing this?”

She let out a shaky breath and blinked her eyes, “Because we can’t.”

“Y/n… I’m…” he shook his head and took a deep breath, “I need you to be honest. Because I can’t keep doing this to myself. I’m going crazy. Tell me you don’t want me.”

“That’s not fair.” Her words were a whisper.

“If you can’t tell me you don’t want me I’m never gonna be able to move on from you, Y/n.”

Harry brought his hands up to her face, not allowing her the chance to look away from him.

“I can’t.”

“Y/n… there’s not a single part of me that doesn’t want every single part of you. It’s only going to get worse. Tell me now you don’t want me. Before I kiss you.” His nose was pressed into her cheekbone as he closed his eyes. He could tell her breath was deepening. Her fingers softly stroked the skin and hair of his chest.

“Harry… please… don’t…” she couldn’t ever tell him she didn’t want him. She should tell him so that they could put an end to all of it. Tell him she never wanted him. Tell him it never meant anything to her. But how could she when that was the furthest thing from the truth? Her heart couldn’t let her speak those things aloud to him. Couldn’t utter those lies.

“Say it and I’ll stop. Say it, Y/n. Put me out of misery. Let me move on if you don’t want me. Say it and I’ll leave you alone for good.”

“It’s not that simple.”

Harry’s lips found the edge of Y/n’s mouth and his muttered words sent a shock through her soul, “Y/n, I love you.”

She gasped and pushed at him, her eyes wide as she shook her head, “No you don’t. Don’t say that!”

Pulling herself from his hold she turned and quickly walked back inside to get away. She needed to break down and cry and scream into a pillow and stomp her feet… anything to stop her veins from overflowing with him. Anything from stopping herself from responding to him in kind.

“Y/n!” Harry walked after her and followed her into the stairwell as she ascended as quickly as her legs would carry her. But Harry’s legs were longer and he was not letting her get away.

“Don’t run away from me, please!”

She pushed her way into a spare room and tried shoving the door closed but Harry’s strong body blocked the door as he forced his way in and closed it behind himself. The dark room was illuminated by the moon and the twinkle lights strung up over the terrace.

“Harry stop. You don’t mean it. You’re… you’re confused… it’s–“

His hands found her waist in the dark and he pulled her into his arms. He pressed his face into her hair, lips close to her ear, “I’m not confused. I’m in love with you.”

She had given in to her tears already. It was too much. Having his arms around her and his skin against hers, his voice, his words. I love you.

She melted into his arms and pressed her wet cheek against his chest as she cried.

Harry was gentle. His hands caressed her back as he allowed her to cry in his arms. He knew he was being bold by telling her how he really felt but he needed her to know. He wanted her to admit her feelings to him. She couldn’t say she didn’t want him because she did want him and he was sure she felt the exact same way for him that he did for her.

“Please, Y/n. If you can’t tell me you don’t want me I’m never gonna stop. I don’t care about the consequences. I don’t care if we get caught or if we keep it a secret forever. I just… I love you. I need you.”

Harry’s shorts were mostly dry by that point. Y/n felt the fabric against her hips as he tightened around her the slightest, his warm breath over her ear, “I love you.”

What was she supposed to do? How was she supposed to just push him away and ignore it all? It was already impossible, but now with his confession, she couldn’t do anything but let her heart crack open wide and allow him in. His warmth and kind heart smothered her resolve. Drowned it until it was gone.

“Goddamnit, Harry.” She spoke with her mouth smashed over his skin.

He put his hands on her face and turned her head up to look at him in the shadowy room, “I’m gonna kiss you. Tell me right now if you don’t want me to but I can’t go one more minute without it,” he whispered his words as he dipped down slowly.

Her silence was his answer and when his lips smoothed over hers their moans of acceptance meshed together with mouths moving in synch.

She had missed his kiss. His breath. His tongue.

When he felt her fingers glide into his curls he thought he might pass out. He didn’t know if this was only for the night or if it meant forever, or maybe just something in between. But it was clear she was his in that moment.

She could feel him under his shorts, thickening up quickly. And that flipped a switch in her right away. She’d been denying him of everything. He might have flirted with some girls during their break but he hadn’t been with anyone. He was hers. Every part of him belonged to her and how could she ever refuse him again? To deprive him of what he wanted, needed felt abusive. She never wanted to hurt him.

“I’m sorry, Harry…” she spoke against his lips as she pushed him toward the bed. Her legs were about to give out from the adrenaline rushing through her veins. She needed to be in his lap or lying next to him so they could be closer. She needed him closer. “I was wrong to break up with you.”

Harry gasped at her words and when he felt her pushing him toward the mattress he stepped back and pulled her with him, their lips never parting.

He hoisted her up over his body as he sat on the bed and slid himself into the center and up to the headboard keeping her with him as he went.

Y/n settled her thighs over his and kept her mouth on his, “I want you. I’ve always wanted you, Harry. I’m so sorry…”

His hands were shaky as he hugged her tight. He hoped this meant for good. He hoped she wouldn’t regret this again. He had never regretted it.

“You mean it?” Harry kissed her softly before parting from the kiss and putting his hands on her hips.

Y/n nodded and scratched his scalp gently, “I mean it. I’m not done with you. I could never be. I was wrong when I thought it would be better to be apart.”

“Promise me? You’re not gonna leave me again?”

Leaning forward she nudged her nose into his and brought her hands down to cup his face, “I promise you. Never again. It was stupid. I need you, Harry.”

The whine that left his throat when she rocked her hips down over him had blood rushing to her limbs and she pulled at him to move his back away from the headboard before pushing him flat to lie down, “You need me too, don’t you, baby? Need me to take care of you?” She rolled her hips over his bulge and he nodded and breathed out the word yes.

“Poor thing. I’ve been so bad to you. I’m gonna spend so much time making it up to you. I promise, Harry.”

“Please, Y/n.”

“Missed you, Harry. Missed this…” she pecked his lips and then kissed her way down his jaw, neck, his pecs, and sternum. Her mouth left small wet spots as she moved and whispered over his skin, “I’m sorry for all of it, baby.”

Harry arched his back when she licked her tongue along the ridges of his abs and he whimpered, “I need you. I need you now.”

She smiled and looked up at him. They both had tears in their eyes but things had shifted quickly. Instead of uncertainty and grief their hearts were reacting with love and devotion. Y/n would show him her devotion the best she could.

She put her palms on his pecs and sat up to look him over, “So pretty. So perfect for me, Harry. I was dumb to think I could suppress my feelings for you.”

Harry brought his hands up to her low back and smoothed his palms downward over her bottom. Her little bikini was flimsy and so it was easy for Harry’s thumbs to slip under the fabric so he could keep hold of her.

She needed the moment to take him in. There was just enough light to see his face and torso, to see his lips parted and his chest rising and falling.

“You know that I’m yours too, right? You’re the only one who has my heart, Harry.”

Harry let out a quivering breath as he squeezed her bottom and in a strained voice spoke barely above a whisper, “Say it again.”

Settling herself over his hips and leaning down to put her lips close to his ear and her palm over his heart she spoke, “I’m yours. I love you, Harry.”

The moment she whispered those words into his ears, Harry felt like his heart would give out, like his nervous system was going to shut down… his ears became muffled as blood rushed to his head and his heart pumped viciously in his chest. His breath caught in his throat and he began to melt and sink down into the mattress and through the floor into the cement foundation of the room below and then into the earth. But as long as he had her in his arms he was alive and in love. He was safe with her heart and her words.

She felt his grip tighten on her bottom but he said nothing as the moment had him spinning and sinking and soaring.

She kissed his soft lips and he suddenly jolted back into his body with a moan as he opened his mouth wide against hers. It was as if her lips were a defibrillator to his heart.

He bent his knees slightly and bucked up toward her, keeping his hands on her to hold her down. He wasn’t going to let her go.

She rocked her hips over him slowly as they kissed and licked wetly.

Harry’s dick was in an uncomfortable position in his trunks and the lining was scraping the skin as Y/n pressed her crotch over him. And as if she’d somehow read his mind, she pushed against his hands that were holding her bum and reached between them to push his shorts down and free his length from its confines.

When he sighed she cooed at him, “Feels better like that, doesn’t it? You’re too big to be smushed in there like that.”

Harry wanted to just thrust into her and fuck her from his spot on the mattress, holding her down and make her take him. He was desperate to feel her but he knew she was in charge. She was going to make it worth the wait. But he was shaky and leaking, “Y/n, please…” He didn’t even know exactly what he was asking for but he wanted anything.

“Yes, Harry. I know… Tell me what you need, baby. I just want to make you happy. Want you to feel so good.”

Harry pulled at the fabric of her bikini bottom and the hint was loud enough that she understood just what he wanted.

“Want these off? Yeah?” She kissed his mouth and gently brushed the crotch of her bikini bottoms over his cock.

Harry nodded and groaned, “Yes. Off…”

Y/n pushed herself up but Harry’s big hands wouldn’t let go of her bottom so she put her palms over the top of his hands and pried them off, “Need to let me go so I can get these off for you, baby. Will you let go?”

Harry whined but he did as she said.

Y/n got to her knees between his legs and first removed her top and then slowly slid her bottoms down her legs as Harry sat up and pushed his trunks the rest of the way off his body, but the moment she was completely bare he pulled her back into his chest, not wanting to have any space in between their bodies for a moment longer.

She giggled at the abrupt force of him pulling at her but then her mouth was covered by his, rendering her silent as he slowly moved his lips, savoring her taste and her skin on his.

The feel of her body draped over him, her hips and her bottom under his palms, her thighs spreading for him to have access to anything he wanted… Euphoria.

He reached down further, letting his digits glide down her bottom to the back of her thighs and then in toward her pussy that was pressed to his shaft. He let the pads of his fingers feel her soft skin over his hard erection, the tiny swivel of her hips to keep them connected was seductive.

She felt his fingers reaching behind her gently stroking her crease so she moved herself the slightest to feel the tip of his finger dip inside. The motion caused their lips to part and Harry let out a low moan.

Putting her hands on his chest she pushed herself up and sat over his finger making it reach deeper inside, “I want another Harry,” she panted as she rolled her hips onto his hand.

Harry groaned as he pulled his finger out and then thrust two inside of her. She was doing most of the work. He hardly had to move his fingers or hand at all with the way she was writhing over him.

“Missed your hands and your fingers so much, Harry.”

“I missed you, Y/n.”

She continued rocking into his hand, wetting his palm and making his fingers sticky with herself. Her clit was pressed to Harry’s frenulum giving him that decadent sensation of her pussy gliding over him gently that he missed so much.

Y/n reached around and pulled at his hand to bring his fingers out of her and she lifted his wrist toward his mouth, pushing his fingers onto his tongue, “That’s yours, baby.”

Harry closed his eyes at the taste as he felt her move down his body before wrapping her hand around his shaft.

She licked his tip and kissed the thick vein on the underside. Harry gasped and groaned and pushed himself up to reach for her, pulling her face upward so she would look at him, “Please, Y/n. I need to be inside of you so bad.”

Y/n grinned, grasping his wrist as she turned her face to kiss his palm, “Need to feel my pussy around you?”

Harry nodded as she climbed back over his body and smoothed her soaked cunt over his length, “Anything you want, baby.”

When she angled her hips over him and pushed down over his thick crown Harry let out a loud and guttural moan. Too loud.

And while Leo was probably still passed out, Y/n didn’t need to have this moment interrupted by anyone. She continued to sink over him as she put her palm over his mouth, “Shhh… this is just for you and me. Okay? Be a good boy and keep quiet so I can fuck you without anyone else hearing.”

It was nirvana to be connected with him again. To feel his thick tip being pushed inside her body, splitting her down the center in smooth strokes, nudging and gliding into her g-spot with each roll of her hips. And even with Y/n’s palm covering his mouth the sound of what was going on in the room was quite blatant. She was filthy wet over his cock, slick and sticky as she fucked herself down on him, pushing him into her guts. The bed started off with the smallest rattle from the metal frame and turned into a repetitive clunking thud on the floors as she rocked her hips over his harder. Even with their silence, the atmosphere in the room was sex and elation. They were finally together again and their bodies were celebrating the joy their hearts felt.

She was already chasing her own orgasm after only a handful of minutes of having him inside of her but she wanted to drag it out. Make it last. They had all night. And she didn’t care if Leo did wake and wonder where she was. Let him find them. Let him hear the squeak of the mattress and the wet sound of her pussy being fucked by his son. She was Harry’s. Only Harry’s.

Pulling her hand from his mouth she leaned over him, pressing her soft tits to his chest, and kissed him slowly as she fucked him. They were breathing in through their noses sharply to fill their lungs so they didn’t have to part their mouths.

Harry’s hands found her round bum again, squeezing and pressing her down while her hands wound through his curls.

Harry was leaking quite desperately and doing everything he could to hold back from filling her with his warm come. He wanted to feel her around him for as long as possible, “M’gonna come, hold on…” his breathy words were pinched as he spoke quickly.

Y/n paused and sat up, bringing his hands from her bottom to her tits, urging him to squeeze them, “S’okay, baby. It’s okay to come.”

Harry’s chest heaved as he shook his head and pressed his thumbs over her nipples, “Want it to last. Need to be here with you forever.”

Licking her lips and keening at the way he pinched her left nipple she nodded, “Me too. Want to feel like this with you forever. We’ll take our time and go slow. But if you come it’s okay. There’s so much time for us. I know you needed me,” she ran her fingers over his pecks and up to his neck gently as she felt him throb inside of her. He had been dangerously close to coming.

“Tell me again, Y/n. Want to make sure it was real.”

Letting her fingers travel up to his chin and to the side of his face she whispered his new favorite phrase to him, “I love you, Harry.”

He whimpered and she felt his cock twitch. That had nearly been his end again. Just her words and the moment they were in was almost too much for him.

“Fuck. Nearly came right then, Y/n.” He panted and tried to calm his cock as he closed his eyes with a big smile on his face.

“You deserve to come, baby. You’ve been so good.”

She began to slowly rock over him again, her clit pasted over his pelvis with the head of his thick cock pushed into her tummy, dragging against her cervix. He filled her up so perfectly, made her wobble and ache from the fullness his sizable cock gave her.

Her pussylips gripped him lavishly, slipping up and down and stimulating him from base to tip, coating him in her cream and wetting his lap. His fingers sunk into her soft skin with a pinch as she inched down and up in steady motions.

“Do you hear that?” She sheathed him with her cunt and lifted gently so the sound of their bodies connecting and slipping together could be heard, “It’s because I belong to you, Harry. No one gets me so wet and so achy.”

Harry choked out a quiet moan and listened to the noise of his cock being fucked by her wet pussy. He could barely respond with any coherent words except to whisper her name and whine when she seated herself fully onto him and clenched.

“And I can tell you’re mine too baby. You’re cock gets so hard for me. Can’t help it can you? Need my love and my attention. All of my affection. My cunt. We need each other, Harry.”

Quiet gasps and moist bodies meeting and parting slowly began to get louder, faster.

Y/n was going to come and she didn’t know if she could stop it from happening this time. She wanted to go all night but she was going to explode if she didn’t come.

“Baby… look at me…” she spoke quietly as Harry opened his eyes to take her in. Soft tits jiggling and, her mouth parted, “I’m gonna come. I want you to come with me. Okay?”

He nodded, “Fuck yes. Come on me, Y/n…” Harry gritted his teeth when he felt her begin to fuck down over him harder.

Harry bent his knees and began to plunge himself into her, meeting her thrusts with harsh smacks and splatting noises.

She could no longer hold in her ecstasy or her cries of bliss.

“I love you, Harry! Fuck! I’m coming!”

Harry coughed out a loud groan and gasped as her walls clamped and spasmed over him. His balls thudded into her, knocking her upward when he felt the relief of his come pouring out of his cock and spurting into her cunt.

As they writhed and came together they heard a thud from in the hallway.

They both heard the noise but they were in the throes of their orgasms, whining and moaning together in bliss with pounding hearts as they kept their eyes on one another.

It didn’t matter to either of them who it was or what the noise was. They’d deal with that when they were ready. At that moment they were alone in a room together, bodies interlinked, adjoined, shaking, panting, bursting. Nothing else mattered. No one else could come between them.

Collapsing onto his chest she ran her nails over his scalp and felt his hair between her fingers as she kissed his neck and sighed. Harry was still trembling with the smallest smile on his pink lips, breathing hard, his chest rising and falling with Y/n moving up and down with his breaths.

“I love you so much, Harry.”

He turned to his face to push his nose against hers, “I love you so fucking much it hurts. I still can’t believe this is real. Is it?” His arm moved around her waist as he held her tight.

“Yeah. I’m not going anywhere. I don’t know what I’m going to tell Leo but you and I will think of something. I don’t want you and your father to have a bad falling out.”

Harry kissed her soft lips and grinned, “You’re gonna leave him?”

“Yeah. I don’t want anyone but you. And it’ll make things easier for him and Parker anyway,” she chuckled quietly. It was true. She was convinced that Leo was not just fucking the girl, he was very much into her, if not in love. Based on what she’d overheard of their conversation she was confident that leaving him wouldn’t be difficult. It was the reason she was leaving him that would make things complicated.

Harry nuzzled his face into Y/n’s cheek and kissed her jaw, “I can’t believe you want to be with me. It feels like a dream.”

“It does.”

When they heard another thud and the sound of someone moving around down the hall they looked at one another, “Think it’s your dad?”

Harry shrugged and shook his head, “Maybe Tyler? He could be back by now. Don’t know.”

Y/n put her cheek over Harry’s chest and wrapped her arms around him as they both laid back down, “I don’t want to go out there. Not tonight. I just want to be here with you. Just you and me. We can think about what we want to do in the morning.”

Harry smiled and rubbed her naked back with his warm palm, “I don’t care if he knows tonight or tomorrow. I’ll wait until the time is right if you want. Maybe telling him while we’re on vacation is a bad idea.”

Y/n nodded and closed her eyes. She didn’t care anymore either. Now that she had him back again she wasn’t going to be letting go. Sure things would probably be difficult. She’d need to actually put her degree to use and get a job. She’d have to give up all the luxuries that being married to Leo afforded her. And she’d need to face the possibility that Harry would have a falling out with his father and that people wouldn’t be so kind toward her given the situation.

But she couldn’t imagine it not being worth it. Harry was worth all of it. There was no way she’d deny herself of him any longer. He was suffering and so was she. And why keep lying? She was in love. She was in deep. Harry had gotten ahold of her heart early on. There was nothing to be done but to yield to it.

Much to Harry’s chagrin, Y/n urged him to get up so they could clean up. They were sticky and gooey all over. It was absolutely necessary.

But of course, cleaning up was made slightly more difficult with a playful Harry. And of course, he was playful. He’d just learned that Y/n loved him just as much as he loved her. He realized that they had been on the same page the whole time. That she had missed him and how bad it hurt her. They were feeling the same things but now? She realized what he’d known all along. That they would be better together. No matter what.

Harry’s low, quiet baritone rang in Y/n’s ear as she giggled, “And how about this?” He dragged the rag over her clit as she pushed at his arm but he wasn’t budging.

“Harry! You’re just supposed to clean it,” she whisper-shouted as he watched where he was dragging the damp rag through her messy labia.

“I like it dirty, though, Y/n,” he laughed his words quietly as Y/n grasped the cloth and yanked it from him.

“You’re something else,” she grinned at him as she wiped herself up.

Harry had her perched on the bathroom counter and he was stood between her legs when they heard a knock at the bedroom door.

The bathroom they were in was connected to the bedroom and they’d kept the door open.

“Did you lock the bedroom door?”

Harry shook his head. Neither moved an inch when they heard the second knock.

“No matter what, are you with me?” Harry held onto the bottoms of her thighs to keep her in place.

“Yes, Harry. I’m with you, baby.” She nodded as they heard the bedroom door open.

Both Y/n and Harry were naked and only half wiped up after having sex. Staring at one another they listened as the footsteps drew closer to them.

And the scene was just as anyone could imagine. A pair of lovers pressed together, watching the door as the intruder cast eyes on the infidelity. A bare woman sat on a countertop with her thighs held up by a man in between her legs.

Harry held up a protective arm to shield her from the eyes that peered in.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Tyler laughed his words as he stepped forward enough that Harry and Y/n could see who it was.

Harry let out a breath and Y/n covered her face in embarrassment.

“Get the fuck out of here, dude!” Harry spoke quietly.

“I just came in here because Leo is awake and I’m pretty sure he heard you. I’ll be in my room if you need me.”

Y/n and Harry looked back at one another silently. Tyler said that he was pretty sure Leo had heard. But they wouldn’t know for sure until they faced him.

“Fuck.” Harry whispered, “I was hoping we could push this off until after vacation. What do we do?”

Y/n didn’t really know the answer. Ideally, they would have confronted Leo about this later on. Definitely not at the beginning of a two-week family vacation in Greece.

“We don’t know if he even heard anything. We can go out there now and get it out of the way. Or feel it out. See if he heard,” Y/n put her hands up to his chest.

Harry nodded and took a deep breath, “What if we just lock that door and get in bed together and wait until the morning?”

“We can do that too if you want. Maybe he has no idea and we can control when we tell him.”

The lovers smiled at one another in agreement before both leaning in to kiss. No matter what they were both on the same page now. There was no turning back.

“But if not. If he did hear we’ll figure it out. He doesn’t deserve you anyway, Y/n.”

Smiling up at him she realized that she was crazy but she was in love. And if anyone did deserve her it was Harry. The one who loved her. The one who was gentle with her. The one she loved.

“Yeah. We’ll figure it out together.”

This is the final part of this short series! Thank you for being here and reading!

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[fivelasanctum]

I blame the snippets from the Commission handbook I found online but I am shipping the young man form of Founderfive + Lila together. Love her with her canon beloved in any form. A bit of a crackship but still intriguing in the scope of fanon and the fanfiction realm. Does offer many compelling storyline developments if he had survived past season three. Or a trace of himself lingered in the timelines given he created the time Commission and most likely the subway system as a possible contingency plan. Five assumed he was 100 years old given that is a normal human lifespan and he passed away in his 'can'. In the excerpt he mentioned he no long remembered his name. Yet he was still quite lucid to talk to his other self to not save the world. Not suffering from dementia at all. Been established that time was nothing when at the commission. Why we can't truly gauge lila's age given she worked for them as well. Five was suppose to only do 5 years of service for the Handler but was still with them up until he was 56 or 58 year old self. Was rescued when he was 45. Time is subjective. So the founder may be more godlike in terms of his age and abilities (thinking timelord for those familiar with the Doctor Who series)

As shown in the image above: Seems to be a somber, melancholic version of five that is filled with regrets. Horrified about what he has created. That has a life all it's own. Essentially feels the road of hell was paved with good intentions but that despite the original aim for what he wanted, "time is a finicky mistress." Cannot be molded by one person no matter how powerful the founder became. "someone I lost" could mean his youthful self that was self aware and confident in his purpose. Knowing what he wanted and needed to do. Believing he could change the world on his own. Since founder lost touch with what it meant to be a 'Five'. Yet it can also mean he lost his version of lila. The series is familiar with tragic endings with couples. Luther and sloane were sweet, married each other and looked to be endgame. Yet when the universe was reset, luther remembered and still loved her but for whatever reasons, couldn't find her. When five and her found him in the bunker she did have pity for him. Trying to calm Five's ire towards the founder since by this time he was in a more fragile state when it came to his health. He did acknowledge her with 'bingo.' A five-ism I'll call it. Confirming she was keeping up with it all. Not confused like other characters would be (Diego and luther in particular) When he did perish, she was hesitant to leave her five alone with now dead founder. Knowing it was an emotional moment for him. Confronted with his future mortality and the realization he would be alone. Not having accomplished what he sought out to do. Their was another revelation in the commission handbook that five can't use his powers if his hands are bound yet was not verified completely. Take with a grain of salt since I still need to purchase the book and this is second-third hand accounts from others that gave hints to some lore on five/founder. Still opens some doors with the information. Many ways to go with founderfive and lila within the fandom. ♥ Could be more manic with a god complex in his younger days since five revealed to Klaus he thought he could evade death in addition to time and disasters. Would make founder be more insane or at the very least more of an anti-hero type character. ♥ slow-burn beauty and the beast tale with Lila. Projects being more insane than he actually is to push her away. ♥ Possibly stalking/watching her when both were at the time commission courtesy of his own powers and the infinite switch board. ♥ Their were three chairs in the bunker with opened alcohol bottles and glasses. Showing he could have had company but with himself. Since he made the Bunker paradox psychosis proof. Most likely to bounce ideas off alternate fives for how to save the world before he threw in the towel in the end. ♥ Perhaps created paradox psychosis as a means of sticking it to his other selves. Five has always been self deprecating as we saw with his adventure with luther. Both trying to kill each other and insult one another. Founder could see what his alternate selves were doing, jealous if they had a happier life with their 'lila' compared to his situation of being stuck at the commission with the weight of the world on his shoulders. Well. More than one world infinite ones due to timelines branching off. ♥ With his mastery over time it could have served as a double edged sword. Slowing down his own time subconsciously. Lila, while able to mimic his abilities, she could have hit her limits. Having to watch her age eventually while he would remain. Maybe worked on finding a way to let his time move so he could reunite with her. In the comics, Five is frozen in time as a ten year old. Never able to grow from that point. The handler was able to freeze time for a couple minutes and she wasn't even the highest ranking person in the commission. Makes sense founder can impart a crumb of his powers. ♥ Founder serving as the battery core of the commission for everything to function. Suitcases leeching off his power, creating custom timelines.

♥ Idea of founder being annoyed with his other self. Jealous if main lila has a relationship already with main five. Might separate him in three bodies. Representing the three parts of his mind while in physical, different ages. Kid five, apocalypse five and 25 year old five at the end of the series. Yet all have the memories of lila and events leading up to what founder did on a whim. Can't stay separated forever since memories or sense of self can be distorted. Just some ideas I have had and other Fivela/live/Fila fans have had when discussing this on Discord <3 Thanks for reading~

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Idk I think it makes sense that dream Vil doesn't appear "older" in dream, like maybe he's not able to choose to picture himself as older/doesn't necessarily want to (which I mean, after going through all that in Ch. 6, I wouldn't blame him).

Another idea maybe he perceives himself as older while in-dream and it's just the audience who doesn't see him that way because it isn't presented externally.

But regardless, the point is that Vil isn't presented as older while in dream is likely due to a number of variables that aren't necessarily in his control. Personally, I feel that the fact that he presents himself as what appears to be the same age actually demonstrates a change in his outlook regarding his future after going through the events of Book 6 but that's another story for another time

[Referencing this post!}

Oooh, possibly??? I don't even think the aging thing has to be as extreme as what happened in book 6; even a middle aged Vil would have been acceptable to show that us that he isn't afraid of his beauty fading with time. I also feel that it is well within the devs' abilities to provide a middle-aged Vil (since they provided the very old Vil), though I do also think it's possible that Vil is older but it isn't reflected in his physical looks (possibly 20s to early 30s, when your appearance does not change much).

Pinpointing intention is a big mess 😅 since technically Malleus is casting the spell... but the spell can run on its own... but the spell has to pull from a dreamer's experiences and memories to craft the dream... Real clusterfuck 💦

But yeah, I think there's definitely a point to be made about the limitations of what the dream can do. I realized just now that the dreams we've been in so far cover only past and present, never really the future. If a mage cannot imagine something, it's harder for them to cast a spell--so rather than Malleus not having "developed" the magic yet, it's more realistic to say that even for a mage as powerful as Malleus, he's limited to doing only to what he can imagine (or maybe wants to imagine?). Because of this, he cannot exactly counter that which he does not understand (ie technology like how Ortho transferred his consciousness), nor the futures he does not wish to consider. Turns out his worst enemy is his own inability to accept change 💀 and because of that, it feels like many of the dreams his magic spins lack any real depth; they focus so much on immediate and extremely convenient gratification.

[ahoyimlosingmymind]

i have compassion for Fitz Vacker in the same way I have compassion for Child stars in Hollywood.

He is perceived as a living dream, while he exists in a nightmare that people have so little understanding and empathy for. There's a level to him that is fundamentally unrelatable to most. He has no perceived lacking. At least, not when you're taking in the situation at face-value.

And this^ way of seeing him is fundamentally isolating. It strips him of depth and realness, and it makes him into an image to ascribe ideas and false perceptions onto. A blank canvas to project all of your worst insecurities . After all, He's not real- it doesn't hurt him, right? In fact, it's trendy among the lower class to dislike him. If you aren't obsessed with him to the point of a parasocial relationship, then you resent him. He cannot struggle or have any issues whatsoever because the perception of what luxury is, is so powerful.

This is reflected in the way Dex saw the Vacker's in books 1 and 2. It's reflected in the fandom's inability to empathize with Fitz is any way shape or form (at least on Pinterest/YouTube/Instagram)

He's socialized more around adults than his peers, because of the idea of giftedness and notoriety. Which just puts him on a higher pedestal, and makes him a larger target to hate among kids his age.

He is known, but he is not known. If anyone pursues him as a friend, it is for the sake of making connections and being popular. It's disingenuous. It's to use him as a stepping stool on a rapid rise to fame. to exploit him for personal gain. His trust issues don't come from nowhere, after all.

He had one friend his entire childhood. and what do you know? It's a kid who is trying so hard to outrun the exploitation of his dad's dreams and wishes for him.

Sure, Fitz's parents are present in his life, but they can only mitigate so much of the outside world before it starts seeping right through the walls of their home.

I just think it would be so strange to have so many people barely know you and either obsess over you to the point that you are more fantasy than reality, or resent you so much that you can't say a word without hearing some snide comment in response. And to know that NONE of it is real. None of these people know you.

Fitz's family obviously represents a really big issue in society. Because Dex, Sophie etc... they are RIGHT, that the standards of their world aren't fair. They are right to call it out. They are right to have anger towards the 'upper class' who does nothing to help the lower class. It's understandable. and it's far more relatable than Fitz's situation. but the thing is, shame is shame. and scorn is scorn.

the upper class may whisper. But the lower class does too.

and that's just it. Therein lies the issue with the lost cities.

IT"S NO ONES CHOICE. It was not Dex's choice to born into a bad match marriage, it was not Keslar and Juline's choice to be born in a world where a system like mathmaking even exists. It wasn't their choice to have triplets. But it also wasn't their choice to raise them in a society that hates them.

But no more was it Fitz's choice to be born a Vacker. No more was it his choice that his parents happened to be a good match. It's not his choice to be born into a society where that stuff matters. He's a kid.

But because he represents something at face value that people tend to hate, he is undeserving of compassion when compared to a character like Dex. Fitz is dismissed and disliked because he represents something about their society, even though he's a child who has no real way to combat what generations older than him have enforced.

He is the vessel that is easy to target and to hate, because people need to find someone to blame. Even if that person technically has not contributed in any way to the thing that the people wish to destroy.

and it can only cause resentment to build between the two classes.

Idk man the perception of Fitz Vacker will forever have my head spinning.

[xelys-xlys]

hi xelys I’ve once again come to poke at you abt ur aus :33

Who is this gentleman…..

'' Waka Waka! THAT'S MY FIRST BOOK WHEN I GOT HERE! . . . In this world so sufferable.. HAHAHA, HEY! DO YOU WANT TO READ IT WITH ME? . . . . . You know it is not necessary to read it, because this book has a voice of its own that is unknown through me, He he.... Please help me.

THEY EVEN LOOK LIKE A CHILDREN'S STORY, WELL THAT'S HOW IT STARTS! '' It's a long time ago,four kingdoms, three alliances,two empires that grew strengthened over the years and and a kingdom that is against of them and a kingdom that is against them,of monster beings and terribly powerful for being different like them,despite bad alliances towards the yellows the monsters only asked for mercy for something that never happened. Due to the decisions of the yellow king they were accused for generating plague that killed to the other kingdoms and their people, among the other kingdoms they did not get involved in that conflict because no one is to blame for this world being contaminated with supernatural magic that can generate disaster.

There is a principle of nature that most creatures know and that is how it works, The animal that wants to scratch, and bite, and kick, and snatch with all its might, The monster was insolent to think that it would not use violence, why didn't they attack?, which ends up being the lunch of their own satisfaction for that abominable being… A kingdom is an animal that is trying to survive to protect its family and its people by not getting involved with others even if they are not like them, like animals, because….

Until one day they summoned A fearsome being and went to take Both kingdoms, sentenced to suffer while their people migrated to other kingdoms as soon as possible before the worst arrived with the hopes of survival, what happens? That's how animals are, we are all the bad guys in this story.

Is it over? oh well I'll go try again to take the life of the protagonist…

Name: Knight!Ever Age: 21 years old, Corrupt Elemental: Water, Known as Ever,The kingdom Novelriam Spooky (ghost monster) coexists, the kingdom where the yellows were inhabited due to the catastrophe of their kingdom taken by the demon, now he is one of the others knight with legendary strength who is capable for his reflexes of speed, strength, skill and for helping the kingdom by supernatural disasters, is known by both tutors Negative and Passive for being friends of the leader of the royal guard (Spheria). Ever known as Pacster, the king's lost son, he was taken for dead/missing, the king and the Master Pac-mage without knowing the reason what happened to them.

Ever is one of the yellow totally silent and aggressive because of his personality you cannot prevent or resist him with him, he will do everything possible to obtain his goal, He uses a mask to reserve his identity (Although the mask changes) although they made derision of him with his mask, Ever, put in place a large part of the Royal Guard, There is a reason why Sheperia saw in prolonging it in another place among the other more trained of the institution of the kingdom of Novelriam, where the most legendary are what represents the protection against black magic that inhabits outside the kingdom while the most legendary intervene to prevent it from entering and also watch over those from outside the kingdom if there are mutations that mix black magic towards the supernatural.

Ever was called to the kingdom offices for a new type of guard job and it is to take care of the only princess of her monster ghost races she escapes for her survival instinct and also to understand black magic, for something that has been required to stop and leave that external behavior towards the supernatural since that harms people,Ever have a different objective and that is to obtain the source of power that balances and protects the kingdom from external black magic and to find out where it is through Stratos tutor of Pinky is the one who takes care of the Novelriam kingdom both economically and politically with the other kingdom called the Nascent Light.

Therefore Negative and Passive agreed to the request that Ever take care of Pinky while they would work for Stratos on the kingdom's commissions and requests. Pinky doesn't like it when a guardian puts her in her place and forces her to be as she should be "a ruler" for a kingdom that doesn't exist as a ghost monster since it is plagued by yellow orbs, the reason why the yellow chose her is by means of faroz and farel on the mission that the elementals would save their kingdom from black magic by taking the throne even if it is not because of their races.

Spheria, Stratos and the Mage.oz (<-Sr.cumferencie) You do not recognize the son of the yellow king is because his identity was preserved, since his son was born he has never been able to see who he really was, neither the people nor anyone else, only the master magicians are the ones who could see the child.

Negative and Passive, Known as Eversy and Soleyver preserve their real names by Mage.oz and Stratos who know the existence of both servants of faroz and farel both masters who taught their students, Mago.oz and Stratos you do not know who the servants Eversy and Soleyver are for saying so they are not ghosts and have no soul of their own, in this they make it difficult as are their real appearances and the little information they collected from the golden kingdom, Eversy is the one who trained Pacster by the obligation of an order from the yellow king to follow the abuse and mistreatment so that he would become like him, For this reason he is called Ever, Soleyver is the one who disciplined Pac and gave him the exact education by the desire of sunny queen that already she is not lifeless.

Lately I was collecting all these ideas they had for this au, I never thought a person would ask me this au. I am very happy for the question my friend :'3 ♥️💙! GUYS, LOOK AT THESE BEAUTIES!

art not mine by @butterpuffed

Host don't be angry dear, remember to lend them the things. d-d

[suncchaser]

Misogyny in the Marauders Fandom

DISCLAIMER: This is not a personal attack. I have spoken on this topic a couple of times already on this blog and I simply decided to make a separate post to compile all my thoughts on this because this is a topic that is important TO ME. If you find it annoying, or ranty or unnecessary, you are entitled to your opinion. Also, I am not a native English speaker, so I apologize in advance for any possible mistakes. 

Since I created this blog, I have been open about my opinion that the Marauders fandom (and the Harry Potter fandom in general), like many others (I would dare say most others) is incredibly misogynistic. This is an opinion I have held for many, many years and one that I have seen a lot of people share, but usually with a lot of backlash from the people who tend to disagree. And that backlash tends to come with a certain degree of cynicism that bothers me quite a bit. 

Every single time I have seen discussions on this topic, the concept of misogyny being used is always incredibly simplistic. Misogyny isn’t the mere concept of hating women. It goes deeper than that. Every single one of us, regardless of gender identity and sexuality (because some people on this app think being attracted to women absolves them from misogyny), have ingrained prejudices against women simply because of the society we operate in. We are taught these things from a very young age and it’s hard to unlearn them. I am writing this as a 25 year old woman who needs to check herself quite often because I am not perfect and like everyone else, I have these prejudices too. And these biases will manifest on every aspect of our lives and interactions, including on how we engage with fandom because our actions do NOT exist in a vacuum. It’s all a manifestation of who we are as people.

Does this mean every single Marauders fan who chooses to engage with primarily male-centered and mlm content is a horrible person? Of course not. The main point I have been trying to make is more often than not, these biases are not at all conscious. There is no ill-intent behind their actions. That’s why I keep saying it has never been a personal attack on anyone. It has always been a broader discussion on a broader issue. 

One of the most common rebuttals I have seen when this topic is brought up is the idea that the fandom is so male-centered because most of the characters we have any canon development on are men and therefore we should blame J.K Rowling for not writing women better. We can blame J-K Rowling for many things because there are indeed many problematic things in the Harry Potter books, including misogyny in her treatment of female characters. However, that argument does not apply here for more than one reason. 

The first reason and the most blatant is how proudly this side of the fandom has distanced themselves from canon. So, you cannot in one moment say “we don’t care that (insert male character the fandom has decided to assign a sob story) was a bad person in the books because we don’t care about canon” while at the same time, blaming canon for the reason why the female characters do not get a fraction of the attention male characters get. You either care for canon or you don’t. 

The second reason and I have mentioned that several times before is the characters the fandom chooses to develop from the crumbs we get in the books. Regulus, Barty and Evan have been the three male characters who have had a massive surge in popularity since around four/five years ago and at the moment, I would dare say they are the three most popular characters outside of James, Sirius and Remus, who are basically the main characters of this era. While Barty was an important character in the Goblet of Fire, Regulus and Evan are no more than mentions and were not important at all to the story (do not lecture me about Regulus, he has a cool and interesting backstory but it has no impact on the story apart from giving Kreacher substance and make things harder for the trio) and yet, they are incredibly loved. Who they were in canon - blood supremacist terrorists - has been watered down, pushed aside and they have been given characterisations that victimize them and make them more sympathetic towards the audience. Yet, female characters like Marlene and Dorcas, who we know were members of the Order of the Phoenix and actively fighting against Voldemort, are nowhere near as developed as them, even though they have such wonderful potential and are as blank of sheets as the boys are. Same with Pandora, who is the mother of a beloved character in the main series. The fandom had five characters here to flesh out and develop, yet only the male characters were given that treatment. It was a choice. 

One other thing that has bothered me for a long time is how often, the female characters are treated as accessories to further the men’s storylines. They serve as therapists, token friends, a little object to create drama between the mlm ships. Take Pandora and Dorcas as an example. I am not going to lie, I avoid anything related to the Slytherin Skittles and despite my greatest efforts and the fact everything I have learned about them has been against my will, I know and understand the backstories that were created for Regulus, Evan and Barty. I know what their fanon motivations were. I know nothing about Dorcas and Pandora despite the fact I have tried my hardest to look into it because I actually have interest in those two. Because their storylines make no sense, their motivations aren’t explored, they are there to make the three male characters more sympathetic. How does Dorcas go from being a Slytherin student and friends with wannabe DEs and blood supremacists, which was never a dealbreaker for her because she loved them apparently, to being a member of the OoTP, so important that she’s killed by Voldemort in person? What makes you think that Dumbledore would even trust her to allow her in the Order? He wouldn’t. How does Pandora go from being a Rosier, a member of a very prejudiced pure-blood family with a DE father, twins with an aspiring DE and friends with two others (at the very least very prejudiced), and despite being portrayed as super passive and never standing up against them, she is not corrupted by their beliefs and seemingly goes on to raise one of the purest characters in the whole series. Because yes, Pandora raised Luna for nine years of her life, so the way Luna is is undoubtedly a lot to do with how Pandora was. It doesn’t make any sense. But it’s not supposed to make sense because they are there just to serve a purpose and not to be their own characters. 

I have also talked about Lily and how her character has been treated since Jegulus gained popularity. Lily, who was always the most prominent and developed female character in the Marauders fandom, has been sidelined and pushed to the background for the sake of another mlm ship with zero canon basis. James remained one of the most popular characters, a part of one of the more popular ships, still center stage while Lily was the one to be shoved aside in order to make this fandom even more male-centered than it already was.

And since then, her character has been treated horribly. Vilified, humiliated, turned into an incubator, had her son turned into a “jegulus baby” because this fandom hasn’t learned to create OCs when they want mlm ships to have kids rather than take the children from the women and remove them from the narrative (also side-eyeing Wolfstar shippers who do it with Teddy because where the FUCK do you think the name Teddy even came from?). I will leave some examples below:

The bottom line is the interest for female characters and any relationship involving them, whether it’s wlw and wlm, is much less compared to the interest the fandom has for the male characters mlm ships. And there is no explanation for this apart from misogyny. And like I said above, it may not be ill-intended or conscious but it doesn’t change what it is. Whenever I see defensiveness on this topic, whether here on Tumblr or on Twitter, I always check their pages and I find the same thing nearly every time. They will have a wlw ship on their bios that they never mention a single time in the midst of their 200 posts per week on their favourite mlm ship. They will scream to the skies they do not ship Jily because they headcanon Lily as a lesbian and it has nothing to do with their favourite mlm ship but the only lesbian Lily is mentioned on their pages is indeed in relation to their favourite mlm ship. 

Instead of attacking people, maybe it would be better to reflect a little on why you refuse to engage with content about the women and only seem to have any interest about the men. And if you find yourself not caring, at least acknowledge why you don’t care about your internalized misogyny rather than becoming defensive about it.

[hamliet]

Hello Hamliet, I started reading Dostoevsky because of you and just finished The Idiot. I really enjoyed the book and I wanted to ask what are your thoughts on Nastasya Fillipovna?

AHH I'm so happy to hear that!

Hoo boy. First I'll direct you to this post I wrote on Rogozhin and this brief post.

The short of it is that I think Nastasya is, perhaps, Dostoyevsky's best character (besides maybe Smerdyakov, though I see Smerdyakov as essentially the male Nastasya). But she's incredibly tragic, and you're supposed to be outraged as you read her story. She's self-destructive because of trauma (being sexually abused from a young age), and she isn't even hiding it. She's upfront about her trauma, and that is what makes her fairly unique especially for a woman in her day and age--and also kind of what dooms her.

Nastasya is remarkably prescient about the factors that led to her position, which makes her an ideal contrast to Myshkin and to society as a whole. She knows who is to blame even more than Trotsky (her abuser). While everyone calls her a madwoman for her actions that lash out at everyone around her as well as at herself, she's not mad. She's blaming exactly who should be blamed. The mad ones are society, who pretend not to see the reality they are all living in.

Nastasya lashes out at everyone because society is, itself, an even bigger villain than Rogozhin. Society looks proper and flaunts beauty and power, like Trotsky . Society, at its best, is intended to be a community that helps protect the innocent and care for those who are in pain. Instead, much like Trotsky acted as a "benefactor" for the poor Nastasya who needed an adult in her life, society grooms and takes advantage of the innocent and hurting, and then uses their pain for their own entertainment. It's an observation not limited by time: see, every pop star ever.

And even when society feels pity for her, it's too late to save her. Her life is ruined. And yes, the misogynistic and patriarchal values of 1800s Russia do play a role here, but there are still also those elements present today, too. They push her to a point where even "redemption" offered to her in the form of Myshkin is not about her--it's about them. It's about them feeling good about themselves.

She has no power and no say over her own life, and that's why she constantly acts out in any way she can--to act like she has power, and to punish society for being "invested" in her either as a hot mess or as a redemptive bride. And society could have intervened with Trotsky, or just--not cared about Trotsky, as they all acknowledge she was taken advantage of, but they don't.

I do think she genuinely loved Myshkin, and my hot take is that Myshkin and Nastasya were better suited as a couple than Myshkin and Aglaya, which is what most critics tend to purport. I don't think Myshkin ruined things by choosing Nastasya out of obligation over true love with Aglaya. I think what ruined things is the whole paradox that is the crux of the book's thematic question: how can one be a true human being in a corrupt society?

I think the tragedy is that in not understanding herself as a human being--something society has never seen her as--she cannot treat others as humans either. Marrying Myshkin would have meant facing that about herself, and also facing the inherent power she does have as a human being--to affect those around her, because no person is an island and we do need community. Nastasya is used to being a tool, and her spirit is so broken down at that point that she is afraid to be human because community has only objectified her. So she cannot face it and chooses to go to Rogozhin instead so that he will kill her; it's suicide, and the text directly says that.

Yet in her death, she ironically proves that she is human--her death destroys Myshkin, because he was a human being too who loved her. He goes truly mad, and society continues on by putting him away in a sanatorium and washing their hands of it.

That's tragic. It's wrong, and we understand that as readers and are meant to grieve and to feel angry at how society, which can heal, destroys. And we're meant to examine our role as human individuals and as a collective in the destruction of the innocent around us--the limits and strengths of our own humanity.

[nalyra-dreaming]

Hello!

Thank you for answering all those questions! It's really enlightening and I love it very much!

I have a question but I'm sure you have already answered it. Unfortunately I can't find it 🙈 but if it's too bothersome please ignore everything.

It's about the fall. I know Armand had his little mind in it so it didn't happen exactly like this but Louis fell and it was at least partially Lestat's fault, wasn't it? I know your theory about his hair. There are many question marks in my brain and I hope they answer some of them in the future seasons 😊

Glad you like! 🥰

Ahhh, the "drop". They better give us more context next season, because there are still sooo many things off there, despite Lestat admitting to it at the trial.

So, if you know the "hair" theory you know about the lack of blood there, and ... well.

Even back then, when the episode 5 aired, many theorized that the "drop" (or fall) would be set up as a parallel with another fall - namely Armand throwing Lestat off the tower after the trial.

Now, they gave us the tower scene instead. The "psychological wound". Personally I don't buy that one, sorry. For one, there is a comment by Sam that he wanted to go "full ghoul" (but Rolin pulled him back because they show us that psychological wound), and also there was a comment ages ago that you cannot "set him on fire twice". And I do think that the skin on Lestat in the reunion scene looks still healing. And then the weird discussion there, and Lestat just "hanging out" to "find his origins in Magnus' dungeon? Where he was kept chained with the other bodies? Tortured? No. Don't buy it. Sorry not sorry.

In the books, Armand takes a tortured Lestat out to the tower after the trial, and lies to him that Louis is already dead. And Armand lays the blame of the destruction of his old coven to Lestat then, refusing to help him, even though he told him he would if he ever returned to Paris.

"And it was you who drove us out of it with a flaming sword. What do we have now! Answer me! Nothing but the love of each other and what can that mean to creatures like us!"

That last sentence is particularly interesting here.

What do we have - nothing but the love of each other and what can that mean to creatures like us!

Armand is extremely disillusioned with Lestat in Paris, when he throws him off the tower - because he had hoped Lestat would return to Paris - for him. He offered help to him after all! Told him that only them could love each other! But Lestat returned, to get help - and save Louis and Claudia. And in that context... the words that were spoken in the sky between Louis and Lestat are really interesting:

I have waited, Louis. I have patiently waited in vain for you to love me as I love you. Just say it. Say, "Lestat, I am never going to love you". It would help me a great deal to hear that from your lips your quivering hateful lips.

I would not be surprised if we would get a similar scene between Armand and Lestat in season 3, which would then at least echo what happened there, in the sky.

And I wouldn't be surprised if the part outside, and the part up in the sky were maybe still different than what we got to see.

The fall happened, I think that's clear now. But there's still details missing, imho. Details they hinted at only.

We will have to see what Lestat's version of events is. There is definitely a lot of context missing, a lot of reason (to the whole of the story). There are events which can only be told by Lestat or Armand... and well, I don't think Armand will be telling them in s3. And he was not willing to do so last season, obviously^^. S3 is The Vampire Lestat... it will be very interesting if they include that part of the book - and how.

[thatscarletflycatcher]

Tumblr isn't letting me find again @fictionadventurer's and my own posts on epistolary novels, but I have been thinking about it again, because I fell down a Goodreads review rabbit hall and I have thoughts again.

So many people dislike the style, and honestly, I don't blame them, because it's so often done... not well. It is in some aspects, a deceptively easy one, and in others, deceptively hard. And because I'm trying to write a novel with this format myself, I have been thinking about what makes or breaks an epistolary novel.

I talked yesterday about TGLPPS, because it is an interesting case to analyze. I have thought many times about it, and cannot think of a single non-merely-aesthetic reason for it to be told in an epistolary style. A lot of it depends on -British- people who have survived some terrible war conditions willingly opening up to a stranger about their experiences, and that's made... even more difficult if the medium is letters? typically writers will appeal to tropes like making the reserved character drunk, or have them share an extreme experience in isolation with the stranger to create sudden intimacy. None of this is possible in writing; if anything, one is much more self-conscious about the things one writes than the things one says; verba volant, scripta manent.

It seems to me the story would have flowed much more naturally if Juliet had been stranded on Guernsey for some reason -like the first author herself!- suddenly Dawsey commenting that he got a book from her library makes so much more sense! Yes, certainly, if you met a stranger out there, and they introduce themselves and you realize you have a book that once belonged to them, you would tell them so! And it is in this way that the epistolary format does violence to a story that would otherwise sound much less contrived.

Another problem is the large cast of characters and multiple settings. For all I complain about Dracula, Stoker manages this pretty well (of course he has the model of The Woman in White, but TWiW has fewer povs), at least on the first half, because structurally the storylines of the characters are converging, and that does a lot to guide the reader in the understanding of the character's relationships. TGLPPS's relationship structure is more of a multidirectional flow chart, and that becomes confusing really fast.

Another novel I read reviews for recently is one set in WWI, composed of back and forth letters between two lovers torn apart by war, and one common complaint was... that the climactic scenes, the times they meet, etc all happen... off-camera. It is a fair complaint, but also one I cannot really blame the author for, because that's what usually happens with real life compilations of letters of that kind. Sure, usually the editor/compiler will fill in the blanks sometimes and add an epilogue of sorts explaining what happened afterwards, and that is possible if you are writing it fictionally too, but some may think it spoils the effect of immediacy and whatnot, which, fair too.

But it makes me think of how aware Jean Webster was of these difficulties, and how deftly she managed them in both Daddy Long-Legs and Dear Enemy. Both novels have aged badly in terms of content and message, but they are very interesting stylistically.

DLL is a bildungsroman with a dash of romance; through Judy's letters to daddy long-legs we can see how she grows as a person, gaining independence intellectually and economically, and as a writer, as her grammar and vocabulary change and grow. Between making Judy an orphan who hates the orphanage where she has lived her whole life, and one where she lived past the usual age of being thrown into the world, Webster does away with the need for letters between Judy and her friends and family: all her friends and family are her college roommates and her benefactor, who is the person she writes to. The benefactor scheme also makes it so that she doesn't have to write dll's replies, which in turns makes it much more natural and acceptable for the reader when Judy writes him the ending's love letter describing the feelings and impressions of their finally meeting in person and in truth; Judy has become a writer, and she is so used to write to him as another person all the time, that it just makes sense for her to write to him one more letter at the point where her benefactor and her lover become one and the same person. She has written a novel where the core is the correspondence between lovers AND managed to include as well all the moments of their meetings that we would otherwise miss.

Dear Enemy is a similar, but longer and more ambitious story. Instead of one relationship-connection (Judy and Daddy's), we have Sallie as a nod of connections: she's Judy's friend, Jarvis' "employee", the boss of several characters, has a tense colleague-boss relationship with the visiting doctor, a boyfriend of sorts in Washington, and a family we have met before. It is, in that way, a similar setup to TGLPPS: a urban girl of means becomes a fish out of water in a different setting till she ends up assimilating to it, and settling definitely through marriage. But Webster does a few things differently to make it click.

For starters, it is clear to her that this is the story of Sallie's maturation -I have sometimes talked of Dear Enemy as a novel where a Mary Crawford-like character undergoes a transformation arc. The happenings and stories she meets and tells Judy about along the way serve this arc, besides standing on their own as case studies to illustrate the problems, ideology and solutions proposed to the secondary themes of the story (education and social reform). I feel like TGLPPS is much more interested in Guernsey's survival through the war, in which case Juliet's story is already a frame, which, again, makes the epistolary format cumbersome rather than complementary.

Dear Enemy adds more correspondents, but it is very austere/economical with them, and narrows the letters we see to only those Sallie sends. YMMV regarding if it was too much cutting or not, but the undeniable effect is structural soundness; you are never confused by what is happening or who is writing to whom. We can guess the Honorable Cyrus Wykoff probably wrote some indignant letters to Jervis, and those would be funny to read, but... would they be worth the break in the flow of the narrative? I don't think so. To this effect, just having Sallie write a line to the effect of "I expect at this point you have at hand an irate letter from the Hon. Cyrus" is enough to paint a picture for the reader. Perhaps a letter or two from Dr. MacRae would have helped develop his character more -definitely a first read of the story obscures how much misdirection there is in Sallie's narration to Judy, which in turns tends to create an impression of suddenness to the closing letter that doesn't come across well to the reader.

The choice of Sallie mainly writing to Judy is, IMO, a really good one too. It not only establishes a connection with DLL, but it also allows for the intimacy that makes disclosure believable (something TGLPPS struggles with, as I mentioned above). When you add a few letters to the doctor and Gordon and Jervis, you also get a better perspective of Sallie's personality, how she deals not only with a friend, but with acquaintances, romantic partners and coworkers.

From all this it is pretty evident that for Webster the main function of epistolarity as format is aiding in showing psychological and moral development. But that's not the only thing the format can be really good for: perspective is another, and Austen uses it to great effect in both Lady Susan and Lesley Castle.

Both stories deal with mainly static characters, but who have very strong perspectives of the same situation, and it is this singularity of setting and story that anchors the narrative to avoid confusion, while the variety of perspective brings interest. In Lady Susan, we are dealing mainly with the marrying off of Frederica and seduction of Mrs. Vernon's brother, Reginald. There where Lady Susan paints Frederica as an undisciplined, irrational and ungrateful daughter, her sister in law, Mrs. Vernon, paints her as a sweet girl and a victim of her mother's ruthlessness and lack of love. Both agree that Reginald is being seduced, but, of course, with opposite goals: Lady Susan wants him to succumb, Mrs. Vernon, to escape, and this is a delicious struggle for the reader to follow!*

Lesley Castle being an earlier effort, and unfinished, does show some of the defects I have mentioned before (mainly, the relative confusion of having several correspondents in separate storylines), but illustrates well this same perspective effect: Margaret writes to Charlotte about the new Lady Lesley, and the new Lady Lesley writes to Charlotte about about Margaret and her sister... and in these contrasts lies the main interest of the narrative.

Some conclusions to these musings, then:

Not every story is suited to the epistolary format.

The epistolary format seems to work the best when it is used for either A) showcase psychological and moral development B) to play with perspective on people and/or events.

One of the main difficulties of the format is finding a narrative element to anchor and structure the letters around.

It must have a core couple of correspondents, or at most, two. More than that will make it confusing (unless, perhaps, the story is very short and about a single event or two).

A delicate balance must be found so that the secondary correspondence doesn't cut the flow of the main one, and if possible it must feed into it.

*It is interesting how Love and Friendship, being such a delightful -and I sustain one of the best ever- Austen adaptation, is by force of the perspective switch towards a more impersonal third person, more about a love story between Frederica and Reginald than a struggle between Lady Susan and Mrs. Vernon. Which isn't dissimilar to how adaptations of DLL end up being more about the romance between the leads than Judy's coming of age in college; tropes aside, I feel like if the epistolary format is well embedded in the story, it's going to be nearly impossible to reproduce the effect in adaptation.

[bodysnatch3r]

putting this under a read more because i have nowhere else to put it. this ended up being long! mostly i am Processing.

i think what's fucking me up about veilguard being so polarising is that i have no way to make my own value judgement. i can't play it, at all, full stop. consoles are expensive, i live paycheck-to-paycheck and realistically speaking cannot even begin to think about buying a current gen console until well into 2025. i was saving up and then in june shit happened and those savings had to be used for something else and my stipend got reduced by a couple dozen pounds and the bills went up. so it goes.

i do not want to watch someone play it because it is just antithetical to how i relate to dragon age as media, and besides anyone posting playthroughs is inundated with critical comments. and the result is that the usual mechanisms i have against brainworms concerning certain types of critical statements—knowing i can fall back on my own experiences with the games and my own judgements of where the writing succeeded or didn't, what story am i trying to tell through these interactive games, how do i reconcile it with the story the devs were trying to tell, where does it diverge, etc.—are totally inaccessible to me.

this would have been fine, i think, if the fandom consensus i've been seeing hadn't been mostly "either you hate it or love it with no in between. and if you think the opposite of me you are Stupid". which. well i guess ten years in the fandom have taught me Nothing. but i digress.

i would have been fine, because i know from experience that i am often satisfied with scraps that others may find lacking—for example, i think dai quickly dropping and flattening the mage/templar conflict into a couple of missions in the hinterlands was fine, because we have several books that hint at and deal with the larger-branching consequences of da2. much of my fan experience is, generally, concerned with where i can "fill in the blanks" because that is what interests me the most. i thrive in the corners and margins. the less i know, the more i can take what canon gives us and run.

plus, over the years i have developed a tendency to meet bioware where they are at. past experience in creative industries has really shown to me how stifling any form of artmaking can be in a corporate environment, and i know that right now the blame as to why we got veilguard and not joplin is being passed around like a hot potato, but the truth of the matter is, we will never know beyond the fact that bioware management is beholden, like all companies, to the "number go up" capitalist doctrine, no doubt reinforced by their parent company ea. and that, at least following the failure of anthem and andromeda (but i suspect from even earlier, as david gaider has said), bioware has been the ugly duckling of ea's roster. (as an aside, i would love to know who in ea has such a soft spot for bioware, that they allowed them to continue on following those massive failures.)

what i am trying to say is, i have been struggling so much with something i had managed to heal myself from, precisely because the one coping mechanism that does work for me (stewing in the source material) is totally inaccessible to me. so i have all of this antsy, nervous, conflicted energy, exacerbated by my own obsessive tendencies and the fact that sometimes having a childhood hyperfixation return full force as an adult just really fucking sucks when my personality is prone to regressing into harmful thought patterns and behaviours—is it as bad as people are saying? will it be a massive disappointment when i finally do play it? should i even like it when apparently it is such a slap in the face to the fans?—and nowhere to put it.

i kind of preferred it when we all thought this game was just never going to come out and i had made peace with it.

[terrence-silver]

Is Terry the type to baby trap his beloved or would he just let it happen

---

Depends vastly of the circumstances.

He adapts.

Ideally, I feel Terry would, much like anyone else under the sun pretty much, deeply want for his partner to want to have his children more than anything else. To thank him for the opportunity. To be grateful. To look forward to it with every ounce of their being. Heck, to even beg, if possible, so he can relish the act, the attention and the supremacy he has over another living person being so enamored with him. He wants to draw that out of them. Incentify them. Inspire them. Be the only man they'd ever conceive having offspring with. But, if push came to shove, and they were hesitating, showing signs of being willing to slip away from his grasp somewhere in the near or distant future (ha-ha, nice try), giving out mixed signals, being hot and then cold? Not being dedicated enough to him and a future legacy? Hey, extreme situations require extreme measures, right? And this extreme situation calls upon him to do just do what he wants to do and simply impregnate beloved and ensure they're tied to him permanently, one way or another, seeing as how he ain't willing to relinquish something he desires and covets. He's gonna secure beloved one way or another, morality flying out the window. He relishes in either outcome, you see --- be it consensual in nature or of more dubious circumstances, because it's all sport either ways and whatever the method, however dark, however disturbed, he'll come out victorious. On top.

The ends justify the means, after all.

Of course, he can very easily use the oldest trick in the book and humbly state that a slip up happened and that --- boom --- beloved ended up pregnant seeing as how they weren't diligent enough to mutually take good care; simply something that happens in the heat of the moment and the height of passion and beloved does makes him oh so passionate, he might say (something that isn't a lie whatsoever, nonetheless, it's a serviceable tool to sell this story believably) --- still, it's hilarious that a control oriented perfectionist and micromanager like Terry would ever subscribe to accidents and overlooking something so crucial, regardless, he'll gaslight, he'll sweetly manipulate, he'll convince, he'll blame the fact that beloved makes him so horny that contraceptives just became an afterthought for a moment there and it's all a big part of his baby trapping scheme. To hide the fact this wasn't an innocent slip up and that he very much planned this all along; a need that only gets stronger and more pronounced as Terry Silver ages, I feel. He might think he's old and that as such, he's willing to lie, cheat and scam if it means securing himself at least an ounce of happiness by any means necessary as fast as possible, because time's running out and he's back is against the wall and that's bullshit. He doesn't like his back against the wall. He bites when he's against the wall. It's now or never. All the stars aligned. Love and desire and that one chance he's not gonna let go, becoming more insidious and unpredictable than ever.

But that is, he's just as willing to gloat over what he's done.

I think he cannot resist gloating (which is often this man's downfall).

It's in his nature to highlight the perverse and evil things he's done.

Enjoy himself while doing it.

Beloved might be there with their newborn and Terry could very well be barely containing himself from just looking them straight in the eye and telling them that he's done what he's done because it was pre-planned that it would pan out like this all along because he always gets what he wants the way he wants it. Heck, the idea alone makes him hard with absolute rotten glee.

[potionwine]

One of the PF prompts for October is superstition, and I've had this idea for ages—it's in my fic but I just want to keep a record of it in a more expository form.

The following headcanon concept is in extreme danger of being jossed as soon as the devs decide to release official birthdates or anything, like in the upcoming lore book. But while I have the room to explore—

Since there are Eikons tied to certain specific nations, the people of those countries might start to develop internal superstitions about the best season in which their Dominant should be born, as a good omen of sorts. This superstition/folk belief is heavily inspired by the east Asian astrologies that calculate the date and hour etc. of a child’s birth to predict a person’s life and destiny (and also the compatibility of couples).

Rosaria would obviously think it best for the Dominant of Fire to be born during summer, and places like the Northern Territories would want their Shiva born in winter to signify a strong, divinely blessed Dominant. Maybe the people of the Water want theirs born during the monsoon or peak rainy season, not that I know whether or not Valisthea even has monsoons. So in this concept, coincidentally Rosaria and Sanbreque have the same cultural superstition: that the Dominant of Fire or Light born during summer, and particularly near the solstice, would symbolise luck and power, like a favoured child of destiny. Rosaria because it’s the hottest, brightest season, and similar for Sanbreque, because it is the brightest, longest light.

And in a situation of such folk beliefs being widely held, I would want Dion born exactly on the summer solstice, literally the specialest, most auspicious day, in a “all our stars have aligned” way, the absolute height of divine favour smiling onto Sanbreque to produce this shining godsend (goddess-send), and this is the first, but by no means the last, of the things about Dion that wholly convince his people that their new Bahamut is blessing personified, is the radiant chosen one of Greagor, to usher the empire into a new golden age and defend her against all their enemies and deliver them from penury (the encroaching blight).

(Privately, if I'm honest, Cancer is the least suitable western astrological sign to assign to Dion, not that there’s any real scientific basis in any of it.)

In the reverse, I would want Joshua born in deep winter, which is worrying and ominous for Rosaria. Ideally I really want him on the winter solstice, but he can’t be in “December” [or its equivalent] and remain in the same calendar year as Dion (in my heart of hearts I really want 25 December to go full Jesus on Joshua), but a birthday right at the start of “January” would be great, when it is dark and cold and bleak, a fierce bitter winter that augurs ill, and therefore the Rosarians whispered quiet fears about this, blamed Anabella about this, and when Joshua turned out so sickly and weak, also blamed and doubted the child of ill-fate. A fire of no warmth and little light.

Love heaping the pressure onto Dion and Joshua in opposing and complementary ways. Dion’s countrymen think he’s absolutely perfect, the pinnacle of Bahamuts, an unprecedented prodigy that made his father’s political enemies sweat from the moment of his birth, and when Sylvestre ascended the throne the people looked at their new prince, their guiding light, their radiant star—and approved of it, approved of him, like yes, yes, this is our destiny. This is Sanbreque’s future. This is what the Goddess has ordained.

So: Dion is strong and perfect, is told by everyone all the time that he is strong and perfect; he can only be strong, he was made perfect, he cannot be anything except strong and perfect. Weakness is not only forbidden, it is impossible, for the Goddess’ blessing is flawless and cannot fail, and any personal weakness wouldn’t concern only him, it would spell disaster for his whole country. Which is the sort of thing that gives a child a very particular sort of damage.

And the winter-born Phoenix, imperfect from the wrong and unlucky season of his birth and frail throughout his childhood, knows his people don’t believe in him, that they have no confidence in him and think of him as weak—born flawed and continues to be flawed, with a fragile constitution, frequently ill. The thing about superstitions is that it is worsened by pre-existing doubt or concurrent fears, and since Joshua’s physical condition does not inspire confidence in the troops or the populace, their confirmation bias will amplify their worries and negative gut feelings. It’s a vicious cycle. Child!Joshua, who perfectly perceives and understands his people’s lack of faith in him, will naturally learn to feel self-doubt and inferior, because that’s what happens when children are bombarded by consistent messages from their environment.

We know for a fact he knows this, because at Phoenix Gate he literally says “they don’t believe in me”. He says “I don’t have what it takes”, he says “I don’t have the strength”. And he says to Clive, “it should have been you.” The sense of inadequacy is deep, cutting, persistent, and profound. There is a standard to meet, and he understands how badly he falls short. “They don’t believe in me, they believe in the power of the Dominant.” Will his full prime Phoenix form hold up in battle? This seems like a question that should lowkey eat away at everyone in the prologue. Everyone is hoping that the full primed Phoenix will be enough, the way the Eikon has always been enough, because the current Dominant clearly isn’t. Putting aside how self-doubt tends to lead to self-sabotage, for a 10-year-old to say something that hopeless and crushing in his quiet little voice, this is more than a hushed confession of weakness, it is resignation—and as we discover, he does not even need to enter war to experience defeat, and it is only the first in a string of massive defeats to come. His lack of strength doesn’t concern only him, it spells disaster for his whole country. Which is the sort of thing that gives a child a very particular sort of damage, and makes for a beautifully poetic counterpart to summer-Dion.

It's the contrast and foil between the lucky child/the unlucky child—who is which cannot be clearly defined—and between the weak child/the strong child—or, the child who was always told he’s weak, the child who was always told he’s strong. Which leads into the onscreen transformation over the course of gameplay: the exalted Sanbrequois prince who plummets into weakness and has to learn how not to break, the vanquished Rosarian prince who rises to strength and has to learn how to survive, finding each other as adults who embrace and comfort each other’s weaknesses, and become each other’s strength.

Supplementary notes:

Clive should be born in summer too, probably “August” or something when it was unseasonably hot and dry that year, and even the non-superstitious thought Anabella did a splendid job and were super enthusiastic for their new Dominant to wake—he’s going to be a proper fire Dominant, this one, the world is already scorching at his arrival. I love anything that exacerbates Rosfield family dysfunction.

One of the most amusing things about such a superstition would be that certain Motes would try extremely hard to conceive at certain times. The tribes in the Northern Territories would be like omg time for a new Shiva, we are 8-10 months out from winter, everyone get down to business!!!

People should blame Anabella, illogically, for the time of Joshua's birth and add to the sense of persecution and disgrace she seems to feel about her children. I've a strong headcanon, even without this superstition, that Joshua is a preemie. It's such a but of course concept to me, that Joshua is a premature baby, and not just a little bit premature, but the kind of premature that could never have survived in medieval times without the Phoenix. So if the pregnancy had remained on track, perhaps Josh would have been a "February" baby—still winter, not great, but without turn of the year notions of upheaval and change. So smoll, scrunchy, very premature Joshua pops out at the worst time, and the birth was sudden and horrendous and arduous, and some people think it must be because Anabella didn't take proper care.

This is a phoenixflare post, therefore the point of all this, of course, is that Joshua is the hope in the despairing dark, and Dion is the enduring light, and the Sanbreque astrologers will find upon calculation that they are the perfect complementary match.

[vyrid]

Hermione does not, in any way, overpower Tom Riddle, in any field. 

For evidence purposes, I'll use all of their achievements from book one to book 7. Instead of going on a long, disorganized tangent, we'll cut them down into 3 categories: studies, wit, and talent/strength. (I swear theres a difference between wit + studies.)

Studies --

During school, Hermione:

Was referred to as the brightest witch of her school year by Lupin

Got 10 OWLS (2 less than Bill and Charlie)

Prefect

She did get Slughorn's favour to an extent

During school, Tom Riddle:

Was referred to as the brightest kid to step into Hogwarts (possibly ever) by Albus Dumbledore

His grades are never revealed, but it is implied time and time again that he was a model student with a spotless record

Prefect and Headboy

Got a Special Award For Services to the School (hes a rat 😭)

Slughorn's favorite despite being Muggleborn and broke

There is not much I can work on in the studies department, because there isn't much text to support their performances involving the school directly, but it's obvious that Tom Riddle takes the cake. With every bullet point presented, Riddle's side of achievments is always 3x more impressive. I would like to add that he thrived in DADA and didn't shy away from any dark subjects, while Hermione was too scared to put thought into DADA + was too impatient with Divination (which I don't blame her for.)

If I had to compare them involving other characters, I would say that Tom Riddle is right up there with Albus Dumbledore and Gellert Grindelwald, while Hermione falls below tier near James Potter and Severus Snape.

If Severus Snape is no match for Tom Riddle (atleast when he was sane), then Hermione isn't a match for Severus. Snape was the BEST potions boy to go to Hogwarts -- it could be argued that Lily was also up there but yk shes dead so we don't care about that -- and he wasn't scared to apply his studies in the Dark Arts to real life. He was a smart kid, and even though he was below Tom Riddle in terms of brilliance, he was pretty darn smart. If Hermione cannot even reach his level, it's kind of silly to compare her to Tom Riddle.

Wit --

This one is a no brainer. The thing that sets them apart is their ability to think outside of the box.

Tom Riddle believed in a world of magic. He believed there was not a limit in which magic could be stopped. He achieved GREAT things simply by letting his trust in his own magic and the wonders of the Wizarding World lead him to his goals.

Hermione is close minded. She believes what she wants to believe, and most of her information comes from her precious, reliable books. She was too close minded to believe in divination. She was too close minded to sit back and think that, perhaps, house elves were made a certain way in which they ENJOYED labour (which is a whole other discussion), she was too close minded to believe in the Death Hallows. She was too close minded to think that there could possibly be a better, alternative recipe to a potion that didn't come straight from the school book. Her refusal to simply believe held her back from many opportunities.

Hermione is studious. Tom Riddle is BRILLIANT. Most of Hermione's knowledge comes from what she's been taught at school, but Tom Riddle went out and learned his own knowledge. And that's not a bad thing. Being studious and smart already sets her apart from many, many people.

But Tom Riddle wasn't just a studious guy. He was a genius, a prodigy, kind of a psychopath. He learned at a young age how and exactly when to use his strengths to get what he wants. He carried himself up as social ladder reserved solely for purebloods before even finding out his heritage as the descendant of Salazar Slytherin. He made a grown adult women scared of him as a child. He didn't use his wit for good, no, but was he pretty damn smart? Yeah.

Talent and Strength --

When Hermione was a kid, she learned to utilize what she had around her to catch up with other kids. She taught herself the syllabus before even getting into school and even learned spells without being taught by Professors! She was always the first one to get the spell right and was quick on her feet in an argument. She had a lot of brewing talent in her. It is not easy to be thrown into a whole new world but she took all of it with grace.

She was amazing at spells. When the trio ran away during the 7th book, she was their rock to lean on--for strength, for protection, for guidance. She knew every spell in the book to hide them away from Voldemort.

Her duelling skills, while not on par with Harry's, were pretty darn good, too. She could hold her own in a duel if she really needed to get out of their alive, using her quick thinking and sometimes, deception. Ex. (When she changed Harry's face to not resemble him when they got caught by snatchers.)

I give Hermione a lot of credit in the book. She was stronger than she needed to be at a young age, and she handled it better than most people did.

Tom Riddle on the other hand...

His talent is unmatched when it comes to anybody else.

He learned to get a hold on his magic and command it like the king that he is at the baby age of one digits. Because of all the instances at Wool's Orphanage, it isn't crazy to assume that this wasn't just a case of accidental magic. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he knew exactly how to call onto his magic to do his bidding. I don't think even Dumbledore could have said he was able to do that.

He was a parselmouth. It's less a talent and more a skill, but he used his hereditary trait to manipulate and use another type of magic to do what he wanted. Speaking to snakes is one thing--getting them to actually listen to you has to count for something.

He made horcruxes at the age of 16. That is a type of deadly, deadly magic. It is so forbidden it doesn't even fall under Forbidden magic because it's blasphemous to even think to do it. The fact that his magic was so strong that he could go through that process and come our alive is actually crazy.

He made a whole persona for himself, under Lord Voldemort, and got a whole race of people to follow him blindly. He wasn't even a pureblood and he still had them down on their knees. That's talent.

He could perform all forbidden curses with ease and not get drained. Moody says that you have to mean your intent and that nobody can *just* cast the curses. You have to have the willpower and strength to cast them--the fact that Voldemort could cast dozens of them at a time without thinking about it already sets him apart in strength from Hermione. I doubt even Snape, as he brilliant as he is, would dare push his limits like that.

I don't want this to get SUPER long, but here are some things I left out about Riddle and didn't know how to add on the list.

He found the long lost Chamber of Secrets during his time at Hogwarts. It was there for millions of years--he can't have been the ONLY descendant. It's safe to say he was one of the first people to open it and actually use it for his own gain.

He acquired the Elder Wand. I mean, so did Harry and Dumbledore, but it doesn't change the fact that he did. He was kind of dumb when he grew up and became all insane but that's impressive, too.

It is implied that he was at the brink of winning the war before Harry killed him on Halloween. If he hadn't taken the bait, maybe we'd see a world overrun by his power.

He didn't inspire fear in just Britain. He inspired fear across the world. Harry Potter was known across every wizarding community, such as Bulgaria. That means they must've known Voldemort too. There was lots of foreign people at the world cup, but every single one of them ran at the sight of the Death Eaters--which means they recognize his sign in some sort of way. The Gregrovitch family recognizes him, as does the German witch does when she sees him in folds in fear.

Sorry, this became a long rant of Voldemort's powers and not just a comparison, but it does go to show that Hermione being even near his level. It's just not plausible.

You're welcome to argue with me or correct me on my oversights! I haven't fact checked everything and I won't be offended if you correct some points. (Also there is a lot of typos and I have a cut on my finger so please dont kill me for my grammar 😭)