#Harry is very much the kid that will eat a carrot right out of the ground with the dirt still on it so like little man is suffering

[dark-elf-writes]

Rancher au, aka the return of “the food is beige Harry. Beige”

The continued horror over Hogwarts food being absolutely unseasoned and covered in gravy will never not be funny.

Though in this one it would probably feature Harry writing home complaining that he hasn’t had a fresh vegetable that wasn’t boiled in months and god forbid he wants fruit in this place. Not to mention his horror over the milk.

[tobesolonely]

it’s not christmas ‘til you come home

a/n: hello!! please enjoy this piece from my dad!harry universe! (u dont have to read any of them for it to make sense, but it would be cool if u did! loosely based on it’s not christmas ‘til you come home by norah jones <3 hope you enjoy! thank u to @harryysstyless​ for beta reading for me!! happy holidays everyone :)

warnings: SMUT, a bit of angst <3 word count: ~5.1k 

my ko-fi! thank you :)

December 23rd, 2:00 PM

For as long as you and Harry have been in a relationship, you’ve never not spent a Christmas together. 

Before expanding your family, you and he used to hop from party to party every Christmas Eve. Both of you would be absolutely trashed by the time Harry’s driver would drop you off at his house in the early hours of the morning. You’d sleep in until approximately noon, willing your hangovers to go away before finally making it down the stairs and into the kitchen to prepare two steaming cups of coffee. The two of you would then make your way into the living room and exchange gifts (where Harry always went way over the budget you’d set). 

Once you had your first child, Allison, your yearly tradition of party hopping and getting so drunk you could hardly put one foot in front of the other was no more. Instead, you and Harry opted for calm nights in, watching Christmas movies and drinking hot cocoa until she eventually grew tired and got carried up to bed. You would wait an hour or so before springing into action, playing Santa and setting out all of the gifts she asked for and then some. Harry never forgot to take a big bite out of the cookie and carrot left out for Santa and his reindeer.

This tradition stayed the same once your second baby, Oliver, was born. Even though he was too young to know what was going on, Harry was still excited to spoil him rotten this year as it was his first Christmas. However, given the current state of the world, you were afraid Harry would not be here for the first time ever.

“Mumma, when’s daddy coming home?” your six-year-old, Ally, asked for what had to be the seventh time that afternoon. “I made him a drawing for his gift ‘nd I can’t wait for him to see it!”

“Let me see what you drew for Daddy, love bug,” you say cheerily, purposefully glossing over her question. Ally proudly holds her drawing up next to her face. She looks up at you with wide eyes, awaiting a compliment from you. 

“That’s gorgeous, bug! Daddy’s gonna love it,” you inform her. “Maybe you can stick a lil’ bow on it and set it under the tree for him, hmm?” 

“Good idea, Mumma!” Ally runs to the box where you kept all the supplies for gift wrapping, digging around for a pink bow to stick on the corner of her drawing.

While she’s preoccupied with finding the perfect bow to place on her drawing for Harry, you take a quick glance at your phone. He still hadn’t gotten back to you since last night’s quick conversation when he very briefly mentioned he didn’t know if he’d be able to make it home.

He was filming in Los Angeles. You shared your uncertainties about him going before he departed but in the end, this was an opportunity you didn’t want him to miss out on. You read the Los Angeles Times free articles on your phone daily, keeping track of the state of the pandemic in Southern California. You knew it was much worse there than it was at home in London. You feared what you were afraid of was sadly bound to happen— Harry may get stuck in LA.

You didn’t want to say anything to your curious daughter because communication with him had been so sparse. You didn’t know anything for certain yet. But what were you supposed to think? You knew flying nationally wasn’t a good idea at the moment, never mind internationally.

“Hey bug, d’ya think you can watch your brother for a moment? Mumma’s gotta go make a phone call.” 

You hear your daughter let out a slightly irritated sigh. “I suppose I can, Mumma.” Ally responds with a voice laced with exasperation. You chuckle slightly under your breath at your overly dramatic (much like her dad) six-year-old and head into the kitchen, quickly dialing your husband’s familiar number.

“Hello?” 

You let out a sigh of relief upon hearing Harry’s low, hoarse voice. 

“Hi, honey. Just checkin’ in to see how things are going…” you hear shuffling on his end. “It’s December 23rd, you know.”

“I know, love.”

“Did I wake you?”

“Six in tha’ mornin’ here.”

“I’m sorry, H. S’just Allison keeps on askin’ when you’ll be home and ‘m just so worried you won’t make it home on time and you’ll miss Oliver’s first Christmas—“

“Darling,” Harry interrupts your anxiety-fueled ramble. “‘M gonna make it home. Have I ever not been there when I said I would?” 

“No,” you say quietly. “I’m just worried, Harry. I hear traveling is going to get very strict because they’re trying to prevent people from going anywhere for Christmas…”

“Fine, then I’ll get my own plane with jus’ me and a pilot. Wear a mask the entire time and whatnot. Yanno I can make that happen if it’s necessary, pet.” 

Harry’s calm demeanor about the whole situation brings you a bit of peace. Perhaps you were catastrophizing something that wasn’t as big of a deal as you thought it was a mere two minutes ago. If he wasn’t worried about not making it home, you didn’t see any reason to stress about it— not for one second longer.

“Okay then,” you reply, still a bit wary of his travel plans. “What shall I tell your daughter? She’s drivin’ me up the walls asking where you are every twenty minutes.”

Your husband lets out a breathy laugh, causing you to giggle along with him. “Tell her not to eat up all the Christmas cookies before I get a taste of one.”

December 24th, 8:45 AM

Part of you was hoping you’d wake up on Christmas Eve and Harry would be tucked into bed next to you, plump lips parted, the sound of his snores the only noise in the room. However, you were a rational woman, if nothing else. You knew he wouldn’t be by your side when you woke up. 

You make your way down the hall and peek inside your son’s room. He was fast asleep, plump thumb in his mouth. You smile at your sleeping baby and gently close the door behind you, deciding to let him sleep in a bit longer before waking him up to feed him. 

Next, you walk to your daughter's room, gently pushing open the door in case she was still sleeping. Instead, you find her sat at her desk, deeply focused on what appeared to be another drawing. 

“Good morning, lovebug,” you greet your daughter in a sing-songy voice. “You’re up early. What are you working on?”

“Makin’ a letter for Santa,” she replies, not bothering to look up from what she was doing. 

“A letter for Santa?” You start racking your brain for anything you and Harry could’ve possibly forgotten to get for Ally, but you finished your Christmas shopping for your children way back in November.

“Yes,” she answers matter-of-factly. “‘M askin’ him to make sure my Daddy is home by tonight so we can eat cookies together and watch Toy Story, Mumma.” 

“I’m sure Santa will make that happen for you,” you reassure her. “You’ve been a very good girl this year, been so helpful with Olly and doin’ so well in school. The least Santa can do is get you whatever you want.” You see her smile as she digs around in her crayon box.

“Can we wait ‘til Daddy gets home to make Santa’s cookies, Mumma?”

“Sure we can, bug,” Ally claps her hands together excitedly, bouncing around in her tiny chair. “Gonna go make some pancakes, does that sound yummy?”

“Can we have chocolate chip pancakes please?”

“Are you askin’ me that because your dad isn’t here to throw a fit about it?” You give her a knowing smile, causing her to giggle.

“Maaaaybe…” Your daughter turns to face you, swinging her legs back and forth.

“If I make your chocolate chip pancakes, you can’t tell your dad. Deal?” You hold up your pinky. Ally gets up and runs to you and you bend down slightly so she can link her finger with yours.

“I pinky promise, Mumma!”

“Our little secret, yeah?” she nods. “Keep an ear out for your brother for me, bug. I’ll be downstairs.”

December 24th, 3:00 PM

“Love? ‘M afraid I got some bad news...”

As soon as Harry’s voice comes through on the other line, you can tell whatever news he’s about to share with you won’t be what you’re wanting to hear.

“What is it?”

It’s silent for what feels like entirely too long. You get up from your position on the couch next to Ally, telling her you’ll be right back. After breakfast, she convinced you to watch Toy Story with her, which quickly turned into a whole Disney movie marathon.

“Not so sure I’ll be able to make it home.”

You’re not sure if it’s his calm tone that bothers you, the fact that you didn’t want him to go to Los Angeles in the first place, or simply the fact that you and your children missed him terribly and haven’t seen him in nearly a month–– but your mood changes from relaxed to undeniably outraged in three seconds flat.

“You’re kidding.” Your tone is sharp, venomous. Harry once again takes a moment before responding, knowing that the current tone of your voice means he’d best proceed with caution.

“‘M not, love. I woke up early and everything to try and get this sorted out, it’s 7 AM so I was gonna try and catch an early flight––”

“I told you I didn’t want you going to LA,” you cut him off, voice rising slightly. “You knew how bad the pandemic was getting there. I told you this would happen.”

“What do you suppose I do then, Y/N?” His tone is becoming equally as sharp. “Y’want me to tell ‘em, “Sorry, I don’t give a fuck about the travel restrictions. My wife wants me home so let's make it happen!” ‘S that what you want me to do?”

“Don’t be a smartass, Harry,” you spit. “I’ll give the phone to your daughter and you can tell her you won’t be home in time for Christmas, then.”

“Y/N…” his tone is calm again. Fearful. “Don’t make me do that.”

“She woke up early to write a letter to Santa to tell him she wants you home by tonight, Harry,” your tone softens as well. “Even Olly has been asking for you. Swear his new favorite word is ‘dada’.” He laughs at this as do you, and the shared tension that was present just minutes ago dissipates. 

“Just… lemme try a few more things before I tell her, yeah?”

“Harry, it’s already three here,” you gently remind him. “Even if you do make it home today, she’ll be asleep by the time you’re home. I think you just need to tell her.”

Your husband sighs, knowing you were undeniably correct. “Alright. Give Allison the phone, please.”

December 24th, 8 PM

“Almost time for you to head to bed soon, yeah Allybug?” Your daughter lets out a loud sigh in response, not shifting her gaze from the television to you. Ever since Harry told her he wouldn’t be home in time to eat cookies with her, she’s hardly said a word. She’s never experienced a Christmas Eve without her father so understandably, she was missing him tonight.

You shift Olly, who was falling asleep nursing on your lap, into a different position so you could face your daughter directly. From your new position, you can see just how tired she looks. 

“‘M not sleepy, Mumma. Gonna stay up and wait for Daddy,” she informs you of her new plans. “When Daddy is home that’s when it’s time for bed.”

“Ally, remember what Daddy told you on the phone earlier? Santa won’t come unless you go to sleep.”

“I don’t wanna sleep,” she’s quickly starting to grow upset. “Not until Daddy tucks me in!”

You purse your lips, not wanting to argue with your headstrong daughter when your son was so close to drifting off into his nightly milk coma. Turning your attention back to the movie that was quietly playing on the television, you decide to drop it for now and try again later.

December 24th, 9:05 PM

Not more than an hour later, Olly is upstairs in his crib fast asleep whilst Ally is still laying on the floor in front of the Christmas tree, fighting sleep. She was determined to stay up until her father walked through the front door, and you knew getting her to agree to go to bed was going to be a battle and a half.

“You’re not ready to go to bed yet, Ally?” Her eyes fly open once she hears you addressing her.

“Not yet, Mumma. ‘M not sleepy yet.” Her words are a little slurred due to the exhausted state she was in. You hum in response.

“Could’ve sworn your eyes just shut for a minute there,” you pause for a second to see if she’ll look your way. “Must’ve just been my old lady eyes playin’ tricks on me, y’think?”

“I wasn’t sleeping!” She immediately defends herself, frown lines indenting her forehead. “Can we drink more hot chocolate?”

You knew if you wanted your daughter to fall asleep within the hour, another sugar rush wasn’t the best idea. You instead offer her a hot cup of sleepytime tea and she excitedly agrees once you tell her it’s her father’s favorite type of tea to drink at bedtime. You place her down on the kitchen counter while you fill the kettle and wait for it to whistle.

“What are you looking forward to the most from Santa, bug?” 

Her eyes light up at your question. “Well, I really want a new bike! ‘Member Mumma? How I asked him for a pink bike? And I also want a cool swing set! Since we haven’t been able to go to the park in so long,” her smile falters and she looks down at her dangling feet. “I want Daddy to come home the mostest, though.”

Your heart feels like it’s going to break in two upon hearing your daughter admit that Harry being home would be the greatest gift of all. “So do I, lovebug. He’ll be here in the mornin’ to watch you and your brother open all the gifts Santa got you though, don’t you worry.”

For everyone’s sake, you hoped that was true.

December 24th, 11:50 PM

Sleep wasn’t coming easy. 

You finally got your daughter to bed at around ten o’clock and waited thirty minutes before laying out your children’s gifts. It took much longer than it usually did considering you had to do it all on your own. Harry was usually the one to quickly assemble the larger toys while you laid everything out around the living room. 

Despite it taking longer than desired, you were proud that you got it all done without waking your children up. Consequently, that meant you were now left all alone with your thoughts considering you had no more tasks to occupy yourself with. 

You kept contemplating calling Harry, but you weren’t sure if he was busy on set or not. Surely he was immersing himself in work to distract himself from the fact he would not be spending Christmas with his family. 

Deciding you may need a cup of the sleepytime tea you offered Allison earlier, you quietly get out of bed and open your door, sock-clad feet padding softly against the wooden floors. It’s unnervingly silent in your home–– the tea kettle coming to a boil being the only source of noise. You keep unlocking and re-locking your phone, finally deciding to call your husband to see how he’s spending his day. It goes to automatic voicemail.

You assume the reason for this must be that he’s busy filming on set and set your phone down with a sigh, standing on your tiptoes to retrieve a mug from the cabinet. You mutter a slew of curse words under your breath intended for Harry who always puts the mugs up far too high even though you tell him not to.

Right as you begin pouring the now boiling water into your teacup, the faint jingling of your front door causes you to startle so badly that you nearly drop the kettle on the ground. You try to think back to everything Harry ever told you to do in the event of an intruder but your mind goes blank from fright. Deciding to use the scalding water as your weapon, you slowly creep towards the door, your only plan being to fling the water on whoever it was as soon as they got the door open. As soon as you hear the lock click, you flick the lid open that covers the spout and draw your arm back.

“Shit––”

“Harry?”

Your husband jumps slightly, his eyes blinking rapidly in an effort to adjust to the dark living room. You reach beside him and quickly turn on the light, shakily letting out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. He looks exhausted, his hair is an absolute mess, and his eyes are red from sleep deprivation–– but he’s home. You set the tea kettle down on the coffee table and fling yourself into his arms, breathing in the scent of the man you haven’t seen in a month. He drops his bags at his feet so he can properly embrace you, pulling you into him.

“Merry Christmas, darling,” he presses a kiss to the top of your head and stays like that for a moment saying nothing, just breathing you in. “Missed ya so fuckin’ much.

“How? I thought…” you trail off. “You said that they said…”

Harry laughs quietly. “Remember what I told ya? I said to ‘em, ‘Don’t give a fuck about your travel restrictions! M’wife wants me home.’” You laugh at him, knowing he was far too kind to talk to anyone that way. 

“Yeah, okay,” you reply sarcastically. You pull him in for another hug, placing wet kisses along his jawline. “I’m so happy you’re home. The kids are gonna be over the moon, especially Allison.” Harry hums, surveying the room.

“Looks like you did a good job in here, Mrs. Claus. See ya even assembled some toys all by yourself,” he quirks an eyebrow. “Were you jus’ pretendin’ not to know how to do it all these years so I’d be stuck with all the hard labor?”

“Maybe.”

He pulls you back into him, tickling your sides. “My sneaky girl,” he bends down so his lips are level with your neck and sucks gently, causing you to let out a quiet moan. You see his eyes land on the tea kettle that was sitting forgotten on the coffee table. “Making a cuppa? Can I have one? ‘M freezin’.”

“I can think of something else we can do to get you warmed up,” you reach for his hands, interlocking his fingers with yours. “If you know what I’m gettin’ at.”

“Hmm…” Harry releases one of his hands from your grip and taps at his chin, pretending to be deep in thought. “Not too sure I can say I know what you’re sayin’. Maybe you should just tell me?”

You frown. “You’re really gonna make me say it, huh?”

“Y’know I’d give you the entire world if you asked me for it. All you gotta do is tell me what you want from me and it’s yours–– ‘m sure you’ve known that since the first day we met, though.” Harry takes a step back, crossing his arms across his chest. Even in his thick winter coat, you can see the way his biceps flex, and it makes you even more feral for him.

“Fine,” you say quietly, feeling yourself start to grow shy under his intense gaze. “I’m kinda... in the mood.” You say it so softly that it would most likely be inaudible to Harry if he wasn’t standing mere inches away from you. Harry throws his head back in laughter and you quickly shush him, not wanting any of your children to wake up.

“In the mood? C’mon, pet,” he uncrosses his arms and reaches for one of your hands. “Tha’s not tellin’ me what you want from me. Tell me exactly what you want, lovie.”

“You know what I want, H,” you tell him with a hint of annoyance in your voice. “It’s been a month. Yanno I want you to fuck me, why are you makin’ me say it?”

Harry gives you a shit-eating grin. “You jus’ said it. I didn’t make you say anything.”

You roll your eyes at his immaturity, already in the process of lifting your nightshirt (one of his old t-shirts that’s become just a little too tight on him) over your head. “Are we gonna get to it or not? Because if not, I’ll just go back to makin’ myself some tea and call it a night––”

Harry takes half a step towards you and reaches up to cup your face, colliding his lips with yours. His lips are a little chapped and taste of his favorite rose lip balm. You feel your body relaxing into the kiss, knees going weak as he walks you back onto the couch.

“You’ve been eatin’ up all the sugar cookies, haven’t you? Can taste it on ya. Thought those were for Santa,” he’s pulled away from you to examine your face. “A bit naughty of you, wouldn’t ya say?”

“Please stop referring to yourself as Santa when we’re about to have sex, Harry.”

“You’re not bein’ very kind to the person that’s about to go down on you, are you?” He sucks harshly on the valley between your breasts, wanting to be sure a deep-colored bruise will appear on your skin later. “That’s okay. It is Christmas, after all. ‘M in a giving mood.”

“Stop talking and get to it then.”

Harry slides off the couch and onto his knees in between your legs, gently kissing your thighs. “Cute pair of undies–– s’like you knew I was comin’ home tonight.” Before you can respond Harry’s fingers are tugging at the waistband of your underwear, eager to get them off of you. He presses light kisses to your core, mumbling about how much he missed the smell of you and how sweet you tasted. 

One hand is resting across your stomach while the other one is in between your folds, spreading you open. You try squeezing your thighs around his head, overwhelmed by the feeling of your husband’s lips around your clit after being away from him for so long, but he removes his hand from your stomach and pushes your thighs back apart.

“Feels so good,” you’re breathless, tangling your fingers in Harry’s hair as his hollowed cheeks begin to suck more roughly on your clit. “Missed you so much. Missed this–– us.” 

Harry pauses momentarily to look up at you. “I know, angel. God, do I know.” He attaches his lips back on you, swirling his tongue around your clit as you  choke back your moans. The hand that is holding you open moves down to toy at your slit as he wordlessly checks to see if you’re okay with his fingers being in you. 

“Please,” you say softly, encouraging his next move. He spits on his index and pointer finger before slowly sliding both of them in you, immediately curling them up. “Oh, Harry. Fuckin’ love when you do tha’...”

“Know you do,” His response is curt, simple. He’s focused on the task at hand–– getting you off. He uses the hand that’s lying across your stomach to rub tight circles on your clit, sensing you’re nearing your orgasm from the way you’re starting to clench around him. “Such a good girl fo’ me, darlin’. Gonna make a mess on my fingers in a second, aren’t you?”

You nod as you try to control your breathing and the loudness of your moans. The last thing you wanted was for your daughter to come down to inspect the source of the noise. “Fuck, Harry.” 

“Come on, darlin’,” he gently pinches your clit, causing your body to jolt at the sensation. “Gimme a good one. A lil’ welcome back gift for me, hmm?” 

Your hips are bucking up to the rhythm of his fingers slipping in and out of you as your orgasm quickly approaches. “Har, I’m close…” it comes out sounding more like a warning than a statement. He moves the two fingers he has inside of you in a back and forth motion, coaxing your first orgasm out of you.

“Tha’s my girl,” he whispers, not stopping his movements even as your back arches as your first orgasm rolls over you like a giant wave. “Givin’ me a good one jus’ like I knew you would. Jus’ like you always do. M’ sweet girl.” As you’re starting to still, Harry pulls his fingers out of you and holds them up to your mouth, instructing you to suck them clean. 

You prop yourself up on your elbows so you can properly lean in to steal a kiss from him and notice a rather sizable tent has formed in his pants. Harry gives you a sheepish grin as he palms himself, hissing from the feel of his palm against his cock.

“Want me to do somethin’ about that?” You scoot over on the couch and pat the spot next to you, signaling for your husband to sit beside you. He lifts himself from his seated position, stretching his legs out a bit before plopping down beside you.

“Are you offerin’ me a blowie?”

“I mean, yeah?”

“Can we skip that an’ you can jus’ ride me instead? Think I’d quite like that.”

“Oh you would, would ya?”

Harry nods and unzips his pants, taking himself out. He licks his hand and gives himself a few pumps. “Still on birth control, I’m assuming?”

You roll your eyes as you move to straddle him. “Only been gone for a month, Harry. Of course ‘m still on it, you goof.”

“Can never be too careful. I don’t think now’s a good time for another lil’ one, do you? Think we should at least celebrate Oliver’s first birthday before we try for another one.” His hands are on his hips as he lines you up over his cock, helping you slowly sink down. You missed the burn of him which was even more intense than it usually was considering it’s been a while since he’s taken you.

“I think you’re right,” you reply. You rest your head on his shoulder while you adjust to the size of him, needing to take a moment to yourself before attempting to move. After a short adjustment period you begin rolling your hips, grinding against him in a way that was also bringing pleasure to your clit, still swollen and sensitive from your last orgasm.

Harry’s eyes are fixated on the way your breasts bounce in front of him, the way your stomach slightly jiggles each time you crash back down onto him. His lips are caught in between his teeth; you’re hoping he doesn’t break any skin so you don’t have to hear him whine about how badly the bruise hurts him later.

“Ridin’ me like your life depends on it,” Harry mutters. “Fuckin’ love takin’ you like this, angel. So fuckin’ deep.”

You simply hum in agreement, brain far too foggy to form a coherent sentence. Harry notices your movements starting to become smaller, lazier, so he puts his hands on your hips and decides to take over. He’s thrusting up into you like you’ll up and run away from him if he doesn’t give it his all. He cups your face with one hand and gently guides you towards him, pressing open-mouthed kisses against your lips.

“Fuck, H,” your eyes are squeezed shut and your wrap your arms around his neck, feeling your second orgasm quickly approaching. “Rub my clit please, almost there.”

Harry’s fingers immediately come down to rub at your slick nub, not faltering his relentless pace in the slightest. “Clench around me again, lovie,” his voice is higher than usual, whiny, and you know your husband is just as close as you are. “Love when you do tha’, jus’ need you to do it one more time.”

You do as he wishes once more, knowing once he cums you’ll be directly behind him. Harry lets out a string of expletives as he releases inside of you, pulling you tightly against his chest as he rides out his orgasm. You continue riding him, not slowly down as you chase your own release next.

“Harry,” you’re in a trance-like state, chanting his name over and over as you bring yourself over the edge. “Harry, fuck!”

“That’s my good girl,” he says quietly, rubbing your back as you rest your head on his shoulder while you catch your breath. You feel him beginning to soften inside of you so you lift yourself off and lay back on the couch, legs still shaking. It’s quiet for a couple of minutes as the two of you reveal in the afterglow of your orgasms, Harry gently running his fingers along your leg.

“Round two in the shower?”

December 25th, 6:42 AM

“Mumma! Santa came and he left lots of toys–– Daddy?”

Harry lets out a dramatic “oof!” as Ally jumps onto him, pulling the covers back. Her eyes are wide and she giggles are Harry pulls her into one of his infamous bear hugs, placing kisses all over his face.

“Mornin’, love bug! What’re you doin’ up so early?”

“It’s Christmas, Daddy! Santa came!” she sits back on her feet, a confused look on her face. “Did Santa bring you on his sleigh last night after me ‘n Olly went to bed?”

“Y’know what? He told me to keep it a secret, but he did,” Allison gasps in response to his news as she processes it, placing a little hand over her mouth. Harry sits up and gets out of bed, scooping her up in the process. “How ‘bout we go make Mum a cuppa before we see what Santa got for you and Olly? Tha’ sound good? Let’s let them sleep for a while longer, hmm?”

As you hear them exit the room you take a second to reflect on how lucky you are to spend another Christmas with you beautiful family before drifting back off into a deep, albeit short, sleep.

[songtoyou]

Tempting Fate - Part Five

Paring: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warnings: Nothing major, but there is lots of smoking, particularly marijuana.

Word Count: 2,098

Story Summary: Tommy is not a believer in fate or destiny. However, a new resident in Small Heath will question his beliefs and push his boundaries outside his comfort zone.

A/N: Remember, this story takes place during season two of the show. May Carleton makes an appearance in this chapter. Once again, I included Romani phrases in this chapter. I found the phrase online and hope it is correct. If it isn’t, then I am profoundly sorry and do not wish to offend anyone. That is never my intent. Remember, there is no Grace or Greta in this fic. They do not exist in the realm of this alternate universe.

Please do not post any of my fics to other sites without my permission.

Tag list: @owenniasstars​

You did not know what you and Tommy were to each other. The terms “boyfriend” and “girlfriend” didn’t seem right as it was too mundane and basic. However, you and Tommy had grown a little be closer after you both apologized for miscommunicating with one another. Tommy would often walk you home at night after work and stay the night. It became routine for you to wake up next to him in the morning, which was nice and comforting. 

For Tommy, being with you was nothing he had ever experienced before. Before the war, he would go on dates every once in a while, but nothing ever lasted longer than a week or two. After the war, it was all one-night stands or nights spent at whore houses. However, with you, it was all new for him. There was something about being with you that Tommy could not quite describe the feeling until Polly coaxed it out of him. 

“Safe. Thomas, you feel safe for the first in a long time. Being with this girl will change your life for the better. She is good for you. The two of you will balance one another, her lightness with your darkness. However, there is a darkness in her as well, just as I can see the light in you, my dear nephew. But make no mistake, it is still in you to do some good in this world. Let her help,” Polly explained one day while Tommy was in his office. 

Leaning back in his chair, Tommy could nothing but agree with his aunt, “I know that Pol. Part of me is terrified.” He went on to tell Aunt Polly that he didn’t want to “ruin” you or get you hurt, but Polly waved him off.

“Tommy, she can take care of herself. As a gypsy, she has seen things in her life, just like you. Remember, you said it yourself. She is you. And you are her. You are each other’s match.”

One thing about being connected to Tommy was that people around Small Heath treated you differently. The women smiled at you more, while the men tipped their hats to you and greeted you with “mam” or “miss.” It was all new to you.

Even the male patrons at the bar treated you differently. No longer did they affectionately give you a hard time or joke around with you. They maintained their distance but were respectful. You particularly noticed how the men made sure to act accordingly around you whenever Tommy stopped by The Garrison. It was the same when John and Arthur were around.

You were in the back room of the bar when Esme stopped by one afternoon. She greeted you with a hug and kiss on the cheek. “Let’s go for a walk down by the Cut, yeah,” Esme suggested. “It is slow out there. I am sure Harry could give you a break.”

“Okay. Let me finish up these last few glasses, then we can head out,” You replied to the woman who was quickly becoming your best friend. You were thankful to have Esme around. She was another person you could confide in. Esme reminded you of your sisters back home and how much you missed them. You pushed the homesick feeling aside and finished cleaning the last bar glass. Wiping your hands on your apron, Esme followed you to the front of the bar.

You told Harry that you were taking your break. “Harry, I won’t be gone too long, okay.”

“Take your time, dear. I don’t think I’ll be expecting a rush anytime soon,” said Harry wiping down the tables.

While the two you walked arm-in-arm, Esme asked how you were holding up now that you were considered Tommy’s “girl” and all. “I’m not his girl, Esme,” you laughed off your friend’s accusation.

Esme rolled her eyes. “Don’t act naïve now, my dear friend. You are Tommy’s girl. Everyone knows it. He better be treating you right. If he doesn’t, I’ll cut his balls right off.”

“So, far so good. He has been very…I don’t know…” you began but stopped to try to collect your thoughts.

“What?” Esme asked.

“It is like there are two sides to Tommy, you know: public Tommy and private Tommy,” you began to explain. “In public, Tommy is always guarded, which I get. He has to be with what he does. However, when it is the two of us alone, he is something else. He is so sweet and gentle. He smiles more too. And laughs. Tommy has the cutest laugh I have ever heard. So delightful to the ears.”

Esme smiled at her friend and said, “I have never once heard Tommy laugh. Didn’t even know he could do such a thing.”

“So, when are you and John any closer to expanding your family? Lord knows you both like the activity that goes with procreation.”

“Not yet. But hopefully soon. The kids are looking forward to having another brother or sister in the mix. I’m lucky, you know. I was worried that John’s children wouldn’t accept when we got married. I was worried that I would never be able to live up to Martha as a wife or mother,” Esme revealed to you as the two of you finally reached the Cut. 

Sitting on a box crate, Esme sat down beside you. She pulled out a rolled cannabis cigarette and began to light it. Coughing out a puff, she passed the joint over to you. “John loves you very much, Esme. The kids adore you. Why wouldn’t they? You are so much fun, so sweet, caring, and they will always have your back. Kids have pure hearts. They can sense when someone is a good person, and you fit the bill. You’re special, my dear. Everyone is lucky to grace your presence sees what a wonderful woman you are.”

Blushing, Esme looked down at her feet. “You could give John a run for his money with the way you can talk a woman up.”

You chuckled and took in a puff. The effects of the rolled cannabis were setting in and making you feel relax and calm. It was a nice feeling. The two of you sat in comfortable silence while passing the joint back and forth. 

You and Esme turned heads when commotion came from Charlie’s Yard. “I wonder what is going on over there?” you wondered aloud and handed Esme the joint. “I’m going to go check it out. You want to come along?”

“Nah, I better get back to the house,” said Esme and stubbed out the joint and put it in her pocket. “See you later.”

You waved goodbye and walked over to Charlie’s. You saw him and Curly with Pyramus. Instantly, you saw the horse was agitated. You picked up your speed to reach the horse.

“Hey, what is going on? Is he okay?” you asked, concerned for Pyramus’s well-being. 

Charlie told you that they were getting Pyramus ready for transport, but the horse was not up for it. 

“I told you it wasn’t a good idea,” Curly mumbled. “He doesn’t want to leave, Charlie.”

Charlie merely sighed, “Curly, the horse will be fine. He is stubborn as usual, like his owner.” 

“May I?” you asked Charlie. When he gave you an okay, you reached out to Pyramus and began rubbing his muzzle. “It’s okay, boy. You’re going to okay. Rum tum bi Salama (Go in peace),” you said to Pyramus softly. “Si tut bocklo? (Are you hungry?)”

You turned to Curly and asked he had any treats for Pyramus. “It might help him calm down. He loves apples or carrots,” you told him. 

“I might have some around. I’ll be back,” said Curly and left to retrieve the treats. 

You continued to pet Pyramus, which seemed to help calm him for the time being. It only got better when Curly returned with an apple, which you began to cut up for Pyramus to eat. “He seems to be more relaxed.”

All of a sudden, an extra pair of footsteps could be heard approaching. You could make out Tommy’s voice not too far, but there was another voice with him. A feminine voice. One you had not heard before. You quickly turned around to see Tommy walking with a beautiful woman. From the looks of her clothes, you could tell she was wealthy. 

When Tommy saw you with Pyramus, he smiled at you and introduced you to the woman, May Carleton. She would be the one to train Pyramus. You shook her hand and offered a ‘hello.’ She went up the horse and began petting him along with you.

You told her that Pyramus tended to respond well with treats when stressed. May smiled at you. “He is a beautiful horse. Overly sweet, but he will make a good racehorse,” May remarked and turned back to Tommy. “The timeline you want the horse ready for Epsom is not much, but I can get him ready.” 

You didn’t care for how May only referred to Pyramus as “the horse.” It was like she only viewed him as a job and not one of God’s best creatures. You looked over at Pyramus, and he was happily chomping away at his apple. He was too innocent for a life as a racehorse. The last thing you wanted was for Pyramus to be broken. You could feel the panic start to rise in your chest and your breath start to quicken. You didn’t know if it was anxiety or the joint you just smoked making you feel that way. 

“Tommy,” you spoke up and got his attention. You motioned with your hand for him to follow, which he obliged. When the two of you were away from the others, you spoke your concerns. “How much do you know about this May Carleton? Is she trustworthy? What are her methods for training a horse?” you went on, but Tommy silenced you by placing a kiss on your lips.

When Tommy retreated, he cupped your face and looked at you with adoring eyes. “Pyramus will be taken care of, I promise. I would not send him away if I didn’t know that he would be treated well. May’s family has a long history of training racehorses. She knows what she is doing.”

You breathed a sigh of relief at Tommy’s reassurance. Now you felt silly. “I’m sorry for worrying. You probably think I’m childish,” you expressed quietly, looking down at the ground.

Tommy touched your chin to make you look at him directly. His blue eyes always left you breathless. You could drown in them if you stared too long. No amount of alcohol, cannabis, opium, or other drugs could compare to Tommy Shelby’s effects on you. He was addicting. He was handsome. He was dangerous. He was cruel. He was scary. He could also be kind and sweet-tempered. Tommy Shelby was an enigma. He would become a stain on your existence one way or another, and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

“Sijoukar,” you said suddenly.

When Tommy asked who, you scoffed. “May. She is pretty. Don’t you think?”

“Hadn’t noticed.”

“Liar,” you teased. “Even I can admit she is gorgeous. It’s okay. I don’t mind if you think other women are attractive. It is part of human nature.”

With a smirk, Tommy wrapped his arms around you and gave you one last deep kiss. “You better get back to work. I’ll see you late tonight, and I’ll walk you home, yeah.” 

He walked you towards the exit with his hand in yours. You waved goodbye to Curly and Charlie and gave a polite nod to May. You didn’t miss the brief look of disappointment on May’s face when she saw you and Tommy walk past her hand-in-hand. You smirked when you passed the woman. 

“I’ll tell you what, how about after a couple of weeks, we go visit Pyramus? See how he is doing and all. You and me, together,” suggested Tommy as you both neared the Yard’s exit.

“Really?” you asked, bewildered at Tommy’s idea.  

“Why not? It would be our first adventure together. What do you say?”

“I like that idea. Oh, think of a fun and trouble we could get into. I don’t think the world is ready for us, Mr. Shelby,” you laughed and wrapped your arms around Tommy’s shoulders.

Again, kissing you on the lips, Tommy leaned into your ear to whisper, “We are going to set the world on fire, love. You and me, love.” 

[avengedbiologist]

Thunderbird Headcanons

Thunderbird headcanons I just kinda forgot to post.

Scott

Not a single brain cell.

Like 6’1”

Is like really not down with the kids as much as he thinks he is.

Fully believes he is cool.

Writes a letter to his Mum every year and just puts it in a drawer.

Did have a mullet at one point.

Dimples and some moles.

Hates strawberries.

He really loves pies (not made by grandma though)

Good hugs.

He was rebellious as a kid, still got good grades at school but skived a lot and smoked probably.

Wears double denim.

Close to all his brothers due to him helping his dad raise them.

Especially close to Alan as he was only 8 when their dad went missing and kind of hand to become a parental figure in his dad's place.

Wears crocs and socks.

If he needs support will go to Virgil or John, but since he feels comfort in physical contact he tends to go to Virgil.

Full on had grey hairs at 25 from taking over IR.

Really likes porridge.

Reads/watches something for an hour before bed, unless the rescue literally causes him to pass out as soon as he gets on the bed.

Favourite tic tac flavour is lime and orange.

Really bad with spice.

Not allergic to bees

Virgil

Mans built, a good mix of both muscle and fat, bulking him out more than his brothers.

Was a bug kid, used to draw them all the time, he still remembers bug facts.

Really interested in scarab beetles

Moles on face as well as scar near eyebrow.

Like 5’9”-5’10”

Probably could lift the sofa with one hand if given the chance.

Can easily pick up Scott and John at the same time.

Usually the brother Gordon and Alan hang around or ask for emotional support.

Close with Gordon as he was the main brother who cared for Gordon after his accident due to his medical knowledge. Was around when Gordon had his breakdowns and Virgil knows a lot of Gordon's fears or insecurities, he knows most of his brothers insecurities as well, and always checks up on them if they are faced with something that could bring up their insecurities.

Virgil covers up alot, he can be quite insecure about his body, it fully depends on the day, if there is a day where he is more confident with his body and shows more skin, his brothers make sure not to comment on it as that can throw him off and make him insecure again.

Best hugs ever.

Can bake okay, can kind of cook, nothing too hard.

Has his own soup recipe that tends to be used when one of his brothers is ill.

Gay.

Close with all his brothers but tends to end up hanging around Gordon and Alan.

Is allergic to ibuprofen and aspirin

Sarcastic humour.

Full on had a crush on Kip Harris and Tycho reeves.

Can fill a sketchbook in a week.

Landscapes and figures are his favourite things to draw.

Has a birthmark on his palm

John

Tall an lanky.

Good at gymnastics.

Light freckles all over face.

Very close to Alan due to their shared love of space.

John used to teach Alan about space when they were younger, and used Alan as an audience (as well as Jeff) for when he had to practice for a presentation.

Like 6’1”

He had a punk phase when he was a teen.

Has severe hay fever.

Social anxiety isn't good with crowds, unless one of his brothers is with him, they help distract him from the crowds. Alan usually does space talk. Scott and Virgil tend to talk to him about mechanics and coding, usually asking John to babble about it. Gordon usually makes jokes or asks him about what he did that day, half the time Gordon doesn't understand what he's talking about but he's respectful and listens.

Does not like physical contact as much, he will hug his brothers but he has to be in the right mood, his brothers always seem to know when he is in the right mood.

Always hugs Alan and Gordon though.

Tends to keep a level head but if someone were to hurt one of his brothers he would get angry.

Was a generally quiet kid.

Was good at getting a baby/toddler Alan to stop crying.

Has a mole behind his ear.

Gordon

Little, like 5’6” to 5’8”.

Big shoulder from all that butterfly swimming.

Jokes about a lot, not only because he is funny but he is insecure, he hates seeing family so sad, it reminds him of when he was in his accident.

Is actually kind of insecure about his body, he has a lot of scars from accidents and from being in WASP.

He is shaped like a dorito and has little body fat.

Bisexual

Massive crush on Penelope, eventually asks her out and they hang out as much as they can, which isn't much since they both have very busy lives.

Has a mullet.

Also wears crocs and socks but does it better than Scott.

Is a mess.

Military lad but if you didn't know him you would not be able to tell.

Suffers from depression but again you wouldn't be able to tell, he hides it well.

Nothing but bright clothes in his wardrobe.

At one point he did have a crush on buddy.

He did have a good relationship with Jeff but from ages 14-16 they just didn't get on, Gordon just seemed to get on Jeff's nerves a lot and also seemed to just keep making the wrong decisions. This all got better when Gordon talked about going to work with WASP. Too bad Jeff never got to see him there since the accident happened before Gordon started.

Gordon naturally feels relieved when Jeff comes back, they start again and so far they are getting on well.

Is actually a really good cook.

If not swimming or on a mission he will spend the day cooking if given the chance.

Likes veg more than fruit.

Catch him munching on a carrot whilst listening to the info on the mission.

Always has tic-tacs in his pockets, both suit and civvies.

Really good with spice and heat, he survived eating a carolina reaper pepper.

Knows how to do the hoedown throwdown.

Knows origami.

Alan

Was only 1 when his mum died, he blames himself sometimes due to him being the one his mum was trying to save in the avalanche. [All versions]

Pansexual [All versions]

Never had a good bond with his family until he was 14 and the hood attacks, sure he liked them and they cared for him they just never gelled as well. Despite this he is close with John. John was the main one to actually listen to him and actually let him speak through his issues and John never judges him [04].

He has a boyfriend who he meets at whartons, they meet before the hoods attack and get close whilst Alans in recovery via video calls and when Alans is allowed back into school they start dating. [04]

Freckles :)

Is very little, between 5’4” and 5’7” depending on the version.

When Jeff comes back Alan is iffy around him, Jeff manages to get back in to the father figure role quickly but Alan hasn't seen Jeff for years and has forgot a lot about him, Alan naturally goes to Scott with any issues, isn't used to Jeff being around. It takes a few months for him and Jeff to actually bond properly by themselves.

Has a prosthetic leg, the story behind it depends on the version, 04, his leg was severely injured after falling and catching his leg on the moving mole during his fight with the hood in the bank. In TAG it's a situation of explosion in space that nearly kills him. (Sometimes this is a thing sometimes it's not idk)

Has a bed full of stuffed animals.

His room is filled with rocket posters and models.

Has a shelf that's just the rockets in mission order.

Loves the mercury 7.

Alan's baking ability is making those cookies that you just add like milk into.

Used to copy Gordon a lot.

Still copies him sometimes, like him keeping sweets in his pockets at all times and sometimes copies his reactions in conversations cause he zones out a lot

Will tear up if someone shouts at him, usually he hides it and when alone he lets it out. His brothers know this and will usually try to prevent the shouting from happening.

[talesofstyles]

Did I Break It?

A domestic dad!Harry and husband!Harry, where you share a glass of wine in the kitchen and enjoy scraps of the kids’ leftovers while trying to figure out Year 3 maths homework. Oh and followed by quite a realistic smut because some nights aren’t just meant to be, right?

Honestly, you thought you’d be done with maths when you finished school. Well jokes on your younger self because here you are, a little over a decade later, nursing a much-needed glass of Riesling as you work through equivalent fractions to check on your son’s homework while Harry deals with bedtime stories upstairs. Or so you thought, because now you hear the sound of the stairs creaking (that would probably finally get fixed by the time your last baby turn eighteen), followed by familiar footsteps coming into the kitchen. There’s absolutely no need for you to lift up your head and glance towards the arched doorway, because you’d recognise that sound anywhere. But you do it anyway.

And there he is, your husband, making his way into the kitchen looking all happy and soft. Although you won’t deny the fact that he does look like he needs a wash and a good night’s sleep, because that’s what being in charge of bedtime routine for four young children aged eight and under does to you. But even then, the combination of exhaustion and pure joy on his face that makes him look very much like a dad, is a sight you enjoy getting a front-row seat every night and one that you wouldn’t trade for the world. 

“Tha’ was quick,” you comment as you feel two arms sliding around your waist, and then a chin drops onto your shoulder. You let out a small, contented sigh, before setting down the white wine on the kitchen island and wrap your arms around his.

He cheekily takes the opportunity to pull out one of his arms from around your waist, and proceeds to steal your wine from the counter. “Hey!” You protest, eyebrow raising playfully at the sight of him smirking before taking a sip.

“Wha’?” He feigns innocence as he sets the glass back down on the counter. His smile is still playful as he looks down on you, before leaning closer to give you a soft, chaste peck just beside your ear.

“I haven’t cooked for us,” you start before you take another slug of your wine. “If you’re hungry, think there’s still some leftovers in the kids’ lunch boxes.”

“Oh, no school dinners this week?” Harry asks as he makes his way to the other side of the kitchen island where your children’s lunch boxes are sat. He opens one of them and immediately begins munching on a baby carrot.

“Nope,” you shake your head, and you frown when you see the untouched veggies and a nearly full sandwich with only one or two bites max missing. Although the treat is surely gone. “Whose is that?”

Harry flips the lid to see and mumbles your daughter’s name, before helping himself to the cold sandwich. “She only took the KitKat,” he laughs.

“Your daughter,” you roll your eyes comically.

“Nope, nuh uh, she’s all yours ‘cause I swear to god you’re just as picky when it comes to food,” Harry teases you as he takes the last carrot stick before moving onto the second lunch box, grinning proudly when he finds it perfectly empty. “Now, this is my son.”

“S’tha’ so?” You muse, realising the fact that he’s right and you’ve lost this one.

“Mhm,” he hums. “One hundred percent my boy.”

“Here, check your boy’s homework then,” you can’t help but grin as you slide his maths book across the counter.

“Easy peasy lemon squeezy,” he mutters jokingly as he catches the book, and his eyes widen as he looks at the questions. “Whoa, equivalent fractions. Year 3 kids do that now? What ‘appened to number lines?”

You let out a hearty laugh. “I know right?! I’m pretty sure I did this in Year 5.” 

“Okay, we’ve got this,” he rolls up his sleeves, making you laugh even harder, before tucking a pencil behind one of his ears. “Six over twelve is blank over ninety six. Fuck, what’s ninety six divided by twelve?”

“Now’s the time to use yer brain innit, big head?” You tease him this time.

“Oi!” He complains, trying to sound annoyed but the smile plastered across his face is hard to miss. “Be nice t’me.” 

You chuckled. “When am I not?”

Harry rolls his eyes in response, before he takes the pencil from behind his ear and holds it between his teeth instead as he tries to figure out the next question. There’s something about the way his brows knit together, and the way he bites his bottom lip when he takes the pencil from between his teeth and begins scribbling some numbers down on paper to count properly because his phone is charged upstairs in your room, that makes you can’t keep your eyes off of him. Although technically, that isn’t new, you two have disgust people around you by your inability to keep your eyes (and hands) off of each other for years. But there’s just something about him tonight that makes you all mushy. 

You know how much he loves prancing around the stage in front of thousands, sparkly suits and all, and you hope he gets to do that for the rest of his life. But seeing him right now, looking all cuddly and soft and the epitome of a family man doing the mundane things like eating the scraps of whatever is left from the kids’ meals and double-checking their homework, your heart swells at the realisation that this is what he meant to be. 

“You’re staring,” he shoots you a playful smirk. A little part of you hates the fact that your cheeks still flush, even after ten years of marriage and four babies later, for being caught staring. But the bigger part of you loves the fact that you still blush because of him, that he still makes you feel something you can’t even describe, and she wins.

“Sue me,” You challenge him, both of you smiling simultaneously.

“Nah,” he grins and shakes his head. “M’just as guilty.”

“Hey,” you start, pausing to take another slug of wine before you continue. “We haven’t shagged in a while.”

“S’tha’ you asking?” You notice how his grin grows ten times bigger and you love it, even more so with the familiar pair of dimples digging into his cheeks. “Does mummy want a shag? Hmm?”

“Harryyyy,” you whine in protest, because he knows how much you hate it when he calls you mummy, completely the opposite of him who gets crazy whenever you jokingly call him daddy. The word feels strange coming out from literally anyone else besides your own kids. “You’re ruining the mood.”

Your son’s homework is now forgotten on the other side of the counter. He stops behind you, sliding his arms back around your waist just the way he did earlier before he turns you around to face him. 

“Wha’?” He feigns innocence once again and you roll your eyes. “Yer a mummy,” he states, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, still grinning ear to ear. “Mum t’me babies.”

“Yeah,” you respond in a sarcastic deadpan. “I wanted Ryan Gosling’s babies.”

“Funny that you’ve just said this now,” he retorts. “Four babies later.” 

You can’t help but giggle, and you pull him by his waist even closer to you so you can wrap your arms around him. “M’joking. I love you. Love ‘avin yer babies.”

“Oh yeah?” He asks, and you notice the way his lips quirk into a gentle smirk. “I can probably squeeze one more in there, then, hmm? Fifth baby, the cherry on top?”

Your eyes widen in terror. “Oh no, no no, don’t get any ideas,” you warn him. “Four is a good number.”

He lets out a giggle. “It is the best number,” he agrees. “And don’t worry, m’joking. Unless…” he trails off and smirks at you.

You push him away only to have him pulls you back into his embrace, before bringing his face down to meet yours and lock your mouths together.

“Not gonna take me to our bed first?” You asked him, eyebrow wiggling playfully when you finally break the kiss.

“Thought you love me shaggin’ you in the kitchen?” 

“I’m a lady, Styles.”

“Yeah, right,” Harry laughs. “M’pretty sure at least half of our babies were conceived here,” he mutters, before he leans closer again to give you another lingering kiss. 

“Wait,” you stop him and pull back. “I’m not hungry but it’s okay if you wanna have a proper dinner first?” 

He licks his lips, smirking at you. “Got my dinner right here.”

“Wow,” you chuckle. “That line still works?”

“We’ll see now, won’t we?” Harry murmurs before he starts leaving a trail of kisses from your jawline down your neck. 

“Bed,” you remind him.

“As you wish, darlin’.”

It feels forever before you finally reach your bedroom upstairs, but when you finally get there, he wastes not another single second before he pushes you against the door and kisses you hard. He lifts you up into his arms and strides over to the bed, and both of you fall into the mattress together.

Your breath hitches and your head loll to the side as his mouth finds your collarbone, his lips warm but his tongue even warmer. You feel his hand runs down your back before he plays with the seam of your shirt, slowly inching it up and you savour the feel of his warm hand as it brushes across your ribs. He barely lifts your shirt up and over your head before you sit up and reaches behind your back to unclasp your bra, and not wasting much time before you move your arms quickly as they slip out of the straps and toss it somewhere on the floor.

He starts kissing down your neck and over your naked chest. And you let his hand wander further south, cold fingers creeping underneath the waistband of your shorts, giving you a sneak peek of what’s to come. 

You hold your breath when you feel his palm against your clothed core, before you feel him slowly pulling his hand out and begins fumbling with the button of your shorts.

“Fucks sake,” he mumbles in annoyance when the button is being stubborn, and he pulls himself up for a second to see and try to figure out how to unfasten the bloody thing.

You let out a giggle before you sit up to try and help him out. But as you raise your head, he’s coming back down to have another go at it, resulting in you whacking him right on the bridge of his nose. Harry groans in pain as he rolls into his back, covering his face with both hands as he does.

“Oh my god!” You quickly sit up and try to lower his hands so you can see his nose. “Are you okay? Are you bleeding? Is it broken?”

“Mhm,” he nods his head to assure you that he is okay. You wait for another few seconds before he pulls his hands away. “Am I bleeding?”

“No, but you’re crying,” you grimace. “Harry, I’m sorry.”

He let out a chuckle as he wipes his own tears. “Hey now, s’alright. I’m alright, yeah? Don’t worry. No blood, just a little tear.”

“Rain check?”

“Hell no,” he grins before his mouth attacks yours once again, taking your breath away. He holds himself up while he hungrily kisses your lips, slowly bringing you down to lay on your back again. 

His five o’clock shadow is soft against your flushed face, dragging against your skin with every movement of his lips. You pull away when you feel his fingers fumbling with the button of your shorts again and giggle. “Let me get that.”

“Probably a good idea,” he nods and begins working on his own boxers.

After you manage to discard every piece of clothing without any further incident, things are progressing rather quickly and smooth sailing and before you know it, he flips you over so you’re on top of him. Both of you smile at the same time, realising the switch of power, and you notice how much he is trying to savour the rare occasion.

You lift up slightly, feeling the tip of his cock settle just where you desperately need it to be, before you slowly sink home.

“Save a horse, ride a cowboy,” he jokes and you snort.

You slap his chest playfully. “Shut up, you’re ruining the moment.”

Soon enough the laughter and pained groans are replaced by passionate whimpers and gasps. He searches for your fingers to intertwine with his, and while it’s heartwarming, it makes you lose your balance and you can feel him slipping out of you. You try to reconnect without letting go of his hands, but you miss and feel him jab hard against the crease of your inner thigh. You quickly jump off of him as he cries out in pain and folds back on himself.

“Fuck!” You sit up straight away. “Harry, are you okay? Shit, I broke it, didn’t I? Oh my god, tell me, did I break it? Do we need to go to the A&E?!” 

“No, no, s’alright,” he tries to calm you down, and while his words are comforting, looking at his face you know that he’s not okay.

You run your hand on his back, trying to soothe him. “Did I break it?”

He let out painful laughter before he takes a deep breath. “No, you didn’t,” he starts. “Although I hope you’re happy with four ‘cause I don’t think we can have more after this.”

“I’m sorry,” you apologise again, cringing at the sight of him clutching his manhood in pain.

“Really, s’okay doll,” he tries to comfort you. “No worries, yeah? S’not broken, I promise. It’ll be up and runnin’ before you know it.”

You chuckle at his attempt to lighten the mood. “It really wasn’t meant to be tonight, huh?”

“Married you, didn’t I? Got the rest of our lives to shag” He grins, and it’s either the pain has disappeared or he’s just a really great actor. “‘Sides, this makes a pretty great story.”

“You’d never let me live it down, wouldn’t you?”

“Nope,” he shakes his head in laughter. “Hey, remember when you almost broke my nose AND my dick in one night?”

[alarawriting]

52 Project #29: The Last Boy (Inktober #11: Disgusting)

This is fanfic-adjacent; it’s an unauthorized sequel to Alice Sheldon (writing as James Tiptree Jr)’s story “The Screwfly Solution”. It is... less dark than that story, but if you’re familiar with it, that’s not saying much. (If you aren’t familiar, don’t worry, this story explains the backstory necessary.)

This is a horror story... or at the least, dark science fiction. (Nothing supernatural in this one.) I am not tagging any of the triggers inside because spoilers, which are destructive to a horror story, but I will include them at the end, which is below the cut. If you rapidly scroll through the story you can reach the trigger list without actually reading any of the story.

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

Roy is very excited, running, practically skipping, ahead on the trail. “Uncle Matt! This is great! I can see the woods up ahead already!”

Matt forces a smile, because he’s very much afraid of how this expedition might end, but he has to try. He has to have hope. “Sure is. Ready to go hunting?”

“You bet!” Roy turns around and flashes Matt a big, heartwarming smile. His face is pocked with acne and he’s late to have lost his last baby tooth; it’s a gap on the upper left side of his face. He looks so young, so boyish. Which he is; he’s thirteen. Thirteen is still a kid. Matt’s sixty; thirteen’s practically a baby to him. They grow up so damn fast. “You think we’ll bag a deer?”

“We might. Or we might bag a goose. Or we might come home empty-handed. The point to hunting is to be quiet and patient, and let nature bring to you whatever it will.”

They hike up to the tree line. This is one of very, very few forest areas that’s still being tended and managed by people. The rocky hiking trail up to the tree line’s been kept clear of scrub; there are bushes and tall grasses on either side of the trail, but nothing on the wide stretch of packed dirt.

From here Matt can look down the side of the mountain, to the acres planted with corn and wheat, the women working in the rows, a couple of men stationed to sit by the road with their guns, watchful for whoever might come by. He knows them both. Good boys. He took Evan out on a hunting trip like this one, ten years ago, and they came home with a deer and a couple of rabbits. Jase was called Lisa back then, and didn’t need to go on a hunting trip like this. The tradition of the hunting trip when you’re thirteen isn’t for the girls, or the gay boys, or the trans kids. Most of them resent that, until they get to be old enough to understand why.

“This is the best,” Roy says. “Just me and you, Uncle Matt. How long has it been since we got to just spend time together, just two men?”

“I think you were 10. We went out to the river and went fishing, didn’t we?”

“Yeah. I didn’t catch anything,” Roy laughs. “You got a couple of fish, though, right?”

“Yeah,” Matt says, smiling as he remembers. “Had to throw ‘em back, though. They were too small.”

“Why don’t we do stuff like that more often, Uncle Matt? Just hang out, without all these stupid girls around?”

Matt sighs. “You have school and I’ve got work; crops don’t grow themselves and we don’t get security by going on vacation.”

“Yeah, but why do we have to even live here? Why don’t we go live somewhere where there’s just men?”

“That’s a little hard to find. There’s not a lot of men around,” Matt points out.

“Because the stupid girls wouldn’t go to them and have their kids,” Roy mutters.

That is a disturbingly misleading viewpoint on what happened, but Matt tries to let it go, for the moment. “Hey. We need to keep quiet now,” he says softly. “If there’s any deer, we don’t want to scare them.”

Roy nods, and the two of them walk quietly into the forest.

***

Roy was such a sweet little boy.

Matt remembers him bringing the pictures he drew to Matt and to his mother – who Matt, despite being called uncle, is not actually related to; Matt is uncle to all the boys he takes under his wing – and being so enthusiastic about showing it to them. He remembers one of the pictures, of himself and Roy holding hands. Another, of Roy holding hands with his mom. Roy hasn’t had anything positive to say to his mother in weeks; he’s been disobeying her, insulting her, calling her stupid and saying he doesn’t have to listen to her because she’s just a woman.

It’s biological. Roy wasn’t raised to even have the concept of men somehow being better than women at anything or for any reason. Most of the boys develop the attitude around puberty, the result of a disease that infected the entire world over a century ago. Many of them get over it. Many don’t. Matt never suffered it at all; it’s linked to heterosexual desire, and Matt knew he was gay ever since he was nine.

He remembers Roy running around with a toy airplane, declaring that when he was grown up he would help restore humanity’s control of the skies, working to bring back the airplanes. He remembers Roy making him lemonade when he was six, cooking him an egg when he was ten. Roy making a card for his mother’s birthday with a big heart on it. Roy asking him what stars were made of.

It’s going to be all right, he tells himself. Evan was a little ass to his mom and his sisters, and it all worked out for him. Lebron actually punched his mom when he was fourteen, and he came through it. Roy’s going to be fine.

All the boys mean so much to him, but Roy is special… maybe because he’s the most recent one. Matt hasn’t been working with the little boys so much, lately. There’s enough men in the settlement now that the younger men, with more energy, are taking up more of that role. When Matt himself was a child, there were almost no men – Uncle Harry was the only cis man he’d known. Of the boys he grew up with, only Andrew, Tyrone and Jose were still there by the time he was an adult, plus Deandre who was trans and joined them in their late teens. He’d dated all of them except Deandre, who was straight. Ended up eventually with Cole, three years younger than him. Cole had a heart attack six years ago, and after that Matt couldn’t bear to open himself up to any of the new little boys, not without the emotional support of an adult man to share his life with. Roy has been the last one to call him Uncle.

“Uncle!” Roy hisses. “Is that a deer? Over there?”

Matt looks where Roy is pointing. “It could be,” he whispers back. “Let’s see.”

They walk closer, carefully, trying to be quiet. But Roy steps on a branch he doesn’t see. It snaps, and the vague outline that might be a deer startles and runs, proving that yes, it is a deer. Roy pulls out his gun and fires, but misses, predictably.

“Oh, son of a bitch!” Roy swears.

“What have we said about language?” Matt asks mildly.

“Come on, Uncle Matt. I’m not a baby anymore,” Roy protests. “Besides, I said ‘shit’ when I stubbed my toe on a rock on the way up here.”

“Yes, but ‘shit’ is disgusting and everyone makes it. ‘Bitch’ is an insult specifically for women, and calling something a ‘son of a bitch’ when you want to swear at it is basically saying that it’s the fault of mothers if their sons are terrible.”

“Well, who else’s fault would it be? Stupid b – stupid women don’t know anything, but they act like they know everything.”

“I think that’s a little bit of an overgeneralization. I know you’re not getting along with your mother lately—”

“She just makes me so mad. She’s always telling me what to do! Like she knows everything!”

“She is your mother,” Matt says mildly. “And she’s twenty-five years older than you. That does tend to make people know more than you.”

“Yeah, but not her. She really doesn’t know anything. Sometimes I just wanna punch her.”

“That happens to a lot of boys at puberty, but they get over it. By the time you’re twenty-five, you’ll be amazed at how smart your mother has suddenly become.” He smiles at Roy.

Roy glowers. “I don’t think so. Girls are just disgusting. I just want to hang out with men, like you. You’re not a dumbass, Uncle Matt. All the girls are dumbasses, but the guys aren’t.”

“That’s the hormones talking. You’ll get over it.” Matt points at the ground. “Do you see that?”

“No, what?”

“Tracks. For the deer.” Matt crouches down and points them out to Roy. “We can see what direction it went in, now.”

“Oh, yeah! I can see it now!” Roy starts to run, but Matt holds him back by the shoulder.

“Roy. Slow. Patient. Quiet. The deer can run faster than you or me, but it burns more energy doing that. If we walk, we catch up with it, because it’s got to rest. But if it hears us, it’ll run again. So we walk, and we’re quiet.”

“Right. I get it, Uncle Matt.” Roy is much more quiet and careful about where he puts his feet after that.

***

When Roy was eight, Matt walked the fields with him and showed him how to sow corn. They went to the vegetable plots and planted carrots and lima beans. Roy was so proud the day they harvested his carrots, and he got to eat one. Matt took him fishing the first time, that same year.

The little boys are always so sweet, so bright, so full of promise. It hurts so much when they don’t fulfill it.

Please, God, let Roy be all right. Let him get past this. Of course he would. Matt has been training him, teaching him since he was small (but there were others, other boys Matt had loved like his own sons, who he’d trained and taught, and they weren’t around here anymore).

He should have been around more often in the last three years. Roy was heading for puberty and that scared Matt. Still does. He visits the boy often, but Roy is right – they haven’t done anything together, just the two of them, in a long time.

“You ever spend any time with any of the young men? Jase, or Evan, or Fred?”

“Yeah, sometimes. I hang out more with the guys closer to my age. You know any of them? Steve, Paolo, Rafael?”

“Sure, yeah, I know them.”

“Paolo has a dad,” Roy says enviously. “When I grow up I want to be a dad.”

“Well, you’re in luck, because humanity needs more men to be dads,” Matt says. “You can go live where they’re using your donation, if you really want to be a dad, and help to raise the kid you helped make, or you can stay here and help raise the boys as an uncle, and maybe go out and visit the places where they used your donations.”

“How come I can’t stay here and raise a boy here?”

“Genetic variation. If we let human men have sons with their sisters, we get inbreeding. All kinds of diseases. Sending your donations to the other compounds makes us strong and healthy as a species.”

“Did you ever donate, Uncle Matt?”

“Back in my day, if your balls worked you had to donate. We didn’t have enough men. You know old Gran Stacie, she had to donate too. She couldn’t take the hormones to look feminine until there was a safe compound for women to live in and plenty of donations so the human race could keep going.”

“She’s okay, I guess. But the other girls are really stupid and gross.”

Matt stops Roy there. “Hey. You keep saying that. It’s like you’ve forgotten everything we taught you about our history.”

“I remember history,” Roy protests.

“So tell me. Why do we live this way? Why do women live in secure compounds with only a few men? A hundred years ago the world was very different. Tell me how it was, and what changed.”

“Do I have to?”

“Yes. You do.” Matt sits on the ground, and gestures for Roy to sit across from him. “Come on. Tell Uncle Matt all about it.”

Roy rolls his eyes. “A hundred years ago men and women lived together but then there was a disease and it made the men sick and the sickness made them want to hurt women so they couldn’t live with women anymore, the end,” he says in a rapid sing-song.

“No. That shit doesn’t fly with me, kid, and you know it doesn’t. Tell it to me right.”

Roy sighs. “Okay, okay. So. Back then, women and men lived together all the time and every kid had a dad, and the men still took care of the women but there weren’t a lot of men trying to kill them, just one or two weird ones.”

Matt, being an adult, is aware of how far this is skewed off the truth of what life was like a century ago, but the boys are being raised with no awareness of historical misogyny. Nothing to give the disease any historical justification it can hook onto. They learn more details when they’re proven to be safe. “So far so good.”

“So back then, there was this thing we used to do to kill flies where we made the male flies wanna kill the female flies instead of mate with them.” This is also a distortion of the facts, but Matt lets it go as well. “Then suddenly, men were trying to kill women instead of having sex with them. But it was just the straight men who were affected and they had to have balls. Women weren’t affected even if they had balls, and gay men weren’t affected, and men who didn’t have balls weren’t affected, and men who didn’t want sex even though they had balls weren’t affected, but all the men who had balls and wanted to have sex with women wanted to kill the women. And a lot of the time, little girls or old women that no one wanted to have sex with, because they thought in their heads it was God telling them to kill women or something. They didn’t know the truth.”

“And what was the truth?”

“That it was aliens. They spread the virus around on Earth because they wanted humans to die, just like the flies, so they could take the Earth for themselves. But humans are more complicated than flies. So there were men who were affected too much, who killed little boys because little boys look like little girls, and there were men who weren’t affected as much, who’d killed their wives but they were trying to protect their little girls. And there were men who didn’t have sex with women even if they wanted to because they were trying to honor God or something, and those men could resist wanting to kill, because the wanting to kill thing was related to wanting sex. If they could resist one, sometimes they could resist the other. Plus, all the asexual men and the gay men and the trans men and other kinds of men without balls like castrated men, plus the trans women, who could fake being men so they could stay alive. And there were also a lot of women with guns, too.”

“So what happened?”

“Well, most of the women got killed, and the men who were doing the killing, they didn’t have any kids. But the women who survived, they went into compounds where all the women had guns and they would kill strange men who came near them. And a lot of the kinds of men who didn’t want to kill women would help women get to those compounds. They called them ‘allies.’ You’d have been one if you were alive in those days, Uncle Matt.” This is said proudly. Roy doesn’t realize how much Matt is still called on to be an ally, even today.

“I would have, yes. So how did we get where we are today?”

“A lot of the places were run by women who hated men even before they started killing women, called rads, and the rads were okay with women getting donations from ally men, but if they had boy babies they wanted to send the babies to live with the men or else throw them outside and kill them. And the moms didn’t want to do that and they thought it was stupid. So they made their own compounds and they let ally men live there. And if boys grew up and they didn’t want to kill women, then they were allowed to give donations and be dads. But if they did, then they couldn’t be dads and they couldn’t live there anymore.”

So much heartbreak, so much agony, skimmed over so neatly and briefly. Mothers pleading with their baby boys, grown to young men, not to do this, before the boy killed the mother… or the mother killed the boy, in self-defense. Entire compounds of women lost because some mother couldn’t bear to kill her son, so she locked him away instead… and he got out. Boys with the compulsion to kill sent to live with the femicidal men, only to be killed themselves, because there were no boys among the men anymore and the young boys were more feminine than anything the killer men had seen in years, by then. Or castrated, so that they would theoretically be safe to stay, except humans were complex and some of them retained the femicidal compulsion even in the absence of testicles, and the horror of boys everyone thought were safe suddenly murdering their sisters. Gay boys in love, their hearts shattered when their love interest proved to have enough interest in women that he became a killer.

They’re more careful now. Things like that don’t happen anymore.

“And the killer men thought that the aliens were like messengers from God or something, but the women and the ally men killed a lot of aliens. And when lots of aliens were dead, they realized that their plan to get Earth for themselves by making the humans die out from killing all the women wasn’t going to work, because humans are complicated. So we guess they changed their minds, because they left and no one has seen them since.”

“And that’s a good thing. We lost a lot of people when the aliens were willing to fight back in self-defense. If they’d had the stomach for it, they might have won, and humanity might have been wiped out. But, we assume, they weren’t willing to die to take our planet; they’d been trying to kill us off so they could have all the bounties of the Earth without doing any damage from removing us. If you try to settle in swampland and you try to kill all the mosquitoes, and instead the mosquitoes start killing you back, maybe you go find somewhere else to live.” Or maybe you come back, later, with a new plan… but humanity has collectively decided that, while it’s important to try to have contingencies for that possibility, it’s more important to rebuild humanity and reclaim what was lost. Matt worries about that, but it’s not something he can do anything about.

“You think they’re ever going to come back, Uncle Matt?”

Maybe. “No. We kicked their butts hard enough I’m pretty sure they’re gone forever. But they left us with this giant mess to clean up.” He sighs. “This stuff you’re feeling about how girls are stupid and irritating and you can’t stand being around them? That says, you’re in puberty and you’re going to grow up to be attracted to girls. Maybe guys too, but definitely girls. And the virus is waking up in you, trying to turn your desire for girls into hatred, but it doesn’t have to win. A lot of guys make it through this stage no problem, and never hurt anyone.”

“It doesn’t feel like a virus. It feels like they’re stupid and boring and gross and I hate them.”

“Of course it does. If it felt like a virus, the men a hundred years ago would have figured it out before they killed most of the women. It messes with your emotions, Roy. It takes feelings that are natural and normal, and twists them around. But if you understand that, then you don’t have to let it win.”

“Okay,” Roy said, and rocks backward, looking around him. “Can we go hunt for the deer now?”

“Sure, kid.” Matt gets to his feet. “We’re done here. You remember what they taught you about controlling your anger?”

“Yeah. Take deep breaths, take a step back from the situation, walk away if you hafta.”

“Right,” Matt says. “Let’s get a move on. That deer won’t shoot itself.”

***

They amble along through the woods. Another deer makes itself known, and Roy takes another shot, but misses. “Dammit! I was sure I had that shot!”

“I thought you did too,” Matt says. “But they move fast. You gotta be able to sneak up on them and shoot before they hear you coming.”

“Can you do that, Uncle Matt?”

“Used to. I’m older now; wouldn’t be surprised if the deer could hear the creak in my bones.” He grins.

And then they circle around a big rock, and there’s a girl.

She’s a teenager, about Roy’s age, maybe a little older. “Hi!” she says cheerfully. “I wasn’t expecting to run into anyone from around here! You’re from the compound down the mountain, right?”

Roy’s face twists into visible disgust, and he backs away. “That’s right,” Matt says calmly. “I’m Matt, and this is Roy.”

“My name’s Jennifer!” Jennifer has dark, wavy hair and tanned white-person skin. She’s wearing cutoff shorts, sneakers that have been patched many, many times – there are no companies that make goods from the old world like sneakers anymore – and a short-sleeved blue buttondown shirt that’s been tied up under her breasts to show her midriff, and opened in the front far enough to see her cleavage. When Matt was young, women were advised not to wear anything that could be arousing, because if they ran into a killer male, their life might depend on how much he was not turned on. By now, though, so many of the killer males are dead, and with women outnumbering men by three to one, the women and girls dress in whatever they want. It was never a good strategy for dealing with the killer males anyway; too many of them were willing to kill women dressed in nun robes, so it plainly had nothing to do with revealing clothes. There are numerous large lumps in her front pockets, which could be rocks, or animal bones, or any number of things.

Matt’s gay and far too old to see teenagers as anything other than young kids, but Roy is plainly very uncomfortable with Jennifer’s state of exposure. “What are you doing here?!” he half-shouts, angrily, at her.

“I’m from a compound on the other side of the mountain, and I hiked up here to try to collect mushrooms,” Jennifer says, her voice just a little bit too loud.

“Well, we’re hunting, so I’d like it if you could be a little quieter,” Matt says. “Don’t want to scare the deer.”

“Ooh! Hunting sounds fun! Can I join you?”

“No,” Roy says, loudly.

“Oh, come on!” Jennifer pouts. “I’ll be quiet!”

Matt takes in Roy’s trembling hands, the whiteness of his lips. Terror, or rage, or both. Roy’s expected to control himself no matter what the circumstances, but Matt… really doesn’t want to push him. Not now, when he’s so fragile. “Sorry, Jennifer, but Roy and I really came out for some uncle-nephew time. Maybe you can join us another time, but not now.”

Her eyebrows go up. “Huh,” she says. “Okay! I know a lot of guys like to go hunting with their dads or uncles when they’re thirteen. You’re thirteen, right?” This is directed to Roy.

“None of your business!” Roy snarls.

“Yeah, he’s thirteen,” Matt says tiredly. “Nice meeting you, Jennifer. Maybe we’ll meet again someday.”

“And maybe we won’t,” Roy mutters. He and Matt hike up the trail, away from Jennifer. “Good riddance.”

“I want you to think about this anger you’re feeling. It’s really out of proportion to the situation, isn’t it?”

Roy sighs. “Uncle Ma-att, I just wanna go hunting with you! I don’t wanna talk about my feelings!”

“Sure, but it’s safest for everyone if you do. What’re you supposed to do when you feel really angry?”

“I already took a step back from the situation! I told her to go away!”

“Didn’t hear any deep breaths,” Matt says.

Roy manages to deeply breathe sarcastically. It’s an impressive trick. Matt would never have thought it possible to breathe in a sarcastic way. Most of it’s with body language and facial expression, but there’s definitely a sarcastic note in the breath itself. “Now can we go find a deer?”

“Maybe we’d have better luck setting up a snare to trap rabbits.”

Roy’s whole body sags. “I wanted to bring home venison, Uncle Matt! Nobody cares if you bring home a rabbit!”

“All right,” Matt says mildly. “We’ll keep going.”

***

The forest is full of sound. Birds chirp and call. Squirrels and other animals rustle in the branches and bushes. Many of the sounds go silent as Matt and Roy approach, but not all. They come up into a clearing, someplace where someone, long ago, had a concrete pad. Most of it’s broken and destroyed, but there’s enough of it that even after a hundred years, the forest hasn’t completely taken it back.

And then there is the deer, quietly grazing on the other side of the clearing.

Matt whispers to Roy as he points it out. “Quiet, now.”

Roy nods. There’s a broken half-wall part of the way through the clearing, blocking the deer’s view of them if they go low. Matt and Roy crawl toward it. Once they’re behind it, Roy pokes his head up, very slightly, following Matt’s hand signals. He lifts his rifle. Quietly. The deer doesn’t stir.

Matt hears a tiny click. His eyes go wide and his blood runs cold.

Jennifer comes bounding into the clearing behind them. “Hi, guys! Didn’t think I’d run into—”

The deer leaps and runs off. Roy spins around, utter rage in his face, and screams, “You stupid bitch!”

“Roy, don’t—” Matt tries to grab Roy, tries to pull him down, throw off his aim, but it’s too late. The gun goes off, twice. Splotches of red explode on Jennifer’s chest, and she falls backward, twisting as she does so she lands on her front. Red oozes out from underneath her.

Roy drops the gun from fingers suddenly dead white and shaking. “I – I didn’t mean to – I was so angry--”

Wounds where the red had blossomed on Jennifer would be fatal; she’d bleed out almost immediately, and the quantity of red seeping out from under her body suggests that that’s what happened. It looks like a strike to the aorta, or the heart itself, maybe. Matt cannot stop himself. “No, no, no—”

“I’m sorry!” Roy screams. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry—”

Matt gets hold of himself. “Roy. Roy, come here. Come here, son.” He means it as an endearment – Roy is neither his literal son, nor has he raised the boy as a father – but it’s real as well. Roy is like a son to him. All of them have been, and he loves Roy so much, and his heart is shattering.

Roy collapses in his arms, sobbing. Matt holds the boy tightly with one arm. “It’s not your fault, Roy, it’s not,” he tells the crying child, tears welling in his own eyes. “It’s the virus. I know you didn’t mean to. I know you’re a good boy.”

“I’m so sorry—I just got so mad, and the gun was in my hand—”

“I know,” Matt says, as the boy’s wet face presses against his shoulder. “I know. I love you so much, Roy, you know that?”

“I love you too, Uncle Matt,” Roy says into Matt’s shirt, still sobbing, and a sob escapes from Matt’s chest as well as he raises his pistol with the arm that isn’t holding his nephew, his child, his son, the little boy who trusts him and loves him, and as Roy cries against his chest and cannot see what he’s doing with his other hand, he lifts the pistol to Roy’s temple, awkwardly, being sure not to touch him with it, and fires.

The sobs stop. After a moment they start again, but they’re only Matt’s.

Jennifer gets up. “I’m sorry, Matt,” she says quietly.

“Get the fuck out of my face,” Matt snarls. “You provoked him! I told you to back off! I told you we weren’t having you join us!”

“I have to do my job,” Jennifer says wearily, and there is no longer any mistaking her for a teenager, despite the expertly applied makeup on her face. She’s short, she looks young, and with the right makeup none of the boys ever guess she’s not a teenage girl. There’s red all over her shorts, soaking her legs and belly, from where the bags of fake blood in her pockets burst, and splotches of red over her heart and her liver. The paint pellets look horrifically real; they even smell like blood.

No, wait, that’s probably Roy’s blood he’s smelling.

"Fuck your job.” Matt holds his little boy in his arms, with both arms now that he doesn’t need one free anymore. “You pushed him. If we’d just given him a little more time – a little more training—”

“And who might he have killed while you were giving him a little more time? His mom? One of the girls his age?”

“He wouldn’t have had a gun!—"

“He could have had a rock. Or a steak knife. Or a baseball bat. I’m so sorry, Matt, but—”

“If you say ‘that’s the law’ or ‘those are the rules’ to me, I will hit you,” Matt snaps. “Not because you’re a woman, but because you’re a piece of shit.”

She sighs. “I know you’re distraught. It’s horrible, having to do this—”

“You didn’t even know him!” Matt screams. “You didn’t watch him when he was little, you didn’t teach him to tie his shoes, you didn’t play airplane with him – you didn’t—”

“I had a son,” Jennifer says sharply. “Don’t tell me I don’t know how much it hurts, when we have to—I was 16 when I had my son. It was six years ago that – that he took his test, at thirteen, and he failed it.”

“There’ve been so many,” Matt whispers. So many little boys. Slightly less than half of them pass; that’s why the ratio of women to men is around 2:1. He was so, so relieved when Blake turned out to be a girl and took the name Cassandra, twelve years ago; the trans kids are immune to the violent impulses. He’d known that Cassandra wouldn’t have to face the test, that he’d never have to take her on a hunting trip she might never return from. So relieved when Joe, eight years ago, reported himself gay at eleven and then showed no sign of aggression toward his mother or sister or any girls his own age.

But all the others. All the others, he’d loved, and they’d loved him, and trusted him, and he took them up the mountain on a hunting trip… with a gun that could only shoot paint pellets and blanks, and the paint pellets only after the bait’s radio transmitter came into range and switched it on.

Roy would never have bagged a deer with that gun. But if he hadn’t shot Jennifer, if he’d controlled himself and proved he could overcome his femicidal impulses, Matt would have “discovered” that there was no ammo in it, and given Roy a different gun, and then they could have had a real deer hunt. Like Evan, ten years ago. Like Jamal, five years ago. Like LeBron… how long ago had LeBron even been?

He’d already decided he wouldn’t take on any new little boys, after Cole died. Roy was the last one, the last child to shepherd to adulthood, the last he had to test. “God,” he cries, holding the little boy he’s just killed in his arms. “Why couldn’t you have let me have the last one? Why didn’t you give him the strength to overcome it?” He rocks the body back and forth. “Why did you let any of this happen? Why do you make us have to kill our sons?”

“God’s got nothing to do with this,” Jennifer says softly. “This is evil. If God allowed such evil as this to exist, then She’s not worth worshipping, and if She can’t stop it, then there’s no point in blaming her. It was the aliens.”

The aliens his ancestors drove off planet, who he’ll never have a chance to fight, or get revenge on. There’s no one he can blame who’s here. He understands the system, he understands the necessity. Little boys who try to commit femicide once don’t have the control to stop themselves from doing it again, and if it’s not the bait with her paint bags in her shorts and the radio transmitter to make the gun fire paint pellets, it’ll be a girl or women who really dies because the boy will have a real weapon. They can’t let the femicides live among them, and they can’t send them away to live with the few bands of roving femicidal men that still exist… the only reason those still exist was that once upon a time, femicidal sons were turned out into the wilderness. Where they could grow up to be bandits who invaded compounds, stole the food, and murdered the women. The men, too, because the men would defend the compound, but the women they’d hunt and kill for fun.

He would never have wanted a future like that for Roy. But he didn’t want this, either.

“I’m… I’m going to go. I’ll radio the compound and let them know the results of the test.”

“You do that,” Matt says bitterly. He knows his anger isn’t fair. He knows his attempt to drive Jennifer off, put off the test at the last minute and get her to come back another day so Roy could maybe develop stronger self-control first, was wrong. He knows it could have resulted in Roy murdering someone he loves. Loved. But how much better is it that Matt had to murder someone he loves? Why do they need to kill the teen boys to protect the women? Oh, he knows why, he signed on for this job years ago because he knew why, he’s seen what happened when a boy grew into a killer and turned on the women he knew. But why has God or Fate or Allah or whatever the fuck is up there listening to human prayers allowed this? Why is this horrible thing something that they are forced to do?

After what seems like hours, crying and holding Roy’s body and whispering how sorry he is, he’s finally out of tears. He looks down at his pistol. Cole’s dead six years on now, and there’s no man in his bed waiting for him, back home. There’s no little boy he’s working with, and there will never be one again. Is there anyone to care if he lives or dies, now? What if he ate a bullet, right now, so he could stop seeing Roy and Jason and Manuel and little Matt, named for him and he still shot him in the head while the boy was bent over the bait’s body, and all the others, all the boys who loved and trusted him, and failed the test he brought them into? Was there any good reason not to?

…there were the boys who’d lived. Adults now, all of them, but they loved and respected him as their old uncle, and they still were willing to spend time with him, sometimes. There were the girls, who yelled “Mister Matt! Mister Matt!” when they saw him and crowded around him, showing off their accomplishments, and he’d never have to take any of them up the mountain. There are trans boys who just figured it out, and need an older man to mentor them and teach them how to be a man, and none of them will ever need to go up the mountain either. There are the gay boys who want to talk to him about boyfriends, and how to date a guy, and how sex works, and all the other things gay boys need to know.

He can still help the children. But he’s never going to take on a little boy as his nephew again.

After a few more moments, he picks up Roy’s rifle, which can’t fall into the wrong hands, and his own pistol, and slings them into the holsters he has for them, on his belt or on his back. Then he picks Roy up and cradles him. A fireman’s carry would be easier, especially with the long hike down the mountain, but he wants to give his boy’s body as much dignity as he can. He won’t sling Roy over his shoulder like a flour sack. He’ll carry the dead weight of the boy down the mountain, and then he’ll carry it for the rest of his life.

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triggers listed at bottom because they are spoilers

dashboard removes all the line spaces

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Triggers: Child death. Serious misogyny. A backstory from the original story that involves a worldwide near-complete femicide.

[halothenthehorns]

THE INVITATION

Sirius sighed with complete distaste as he began. They were already off to a terrible start with all this Voldemort and the traitor talk, now he got the misfortune of getting the chapter that would most likely turn him into a murderous fool all over again at what these Dursley's had been up to involving his pup.

Harry went into the kitchen to find the Dursley's already present, Petunia cutting something up while Dudley sat in a chair pouting, his sulking face somehow taking up more space than usual.

"A feat I hadn't thought possible," James snorted.

This was saying something, as he always took up an entire side of the square table by himself. When his mother put a quarter of unsweetened grapefruit

Remus may have felt pity for anyone else, having to eat unsweetened anything, but found that this was probably the best form of torture that could be inflicted on these Dursley's, and it was self-inflicted, so he had no qualms.

in front of him with a wavering smile, Dudley's glare only intensified upon her. His life, for the first time ever, was not going his way. He'd come home with his end of year school report, and as always Petunia and Vernon found ways to get around most of the comments, such as his failing grades,

Lily made a scathing noise, vividly remembering how both her's and Petunia's marks had been carefully monitored and if not up to their parents standards they'd at least have a talking to, but compared to what all she'd heard she wouldn't be surprised if Dudley flunked every class and Petunia didn't bat an eye.

  which was brushed aside by Petunia saying his teachers just didn't understand him.

"Yes, every single teacher at that school misunderstands him; not one of them could grasp, at this elite school they've sent Dudley to, how to teach him," James snorted.

"I don't think Merlin could have taught this fool how to count," Sirius smirked.

Then there were the reports of bullying, which Petunia claimed were all false as she knew her baby couldn't hurt a fly.

Harry in particular gave an eye roll at that exaggeration, as he had the childhood marks to prove otherwise.

What neither of them could explain away though, was the final comment. Even though Petunia claimed Dudley was just big-boned,

"No, Hagrid has big bones," Remus enunciated as if the idiots were present. "That child has more fat than bone."

and that he was a growing boy who needed plenty of food,

"I, really am stumped at just how blind, or stupid she is," Sirius shook his head at how pathetic this kept getting.

the school simply just didn't make pants in Dudley's size anymore, as he was approximately the same weight as a baby orca.

"I really cannot picture that, that's just terrible." Lily's frown kept deepening. Even if she didn't like Dudley, it was because of his parents he was this way. It was made all the worse that it mainly seemed to be Petunia's fault he got like this, though Vernon certainly wasn't stepping in to stop anything.

No matter the fuss Dudley kicked up in protest, which involved the walls of Harry's bedroom shaking from all of the shouting,

"Considering how he reacted when Harry got his second bedroom, I think we should be grateful shouting seems to have been it," James huffed.

"At least there wasn't a turtle thrown this time, I seem to recall that," Sirius nodded in agreement.

"I'm also fairly certain it was mentioned he kicked one of his parents, so I'm with you on this," Lily grumbled.

the diet had begun. The school had sent home a sheet for Dudley to follow, filled with a proper nutrition diet. Petunia had decided that if Dudley was to follow this, the whole family was to as well.

"Wait, what?" Lily yelped, turning concerned eyes on her already malnourished son while he was at that house. "They were on the verge of starving you before, now you're only getting how much?"

Harry though had a new kind of smirk on his face, not one the others saw too often, which only made the boys more excited and happy as he said, "Don't worry, I don't follow it."

Lily did not look encouraged, but James was definitely more eager now to find out how Harry got around this.

At that time she passed a grapefruit quarter to Harry. He noticed that it was a lot smaller than Dudley's.

"Are you kidding me?" Sirius frowned. "You had to be the skinniest one at that table, but you still somehow got less food than Dudley?"

Harry gave an absent shrug, well aware of Petunia's view that if Harry suffered just that little more than Dudley it was somehow okay.

Petunia seemed to feel that the best way to keep up Dudley's morale was to make sure that he did, at least, get more to eat than Harry.

"No! No that is not how that works, you foul horrible excuse for a person!" Lily seethed. "One boy should not have to suffer to make the other feel better! Merlin Petunia, is that why you went out of your way to try and ruin my life growing up?" Lily went on a tangent for a few more minutes before she finally ran out of steam. There was a lot more colorful and violent things tossed in there, which left the boys shrinking back in genuine fright, even if they did agree. She'd clearly been wanting to say all of that for quite some time, and just seemed to have finally found her perfect opportunity. It was quite the opposite reaction she'd had from back in the first book when Petunia had called her sister a freak when Hagrid had arrived, all of this had probably been building since then. She finally came to a stop taking deep and slow breaths, then looked around half ashamed as she muttered, "Sorry, didn't mean to take that out on you lot."

James relaxed when he realized the worst was over and placed a gentle arm around her, saying, "Nah, best to get it all out. Want to start in on anyone else?"

"It might just be you if you don't keep reading," Lily returned, trying for a normal smile.

James wasn't actually sure if she was kidding or not, so he decided it was best not to test her.

What Petunia, or any of the Dursley's, didn't know though, was that Harry wasn't following this diet at all. The moment he'd caught wind of living off of lettuce all summer, he'd sent pleading notes to his friends.

"Really, really would have liked to read those," Remus frowned, wondering how on earth Harry could've phrased this so it wouldn't be so alarming that at least the Weasley's would have said something to Dumbledore. Harry was asking his friends to send him food, how on earth could that be considered normal? Shouldn't someone have come and checked on him because of that?

The others were thinking the exact same thing, but as always when they looked expectantly at Harry like they wanted him to elaborate, he ignored everyone's eye and instead looked pleadingly to the book like he was hoping it would read itself to get him out of this. Sirius was feeling pretty confident by now that if he confronted Harry he could probably whittle enough he might really tell him now. James, on the other hand, clearly wasn't as he recognized his son still didn't want to talk about this and not wanting to force it out of him kept going.

Each had complied, first Hermione by sending Harry some sugar free snacks, courtesy of her dentist parents.

"I don't think Harry phrased it the way we were thinking if all he's going to get in return is snacks," Lily sighed, starting to feel a little fidgety again. She really didn't want to spend any time on the thought that her son was only living on tiny snacks and carrot sticks, definitely not the proper nutrition a growing boy needed.

Then Hagrid had sent over some rock cakes for him.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure Harry's still in the starving category with that," Sirius muttered.

Which Harry hadn't been able to eat or do anything with, as he was well aware of Hagrid's poor culinary skill,

'Honestly making me wonder why you wrote to tell Hagrid at all,' Remus couldn't help but think, but held that one in.

Ron's mother though, sent Harry a cart load of food with their aging owl, including several meat pies and fruitcakes.

James couldn't help a little snort of surprise. He could just imagine Ron receiving his letter from Harry asking if he could be sent a snack or something, and this was Molly's response? What would she do if she knew the full extent of Harry's stay there? He was actually hoping to hear about this now.

Then when Harry's birthday had arrived, which the Dursley's had ignored as usual,

Was it more sad that they weren't surprised anymore, or that it still bothered them just as much as the first time to hear that? Just the fact that they continually, no matter what, kept doing their very best to leave Harry at his worst left them with the desire to strangle the lot of them every time!

he'd received a cake from each friend, plus Sirius.

James lost it. He was reduced into almost hysterical laughter as he tried to imagine Sirius filching a cake from a bakery to send to Harry, or even better, trying to break into someone's house just to pull this off. Of all the things for him to be doing while on the run! Sirius wasn't a particularly good cook, he'd never had to learn, so the idea was made all the more laughable if the second were true and Sirius went through a few trials before he'd mailed a cake off to Harry with one of those tropical birds!

"Oh come on," Lily wheezed not looking much better herself. "I think it's sweet."

"Thank you Lily," Sirius said with a snooty voice. He was proud of himself for considering something like this, he more than owed it to Harry.

Remus was the only one who couldn't bring himself to even muster up a smile, hunkering down in his seat and deciding this was the final straw, he officially had completely forgotten about Harry.

He must have decided when he left Hogwarts he was just leaving everything. Maybe he was just busy, searching down that traitor and not even realizing the passing time, but it still didn't sit right with him he'd completely phased back out of Harry's life without any mention. He didn't think the others noticed, he certainly hoped they wouldn't as he had no way to explain himself.

Harry still had two of them left,

"I still can't say I'm happy with this," Lily really did settle back down with a crinkled nose. "They'd surely go stale, and you don't need to be living off of just cake any more than carrot sticks."

"Better than no food at all," Sirius grumbled, which Lily acknowledged.

and so looking forward to a much better breakfast, Harry picked up his spoon to begin eating while Petunia passed Vernon his own slice. When he saw this he muttered if this was it, and Petunia merely shot a look at a sulking Dudley who had already wolfed down his own. Before Vernon could start in on his, there was a knock at the door, and Vernon got up to answer it. The moment he was out of sight and his mother wasn't watching, Dudley had snatched the fruit away and downed it as well.

"He's probably going to get in trouble for that, and I still don't care." James rolled his eyes.

Harry could hear muffled voices talking, then the sound of ripping paper. Before anyone could wonder on it, Vernon reappeared, his gaze landing on Harry, the expression already unpleasant as he snarled at him to get into the living room.

All five of them either groaned or sighed, either for the 'you' comment or because Harry had just woken up, what could he be blamed for already?

Harry followed him in and sat down on the couch as Vernon marched in front of him, having the pose of a man about to announce his being arrested,

"He wishes." Harry muttered.

and began by saying 'so.'

"So what?" Sirius snapped.

Harry's first instinct was to reply, 'so what'

"And you actually restrained yourself?" James cocked a brow in surprise. "I am impressed."

but decided not to press Vernon's temper.

Lily's eyes narrowed with furious curiosity, pondering at the phrasing of that as she didn't like to think of that man's temper at all.

So he instead waited silently as Vernon continued by telling Harry Vernon had received a letter, concerning Harry.

"Who'd be writing to you through Muggle mail?" Remus asked, distracted from his own self-pity for now to think on this.

"Search me," Harry shrugged, now mimicking the expression of puzzled.

Harry was confused at once, as he had no idea who it could be from. Vernon flipped open the letter and began reading, saying it was from Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and how they must have heard about them already through Harry.

"Ah, so it's from one of Ron's parents," Lily stated, though this still managed to increase their confusion. Why would they be writing to the Dursley's like this? A few interesting things came to mind, but it didn't seem the Weasley's type.

"And a big no to that by the way," Sirius muttered in reference to the actual letter, as he was well aware Harry wouldn't go talking to the Dursley's about needing new socks, let alone chatting about his friends.

The letter then went on to say that Arthur Weasley had procured tickets for the upcoming Quidditch World Cup,

James couldn't help a little squeal as he read that. Prime tickets! His son was going to see the World Cup in person! While he would never not be agitated at the very existence of the Dursley's, at least this was something good he could latch onto.

and she was writing to them hoping that Harry could come stay with them for the rest of the summer while he attended. She asked that Harry would respond with an answer in the normal way, as she wasn't sure the postman knew where they lived.

"I'm going with probably not," Remus smiled warmly, thinking that most muggle posts wouldn't be able to find a wizard village.

She added on at the end by signing her name as Molly Weasley, and adding a postscript that she hoped there were enough stamps on the letter.

"What does she mean enough?" Lily asked, already a smile creeping onto her face at this prospect.

In response to that, Vernon pulled the envelope out of his pocket and flashed it at Harry, who had to fight down the urge to laugh at the sight of it.

"Really, I don't know how you pull that off," Sirius said eagerly.

Every bit of it was covered in stamps except for a square inch on the front, into which Mrs. Weasley had squeezed the Dursley's address in minute writing.

Only James was left frowning in mild confusion as he read that, but he didn't have to really ask as the others burst into laughter, he could guess that perhaps she had put too many stamps on, though he found it an honest enough mistake as he wasn't even sure why Muggles would put stamps on their mail.

Lily smiled indulgently as she approved, "I give her credit for asking like that and trying to be polite, even enough to do it the Muggle way."

"At least somebody appreciates it," Remus nodded in agreement, knowing Vernon wouldn't feel the same.

Harry responded that she had put enough stamps on it then, in a tone implying Mrs. Weasley's was a common enough mistake.

"Because it was," James snorted, much to the amusement of everyone else who nearly started cracking up again at the realization he would have done the exact same thing.

Vernon's eyes flashed as he snapped that the mailman had noticed.

"Be a little more worried if he didn't," Sirius mocked.

That's why he had knocked on the door, he'd thought it was funny.

"Well how dare he," Remus sneered.

Harry chose not to respond. Anyone else would be confused at Vernon's reaction,

"Damn near wish I was," Lily hissed, still wanting more than anything to have never come across this name.

but Harry was well aware how much the Dursley's hated anything that was even slightly out of the norm. Their worst fear was that anyone would know they were in contact with people like the Weasley's.

"Then they're in for a very nasty surprise." James grinned, though it had something lingering that made it very obvious this wasn't meant to be pleasant.

Vernon was still glaring at Harry like he expected a response. Harry knew he had to play this very carefully, if he did he'd be in for a real treat. Harry broke the silence first,

"Pretty sure that's because stringing words together is too complicated for his pea brain," Sirius muttered.

and simply asked if he could go. Vernon's face twitched, and Harry had a very good idea what was running through his mind, as Vernon's two fundamental rules came into play. Letting Harry go would make him happy, something Vernon strived against.

"I think I've successfully called him everything under the sun at this point," Remus groused, "and it's still not enough to cover how wrong that is."

On the flip side, letting Harry go would get him away from them that much sooner, as Vernon hated having Harry in the house.

"I hate having him in that house too," Lily snapped.

Instead of answering he began skimming over the letter again, asking who it was from with great disgust.

"I'm not surprised he automatically despises anyone who'd be writing to Harry," James sighed.

Harry reminded that Vernon had seen her before, she was at the platform from Hog- then he quickly cut himself off and rephrased, from his school.

It really bothered Sirius that Harry still couldn't speak freely in that house, like he was conditioned even before he knew Sirius would back him up now. Harry must know that Vernon couldn't do anything to Harry now no matter what he said, or Sirius would apparate there faster than Vernon's eyes could flash. He glanced at his godson now to see he looked just as sheepish and closed off as he always did whenever his life at the Dursley's was ever brought up.

Harry knew better than to go saying Hogwarts, as the name of his school was forbidden from being spoken in this house. Vernon's face screwed up as he tried to recall this, asking if she was the dumpy woman.

"Dumpy!" Lily yelped in outrage. She knew for a fact that Vernon had no right to be tossing that word around to anyone when his son's fat arse couldn't fit into a recognized sizeable pair of pants!

"That was a low blow, even from him," Sirius snarled, while the other three boys said something equal, Harry loudest of all. He may have held his tongue while in the face of Vernon, but he couldn't stand anyone saying that kind of thing about the woman who'd been so kind to him with no reason to.

Harry frowned reproachfully at Vernon, finding it rich of Vernon to be calling anyone dumpy when his own son was wider than he was tall.

The lot of them were still so angry they didn't even take the chance to laugh at the expense of Dudley again.

Vernon clearly didn't notice as he went back to the letter, and asked what rubbish Quidditch was.

"As if I didn't hate him enough already," James blustered.

Harry felt another shot of annoyance as he began to explain it was a sport played on broom- but Vernon cut him off with a yelp, clearly unable to stand hearing the word broomstick.

"Really? That word is too much for him?" Remus frowned, more confused than anything on this one. "What does he call the broom he uses to clean the kitchen?"

"Probably his wife's second husband," Sirius muttered under his breath.

He instead went back to the letter, and asked how Harry should respond 'in the normal way?' Harry explained she meant normal for wizards, using owl post.

Sirius began bouncing in place and laughing again all at once, more than happy to hear Harry had seemed to brush right past his earlier problem and was saying whatever the bloody hell he wanted to now. If Vernon did anything about it, Harry could just bring up his name and this good for nothing caretaker of Harry's would back down at once!

Vernon looked furious as if Harry had just started cussing at him. His eyes flickered to the window, like he expected someone to be there with their ear pressed to the glass.

"You mean they don't?" Lily mock demanded. "They're missing out on some golden opportunities."

He began shouting at Harry for mentioning that unnaturalness under his roof!

"You're calling my son unnatural?!" James demanded. "I've met saner people then you at Sirius' house."

Sirius cocked his head to the side like he was considering that, before nodding and saying, "Yeah, I'll give you that one."

His face began changing colors along with his outrage as he snapped that Harry was being ungrateful, lounging around in the clothes he'd put on his back!

"They aren't even Harry's!" Remus snapped.

Harry snapped back only after Dudley was through with them. Harry was currently wearing a sweater so large he had to roll the sleeves back five times, and pants so big he had to use every last notch of his belt to keep them in place.

Lily groaned into her hands, hating to think of her baby being forced to dress in something like that when those same people bought their own son whatever, whenever he asked.

Vernon roared back he wouldn't tolerate Harry speaking to him like that!

"Oh yes you will." Sirius shot back dangerously, looking pretty close to the same description. He couldn't stand just sitting here while Harry had to take this, and he should have been able to step in and say something rather than not even being in the picture!

Harry stood his ground though, he wasn't going to take any of the Dursley's stupid rules anymore.

"Least Harry's really fighting back now," James said with genuine praise. He still feared retribution from them, they were older than Harry and could still get away with something before Harry got a chance to make a run for it, but Harry wasn't ten years old anymore either. By this age he'd definitely had enough in him to at least scare them enough he could make a run for it again like he had last year if this conversation went too bad. He realized how sad this was to think about, that Harry couldn't hold one conversation with this man, and already James was fearing the worst and half hoping his son really would bolt again.

Harry was not going to eat that stupid diet, and he was going to the Quidditch World Cup. Since he wouldn't win by just shouting that though, Harry instead redirected by asking if he could be excused, he had a letter he needed to write to Sirius, his godfather.

"Ah the magic words," Remus beamed, knowing if this reminder didn't put Vernon in his place nothing would.

Harry watched with satisfaction as Vernon's face went from red fueled rage to blotchy white like sour ice-cream.

"Fascinating description as always dear," Lily gave a soft giggle, even as stressed as her husband she couldn't overlook that.

He rasped out that Harry kept in contact with him? Harry was pleased to see his eyes were now dilating in fear.

"As they should," James sneered.

"I don't know, I'm still a little offended it wasn't worse," Sirius gave a mock pout. "Think I'm losing my touch? My name should at least cause him the runs."

"Why don't you go fake murder a few more people?" Remus offered. "I'm sure that'll do it."

"That's a great idea," Sirius beamed, though there was a glint in his dark eyes showing he wasn't kidding anymore. "I know just where to start."

James gave an appreciative laugh while Harry eyed Sirius again, always unsure and at least half hoping they really didn't mean those jokes.

Harry shrugged like this was obvious, saying of course he did, all the time. Sirius liked him to keep in touch, to make sure nothing was wrong. Harry paused then and watched the pieces fall into place in Vernon's head as he realized that if he tried to stop Harry writing to his Godfather, Sirius would think Harry was mistreated. If Harry wrote and told that he couldn't go to the Cup, Sirius would know Harry was being mistreated.

"Least he can work that out." Lily shrugged. "Now I'm just wondering how hard it would be for him to understand the concept of feeding you."

"One step at a time," Harry shrugged, more than happy to point out, "and since I'm leaving now, it's no longer a problem anymore."

"Still wish you'd mentioned something to me in the first place," Sirius grumbled.

Harry pursed his lips, knowing full well why he wouldn't tell Sirius a thing about the Dursley's feeding him like that, let alone anything else. He was too worried about Sirius coming back, and the most dangerous place for him to be was around the Dursley's. He'd never risk Sirius possibly getting caught, and there was just no point in telling him things that had already happened, something he was still adamant about.

Finally Vernon relented, telling Harry to go on and tell whoever he liked he could go to this Cup thing, but the Weasley's were to pick Harry up! Then he added on to make sure he told his Godfather.

"Pretty sure he nearly broke his jaw getting all of that out," Harry beamed, getting almost giggly he was so happy to hear that. He was getting to spend the rest of his summer with Ron. He was going to see the World Cup! He was leaving the Dursley's and didn't have to keep avoiding his family's burning questions.

Harry beamed as he got to his feet and had to forcefully stop himself from whooping as he went to the stairs. He was going over to the Weasley's! He was going to see the Quidditch World Cup!

"Best news I've heard yet." James nodded, finally forcing some real cheer into himself and clinging to it as long as he could.

"Why couldn't we have just started with that?" Lily agreed.

Harry nearly ran into Dudley out in the hall, who'd clearly been lurking and hoping to hear Harry getting told off.

"Yeah, that brings up a few more memories," Remus snorted.

He was clearly stunned to see the smile on Harry.

"I'm sure it is a rarity for Harry to ever smile around there," Sirius grumbled.

Harry pleasantly told Dudley as he passed that he'd quite enjoyed breakfast, and was plenty full from it.

James couldn't help a little snort of mirth, finding it the perfect cherry to rub Dudley's face in at the end.

Then Harry went pelting into his room, only to be hit in the side of the head by what resembled a feathery tennis ball.

Lily hadn't a second to worry what could be making her son yelp in pain, but instead burst out laughing at the description along with everyone else. She wasn't even sure what it was that could be pelting Harry like that, but judging by the fact that Harry was rubbing that exact spot in remembered pain but looking more amused than anything, she had no fears it was anything bad.

Harry rubbed at the spot as he eyed the owl zooming above his head, twittering madly with excitement.

"Wasn't that how Ron's new owl was described at the end of the last book?" Sirius perked up even more.

"Why would Ron be sending Harry a letter? Surely his mum told him she was sending something to the Muggles to ask the same thing," Remus asked.

"What does that have to do with Ron talking to his friend?" James rolled his eyes.

Harry found the birds dropped parcel, and recognized Ron's handwriting in big capital letters exclaiming how his dad had gotten the tickets!

Lily couldn't repress another smirk, James sounded more excited about this than anything he'd read yet. The only comparison was when he was reading about Harry's quidditch games, and those hadn't lasted long before he got upset again. Even if she didn't care for the sport much, she was genuinely happy to see her husband lighting up at anything again.

The game would be Ireland versus Bulgaria.

Sirius couldn't even find it in himself to be disappointed his favorite team hadn't made the league, he was pent up with too much excitement to care as he exclaimed, "Yes, Kenmare Kestrels vs Vratsa Vultures!"

"I wonder how many new players are in the lineup," James began, before he launched into a whole spiel about nearly every Quidditch team, much to Lily's groan of displeasure. Yet she still couldn't bring herself to interrupt them or stop them as all of the boys joined in, she figured she'd let them have this while they could, so she went over to Remus and took baby Harry upstairs to check on his diaper. By the time she came back down and they were still in full swing she simply nestled herself back into the couch next to her husband and began entertaining her charge by producing colorful puffs of smoke for his entertainment. The high pitched giggling noise of the child finally drew the reappearance of her cat Hickory, who padded up onto her lap, curled himself around baby Harry, and began purring contently as the game chat continued.

The picture perfect scene turned out to be just that, as Lily heard a soft click and looked up to realize that Sirius had that grin on her face which meant she was going to regret asking, "Sirius, what did you do?"

"Nothing," he said at once, stuffing something back behind him. She glanced up and saw James trying to smother a laugh as he said, "We just realized how bored you got, so how about we press on?"

She smirked at them, they knew full well that hadn't worked on her, but didn't protest either.

He knew his mother had sent something to the Muggles Harry lived with, but Ron had decided to send his own note with Pig.

"Pig?" Remus interrupted in confusion.

The books print was clear as day, and Sirius just shrugged saying, "Don't ask me," while he kept going.

Harry paused in his reading to look hard at the word 'Pig' before glancing up at the owl still swirling above his head. He'd never seen anything that looked less like a pig.

Harry wanted to laugh and say his old rat hadn't exactly looked like a scab either, clearly Ron just wasn't too adept at naming his pets, but chose not to bring that up as the others continued laughing at this, he wasn't going to be the one to bring the good mood back down.

Maybe he couldn't read Ron's writing.

"Can't imagine what other word that could be," Lily giggled.

So he instead went back to the letter, where Ron had written that they were coming to get Harry whether those Muggles agreed or not,

"Forever adore your best friend," Sirius' grin got even wider at that.

that Harry couldn't miss this game, Ron's parents had just decided it would be politer to pretend to ask first.

"Pretend," Remus choked, trying to stuff his own fist in his mouth to not laugh so loud Sirius would stop.

He told Harry to send back his answer as soon as possible, and either way they'd be there at five o'clock on Sunday for him.

James was bouncing in place so much he was starting to agitate the cat, but he just couldn't stop! He was so excited to hear about this, Harry getting away from the Dursley's more than anything, but the Cup!

He added on at the end that Hermione was already over at his place, and that Percy had gotten a job at the Department of International Magical Cooperation.

"Well good for him," Lily grinned, that was a great step in reaching his ambition of becoming Minister, best Department he could have stepped into for the political side.

Ron then begged Harry not to mention anything about Abroad, or they'd all be bored stupid.

Then she sighed, knowing she and Percy's parents were most likely the only ones actually happy for him. Honestly she really pitied Percy sometimes, she wished Harry would mention the boy had more friends he could talk to.

Ron signed off then, and Harry looked back up at the owl who was clearly still pleased with itself to having delivered its letter to the correct person.

"A very good accomplishment," Sirius snickered.

He walked over to his desk and wrote out a quick letter to Ron, saying the Muggles had agreed it was okay he could go, and he couldn't wait for Sunday.

"Neither can I," all four boys muttered one last time, still unable to cap their excitement for this.

It took Harry a moment to catch the excited bird and get his letter attached it was fidgeting around so much, but then it was gone. Harry went back to his first letter to Sirius, adding a postscript that by the time Sirius received this letter he'd be at Ron's place and on his way to the Quidditch World Cup.

"I'm pretty sure you'll now be fighting the impulse to ask Harry if his dog can come along," Remus muttered under his breath. Sirius got the gist of the joke anyways, and couldn't even deny he liked the idea.

Then he tied the letter off to Hedwig who took off as well, leaving Harry alone to enjoy his cake, savoring the happiness flooding through him right now.

"As are we," Lily nodded, giving her wand another little twist and creating a puff of purple smoke for her babies delight.

He had cake, and Dudley had nothing but grapefruit;

"There's the bright side!" Sirius cackled.

it was a bright summer's day, he would be leaving Privet Drive tomorrow, his scar felt perfectly normal again, and he was going to watch the Quidditch World Cup. It was hard, just now, to feel worried about anything - even Lord Voldemort.

"I hope you keep that feeling, just for this year," Sirius sighed as he passed Harry the book, knowing by now that asking for anything more would be a miracle in itself.

[kalypsichor]

and they were quARANTINED [a beatles fic] - ch 1

summary: George takes a shit. Ringo braves a trip to the tescos and loses a bit of his soul. John harrasses the general public and Paul’s just trying to get them home before they kill each other. All while a virus tears the world apart.

warnings: CRACK (not cocaine), geo’s bad potty habits, ringo’s copious use of emojis

so, this is different... but i’ve always been a crack fic writer at heart. this is the result of being quarantined myself due to COVID-19. i’ve been seeing so much fear and frustration and hatred that i just wanted to write about it kinda cathartically. enjoy!

Unfortunately, George doesn’t realize that they’re out of toilet paper until after he’s taken a shit.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “Ringo?”

No answer.

“Ringooooooooo. RINGO!!!”

George’s legs are starting to lose feeling. He bounces them up and down a bit and the motion almost makes him drop his phone in the toilet.

“RICHARD FUCKING STARKEY!”

There’s the sound of footsteps and then a pause before Ringo answers.

“What’s up?”

“What took you so long?”

“Had my headphones in. Sorry I couldn’t be at your beck and call, O Lord of the Loo.”

“SHUT up. Look, do we have any more loo roll?”

A pause. “Why, are we out?”

George rolls his eyes so hard he sees stars. “No, I’m askin’ for the banter.”

“I’ll go check. Don’t move!”

George can almost see the shit-eating (heh) grin on his mate’s face as he walks away. With a sigh and some choice curse words that would make Louise cry, George pulls out his phone again. Opens Twitter. Sees yet another tweet from that spraytanned clown across the pond. Closes Twitter and contemplates deleting it. After about three rounds of this, Ringo comes back and knocks on the door.

“We’re all out. Got you some tissues, though.”

Krishna help me. George tips his head back against the wall and thumps it a few times for good measure.

“Thanks,” he says flatly. “Could you- ?”

The door opens just a smidge before he can finish talking there’s a flying blur of Kleenex box, a blinding pain in the side of his head, and a sickening crACK—

***

“I’m really sorry,” Ringo says for the millionth time, hovering over George as he examines the spiderweb of cracks on his phone screen. George huffs. He wants to be mad, he really does, but Ringo’s face is doing that stupid thing where his eyes are very, very blue and droopy and his teeth are worrying his bottom lip and it’s obvious that he’s genuinely remorseful and—fuck, he’s got it bad.

“It’s fine,” George insists, even though he can hear his bank account having a fit. “Piece of shit phone, anyway. And look, it still works!” Very shittily, his brain adds, but that’s what you get with a five year old phone.

The older boy’s eyes still have an unconvinced, sad look about them and George wishes he could kiss it away. No homo, though.

“How can I make it up to you?” George’s brain does a slutdrop into the gutter. “I’ll… I’ll get the groceries! How ‘bout that?”

“NO!” Scrambling off the couch, George just barely misses smacking noses with Ringo. “What about the… the virus?”

“I’ll wear a mask and all. Wash hands for twenty seconds, stay six feet away from people… am I missing anything?”

“Yeah, the quarantine bit.”

Ringo snorts and puts a hand on George’s arm. “Quit your worrying, Geo. I’ll be fine. Haven’t John and Paul been out all day?”

***

John and Paul want to go the fuck home. They’d walked all the way to a new art gallery opening only to find out it was cancelled (“Why didn’t you check Google?” “Why didn’t you?”). And now, both being tired as hell from their long trek, they couldn’t even flag down a single cab to take them home.

“This is the worst thing ever,” John cries, flopping his entire body down on a park bench. Paul rolls his eyes and lifts up John’s stupidly long legs so he can sit down as well.

“People are dying, John.”

“I feel like I’m dying.”

“John.”

“Okay, fine, maybe I’m being dramatic. But this stupid… thing… is fucking up all our plans!”

“It’s not fucking Voldemort, you can say the name.”

“Alright, fine. Coronavirus. CORONAVIRUS. You happy, Paul?”

A woman hurrying by shoots them a wide-eyed, nervous look and crosses the street, tugging a little boy by the hand.

“... bitch.”

“Jesus, John.” Paul pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’d do that too if some rando was shouting in the streets.”

“Yeah, but she didn’t hafta shoot that nasty look at us… did you see that? Paul?”

“Hold on, hold on.” His phone is vibrating in his pocket and he fumbles to pull it out. “Your stupid legs are in the way.”

John huffs and makes a show of wiggling said legs, almost kicking Paul in the face. Still, he tucks them to his chest (flexible, Paul thinks and then instantly regrets) so that Paul can take out the buzzing rectangle.

--

bongo: do u or john want anything? 🤔🤔

bongo: like groceries

bongo: going to tescos

Shouldnt you be quarantining?

bongo: ur literally at an art museum 😂

It’s a gallery

And it got cancelled :/

bongo: oop sorry m8 thats tough

bongo: srsly tho whaddaya want

We need more vegetables. Carrots, etc

--

“Tell him to get cornflakes,” John says, peering over Paul’s shoulder. He’s sat up and practically draped over Paul’s lap. Paul sighs and shoves his legs off, ignoring the indignant squawk the other boy makes when he almost falls off the bench.

--

Also that cornflake cereal stuff

bongo: k

bongo: tell john i said hi

Heyyyyyy rich wots up

Paulie’s being a bitch he pushed me :((((

Why is his auto caps on lsdnfol

--

“Give it back!”

“Ow! Ow stop hitting me Jesus fuckin-”

--

Sorry that was john

bongo: yeah i could tell lmao

bongo: where are u guys??

Stuck at some park. Can’t get any cabs home

bongo: well duh coronavirus 😷😷😷

bongo: bad time to be a cabbie man 😔

Yeah yikes

Pick up some rice for george too

And hand sanitizer

bongo: ill try but twitter says handsan itizer is going fast

bongo: what the fuc why did it space like that

Lol

bongo: oh also

bongo: geos being a mother hen and making me wear a face mask

bongo: u know where they are?

Second drawer down in the bathroom, behind the rubber gloves

bongo: … how did u reply SO fast

Uh i know where things are in our flat? Like a normal person?

bongo: thats sus but ok

bongo: wow theyre actually here

bongo: okay imma head out before it gets dark

What’s after dark? Zombies?

bongo: u never no

bongo: *no

bongo: FUCKING *KNOW

Nice

Okay stay safe ritch

bongo: 😘🙃👍🏼✌🏼✌🏼🌈🌟🥦🥦🥦☮️

***

Ringo has never seen this many people at Tesco in his entire life. Two grown men are having a full on argument in the pastries. A harried-looking dad almost knocks Ringo into a rack of Twinkies, pulling along two screaming kids with one slung on his hip. And… is that person actually wearing a Hazmat suit??

“This is insane,” Ringo mutters to himself, slightly muffled due to the face mask. He just needs to find the loo roll and then he’s going to yeet outta here ASAP.

Okay, hygiene aisle… here we g—what the—

The entire aisle is empty.

It’s like a goddamn Old Western. Just add a cow skull… cue the tumbleweed… and it would be perfect.

Not for the first time that day, Ringo sends a prayer to whoever is listening above. There’s got to be something left. He walks down to the end of the aisle. Walks back. Jumps a couple times to check if there’s anything on the top shelf. Sincerely hopes no one just saw him do that. Finally, shoved at the very back behind a couple of Always boxes, Ringo digs out a dusty as shit six-pack of toilet paper.

Well. It’ll have to do.

As he’s walking to the check out lines, a woman drops her bottle of hand sanitizer. It rolls across the floor in a perfect arc and Ringo scoops it up before it can get too far.

“Oops, you dropped this!” He says cheerily, handing it to her. Well, trying to. The woman makes a strangled noise in the back of her throat, physically flinches away from his outstretched hand, and almost drops the rest of her groceries. Before Ringo can react, she’s disappeared behind the produce aisle.

Ringo’s arm falls to his side. He stares at the space where she was just a second ago and holds in a scream.

“More for us, I guess.”

***

By the time Ringo reaches the flat, he’s ready to never see another person again. He trudges right past George in the kitchen, dropping the groceries on the table with a thwack. John hums a greeting to him in the living room and offers him a biscuit.

“No thanks,” Ringo says. He faceplants into the couch.

Something clinks onto the coffee table. Well, coffee table is one way to put it; it’s more of a hunk of stone from back when Paul thought he was going to be the next Michelangelo and get really into classical sculpture. It now sits in the living room and primarily holds George’s textbooks, plus takeout for whenever they don’t feel like cooking (which is all the time), so you can see how that panned out for Paul.

“Tea for you,” George says. He plops onto the floor between the couch and the table and runs a friendly, comforting hand through Ringo’s hair. Ringo practically purrs, leaning into the touch, and George feels his heart melt and trickle through his ribs. “You okay?”

“I’ve lost all faith in humanity,” Ringo mumbles into the cushion. John reaches over and pats him on the back.

“Don’t worry, Ringo. There won’t be any humans to have faith in soon.”

George throws a packet of sugar at John who dodges it, snickering. Ringo groans and tries to sink even deeper into the couch.

And that’s when they hear Paul scream.

[babygirlbenji]

Christmas With The Hollands

A/N This has been in my drafts since around September as I LOVE CHRISTMAS, it’s my favourite holiday of the year. I was going to wait until closer to The Big Day to post this, but I wanted to get some original content out there to make up for my abhorrent lack of original posts. Enjoy! Also - I cannot be the only one who thinks that Christmas with the Hollands would be the best time EVER?

Warnings: none!

Word count: 2.4k - more under the cut! (I’m so sorry this is so long)

You and Tom had been dating for just over a year, and you were now part of the Holland family. As such, you were top of the guest list at the exclusive Holland family Christmas lunch every Christmas Day.

This Christmas was no exception.

Once you had put the finishing touches on the magnificent chocolate roulade you had made, and Tom had given Tessa a lengthy walk so she wouldn’t be too energetic while you guys were enjoying your Christmas lunch, the three of you dashed out into the frigid suburban air and into the warmth of Tom’s Range Rover.

‘Have you got everyone’s presents?’ You checked. He nodded, laughing.

‘Yes, love, for the third time today, I have everyone’s presents.’

‘Just checking! We don’t want a repeat of Christmas 2017.’ You both winced at the memory; due to a calamitous miscommunication, both of you had forgotten to bring the presents for the entire family, and were unable to retrieve them from your apartment as the traffic was so busy.

‘Don’t worry, love, I have definitely got them. I just hope Tessa doesn’t eat them.’ You thumped his arm, rolling your eyes.

The car cruised along the M25 towards London, the traffic piling up rapidly. Tom took the exit for his parents’ house, and before you knew it, you were parked outside the semi-detached townhouse.

‘I’ll take Tess and the roulade, you can take the presents!’ You immediately hopped out and carried Tessa out of her crate in the boot of the car. Tom just chuckled and obliged, carrying the two gift bags full of Christmas goodies for the Holland family.

Walking with Tess up the short driveway, you knocked on the door.

‘Y/N! How lovely to see you, my darling, Merry Christmas!’ Nikki opened the door, a festive apron tied around her waist and partially covering a cosy Christmas jumper. The delicious smell of Christmas lunch immediately wafted over you, and the sound of Michael Bublé’s Christmas album flowed softly from the speakers in the living room. The Holland house was one of your favourite places, made even better by the people who lived in it.

‘Hi, Nikki! Merry Christmas!’ You exchanged hugs and kisses.

‘That pudding looks incredible! Come in, come in!’ Nikki took the roulade, leaving a hand free to allow you to take your shoes off, before you led Tessa inside. Dom, Harry, Sam and Paddy were in the kitchen. ‘Hey, Hollands, Merry Christmas!’ you cheered, going round and giving everyone hugs.

‘Where’s your boy, Y/N?’ Dom asked as you broke apart from your hug.

‘He’s probably putting the presents under the tree! Ah, there he is!’ As if on cue, Tom came hurrying in.

‘Hi, dad, hey, guys!’ You looked on as he hugged his family, a small smile on your face. Nikki busied herself with the preparation of the lunch.

‘Nikki, can I do anything to help?’ You offered, feeling guilty about sitting around and doing nothing.

‘Oh, you’re such a darling! If you could start peeling potatoes, that would be amazing! Harry, help Y/N peel potatoes, Sam and Paddy, peel the carrots and parsnips and Tom, you can sit there and look pretty.’ You all laughed; Tom was notoriously bad in the kitchen, and you mostly did the cooking. Harry joined you at the sink as you peeled potato after potato, taking part in the conversation and just taking in the Christmas atmosphere. Christmas at the Hollands was truly something special.

‘So, Y/N, any hint on what my present is?’ Harry asked cheekily. You poked him gently with the peeler.

‘No, you silly goose, that’ll ruin the surprise!’

‘What about mine, Y/N?’ Paddy protested from across the counter.

‘Okay, Pads, all I’m going to say is that you’re going to need a lot of time set aside these holidays to do it. I shall reveal no further information at this time!’ Tom smiled, loving the sight of you getting along so well with his family, the ones who meant the most to him along with you.

Nikki had completely fallen for you the first time she’d met you, as did Dom. Your nerves of meeting his parents quickly dissipated as soon as they welcomed you with open arms into their home, and Paddy absolutely adored having an unofficial big sister.

‘Hey, Tom, where’s Haz?’ Sam asked.

‘He’s with his family in Suffolk, mate, he has got other family other than us,’ Tom replied, sarcasm dripping from his voice; if there was anything Tom did better than acting, it was sarcasm. You giggled.

‘Alright, Nikki, that’s it for the potatoes! Anything else you want me to do? I lay a fine table, how about I lay the table?’ Nikki nodded enthusiastically, showing you where the Christmas crackers and festive napkins were kept. You busied yourself by laying the table in its full festive gear, missing Nikki whisper “keep her!” to Tom, and him reply to her “don’t worry, I’m planning on it”.

*

The family was at last sitting round the table, plates piled high with a delicious turkey, roast potatoes, carrots, parsnips, stuffing and all the trimmings of a traditional Christmas lunch.

‘Alright guys, before we tuck in to this delicious meal, I would like to make a toast!’ Tom stood up and raised his glass. ‘As you all know, I introduced you to my wonderful girlfriend Y/N earlier this year, and I would like to make a toast to her for making me the happiest I have ever been. This year has not been easy, with all the Marvel and Disney and Sony drama and then the movie and reshoots and everything. Yet, through all of that, Y/N has been right there by my side, never wavering with her wise words of wisdom and funny jokes and puns. Having her along for the press tour for Far From Home was the best decision of my life, and I am so grateful to have her in my life. I think we can all say that she brings joy to all of our lives.’

‘Hear, hear!’ Dom hollered.

‘Can you hurry up? I’m starving,’ Paddy whined.

‘Alright, pal, I’m done. To Y/N, and many more Christmases with her!’ Everyone raised their glasses in your direction, leaving you blushing beetroot red, before tucking in to their meals.

‘Thanks, babe, but you didn’t need to do that,’ you muttered in a low voice to Tom, who was sat next to you.

‘All of it is true. You are phenomenal.’ You leant in and kissed him gently.

*

Lunch was closely followed by a couple slices of your roulade, which went down a treat with everyone.

Everyone was extremely full, but Paddy (and Sam and Harry, although they didn’t want to admit it) were eager to open their presents, so you all adjourned to the living room, you and Tom on one sofa, Nikki and Dom on a chair each and Sam, Paddy and Harry on the other sofa.

As always, the presents were handed out, and once everyone had all their presents, you all dived in and opened your presents.

‘Oh, Nikki, this is wonderful!’

‘Wow, Paddy, this is great!’

‘Haha, Sam. Very funny!’

You looked down at your lap, all but one of your presents opened; you had received some very nice Chanel perfume from Nikki, a framed picture of you and Tom from Harry that he’d taken, a new book by your favourite author from Dom, a new PS4 game from Paddy (you were a big gamer, all thanks to Tom) and a pair of earrings from Sam (you had assumed that Elysia had helped him picked them out).

‘Go on, babe, open that one!’ Tom encouraged, keeping his voice low. ‘It’s from me.’ You looked at him, a look that said nothing but “no shit!” on your face.

It was a medium-sized rectangular box. You ripped the paper off, opened the box and your jaw dropped.

‘Oh, Tom!’ It was an incredibly expensive and fancy Michael Kors watch, the one you’d seen in Harrods a few weeks prior and immediately swooned over it, but persuaded yourself that you wouldn’t make any extravagant purchases in the weeks leading up to Christmas. ‘Oh, honey, you didn’t!’

‘Oh, but I did. I saw how much you liked it and knew it would be a perfect first Christmas present. Go on, try it on!’ You were acutely aware of the whole family’s attention on the two of you, but as you carefully prised the watch out of its case, it was as if you were the only people in the room. Tom helped you put it on, as the clasp was a bit fiddly, but once it was on, it twinkled slightly in the lights from the Christmas tree opposite you.

‘Oh, Tom, it’s perfect. Thank you so much. And thank you for all of your gifts, they’re wonderful!’ A chorus of “thank yous” and “you’re welcomes” ensued, and you saw Paddy lean in and whisper something in his mother’s ear. She smiled at him and gently pushed him towards you, your gift of an Avengers LEGO in his hands.

‘Hey, Y/N?’ It was the first time you’d seen the young boy, usually so confident and outgoing, this shy and quiet.

‘Yes, Padster?’ Again, Tom found himself gazing at you in adoration. He knew you were always good with kids, but it meant a lot to him that you were so fond of his youngest brother, who was admittedly your favourite Holland brother.

‘Do you think you’d be able to help me with this?’ Your lips curled into a fond smile.

‘That sounds like the perfect Boxing Day activity, little man! We can tackle it tomorrow, what do you say?’ He nodded enthusiastically, and hugged you tightly. ‘Aww, you’re the best, Paddy. Thank you for your gift, it’s just what I needed to spend the rest of the holidays doing!’

After everyone had finished opening their gifts, you and Tom helped Nikki and Dom tidy away all the wrapping paper.

‘Babe, I’m just going into the kitchen to text some of the guys and send them our Christmas wishes, okay?’ Tom murmured in your ear, one arm winding its way around your waist.

‘Sure, babe, say hi to Chris for me, and tell Seb and Anthony I miss them!’ He grinned, kissing your temple.

‘Will do, darling!’ He hurried out of the living room, phone in hand, leaving you to finish putting the last of the wrapping paper into a bin bag with Nikki.

‘It’s been a long time since I’ve seen him this happy and relaxed,’ she remarked. You smiled shyly.

‘He really needed this break. The whole debacle with Marvel and Sony had him incredibly stressed. His face when he got the news that he was back in the game made me cry.’

‘I bet! He wouldn’t have gotten through it if it weren’t for you, I daresay.’ Her comment made you stop and look at her. ‘Believe me, he said it himself. He said something like you keep him saner than anyone he knows. He has Harrison, of course, but having you, someone who isn’t in the industry, offer him a place of solace where he can take his mind off the pressures of being Spider-Man and the “next Robert Downey Jr”, as the internet has called him, is a real gift. We have so much to thank you for, Y/N, really. You’re so special.’ You didn’t quite know what to say, so you just stepped forward to hug her.

‘Thank you, Nikki. You have an incredibly special son, too. He is one of a kind.’ She started laughing.

‘Isn’t that the truth!’

A comfortable silence arose between you, but it was quickly interrupted by Paddy, who came rushing in, begging his mum to put a Christmas movie on. ‘Alright, guys, let’s watch a Christmas movie! Home Alone?’ You and Paddy cheered.

‘I’ll go see where Tom is, he loves Home Alone!’ You excused yourself and went into the kitchen, where you saw Tom on the phone to someone. You felt bad for listening in, but you were curious.

‘…Yeah, she’s fantastic, Rob, she really is. She helped me so much through all this manic stuff with Marvel and Sony … absolutely, the way things are going, she’s the one for me … alright, mate, I’ll let you go and enjoy the day, see you soon, bud … you too, bye!’ Your heart was practically singing.

‘So, you’re on first name terms with Downey, huh?’ You smirked as you strolled into the kitchen. Tom whirled around, surprised, then smiled when he saw it was you.

‘Yep, we go way back, me and him!’ You both laughed, and you wound your arms around his torso as you came close to him.

‘Thank you for bringing me today, I’ve had such a lovely time. Christmas was never really… fun back home, with my stepdad and stuff, so I really appreciate having you guys as my second family.’ He smiled, thinking how he ever got so lucky.

‘I think I speak for the entirety of my family when I say that you are always welcome here, and if things ever go south at home, my bed can always fit two.’ He winked.

‘Is that so?’ Your eyes met his, and as your lips met in a sweet kiss, you heard a camera click. Breaking apart, you saw Harry in the doorway, face bright red as his arms fell to his sides.

‘Sorry, guys, I just wanted to try out my new lens! As you were…’ Both you and Tom started laughing as he backed away sheepishly.

‘Hey, Harry!’ You called out.

‘Yeah?!’

‘Send me that pic?’ Tom laughed harder, resting his head on your shoulder.

‘Will do.’ You turned back to face Tom, who was gazing at you in complete adoration.

‘The family are watching Home Alone in the living room, let’s go watch!’ You tried to walk away, but Tom grabbed you and pulled you close.

‘I just want us to be alone for just a few minutes more…’ His arms pulled you into his chest, and you breathed in his warm, earthy scent. ‘I love you, Y/N. You make me so happy.’ Your heart swelled.

‘And I love you too, Tommy. Come on, let’s go watch the movie.’ You took his hand and led him into the living room, where you sat on his lap as you and the rest of the family watched the movie in comfortable silence.

By the time Kevin was reunited with his family, your extended family was all asleep, sleeping away another magical Christmas Day.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #310

“i get pretty just to fuck my face up.”

Do you have a clock in your room? No. What book, movie, TV show, or video game have you been wanting to start up? I *want* to read The Testaments by Margaret Atwood, but I care more about reading Wings of Fire, so I probably realistically won't for a long time. I don't read enough for that; Sutherland will surely keep pumping out books in the series so I'll never catch up, haha. As for a movie, I've been interested in seeing Jacob's Ladder for a very long time; it served as a very large influence on the Silent Hill series, and boy, anyone who brings up video games in front of me knows SH is my SHIT. I also just know I'm bound to like it with how essentially legendary it is in the psychological horror genre, which is my favorite. Onto TV show, I'm not certain. Shows don't really interest me. I would like to keep watching A:TLA w/ Sara, but "start up" implies beginning something new, so. Lastly, video games. There are a LOT of games I want to play, but yeah, I have no operational gaming console above a PS2. I'm dyinnnngggggg to play a ton of PS4 remasters (namely the original Spyro the Dragon trilogy and SoTC), but as for a fresh game I've never experienced, Ico, which is from the same producers of Shadow of the Colossus. It's an old game, and Mom's bought it off of Ebay for me twice, but neither disc worked - they froze only minutes into the game. It's hella expensive in new condition though because of its age... so who knows when I'll actually get to play it. Do you put anything else on your grilled cheese sandwiches? Just butter. Have you ever read a book in a different language? I've read some simple fairy tales as well as the play Faust in German courses. Do you want to go to the Harry Potter theme park at Universal? I have no connection with the franchise, but I mean, I'd go if you're paying, haha. If you had a secret room in your house, how would you decorate it? I'm trying to think what kind of room I'd keep a secret... Ha, actually, IF my love of tarantulas expands so largely to having dozens (which I doubt, but I acknowledge the possibility once I get my own place), a room kept on the down low to others just for them would be pretty cool. Imagine someone not knowing they're sharing a house with like, a hundred Ts, haha. As for actual decor, I'm unsure. I'd definitely keep it generally dark for them as nocturnal creatures, maybe with some Halloween decorations, like lots of fake webbing and neon green or orange lights. Man... that sounds dope. What did you get your dad for his last birthday? I couldn't buy him anything, nor did I actually make anything since I didn't know what to create. I just told him happy birthday, of course. Do any of your relatives live in another country? No. Are you claustrophobic? In some spaces, yes. Ever seen Blair Witch? Without spoilers, you know "that part" near the end? Yeah, if you've seen it, you know. That would be a fucking NIGHTMARE for me. Even watching it made me squirm. When grocery shopping, do you usually buy brand names or store brand? With most items anyway, we just get the store brand bc we cheap. Around what time do you usually eat dinner? Generally between 5:30-6:30 nowadays. Do you have any clothing that you get dry cleaned? No. Do you like foods with coconut in it? Eugh, not a coconut fan. I don't hate it as much as I used to, but I still don't like it. Have you ever researched your family history? No, but some past relative researched our family tree. Have you ever had surgery that kept you in the hospital for over a day? No. Do you like carrots more if they’re raw, or cooked? I hate carrots. Did you play with Legos as a kid? Nah, I was more into Lincoln Logs. Which bothers you more… spelling mistakes or bad grammar? It really depends on the severity and simplicity of the spelling or grammar rule. Grammatical misuse of "there/their/they're" stand out very strongly to me, though. Have you ever bought anything off of eBay? Yeah, a good number of things. Is anybody in your family schizophrenic? If so, what is their life like? I have a scizophrenic half-sister that I've never met, so I couldn't tell you. How organized is your mind? How do you know it's organized/disorganized? My mind is running Windows '98 with multiple windows and even more tabs open, all of them not responding. :^) Why do you follow the religion that you do? I don't follow one. My personal religious journey was a train wreck liberating to jump off of. Do you feel superior to others because you're that religion? I don't care if you're atheist, Christian, Buddhist, Islamic, whatever - you are by no means superior to another person in any way just because you believe different things happen once you die. If you do, it's time for some introspection. Are you a blind believer, or do you frequently challenge your own beliefs? Seeing as I went from Catholic to Christian to briefly Neo-Pagan-ish to what I am now, just believing there's some higher power/knowledge and some form of sentience after death, I obviously challenge them. What's the greatest thing about science? Life itself. This universe, this planet, your state of just knowing is a product of science, and that's pretty damn beautiful. Are you emotional or very stolid? I know I'm too emotional. I'm trying to get better about it. Do your siblings look like you? To a degree, but not NEARLY as much as they look like each other. Ashley and Nicole have been mistaken multiple times in their lives and even asked if they're twins. How many states have you lived in? Just this shitty one. How many states have you traveled through/vacationed in? Traveled through, a whole lot. Up and down the east coast. I've stayed in New York, Florida, Ohio, Illinois, South Carolina briefly, and I think possibly Michigan as a baby. Which state was/is your favorite? I don't know. Not NC, haha. You have two weeks alone in any place in the world; where would you go? Alone? Um... I dunno. I'd get lonely through two weeks in absolute isolation. How old were you when you first moved out of your parents' home? I want to say I was 18 when I briefly "moved in" with Jason and our roommates. Did you ever have to move back in? Yeah; the apartment didn't last very long. None of us were ready. How old were you when you thought you were "in love" for the first time? I was in love at 16. I'd fight God literally for eternity to prove that fact. How many exterior doors are in your home? Two, or maybe three, depending on your outlook. We have like this deck in the back with a roof and mesh separating you from the outside, and then you properly go into the yard from the door beyond that. How many cars have you owned? I myself, none. How many email accounts do you have? Ummmm my very first one I misspelled, so I didn't use it long before making a new one with the correct spelling, then later I had no choice but to make a Gmail to use YouTube, and I know I've had at least one email specifically for school. I'm probably forgetting some other oldies I used for small things. What was the last movie you watched alone? The Shining. What (if any) one television program do you watch religiously every day/week? None. What (if any) is your favorite sport? Dance. Scoff at that shit and then try one dance session and tell me it's not one. What is your favorite musical? None. Have you ever seen a live opera production? No. Dressing up for an evening out: Pants or skirt? Pants. I don't show my legs. What do you currently hear right now? I'm listening to Dance With the Dead's "The Man Who Made a Monster." I LOVE the aesthetic of synthwave and rock mixed together, but the only problem I have with this song is that it's very repetitive. Still stuck in my head though, haha. What type of survey do you refuse to take? I'm not into bolding surveys, specifically. Do you like to run? bitch fuck no Do you think you could run the mile in 10 minutes? Zero chance. What was the longest movie you watched? Hm, I don't remember... It's faintly there in my head, I just can't identify it... Have you ever been to a job interview? Well yeah. Who was the last person to call you? My psychiatrist. Now that I'm doing the partial hospitalization program again, he calls once a week. When was the last time you talked to your last ex boyfriend? Uhhh I think around the start of this month? Missed him and felt like chatting for a bit. Is your dog mixed or full? I don't have a dog, buuuut... we're getting one soon! I'm quite sure she's a mutt. What was the last thing you and your mother did together? Rode to the pharmacy to pick up my meds. Do you take good pictures? I like to think so. What is your display picture on myspace/facebook right now? The most recent selfie I took and liked. I'm finally comfortable using makeupless photos as a display picture. :') Not that I like my body by any means, I just don't care enough to feel like I HAVE to wear makeup to be even remotely pretty in the face. As for everywhere else... ahahaha. What is going on outside right now? It's raining. Like it has been for what feels like literally weeks - and it might actually have been. There's been one or two sunny days in a huge streak of just nothing but rain. It's so gross outside by now; we've been under a flood warning for days on end. Who was the last person you kissed? My best friend, but we were dating then. What color looks the best on you? Black. Have you ever bought the wrong size because you were too lazy to check it? Oh, absolutely. I LOATHE trying on clothes. You have to essentially drag me to go do it. I don't have a good reason other than I don't want to, lol. What was the last thing you bought over 5 dollars? I put down the deposit on my tattoo. c: Do you have any mag subscriptions? No. What is something you're not scared of but a lot of people are? Snakes are probably the highest on the list. I adore snakes, all snakes. Would you ever have a threesome? No; I'm strictly monogamous and to me would be cheating even if your partner was in on it. Are you an U.S. citizen? Yep. Do you have any step siblings? I have a stepbrother, yeah, but I don't see him as my brother, honestly. He's a very quiet and reclusive guy I've had almost no conversations with, and they've only ever been short. Do they annoy you? Nah, he's fine. How many times a day do you talk to your mom on the phone? Well, we live together... What did you wear yesterday? The same pjs I'm in now. I'm changing when I take a shower later. The tank top is a Day of the Dead-esque skull pattern, while the pants are mostly navy with skulls and candy can crossbones that say "nice until proven naughty" arching over and beneath them. They were a Christmas gift from my sis and are really soft and comfortable. Really don't care that it's now out of season, I wear them anyway. I do not match colors AT ALL, but again, I don't care. What color straightener do you have? We don't have one; neither Mom or I use one. Do you listen to music really loud or really low? Turn that shit up LOUD. I'll be nearly deaf one day, but... worth it? lol Do you live with anybody other than your siblings and your parents? No. Both my sisters have moved out. I'm still here because I'm just not emotionally or financially equipped to live on my own yet. Who was your last crush? I still like my best friend, but agree with her that right now isn't the time for anything. How many tattoos do you have? Currently only six. :( What is your favorite thing to do? Car rides with Mom while I ride passenger, controlling the music nice and loud with my iPod. It's odd, considering I'm very afraid of being on the road, but it's just such a freeing, wild feeling to blare music and just go, letting your mind wander. How many pets do you own? I only have a cat and a snake right now, but we're getting a dog hopefully very soon, preferably today actually when Mom has to go to the appropriate city for her normal check-up to keep her cancer at bay. Her name is Vanna and sounds so perfect for us. Mom can barely wait. Are you close with your parents? Yes, very, Mom especially. Where do you shop the most for your clothes? Hot Topic or Wal-Mart. I'd really like more stuff from Rebel's Market; they have such a wide range of stuff that just scream my aesthetic. I got my purse from there, and it's fantastic quality and so cool-looking. Have you ever read a whole series of books? Well, one trilogy that I remember: Shiloh. I adored those books and the movies. I got very, very deep into Warriors by Erin Hunter, but then my interest in reading waned, and I'm immensely behind. I don't think I'll pick it up again, but I've thought briefly about it. When you tell someone you love them do you mean it? Yes. Are you going to walk at your graduation or just pick your diploma up? I walked. Do you ever eat anything everybody else thinks is gross? Hm, perhaps. I'd have to think for a while. What did you do for your last birthday? I just ate pizza at home with my one sister that was free that day, Mom, and a family friend, as well as opened presents. What do you plan on doing for your 18th birthday? I don't recall, but I think that may have been when I was in the psych hospital. Or was that my 21st? I don't remember. Do you have to type with good grammer? Yes. I type pretty much exactly how I talk. What is your favorite quote? It's hard to pick one singular favorite. Are you allowed to cuss in front of your parents? Dad could care less, but I try to limit myself with Mom, especially with "fuck." She's not a fan, nor does she like if I just swear too much in front of her. Like she won't yell at me or anything, she just makes it clear she wants me to stop. How long was your last phone conversation? Just a couple minutes. I didn't get the Zoom link to group therapy one day and let the place know. Turns out their email was fucking up. Which one of your friends annoy you? The family friend I mentioned a few questions above has the ability to be incredibly aggravating. I love her, but she has zero issue with inserting herself into everything (and sometimes we just don't want to see her), and she voices incredibly rude opinions literally no one asks for a whoooole lot. She's got a strong tendency to try to take control over every situation. Her being our landlord now makes it harder to speak up, and besides, no one wants to hurt her feelings. Don't be mistaken though, she truly is an incredible person with a heart more caring than probably any person I know. Have you ever lost a close friend to death? No, thank fuck. I mean, I think. I do believe one of my childhood online friends committed suicide because of sexual abuse from her own fucking brother, but I guess I'll never know. She was talking to me one night horribly depressed and scared and then just vanished. Bless her, I loved her. Do you know someone who suffers from addiction? Yes. Do you have a lot of pictures in your room? Tons of posters and artwork, anyway. I currently don't have any photographs, but I got this shadowbox thing for my bday to decorate with pictures of Teddy so I can use it in my "tribute shrine" or whatever for him, and I'd also like to frame the picture of Sara's and my first hug and maybe put it on my bedside table. Do you have Facebook? Yeah, I do. Have you ever found a dog/cat on the side of the road? I myself, no, but a friend's mom did find two poor kittens thrown aside in a fucking plastic bag... Some people are abominable. Knowing how much my family loved cats, she reached out to us, and we took them in and named them Aphrodite and... I can't remember the other's name. She disappeared kinda early. Aphrodite wound up being one of my most beloved cats and was even the mother of a kitten that same family adopted. Delilah is still alive, doing wonderfully, and incredibly loved. <3 Aphrodite, meanwhile, as well as all our other cats at the time, were taken by animal control because our neighbors were tired of them wandering, even though they were too fucking cowardly to confront us first. I've said in many surveys that I am very much against outdoor cats, but I wasn't then because I was uninformed and really didn't understand. I wailed and sobbed and just pure shrieked like a banshee outside when we came home to learn they were taken. I have no clue how any are now, and that's the worst part. Do you go bowling in your town? We are in the middle of a pandemic, lol. Even beforehand though, I rarely went. Last time I did was on a date with Girt. We had fun. Do you have a drive-in theater? No sir. What brand is your favorite shoe? Converse. Is your best friend's mom like your own? They're quite similar, yes. Both are very sweet and caring for others. Do you have anxiety or depression? Try both. What is your favorite fast food restaurant? Sonic. Do you own a pair of brass knuckles? Nah. Have you and your friends ever made up a word? Likely as kids. Do you have any embarrassing baby pictures of yourself? Not that I know of. What is the worst smell in the world? Anyone remember that survey I took mentioning my dog's old tumor? Yeah, that after he spent overnight in a diaper and inevitably peed himself in his old age. And he had a UTI. You probably can't even imagine how fucking vomit-inducing that smell was. Do you dye your hair a lot? No. :/ I really wish. I have so many colors I wanna try. Do you have anybody in your family who rides dirtbikes/fourwheelers? Not really? No one in my family owns one. My younger sister would totally go if you asked her and had one for her to use, though. She's done it plenty before. Have you ever rode a dirtbike/fourwheeler? Yeah, a fourwheeler, and it's really fun! Tell me how you got one of your scars? Hmmm, let's think of a unique one. Ah, my shins, left one especially. When I shave my legs, they get unbelievably itchy, even if I use lotion, and I would scratch my skin absolutely raw so often that I have permanent scars. It's partially why I barely shave my legs anymore. Have you ever had a friend who cut themselves? I know many, sadly. I don't know of any that still do, thankfully. I promise, it never helps. If you ever have the urge, I can't suggest enough running where you want to self-harm under cold water or slap the location (like your wrist) with a rubber band. The latter is especially helpful. It's a similar burning sensation and doesn't leave marks. It would help me refrain sometimes. What is your favorite thing to do in the summer? Swim in a nice, warm pool. Otherwise, become a hermit and wait for the outdoors to not be prepared to melt the flesh off my bones. x_x Do you go tanning or do you lay out? Neither, ugh. As you can guess from above, I hate the sensation of heat on me. What is your favorite skin lotion? I just really like cocoa butter. Smells really good and is perfectly moisturizing. Do you use a lot of hair products? The only hair product I use is shampoo, haha. Do you have a cousin you dislike? No. Well, one is incredibly brainwashed and misled by her psychopath of a father, but I love her nonetheless. We talk now and again because family is important to her. Have you ever heard Theory of a Deadman? Yeah, they're good. What is your comfort food? Absolutely ice cream. Who is your celebrity crush? Mark Fischbach/Markiplier is a perfect human being with the looks of a god and heart of a saint and you cannot convince me otherwise. What’s the song you most wish you had written? "Imagine" by John Lennon is a high contendant, for sure. Definitely something I'd write. Have you ever been stuck by someone very annoying on a plane/bus/etc? I think so at one point or another. Did you get lost at all on your first day of high school? Ha, for sure. Have you ever been interrupted during sex? A bitch knows how to act asleep if she hears a door so much as barely squeak, I'll tell you that much lmaooo. Have you ever been recorded doing stupid things while drunk? No. Has a significant other ever called you by the wrong name? No. Have you ever cooked anything and it turned out horrible? I've barely actually cooked anything in order TO fuck up. Have you ever made a bad first impression on someone’s parents? I can't say with certainty, but I think Jason's mom had her doubts about me at first because she commented on the ripped jeans I wore when I went to his house for the first time. She came to love me like her own though, and I love(d) her. I was actually just thinking about her and how she's doing the other day. What is a food that you always are in the mood to eat? Always? Perhaps sour candy, like Sour Punch Straws in specific. Ever held a newborn animal? Many kittens, yes. Do you make a wish when you blow out your birthday candles? I do, but just for the annual appeal of it. I don't actually believe it will have any effect on what I wished, it's just... normal, ig. What is the last thing you searched for online? Medical coding classes. Having trouble finding any free ones that are actually legit... Is it wicked hard for you to sleep when it's hot in your room? It's borderline impossible. Do you dunk your cookies in milk? Sometimes, and almost always with Oreos. Do medical terms make you uncomfortable? Ha, speaking of medical coding... No, not really. It's unnerving to hear "you have _____," but I understand it can be something so, so minor. Of course, it could be the exact opposite, but. I also actually find it quite interesting to learn the Latin roots of the terms. Are you afraid of failure? Beyond measure. Have you been called a bad influence? Yes, to my former friend's son. Not that that witch of a woman was a great person. I'd love to know how an infant can be negatively affected by receiving nothing but love from his "aunt," also having no concept of understanding about me being unemployed and not very "adult-ish" in general, which I'm sure is what she meant. Normally judgment hits me deep, but that shit I just rolled my eyes at.

[amasawaseiji]

share your self care tag

Thank you Nico for tagging me!! @transking

favourite comfort food: I’m not picky with food so this is kinda hard ‘cause eating in general comforts me :’) but some that have the golden spot are raw carrots and chocolate. he carrots are betraying me though ‘cause lately I’ve been getting nausea when I eat them raw and it’s killing me.

favourite alcohol (or hot drink): I’m not a big alcohol drinker, my favourite beer is Ichnusa beer as for cocktail it’s a good ol’ fashioned bloody mary, but honestly I’m a big hot tea drinker, I’ll drink any and all black tea, flavoured or not, and I also have a place in my heart for red fruits teas and flavoured or unflavoured chamomile (especially peppermint chamomile)!

favourite relaxing activity: It definitely has to be listening to music, just,,, laying somewhere with headphones on, or with the stereo on blast when I can is even better. I also love doing clay sculpture a lot, I started because of school but I have taken a liking to it and it’s one of my favouritve activities, I have a block of 15kg of clay at home and whenever I want I can create something new, which in this case also goes towards my grades in school.

favourite fluffy/feel-good fic: Ooh this is easy, I don’t read too many fanfics but I have this one that I reread regularly ‘cause it’s just so well written and it’s the right lenght and I just like it so much. It’s called Blends, I’m slightly cringing ‘cause it’s a wolfstar fic but I swear it’s good, even though I’m not very involved in Harry Potter stuff for... all the reasons there are, this is still such a good fic.

favourite calming scent: I think there’s a lot, like seas and rain and jasmine flowers, baby powder, steamed vegetables, but maybe my top #1 scent is my brother’s shampoo’s scent that’s all over the house after he showers, it’s such a mundane thing that I’ve been experiencing for so many years it has become a reminder of the fact I’m home.

favourite relaxing or uplifting song: for uplifting songs I have a whole ass playlist on youtube and it’s not even remotely complete, and honestly yea it’s 98% kpop ‘cause that’s the music I listen to more often.

For relaxing I have an opposite playlist and this one isn’t finished either but I often forget to add songs because in this case I usually just put the song on repeat for hours on end so it rarely gets updated tbh.

But there’s so many songs that relax me, like Adam’s song and Bored to death by Blink-182, Saturday sun by Vance Joy, Caelum by Oskar Schuster (this one especially puts me in a trance, sometimes it gives me a headache lmao), Au dessus du volcan by Yann Tiersen, Cloud Atlas’ Sextet, The Handmaiden’s What’s with her, Dancing with eyes closed by Brian Crain and many others tbh, it’d be such a long list, but I’m always happy of talking about music of any kind!

favourite white noise: Ocean for sure! do wind chimes count as white noise? ‘cause those too, the buzzing of cicadas, thunderstorms, strong winds that make the windows rattle, cacciabombardiere airplanes flying over, it’s not really a pleasant sound but I’ve heard it since I was a kid and it has become... calming.

favorite book to get lost in: It has to be the Fairy Oak series written by Elisabetta Gnone, who is also one of the creators of the famous comic book W.I.T.C.H., it’s the first books I’ve ever read at age 7 and as a cancer I live off of my own childhood, so a lot of my favourite things are related to it lmao.

Honorable mentions go to basically all books by Licia Troisi, except maybe the newer ones, Pride and Prejudice and Persuasion by Jane Austen, Anne of Green Gables by L.M Montgomery, I wanna read the other books in Anne’s serie but I’ve been having a hard time reading anything so I’m not sure when that’ll happen, Cicely Mary Barker’s books on fairies have a big place in my heart but they’re monstly illustrations tbh, and I’m sure I’ve forgotten some books but these are already a lot.

favorite chill-out tv show: this one is kinda hard ‘cause although I watch kind of a lot... not many mean a lot  to me? but some I really enjoyed are: Go Back Couple, this one made me cry kind of a lot, but I loved it, Sotus, it’s wholesome, I also love Sotus S, Anne with an E, I swear it’s so good and I really hope there’s gonna be a new season of it although it’s very improbable, the last one left me with some questions unanswered and I’m :( about it

These are some that came up in my head but really I think anything that’s in my #shows tag, also I have a MyDramaList account and a MyAnimeList account too although it’s way less updated than I’d like it to be, it’s just a bit of an uncomfortable site.

the best advice you’ve ever had: I have a short memory and I’ve probably recieved lots of good advice that I 100% forgot, but I guess it was my psychologist’s telling me to not put myself down when I can’t change a situation that is not up to me, and it’s hard to live by it but it’s important to remember.

Again thank you Nico this was fun to do! and again I’m not sure who did this already but I’m gonna tag @sunmorkcafe @iulovbot @altgulf @artisticgrroove @hatake @honeyvanity @diaxia @lqr so basically all of my mutuals, as always don’t feel pressured to do this and if you wanna be tagged just shot me a message or just say I tagged you!

[hpdabbles]

The Benefits of Marriage

“Want to get married?”

Remus jerks his head upwards distantly aware of the crack that comes from his neck. Across from him, Sirius bounces Harry on his knee not even looking at him. He’s making faces for the toddler who giggles in glee, clapping his tiny hands at his godfather.

Did he...image that? 

The werewolf’s hands shake as he tries to act casual. He reaches for the sugar container fingers curling around the ridiculous glass bulldog set Sirius insisted on. It's a familiar weight, so familiar Remus often wonders when Sirius’  house became home.

Sometime after the Potters’ funeral maybe. Marlin did that thought still hurt. It burned, in a deep aching open-wound way. James was one of his best mates, maybe the first of the Marauders to try to break through Remus’ walls. Certainly, the first of all his classmates to offer a nervous shy kid a smile, curled with mischevious intent but friendly and inviting. 

Sirius and Pettigrew came afterward, trailing behind the then Potter heir and the best years of his life began. When the War broke out and the Order of Phoniex rose Remus was terrified they wouldn’t be able to get off the battlefield together, that while he was fighting for his life one of the Marauders would fall.

He wanted them all to see the end of that awful war. Wanted his family to live. His parents cared for him but he knew deep down they hated his wolf side, knew they could never get past it. Remus didn’t feel as loved as he did with the Marauders, they may not have been blood but they were family, pack. 

He was closer to them then he ever was to his parents. He mourns James more than his own father, wasn’t that just sad?

He just wanted them to see peace, to watch Harry grow up without the fear of raids, disappearances or bloody battles. They almost did, made it through nearly all the years when the Potters had to go into hiding and a suspected spy broke the Order’s sense of security. 

Remus hates himself a little for suspecting Sirius, to have the nerve. 

In the end, James and Lily didn’t get to see the peace after the war. Pettigrew betrayed them, and the couple will never see Harry grow up. Luckily Sirius would be there for the boy, but a small part of him knew that his best mate would never be over James’ death.

It was a secret the two shared, one night after James recited some poetry of Lily’s hair. Sirius had clapped his back, grinning ear to ear but entirely fake, when he finished reading. Remus hadn’t been the only one to notice but he was the only one that knew why. Padfoot had climbed into his bed later that night when the other two were asleep and confessed his secret: He was in love with James. 

Remus had told him, in turn, he liked females and thought of smooching males sometimes, maybe when the lighting hit certain guys just right. Sirius had a laugh with tears streaming down his face claiming it was not the same thing but thanks Lupin.

 It was their secret.

The one they kept all throughout Hogwarts, through James and Lily’s wedding and through the funeral. Remus wasn’t sure if Sirus ever told someone else but he got the impression he was the only one who knew about the pureblood’s feelings for James. 

Now a year after, the two had been slowly rebuilding their lives. There not be a week where Remus wasn’t around the Black household. It really was home in a way, he supposes. 

“Remus?” Sirius says finally getting Harry to eat his carrots. The three-year-old munches on them while pretending to be a dragon and Remus’ heart melts a little.  

“Yes?”

“Want to get married?”  

The werewolf blinks  “What?”

Harry throws a hand up, always eager to join in conversations with a cheerful question  “PadDad? Will Moonpa be your wife?”

Moonpa? When did Harry start calling him that!? He knew about PadDad since Sirius nearly broke his ears with the screech he released the first time Harry uttered it but he never heard the little pup give him a nickname. 

His cheeks are turning a rapid hue of red he knows it but he can’t seem to get his jaw to get off the floor nor get his tongue to work. 

Sirius rubs Harry’s hair, ignoring Remus’ little flattered embarrassment  “Well not a wife. Moonpa would be called my husband.” 

“Why?”

“Remus is a man, and when a man gets married, he’s called a husband.”

“Why?”

“I’m not too sure. It’s just how it is.” Sirius shrugs taking Harry’s question seriously as he struggles to think of an answer. “I think it’s so they can tell if someone is a boy or a girl.”

“Oh. That’s stupid.” Harry is quick to say wrinkling his nose  “They can just ask if someone is a boy.”

“It is” The older man laughs. At that moment the light hits him just right, reflecting off the blue cabinets of the kitchen, highlighting his features. Sirius home is very muggle with small barely there hints of magic, sort of reminding Remus of his own childhood house, but it’s warm and wild as the man who owns it. 

This, right here, is why Remus often finds himself coming over so much.

The pureblood is so patient with the little one, so caring and attentive. He’s a good godfather, loves Harry like his own, and sometimes just watching them is worth all the struggle he goes through.   

The invention of Wolfbane made things easier, sure, but he was a second class citizen. There are some days where he wonders if he will ever be able to find a job. He is qualified but he can’t be caught as a creature, he would lose so many rights and thus he’s reduced to searching for low paying, hard working odd jobs.

 “So Moonpa will be your husband?”  Harry asks bitting his little carrot sticks with wide green eyes.  “Does that mean he will live here?”

“Well...” Sirius starts eyes catching Remus’ startled ones. There is a strange emotion in them, one he can’t identify. For a moment neither say anything until Sirius gently tells Harry to bring the drawing he made for the werewolf.

Recently the toddler has gotten into art and shoots off to his room eager to show the newest piece. As he runs up the stairs Sirius calls out a quick “Careful! No running!” before he rests his chin in his hands studying the man across from him with that Black intensity that makes any person uneasy.

Remus has yet to speak because that intensity usually makes him hot under the collar. Makes words hard in his youth when he first notices the lighting on Sirius, makes them harder now when the spotlight never seems to move away from his best mate nowadays.

He only ever wants to kiss a bloke when the lighting hits them just right doesn’t he?

“So the silence is not a yes but it’s not a no either Moony”  

Unbelievably, this makes him irritated, breaking him out of that dazed admiring.  “What do you want me to say Padfoot? Marriage? Out of nowhere? We aren’t even dating!”

“We’re not.” Dark locks bob in a nod and the werewolf curls his hands on the table. Otherwise, he would do something stupid, like reach out and pat down the little patch that sicks up. “But no one knows that. We act like we do anyway. What with you spending so much time here, going to eat with us in public, the way Harry adores you and the fact we’ve been attached to the hip since the second year. It wouldn’t be much of a surprise if we married I reckon.”

“People talk,” He says heart hammering away and utterly off balance  “doesn’t mean we jump into a marriage if that’s all they assume!”

Sirius flashes him a smile. “Since when have I ever cared what people say? No, I want to marry you. No one is peer pressuring me into this.”

Oh. 

Something must have shown on his face because his friend cools his expression into something more serious. Upstairs they can hear Harry padding around, likely distracted with a toy or unable to locate the drawing.  “Remus I thought this through the other night and realize something that’s been staring at me since the fourth year.”

Heat pools into his stomach and Remus can barely breathe. He knows. He knows about his feelings for him. How? The half-blood has always been careful, tip-toeing around the urges to reach out and touch, to look away before the affection in his gaze turn too big. 

Sirius leans forward like he’s about to go over the table. Remus wonders if he’s planning on kissing him, and the brown hair man wishes he could have at least check his breath.  

Teenager Remus would have died if his crush had kissed him while he had bad breath. Hell Adult Remus may as well self combust. 

Did this mean Sirius liked him romanticly too-  “Tax benefits”

“What?”

“Tax benefits” The other repeats “We would get good ones. You get citizenship too.”

“What?”

Sirius shakes his head as if it’s Remus being odd. He’s not the one that throws a normal light lunch into the gutter without of left field marriage ideas!  “We get married, by Pureblood laws that would take you off the Creature Listing, especially if it’s into a Noble and Acenint house. I get a break on my taxes and Harry gets a second guardian in case anything happens to me. Everyone is happy.” 

“Wait, wait, wait” shaking his hands, he tries not to pay attention to the utter anguish that rips through his chest. “You want to get married for the benefits?”

“Yeah.”

There is a lure in the conversation before a hissed “Fucking dammit Black.”  breaks the air.  

Remus isn’t sure if he’s going to cry or punch the idiot across from him. Sirius looks utterly confuse, what fucking nerve. He stands so quickly his chair falls over, rage gripping his insides into something raw.  “Did you seriously think I would marry for benefits!?”

“Wait you didn’t hear all of them”  Sirius tries to say backpedaling when he realizes he upset him.

“I don’t care-”

“One of the benefits is my love.” And just like that, the wind in Remus’ sails die as he gapes.  Sirius turns a bright red, flustered in a way he’s never seen before but he keeps eye contact. “I do. Have for years but it’s been more..intense this last one. I love you, Remus. I want to marry you. I want to build a life together. I want to raise Harry together. Maybe we can even blood adopt later on too. I love you and I think you love me...so please...marry me?”

Oh.

“I also want tax breaks”

Oh, he’s going to hex him.

It’s no surprise that two months later Remus is staring in a mirror at himself wearing a white suit wondering for the life of him, why he didn’t demand a better proposal. Sirius gave in to a Muggle-style wedding maybe he would be okay to be more romantic. 

At least Harry was happy to be the ring bearer. Cute, pup walking around in his little suit and waving at everyone who looks his way with a bright smile. Now, he’s charming. Unlike his godfather. 

“Grow up to be a heart breaker, Harry. Better one then your PadDad.”

The little one nods his head, seriously taking the command at face value. “Okay, Moonpa. I’ll be better”

That’s his boy.

[tobesolonely]

birthday dinner

summary: harry and y/n’s daughter turns seventeen and reveals she has a boyfriend within the timespan of like, 2 days, and harry cannot process it </3

a/n: this gif has nothing to do with the story i just think he looks so hot❤️ i literally wrote this all today it just came to me... kinda proofread but kinda not?! 

warnings: no smut but like one very brief mention of sex, fluff, maybe like 1 angsty part? kinda? not really , mentions of drinking alcohol

word count: ~3.6k 

my ko-fi! thank you :)

let me know your thoughts!!

When you and Harry excitedly told your family and friends almost seventeen years ago that you were expecting your first (and unbeknownst to you at the time— your only) child, you were both over the moon. The people in your life who already had children told you to cherish every moment, the good and the bad because she’d be all grown up before you knew it. You took everyone’s advice graciously but of course, as an expectant mom, there was no way for your mind to even think that far ahead. 

Everyone was right, though. 

Now your daughter, Mona, was nearly seventeen— you felt like all you did was blink and she was this independent, beautiful, young woman. She was the perfect mix of both of you. She had her father’s kindness, patience, and determination. She had your willpower, grace, and wit. Neither one of you could be any more in love with the beautiful human being you’ve created. 

In the months leading up to your daughter’s birthday, you constantly badgered her about how she wanted to celebrate. She would always respond with a nice dinner with you and Harry— unlike her father she tended to shy away from attention— but Harry wasn’t on board with the idea of anything that wasn’t a ginormous party.

“She doesn’t want that,” you told him one evening as you were setting the table for dinner. “You know how shy she gets. She’s not like you.” Harry rolls his eyes at your comment. 

“I feel like tha’s supposed to be an insult, but I’ll ignore it,” he leans against the counter, arms crossed. “You only turn seventeen once. We gotta do somethin’ she’ll never forget.”

“Well, we’re not the ones turning seventeen, hmm? That was quite some time ago if I’m not mistaken.” Harry gives you a cheeky grin.

“So happy she’s not anything like us when we were seventeen. ‘Member all the shit we used to get into when we were her age?” 

You laugh, shaking your head as you recall memories from your teenage years. “Yeah, we’re raising an absolute angel compared to what we were.” Your husband hums in agreement, walking the short distance to the dining table to snake his arms around your waist from behind. 

“Speaking of our little angel,” he places wet kisses to your neck. “Still got a bit of time until she’s home from volleyball practice, haven’t we?”

You move away from Harry, giving him a warning look. “You’re insatiable, I swear! I’m still recovering from last night,” Harry laughs at how dramatic you were being. “We’re not as young as we used to be, y’know.”

“Oi, don’t remind me, love,” he places a quick smack to your butt, walking out of the room before you can reprimand him. 

Just as you finish tossing the salad and reach for your phone to check and see where your daughter is, she walks through the front door, tossing her sports gear in a messy pile at her feet.

“Mom, dad,” she calls loudly. “I’m home!” 

“You don’t have to tell us,” Harry calls back from upstairs, probably in his office. “Can smell you from all the way up here.” 

You giggle silently to yourself, already able to see the look of annoyance on your daughter’s face. She rounds the corner and appears before you in the doorway of the kitchen, her curly hair a mess and her face slick with sweat. 

“Hi mom,” she chirps sweetly, a dimpled grin on her face. “What’s for dinner? I’m starving, mom. Our coach made us run sooooo much today and we had to do all this conditioning and my legs literally feel like jelly.”

Your daughter reaches her hand in the salad bowl to grab a cucumber and you quickly slap it away, tsking loudly. “Mona! I haven’t seen you wash your hands yet!” 

“Mom, my hands are clean. I used hand sanitizer when I got in my car after practice,” she tells you matter-of-factly, rolling her big, brown eyes at you. “You’re such a germaphobe.” 

“What’s this ‘bout callin’ your mum a germaphobe?” Harry walks into the kitchen, his curls now pulled back with one of his daughter’s many headbands. He presses a kiss to the top of her sweaty head and wrinkles his nose. “Yeah Mo, you smell a bit. Why don’t you go get washed up before we eat?” 

“Dad,” your daughter responds, clearly exasperated. “You don’t understand. I’m literally starving.” 

“Mo,” Harry imitates your daughter. “You don’t understand. You literally smell like shit.” 

Your eyes widen and you smack Harry on the chest as he bursts out laughing, not being able to help himself once he sees the annoyed look on his daughter’s face. “Don’t be an ass!” you scold, placing your hands on your hips. “She’s hungry. She can wash up after.” 

“Thanks, mom,” Mona says, turning her head dramatically to face you. “Dad is so mean sometimes.”

“I’m just messin’ with ya, Mo,” Harry tells your daughter, nudging her gently. “You smellin’ like shit jus’ means you’re workin’ hard at practice. So I’m proud of you.” Your daughter rolls her eyes for what seems like the hundredth time since she walked in the door, quickly moving away from your husband to wash her hands.

“You’re seriously so annoying,” Mona mumbles, shaking her wet hands all over the tiled kitchen floor. “Can we eat now? I think I’ll faint if we don’t eat now. Seriously, guys.”

Your daughter takes her usual seat at the table, immediately reaching for the salad bowl and filling her plate. She avoids all the tomatoes and onions, opting for just lettuce, carrots, and cucumbers. She watches you closely as you take the lasagna out of the oven and you swear you see her drool a little bit.

“So,” Harry says after you and Mona have fixed your plates. “Your birthday’s comin’ up, Mo.”

Mona shoves a big forkful of lasagna in her mouth, wiping her mouth with a paper towel before speaking. “Yeah, two days.” She has a big smile on her face. “I’m so excited, dad. Did you and mom look into that place I showed you? For dinner?”

“Yeah, about that,” Harry takes a sip of water. “Y’sure you just want a dinner? No party? Your mum and I can put together a party for you last minute with no problem, bub.”

“Dad, I already told you that I’m not really into parties like that.”

“But you’re turnin’ seventeen.”

“How is it any different from sixteen?”

“Mo–”

“Harry,” you interrupt, placing your hand over his. “It’s her birthday. If she just wants a nice dinner with us then so be it.”

“Actually…” your daughter looks between the both of you. “I wanted to know if I could bring a friend.”

“‘Course y’can, Mo,” Harry’s eyes light up. “You can bring as many people as you want, darlin’. Jus’ lemme know ahead of time so I can make the reservations…” He trails off, already making a mental note to ask his assistant about making reservations for Mona’s restaurant of choice.

“Well,” Mona begins picking at her cuticles, one of her nervous habits. “It’s just one friend. Uh, a boy. I mean, I guess he’s more than a friend. He’s kinda like, my boyfriend?” Your daughter has a giddy look on her face, but it’s quickly replaced with that of fear when she sees the incredulous look her father has.

“A boyfriend? You have a boyfriend, Mona?” he slams his fork down on his plate. “Since when? What did your mum and I tell you about dating?”

“I don’t know dad, it’s new! Why do I have to wait until I’m in college to date but you and mom have been together since you were my age? How is that fair?” Your daughter is staring back at your husband, beyond irritated.

“I know what sixteen-year-old boys are like, Mo! I was one!” Harry raises his voice. “Absolutely not, Mona. You’re not allowed to date and he’s not allowed to join us.”

“He’s seventeen, for your information. And anyway, I’m sure sixteen-year-old boys are different today than they were fifty years ago,” your daughter retorts, standing up and grabbing her plate of food. “I’m eating in my room. You’re being annoying.”

“I just turned forty and you know it, Mona,” Harry calls after her. Your daughter says nothing in response and you’re met with the sound of her door slamming shortly after. Harry looks at you in disbelief. 

“Did you not hear anything our daughter just said, Y/N?” the vein in his forehead is prominent and you know your husband is just as upset as Mona is.

“I did,” you start slowly, not wanting to add fuel to the fire. “I mean, she has a point. Why did we decide she wasn’t allowed to date until college when we were together at her age?”

“Y/N,” Harry says, clearly annoyed. “We were jus’ talkin’ about the shit we used to get into when we were her age. Isn’t that what bein’ a parent is? Not wanting your kid to make the same bad choices as you did?”

You scoff at your husband. “So now you’re saying our being together was a bad choice?”

“Love, you know that’s not what I meant.”

“Harry,” you sigh. “We can’t shelter her forever. That’s not fair to her. She needs to go out and make mistakes and have fun and figure things out for herself. Who knows, this boy could be the man she–”

“Please don’t,” Harry cuts you off, knowing what you were getting at. “I don’t even want to think about that.”

“Harry, I think you know that we need to give this guy a chance. We can’t make any judgments until we meet him for ourselves, and I think Mo’s birthday dinner would be the perfect time to do that.”

“But Y/N,” your husband whines, clearly completely against the idea. “I don’t wanna encourage it.”

“You’re being a child,” you tell him, annoyance lacing your voice. “Mona’s bringing her boyfriend to her birthday dinner and that’s that. If we meet him and he’s just a terrible human being, then we can re-visit this conversation. If you don’t think you can be an adult and be supportive of our daughter’s relationship, just keep it to yourself.”

“Y/N–”

“I’m eating dinner somewhere else, too,” you tell him, standing up from the table and grabbing your plate. “You can join me when you want to be a mature adult. Oh, and apologize to our daughter.”

“Love–”

Slam!

The tension in your household is thick in the two days leading up to your daughter’s birthday. Whenever Harry enters a room she’s in she quickly leaves, not wanting to talk to her father. Harry doesn’t make any effort to speak to her, either. Harry upsetting your daughter, in turn, makes you upset with him. You find yourself much quicker to snap at him than you usually are. He busies himself with work to distract himself from the fact that both of you are pissed at him.

On the morning of your daughter’s birthday, there’s still tension, but you and Harry try to put it aside for the sake of Mona. 

“Happy birthday to you,” Harry sings quietly as you enter your daughter’s bedroom, a big stack of pancakes with a ‘17’ candle stuck in the top in your hands. “Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday dearest Mona, happy birthday to you.”

You both sit on the edge of your daughter’s bed as she groans, pulling her comforter up higher over her head. “You guys, it’s so early.”

“Mona, don’t be a grouch! You’re seventeen today,” you hand Harry the plate of pancakes, pulling her covers down. “C’mon missy, make a wish.”

Mona sits up and tries to give you both her best annoyed-face but you know she’s not actually mad, far too excited about her birthday, and the day ahead of her. She was just telling you the night before how happy she was that her birthday fell on a Saturday this year, too.

She closes her eyes for a brief second before blowing out the candles on her birthday pancakes. “Thanks, mom and dad. I feel like things have been a little bit, I dunno, weird? Since I told you about Noah. I really love you both though. I’m sorry I didn’t talk about things with you first.”

Harry leans over to place a kiss on the top of her head. “‘M sorry I blew up on ya like that, princess. It’s jus’ hard for me to know you’re growin’ up. Your happiness is the most important thing in this world to me though so if he makes you happy, I’m gonna give him a chance.”

You smile at the sweet moment between your husband and daughter. At the end of the day, your daughter was a huge daddy’s girl and although you gave both of them a hard time about it, nothing made your heart more full than their special bond.

“Dad, you’ll seriously love him. He’s literally so funny,” she gushes and Harry just nods, taking a bite of her pancakes. “He’ll even laugh at your dad jokes. Like, he thinks shit like that is funny.”

“Language, Mo,” Harry warns. “He really likes dad jokes, though?” Your husband sounds a little too hopeful, causing you to giggle.

“Yeah, dad. He always tries to tell me his jokes and I’m just like, ‘Ew, stop! You sound like my dad!’. Oh, he loves One Direction by the way.”

“What about my solo stuff?”

“He thinks it’s cool,” she says nonchalantly, causing you to stifle more laugher. Harry continues nibbling on her pancakes, a troubled look on his face. “Can you guys go out while I change? I’ll be downstairs in like, two seconds.”

“Sure thing, Mo,” you tell your daughter, taking her plate of pancakes from Harry before he eats them all. “Do you want me to make your coffee or anything?”

“It’s okay, mom. Noah said he was gonna drop off coffee for me this morning,” she looks down, a small smile on her face. “I guess you and dad can meet him before dinner then if you want?”

You see Harry tense up slightly out of the corner of your eye but he surprises you by staying calm. “Sounds great, poppet. Your mum and I will be downstairs.” He places a quick peck on your daughter’s cheek and quickly walks out of her room, leaving you to follow after him.

“You okay?” you ask him quietly once you’re out of earshot of your daughter’s room. He nods quickly.

“Yeah love, all is well,” he assures, but his facial expression says otherwise. 

“I’m sure Mona was just giving you a hard time. I’m sure Noah enjoys your solo stuff just like anyone else does.” You try to reassure your husband, standing on your toes to give him a kiss. You feel Harry smiling into the kiss and you pull back, a look of confusion on your face. “What’s wrong?”

“S’not that, love,” he says. “I jus’ wasn’t ready to meet him now. Thought I had all day to mentally prepare.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” you warn, moving to pour yourself a cup of coffee. “Please don’t do anything to embarrass her.”

“I know, Y/N,” Harry says exasperatedly. “I’m not that terrible. I know how to control–”

“He’s here,” your daughter informs the both of you as she runs down the stairs and hurries by. You catch a whiff of the expensive Gucci perfume Harry got you a couple of years prior and you make a mental note to tell Harry to pick her up a bottle of her own when he gets the chance.

Harry’s face is a little pale and if you didn’t know any better, you’d of thought he just saw a ghost. “Are you okay, H? It’ll be okay.” You rub small circles on his back. Your daughter flings open the door and immediately envelops her boyfriend in a tight hug and you can’t help but let out an audible, ‘aw’. He has balloons, coffee, donuts, and a card that you’re sure your daughter will never let either one of you ever read.

She invites him inside, bouncing from excitement and what you assumed to be nerves. “Mom, dad. This is Noah.”

He immediately extends his hand, nearly dropping Mona’s coffee in the process. He chuckles nervously and quickly hands it to her before holding his hand out again. “Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Styles. It’s, um, it’s nice to meet you both. Uh, thank you for allowing me to join in on Mo’s birthday dinner tonight.” 

You reach out to shake his hand and give him a warm smile. “It’s so nice to meet you, Noah. Please, call me Y/N– I feel like Mrs. Styles kinda makes me sound a bit old.” Mona rolls her eyes at this, taking a sip at her coffee. There’s an awkward silence and you nudge Harry, waiting for him to say something.

“Mr. Styles is fine with me. It’s great to meet you, Noah,” Harry says gruffly. Noah nods and looks over at Mona, clearly uncomfortable. 

“We’re gonna go upstairs,” she informs you, grabbing Noah’s hand and leading the way.

“Door stays open,” Harry calls after her. “Don’t let me come upstairs and see your door’s closed, Mona.”

Your daughter turns to look at you, widening her eyes in embarrassment. You shake your head at Harry and go back to fixing your cup of coffee. “Harry, you’re so horrible. I’d be mortified if I was them.”

“Good. That’s what I was tryin’ to do,” he goes next to you and picks up your coffee mug, taking a sip. “S’good. Can I have this one?”

“Harry!” you give him an amused look. “Make your own cup!”

“You make it taste so good though, love,” Harry gives you that look that he knows you can never say no to, and you sigh before giving in and handing him the cup of coffee you just made.

“Whatever happens with Mo and Noah, I hope he’s not as big of a fuckin’ pest as you are.”

“This place is amazing,” you tell your husband, completely in awe. You were out to dinner at the tallest rooftop restaurant in all of Los Angeles, seventy-three floors above the ground. You could look out and see the entire city and although you were normally terrified of heights, the view left you speechless.

“Mo’s the one that picked it,” he tells you, leaning over to whisper in your ear. He has his arm slung around you as he gently rubs your shoulder. “Gonna drink with me tonight, hm? They got some fancy soundin’ drinks on this menu.”

“One drink,” you emphasize. “I don’t wanna wake up with a hangover.”

“Mom, isn’t this place so cool? Can you take a picture of us?” your daughter hands you her phone, leaning closer to Noah. You feel Harry tense beside you but he doesn’t say anything.

“It’s very cool, Mona. I think you have expensive taste like your dad,” you joke, holding up her phone. “Okay, one, two, three.”

You snap multiple pictures of your daughter, remembering how she always told you that the only way to take pictures was to take at least twenty at a time to leave options open when deciding which picture to post on Instagram. You hand the phone back to Mona and she thanks you, analyzing the pictures with her boyfriend. Their heads are touching and your expression softens as you think back to how you and Harry always found reasons to be close to each other when you were your daughter’s age.

The night goes beautifully. Your daughter has a big smile on her face the entire time and Harry even refrains from being unnecessarily overprotective, opting to let Mona enjoy herself and be close to her boyfriend. The more drinks he throws back the more he engages in conversation with Noah, even answering his burning questions about One Direction.

When the waitress comes around to give Mona her slice of birthday cake and sing ‘Happy Birthday’ with the wait staff your husband is singing the loudest, slightly off-tune due to how inebriated he was. Your daughter laughs, hiding her face in her hands.

“Mom, dad’s being embarrassing,” she groans. You know she’s not actually mad but you nudge him, warning him to knock it off.

As you’re getting ready to leave, Harry tells everyone to wait, hiccuping before speaking. “Wait. I’ve got somethin’ to say.” He’s slurring slightly and you laugh, signaling for your daughter and Noah to sit back down.

“Noah,” Harry starts. Mona gives you a worried look and you’re debating whether or not you should interrupt Harry, not knowing what he was going to say. “I’ve seen the way you’ve been lookin’ at Mo all night and makin’ her laugh. Swear she hasn’t stopped smilin’ since we got here. I like that, Noah.” You decide not to interrupt your husband’s drunken rambling. 

“Thank you, sir–”

“I had my doubts at first,” he continues on, taking another sip of his drink. “What dad wouldn’t? She’s my baby girl. Don’t care if she’s seventeen, she’ll be my baby ‘til the day I die. You make her so happy though, and I appreciate that.” He holds up his finger, gesturing for them to give him a second while he thinks about his next words.

“Don’t call me sir, makes me sound old. Call me Harry.”

[grumpkinvicky]

Papyrus

An attempt to write something different that just veered back to what I usually write. ;)

“What are you doing?” Harry did not want to share what he was doing to the very nosy Ron, no Harry was very happy keeping what he was doing a secret, thank Ron very much.

“Nothing.”  He was not doing nothing at all, in fact, what he was doing was very important, but still, Ron didn’t need to know at all.

“You are doing something, you are always so secretive now, you would have thought that being married to my sister, you’d have learnt to share a bit more mate,” Ron said rudely.  

“No,  I’m not doing anything, why are you even here? Hermione kicked you out again? Wouldn’t blame her if she had,” the last part Harry was reasonably sure he’d muttered.

“Oi, no, not at all. Just she wanted the house to be quiet and said you might want some company while Ginny was out of town with the kids, can see that she was wrong. Apparently you’ve taken after your new hero and turned into a complete berk!” This was the problem, as soon as Harry didn’t want to talk about something, it turned into a fight with Ron about how Snape was all Harry talked about. Which wasn’t true in the slightest, it was just something he’d used as a convenient get out of a conversation fast technique, that he’d overused, a lot, after the whole coming back from the dead. There were days and weeks now that went by where he forgot all about the old bastard.

“Look, Ron, it’s something to see you, but could you find something else to do? Charlie was supposed to be visiting your mum, why don’t you go bother him?” Harry had about an hour to get this done; otherwise he’d have to wait a whole bloody year, and Ron was ruining it for him.

“I can’t believe I was even your best man, you are a complete and utter berk, you know that right. And she’s your mum too, right well, see you never!” Finally, the prat had departed, and Harry was able to pull out the letter again.

Dear Father Christmas,

I know I am a bit old for all this now, but I have been a very good boy/man for years now. As you are aware, me and Ginny are on the outs, and well, we both agreed that if we both found our true soulmates, we could stop living a lie. As you know, from watching us all the time, please don’t watch me in the bathroom, Ginny has found hers and now is nagging me all the time to find mine.

We both know who it is, so… Yeah, please can you fix it for me that I get mine back now? Otherwise I am never going to hear the end of it?

Best wishes to the family,

Harry Potter aka the boy who didn’t learn to die

P.s. could you not watch me in the bedroom when I’m alone either, it’s a bit rude.

There, and not a moment too soon. The special “owl” which was more like a miniature reindeer accepted the carrot and a pet, before whisking the letter off. All he needed to do now was wait a couple of months, remember to put plenty of mince pies and alcohol out, not brandy because everyone left brandy. Then they could finally move on with their lives. He couldn’t wait.

“Oliver’s coming in the morning,” Ginny called into his bedroom.

“Great,” Harry had lost track of the days.

“We promised to introduce the kids tomorrow, you haven’t forgotten, have you?” She stuck her head through the door and was glaring.

“No, tomorrow, yes, Wood’s coming over,” Harry was busy trying to finish off the reports that had suddenly appeared as he was trying to leave for the day. He’d refused to spend all night in the office, so had chosen to bring the home, tackling them as soon as the kids had eaten.

“You promised to have your paramour, although you could at least let me have some idea who they are?” Ginny had turned the tone to wheedling from nagging.

“What?”

“Harry, whoever it is you’ve found to replace me, so I don’t look like the villain.”

“Oh, yes, definitely - what time?” Harry had forgotten entirely.

“After breakfast but before presents, so we can distract them with shinies, little goblins that they are,” Ginny said with an affectionate grin. They weren’t that bad, but put the right thing down, and they were pretty oblivious.

“Definitely, completely and utterly.”

“I’ll skin you alive if you fail,” she warned.

“Mhmm,” he vaguely agreed.

“You did get more mince pies, right? Ron ate the last lot we had in, I did send you a message about it.” Harry vaguely remembered receiving it. He’d picked up enough mince pies to feed the entire clan for the whole holiday period, not precisely because Ron had decided to eat everything put in sight as a pregnancy eating, when it wasn’t even Hermione who was pregnant.

“Yes, dear,” he nodded, returning his attention to the papers. He’d finish the pile off, put out the pies and rum that promised to put hairs on hairs, then crawl into bed. The Night Before Christmas tradition, and stockings stuffed was already done.  All he’d need to do was to fall asleep and hope he’d been good enough; otherwise, he wouldn’t see past breakfast.

“Potter, you better explain what in Merlin’s crinkly ballsack I’m doing here,” he was woken to a snarling female, smacking him on the chest. Shit, he’d been convinced he was secretly gay and harbouring a crush on Snape, or even Lupin.

“Uh, hi?” He didn’t even remember what she was called. This was embarrassing.

“Morgana Le Fay, you don’t even know who I am, do you? Blasted Saint Potter, there weren’t many of us in our year, and you, you prize prick were one of the few who actually survived.” She was tall and looked a bit like Morgana Le Fay. It didn’t help at all. She wasn’t a Gryf that much he was certain, if only because he saw them the most.

“No?” She was scowling at him now.

“I should let you squirm, I really should.” Slytherin, a Huff would have told him, and so would a Claw, but Slytherin would let him squirm to see how far they could push him.

“Pansy?” Wrong guess, as he was hit by a book.

“Greengrass?” Yeah, he couldn’t afford to be wrong again, only his natural seeker instincts saved him from being smashed in the head by an ugly vase his aunt had gifted him after they’d reunited thanks to Hermione interfering.

“You are a total self-absorbed bastard of the nth degree, you know that.” She’d stopped throwing things, and had her wand out. He was either dead, or she was going to leave. Either way, he was screwed.

“No - you need to stay!” She didn’t seem to care, and was busy straightening out her very well-fitting robes. Very well-fitting, maybe it wasn’t that he was secretly gay, perhaps he just was secretly into giants. It would explain how Hagrid came to be… he was desperately trying not to think of what she might look like under the robes, because he wanted to get out of the bed with his dignity in tact.

“I need to do no such thing, Potter.” She spat his name like a curse, although he had just guessed her name wrong twice. And come to think about it wasn’t Malfoy married to a Greengrass?

“I’ll beg?” If in doubt try begging with Slytherin, he’d learnt early on that it usually eased the issue.

“No,” huh, begging had worked for getting Malfoy to actually sign documentation. It’d worked on Zabini as well when they’d had the whole misunderstanding that had the best sweet talker trying to leave the department, a round of begging had Zabini reconsidering.

“Anything, I will do anything,” he offered, and he was blaming the fact that Ginny would skin him alive in front of his children if he failed to produce a paramour. The gleam in his mystery, love’s eyes didn’t even put him off, because as Snape would say, he never did think before he spoke.

“Anything at all, alright. Shake on it, and then we shall see.” Her hand did what her body promised it could do, drowned his. Not gay, not gay at all. Very much interested, and she looked amused by it.

“If I grovel, will you tell me your name?” Preferably before Ginny waltzed in and demanded he get dressed and an introduction.

There was an awkward pause, where she looked at him as if she was considering making him grovel too.  “Millicent Bulstrode,” she said plainly. Fuck. “I hit my inheritance while you were off playing hero,” inheritance?

There was a knock at the door, and then the sound of small feet pounding down the landing followed by squeals.

“Uh - look, can you just play along, and I will explain everything later?” Because a Slytherin could play along, they were experts at it. Thank Merlin.

“Harry, kids, are awake, you need to be down in two,” Ginny didn’t open the door, which was a small mercy as Millicent watched him.

“Coming,” he could feel himself flushing as she smirked.

“Only if you’re good,” she purred, and boy did he react. Yeah, very interested in Millicent.

Wood wasn’t there yet, the stockings were opened with Millicent staying out of the way in his room, no doubt reading through all the reports. There wasn’t anything confidential or not terribly. Or worse, she’d be going through his clothes, and find the stash of dubious literature he’d been collecting in the event of meeting his soulmate and learning a whole new way of thinking. Still, he was probably always going to be the bottom regardless, and he didn’t mind one bit.

“Wood’s on his way over, you better have yours coming too,” Ginny pulled him aside to hiss in his ear. The kids were paying as much attention to them as they usually did.

“She’s upstairs, didn’t want to interfere.” Ginny hugged him, which was as close as they’d been for months. “Should have said, sorry,” he wanted to apologise. Because he knew how worried Gin had been over the whole ordeal. After they’d decided that it wasn’t working, when she found someone it did work with, she’d gotten funny with him, as if it was his fault he hadn’t. Which maybe it had been, he’d not bothered to go and look anywhere, because they were out of reach.

The floo flashed, and Wood stepped out, looking nervous. Harry held his hand up in greeting, which only made the man tenser.

“I’m going to go get Millicent,” he said, quickly leaving as Ginny went to calm her future husband down. A Millicent who was stood with his toys lain out on the bed, muttering at a mirror, shit, oh well, he’d opened himself up for this.

“Harry, I was just talking to my guardian about you,” Millicent had a cat got the cream look about her, and his knees trembled.

“Uh, Oliver’s arrived, Ginny wants to introduce him when I introduce you,” he said, not looking at the mirror with a face in it.

“Don’t you want to say Happy Yule to my guardian?” It was a trap, One that he would have to spring, because there was no way out.

“Hello?” He couldn’t make out if they were male, female or neither.

“Potter…” that sound, Merlin and Dumbledore fucking in a whomping willow, he’d not heard that sound in…

“Snape?” He darted forward to peer into the mirror, while Millicent laughed at him.

“You can do better,” Snape drawled.

“Perhaps, but he offered to grovel and then promised me anything, I could hardly refuse.” There was a moment when Harry saw a look of concern pass across the supposedly dead Professors face, a look of concern for him.

“Don’t tell me, the dunderhead vowed it?”

“He shook on it, it took though,” Millicent purred, and Harry couldn’t help but feel the tendrils of fear creep down his spine.

“Potter, you never cease to amaze me to the depths your idiocy will take you to, well the fate is sealed. I expect a fast bonding, once you’ve shaken off the former Mrs Potter that is. No later than Ostara, it will be quiet, none of the fanfare of the first, and it will stick to the old traditions.”

“Yes, Sir,” Harry heard himself say. Bollocks. He’d been so concerned about Ginny not being the villain, that he hadn’t considered for a moment that it would appear to be him.

“I’ll be in touch with your guardian regarding dowry,” Snape continued, as Millicent traced a symbol on Harry’s back.

“My guardian?” He sounded like an idiot. How, after all this time,  had he fallen back into being the unsure schoolboy?

“The wolf,” Snape was dismissive.

“Uh, Sir, he’s dead.” Or so everyone was supposed to believe.

“So am I,” Snape drawled, with the faintest hint of a smirk. “I shall speak to him later, he is far more sensible than the mutt after all.”

“I’ll be by later, leave me some food?” Millicent leant over Harry’s shoulder, and Snape’s face softened.

“Always.”

He didn’t want to have to go through another five hours like the last. Wood had been nervous and awkward, while Millicent had been amused and at ease. It’d caused issues between Harry and Ginny, as Ginny had taken it as an attack on her and Lions, and another tick in the Harry was always a Snake at heart box. He should never have opened his mouth about the blasted hat.

The kids had enjoyed the attention, if nothing else. They weren’t surprised by the news that there would be some reshuffling. Apparently, other children’s parents slept in the same room and kissed each other. Out of the mouth of babes. Neither were any of the Weasley’s when they’d turned up for the rounds. Harry had gotten the “you will always be our child,” speech. He didn’t doubt it, but it hadn’t made matters any easier. Nor had the feud between Ron and Wood over a long-dead rivalry.

Millicent had been received like a dangerous bomb, that no one was prepared to touch in case it blew up in their faces. Longbottom had greeted her by name, after recovering from fright. Charlie had leered, in the subtle way he did to all attractive women when Molly wasn’t watching. But it had been Percy who he was the most concerned over. They’d known each other, in a way that spoke to friendship, or something more. There was nothing… inappropriate about it, but it felt similar to the manner that Ron and Hermione had been once, before they’d coupled up.

“So… you and Percy?” He’d waited long enough for the kids to be kidnapped to see all of the cousins before the big family meal in the evening.

“We dated.” She was lounging on his bed, he’d need to get a bigger bed. A much bigger bed.

“Oh?” He was picking up his dirty socks, and nothing more. He was not kneeling next to the bed as she lay there at all, oh no.

“For a while, we decided that there were too many secrets between us to make it work,” she wasn’t even looking at him. Instead, she was busy flicking through some letters he had by his bed to respond to when he had time. Including one to Luna about the lesser spotted Rotvicy that was currently attacking her Wrackspurts.

“Oh,” his hands felt clammy all of a sudden, and wiping them on his trousers did nothing.

“It was quite amicable, but we did manage to avoid falling back into bed, after the third month,” she sounded so relaxed, and he wanted to look at her but couldn’t bring himself to. He was too… too ashamed. She’d been out there all this time, and he’d had to write to Father Christmas to meet her.

“When did you?”  

“Years ago, we kept in touch, hard not to really.” Which wasn’t reassuring in the slightest.

“Oh?” He was on fire with the conversation, she’d never want to leave him.

“You’ll find out soon enough. So tell me, Harry, how come a prize catch like you has to kidnap almost complete strangers to find a new partner?” She’d rolled onto her stomach, having dropped the letters back where they were.

“Uh, I thought I was gay?” Did he really just say that? “I mean, I’ve been busy with work, and thought that it might work?” He could practically hear Malfoy jeering at him for that resounding success of an answer.

[neverstcp]

behind the mask!

tagged by: @starcrcwns​ tagging: anybody who wants to!

FIRST NAME Sarah

STRANGE FACT ABOUT YOURSELF I met Bill Nye the Science Guy in an airport in Philadelphia, and he was super nice. And really fast, wow.

TOP THREE PHYSICAL THINGS YOU FIND ATTRACTIVE ON A PERSON Smiles, Eyes, and Hair.

A FOOD YOU COULD EAT FOREVER AND NOT GET BORED OF Dude, tacos de adobada. I could eat them for every single meal, and tbh I wish I could.

A FOOD YOU HATE Tomatoes. They’re evil unless they’re in salsa.

GUILTY PLEASURE I got back into Wizard101, a game I hadn’t played since I was like 10. I would say it’s all nostalgia but.. is it really? No.

WHAT DO YOU SLEEP IN Old t-shirts that are too messed up to be used as regular clothes (either bleach stains or faded or like one little rip in it) and no pants. I’ve tried putting on pj pants but they end up coming off in the middle of the night regardless.

SERIOUS RELATIONSHIPS OR FLINGS Your girl’s never been in any sort of romantic relationship (i’m the queen of getting friendzoned), but I definitely lean more towards wanting the serious stuff. 

IF YOU COULD GO BACK IN THE PAST AND CHANGE ONE THING ABOUT YOUR LIFE, WOULD YOU AND WHAT WOULD IT BE I would raise my self confidence levels. I spent almost all of my childhood hating the way my body looked, and I just wish I could tell younger Sarah that the extra weight is okay, and not connected to her value as a person in any way.

ARE YOU AN AFFECTIONATE PERSON Oh, yEAH. I hug people almost as soon as I meet them, and I’m just... very tactile? I have a ton of love to give, and I just.. I have to give it. When I was a kid, my stepmom would get annoyed bc I said ‘i love you’ too much, lmao. I still do, and don’t think I’m gonna stop any time soon.

A MOVIE YOU COULD WATCH OVER AND OVER AGAIN It’s really any movie that has one of my main muses in it, but I always see myself watching one of the Ant-Man movies. It’s one of my favorite things to put on when I need help finding a reason to smile. Completely underrated!

FAVORITE BOOK Mmmmm... this one’s hard. I love The 5th Wave, since that kinda crazy stuff’s right up my alley. Hunger Games and Twilight were staples growing up, too!

YOU HAVE THE OPPORTUNITY TO KEEP ANY ANIMAL AS A PET, WHAT DO YOU CHOOSE I really wanna go and adopt a pitbull! I’ve wanted to for a while. My dream dog is a Shiba Inu, but since there are so many pitbulls who need loving homes they’re always my first choice. 

TOP FIVE FICTIONAL SHIPS [IF YOU ARE AN RP BLOG, YOU CAN USE YOUR OWN SHIPS AS WELL]

Underrepresented Muses x Attention They Deserve

Shuri x Peter (I am trash, we know this)

Poe x Finn (See above point)

Fitzsimmons (Agents of SHIELD)

James Potter x Lily Evans 

PIE OR CAKE Cake! Specifically Red Velvet or Carrot Cake. 

FAVORITE SCENT I love things with vanilla, right now I’ve got a Vanilla Chai candle going and my room smells like heaven.

CELEBRITY CRUSH When I was a little kid it was Corbin Bleu and Nick Jonas. Now it’s Keiynan Lonsdale, Harry Styles, or Niall Horan. Babies, all of them.

IF YOU COULD TRAVEL ANYWHERE, WHERE WOULD YOU GO I wanna go to each continent in my lifetime, so I still have to hit up Asia, Africa, Austrailia, Antarctica, and South America! First on my list is probably Asia, though!

INTROVERT OR EXTROVERT This whole thing has really taught me how much of an introvert I am, but I think I’m more of an ambivert? I’m not really the kind of person that needs to talk to people in person, but I think that if I didn’t have anybody online to talk to, I’d get a bit restless.

DO YOU SCARE EASILY I get startled easily, but not like... nightmare-terrified? Supernatural horror doesn’t get me, but more realistic stuff sometimes does! But yeah, if you successfully sneak up on me I’ll get the shit scared out of me. Every time.

IPHONE OR ANDROID iPhone! I had a Pixel for a while and loved it, but.. had to go back to my baby.

DO YOU PLAY ANY VIDEO GAMES I don’t play that many, but sometimes yeah! I’ve got my old 3DS and my PS4, and I play sims on my laptop. 

DREAM JOB I really, really want to be something in the medical field. I’ve got a ‘need-to-help-people complex,’ and I just think that’s the best way to do it. Right now I’m settled on nursing, but I’ve got respiratory therapy on as a plan b!

WHAT WOULD YOU DO WITH A MILLION DOLLARS Get places for me, my parents, and my siblings. Make sure that nobody in my extended family is below the poverty line. Donate what I can, but also make sure that I’m set for as long as I need to be. 

FICTIONAL CHARACTER YOU HATE Oof. Uh. Dolores Umbridge, bye.

FANDOM THAT YOU WERE ONCE A PART OF BUT AREN’T ANY LONGER I’ve stayed in all the RPCs I’ve ever joined, but fandom itself? Probably Grey’s Anatomy? I loved the show up until about S14? Then I kinda just lost interest. I miss a lot of the first / second gen characters (from around the Seattle Grace/Mercy West era) and they’re almost all gone. It’s not that I don’t like the new characters, but I just don’t think I know them as well as I got to know the others? And I was mad that they messed up Maggie Pierce when I gravitated towards her so quickly. So yeah, Grey’s lmao. I’m still Station 19 trash, but.. I miss being a Grey’s stan.

[hd-fan-fair]

[ Fanworks posted in tropes order here ] 

MASTERLIST OF H/D FOOD FAIR 2018 FANWORKS

ART

1. pygmy-puffy drew Meet Me at 6 (PG-13) Summary: Harry owns a food truck. Draco is a grudgingly regular customer. One day, Harry pushes an unsolicited cake pop in his hand; it comes with a little heart-shaped message attached to the stem: “Meet me on the roof at 6.” 2. anokaba drew Cafe, Custard, & Courting (PG-13) Summary: After agreeing to this fake relationship scheme, the boys meet at a cafe to get their stories straight. Of course they can't help but push each other's buttons. 3. epithalamium (art tumblr) drew 4-Ingredient Recipe for a Relationship (PG) Summary: Because of his childhood with the Dursleys, Harry relationship with food is rocky at best. And then he meets Draco, who loves cooking. 4. girl412 (gothzabini) drew Honey and Apples (PG-13) Summary: When Draco’s ability to taste is cursed away, he loses more than just one of his senses. Who can help him, if not Harry Potter? 5. sugareey drew Weekly Cuisine (PG) Summary: It's routine for Harry and Draco to go to a Muggle restaurant every Sunday to try new foods and catch up. During their exciting dim sum experience, they discover something important they should've laid out on the table in the first place. Also, Harry is a (sneaky) idiot. 6. dustmouth drew Draco Malfoy's Reasonably Large Cucumber (PG-13) Summary: After making yet another drunken wager with Malfoy at the pub, Harry finds himself vying for first prize in the Annual Wizarding Vegetable Competition, an average sized pumpkin in tow. 7. citruskk drew Here Comes the D! (G) Summary: Draco loves his soup, especially when he's sick. However, he hates it when he's too shaky to feed himself so he had to rely on Harry to spoon-feed him the soup. Alphabet soup. It's not helping that Harry always, always picks the D letters first and gleefully say, "open up wide, here comes the D!"

 ART & FIC

1. fantom_ftnoise wrote and drew Once Upon a Time (R, 12725, Same Artist & Author) Summary: This is the story of Hansel & Gretel - er, that is, Harry & Draco.  2. writcraft wrote and phoenixacid drew Slice of Life (NC-17, 16314, Artist & Author Collaboration) Summary: Luna and Ginny are worried about Harry, Greg is a very a fine baker, Snape’s portrait has a lot of opinions and Draco Malfoy is (probably) up to something. In which one man’s love for jam tarts blossoms into a different kind of love entirely.

 FIC

1. ICMezzo wrote Passion Cake (PG-13, 19384) Summary: Once more, with passion. Or, Harry orders a magically enhanced cake from a chic London bakery, except Pansy overcharges him, and then Draco Vanishes it entirely, and really, from there it all goes to hell in a cake tin. And will someone please tell Harry what Passion Cake is? 2. xErised wrote Chasing Treacle Tart (and Draco Malfoy) (NC-17, 23141) Summary: Malfoy, who is sentenced to work as a dinner lady in the Ministry canteen, has an annoying habit of withholding desserts from Harry. Harry puts up with it, but when Malfoy stops him from getting his beloved treacle tart, Harry is determined to do something about it. And Ron? He's really just there for the awkward flirting. 3. Razra_Eizel wrote Birthday Bash (PG-13, 3234) Summary: To cheer Draco up during their Eighth Year, Harry decided to throw him a birthday surprise party, no matter what challenges he may face. 4. bafflinghaze wrote Where There Is Tea (PG-13, 12643) Summary: Somewhere in London, overlooking a garden, sits a little tea room. There, Harry finds tea, distraction, books, conversation, inspiration, himself, and Draco Malfoy. 5. enchanted_jae wrote Feluna (PG-13, 2558) Summary: As the owner of a new bakery, Draco can't afford to turn down business, even if it's with Loony Lovegood's cat cafe. 6. AhaMarimbas wrote The Devil's Aphrodisiacs (PG-13, 3097) Summary: Teddy learns a new word, Harry breaks his favourite coffee mug and Draco loves his little family. Not necessarily in that order. Or, Squirt squirt squirt squirt. Squirtsquirtsquirtsquirtsquirtsquirtsquirt. Squirt??? SQUIRT!!!!! 7. MistyDeath wrote Sweet (S)talker (NC-17, 10296) Summary: Merlin, he’d stalked the asshole for almost a year, you think Harry would have noticed him tongue fucking sugar quills on the daily! 8. JGogoboots wrote A Holiday in Provence (NC-17, 32201) Summary: Harry Potter is turning 50 years old and feeling lonelier than ever. Divorced, retired, and learning he’s not quite as straight as he thought he was, Harry reluctantly accepts a birthday gift from his friends for a week’s stay at an idyllic French vineyard. Too bad Hermione and Ron neglected to mention that the owner of the winery happens to be a certain quick-witted blond Slytherin… 9. maraudersaffair wrote Paidi's Proper Shag (NC-17, 10531) Summary: Draco works at a fast food restaurant. Harry is his worst customer. 10. simplylegilimenss wrote grant that we may feast (in fellowship) (NC-17, 20388) Summary: When the house elves are on strike given Sundays off, a cooking competition ensues in the Hogwarts kitchens every Sunday. Passionate rivalries turn to passionate friendships. Or could it be something more? Or: Draco can’t cook for shit even though he says he can, Pansy and Blaise are also little shits, Hermione Granger is downright scary, Ronald Weasley totally called it, and Draco really needs to stop checking Harry Potter out every chance he gets. 11. lokiperfect wrote There Used To Be A Lightness (PG-13, 3598) Summary: Down on his luck, Draco Malfoy is trying to find a job. It proves more than unsuccessful. Molly Weasley, with all kids now grown up, is trying to start a restaurant. That proves more successful, and makes them cross paths. Harry Potter, running away from memories of the war, returns to London three years later to discover exactly how things have changed. 12. cubedcoffeecake wrote What Happens at the Milk Bar (doesn’t stay there) (R, 10133) Summary: "Draco, look at me. You talk about Potter all the time. Your complaints about him usually just sound like… Well, you tend to give the impression that you don’t like Potter because you find him distractingly attractive and don’t like that you can’t touch.” Meg and Art nodded sagely as Draco’s jaw dropped. “I—what?” “You’re attracted to Potter, Dray,” Meg helpfully supplied. 13. Bangyababy wrote Promising Produce (NC-17, 3068) Summary: Harry knew it was a stupid idea, but Harry'd never been one for listening, even to himself. Now he's standing in Exam Room 3 trying to explain to Draco Malfoy why there's a carrot stuck up his bum. 14. harryromper wrote Let him lead me to the banquet (PG-13, 16066) Summary: The worst part is Harry’s got no idea why Malfoy keeps sending him invites. He’s never replied to a single one. And if the whole dinner is as exclusive and sought-after as the Prophet keeps breathlessly reporting, then presumably the only reason Malfoy wants him there is in his capacity as the Chosen One. So, really, he can fuck right off. Harry doesn’t care about Draco Malfoy’s redemption tour. And he’s certainly not going to help him with it. 15. AhaMarimbas wrote The Godric's Hollow Wizarding Parents Association (NC-17, 26298) Summary: When Draco decided to move his small family to Godric’s Hollow, little did he know he’d have to deal with misleading television programs, some surprisingly friendly neighbours and a bit of peanut butter. Okay, lots of peanut butter. 16. Ingi wrote haunt yourself and refuse to be buried (G, 3354) Summary: Harry Potter is eighteen years old and he is not okay. 17. whiskyandwildflowers wrote Feeling Rough, Feeling Raw (In the Prime of My Life) (NC-17, 7570) Summary: In which Harry has a quarter-life crisis and winds up at a health spa, Malfoy dresses like a cult leader, and everyone consumes a lot of raw greenery. 18. Goldentruth813 wrote Boiling Point (R, 42882) Summary: Ferveret - n. boiling point After an Auror raid gone wrong, Draco ends up trapped in a dodgy safehouse with nothing but Harry Potter’s dubious company and a dwindling supply of food. With only each other and the walls surrounding them, they're forced to confront their past and their feelings which have long been threatening to boil over. 19. PollyWeasley wrote Potter’s Delicacies (NC-17, 4823) Summary: Draco thinks a quiet life is just what he ever needed in his life. He’s got good friends, a nice independent job as an artist, and an exclusive pâtissier just for himself. He doesn’t think much of why Potter likes to feed him treats so often, he’s just that weird. Even if Draco wants to have something with him, Potter is just a nice, good friend who likes to see him enjoying fancy treats. Right? 20. parkkate wrote A picture of ricecake (NC-17, 7030) Summary: After a night of hot sex, Draco wakes up to the smell of Harry cooking. When he eats his food Draco vows that's it, Harry's making him breakfast forever. 21. crazyparakiss wrote Sweet Relief (NC-17, 1708) Summary: It happens on a Tuesday. The most boring, innocuous day of the week. That’s the day when Draco discovers something delectable, something devious...something fun. 22. DoubleAppled wrote Harry Potter and the Showstopper of Doom (R, 11528) Summary: In which Harry’s an amateur baker, Draco wants him to go on the Great British Bake-Off, Petunia never misses an episode, Sue is a witch, Paul Hollywood is Paul Hollywood, and everyone eats a lot — like a whole lot — of baked goods. 23. postjentacular wrote Tectonic (PG-13, 3296) Summary: In which Draco is the unnoticed centre of attention, Harry's unobservant and, (eventually) they talk. 24. maesterchill wrote Eat Me (NC-17, 10954) Summary: Harry's having a terrible morning. That is, until he receives a curious package at work. Inside are two things: a chocolate model of an erect penis, and a note simply saying ‘Eat Me’ in an elegant, inviting script. And Merlin, he’s hungry. 25. Synonym4Life and GingerTodgers wrote The Fair of Artful Pleasure (F.A.P.) (R, 7363) Summary: F.A.P or the Fair of Artful Pleasure is going as splendidly as Harry could have imagined. Which is not splendidly at all. Which is, in fact, the complete opposite of splendid. Two steps in and he's already traumatised for life. And yet, it still manages to go downhill from there: Malfoy is at the fair and he's making Harry lick lube from dildos in front of an audience. As if that wasn't terrible enough, Harry has feelings. 26. jeni_andtheafterthought wrote Out of the Frying Pan into the Fire (NC-17, 22238) Summary: The war may have ended, but Draco was never able to move on with his life. Having no access to his vault and cut off from his friends and family, he is forced to support himself by working jobs in muggle restaurants. With his luck in the gutter and his flat up in smoke, Draco thinks things can't possibly get worse. Harry offers to help, convincing Draco that things could, in fact, get worse. 27. gracerene wrote The Hand That Feeds You (NC-17, 17371) Summary: Harry needs something only Draco can provide. 28. squadofcats wrote Soup-pocalypse and The Great Curry Cataclysm (NC-17, 104357) Summary: Eleven years after the war, Draco Malfoy leads a quiet, boring, and perfectly respectable life, thanks very much. Or, at least he does, until a sudden and very unexpected veela awakening causes him to throw soup all over Harry Potter in the middle of the Ministry cafeteria. 29. RuArcher (coriesocks) wrote Anyone But Him (NC-17, 19323) Summary: Harry thought going to a Muggle university would be the perfect opportunity for a new start. He hadn’t counted on having Draco Malfoy as a flatmate. 30. Magnolia822 wrote The Great Magic Sex Mushroom Fiasco (NC-17, 6789) Summary: Lost in the Siberian wilderness without food, Aurors Potter and Malfoy are forced to improvise, with unexpected consequences . . . 31. timothysboxers wrote The Boy Who Licked (R, 4039) Summary: Draco Malfoy is doing well for himself: he has paid his dues, enjoys his work at the Ministry, and has his feelings safely in check regarding a certain Auror Potter, thank you very much. That is, until he bears witness to the obscene things the man can do with his tongue and a custard filled bun... 32. gnarf wrote The Difference Between Dust And Soup (Is You) (PG-13, 17612) Summary: When Harry returned for his eighth year at Hogwarts he had high hopes that he'd have a normal and quiet year for once—he had earned it after all! But when he found Malfoy starving and unconscious in the Astronomy Tower one night, it all started over again. He had to figure out what happened to him. After Harry started to cook for Malfoy, and while sharing their secret dinner night after night, he couldn't help but wonder if there was a possibility of them becoming more. 33. Blowfish_Diaries wrote How to Handle a Matzo Ball Soup Emergency (R, 22028) Summary: Harry, having left the Wizarding World after his divorce, inherits a deli in a trendy part of London. Draco wanders in and falls in love - with the food. And certainly not with the infuriatingly-fit-father-of-three who runs the place. A tale of growing up and families of choice; of awkward hugs and new best friends. 34. mykesprit wrote Succumb or Retreat (NC-17, 2068) Summary: Draco procures the Forbidden Fruit, and Auror Harry Potter arrives to take it from him. 35. lyonessheart wrote Melange a deux (PG-13, 10006) Summary: This is the story of two men finding love in unexpected places. And lots of delicious food. 36. oldenuf2nb wrote The Chains of Memory (NC-17, 14417) Summary: Harry is growing sicker by the day and Draco wants to know why. 37. Fantasyfiend09 wrote Popular Appetite (G, 16735) Summary: Bad press is destroying Draco’s hotel. There is only one person who can create enough good press to save it. 38. firethesound wrote The Way These Days Seem to Go (And Go) (PG-13, 15112) Summary: Stress baking isn’t a hobby Harry ever thought he’d pick up, but he’s surprised to find how much it helps him to get through those long months post-war. It keeps his hands busy, it keeps his mind occupied, and when Draco Malfoy steadily pushes his way back into Harry's life, it helps with that too. 39. LadyOfTheAttic wrote Cooking Mama (PG-13, 5124) Summary: Harry and Draco are roommates and auror partners but there are certain lines Draco doesn't cross-- namely, he won't let Harry cook for him. This would be fine if Draco didn't live off of frozen dinners and sadness. Harry decides to help with lessons! 40. TheKnitterati wrote The Finest Ingredient (PG-13, 4474) Summary: The Weasley family is in need of help. Help that comes in the form of a rare plant, grown only on the grounds of Malfoy Manor. In order to save the day, Harry might have to flirt with Draco Malfoy. Or worse...they both might have to face up to the reality that they fancy each other. 41. giraffeminion wrote A Hint of Spice (G, 6787) Summary: After the war, Draco breaks ties with the wizarding world to lead a quiet and uneventful life as a financial advisor on the outskirts of Muggle London. His peaceable existence is broken, however, when a damnable food truck sets up shop right outside his front door. 42. groundbreaking wrote Order To Go (R, 17645) Summary: Draco Malfoy opens a new pâtisserie in Diagon Alley, his pastries and desserts are to die for. Harry is the coffee shop owner next door who wants to take Draco home for dessert. Ron is just there for the bread. - in which harry has a sweet tooth, but it isn't for anything on the menu.  43. Sw33tCh377yPi3 wrote Ice Cream (G, 7508) Summary: Sometimes the critical moment passes us by. If we’re fortunate, we get a second—or third—chance. 44. epsilonargus wrote The Right Question (PG-13, 4652) Summary: Harry is having dinner every week with Malfoy - but no, Ernie, they are not bloody dates! 45. Femmequixotic and Noeon wrote Ynys Afallach (I Will Give My Love An Apple) (NC-17, 42472) Summary: Professor Waverley Root's tutorial in the history of magical food is something of a legend at Flamel College. Draco Malfoy wants to apply it to his work in sustainable wizarding agriculture. Harry Potter's taking it for his interest in historical overlap between the magical and Muggle worlds in the West Country. When Root pairs them together, the fireworks (and the apples!) fly. Now if only they can find something original, perhaps they'll make it through to complete their degrees on time. 46. Drarryismymuse wrote The Way to a Man’s Heart (NC-17, 16390) Summary: Draco is released from Azkaban and given one week to find gainful employment...or else. A chance encounter with the ever-meddling Harry Potter changes the course of his week, and ultimately his life. This is a story of mistakes, burnt toast, awkward encounters, rude employees, bold gestures, and a bit of anal. :D 47. milkandhoney wrote Squill & Spoon (R, 19169) Summary: In order to complete the terms of his probation, Draco's mind healer must deem Draco reformed enough to re-enter wizarding society. Squill & Spoon, a new wizarding supper club could be the perfect opportunity — that is, if Harry Potter would stop showing up at his table every. Single. Time. 48. brightowl wrote The Dinner (NC-17, 7795) Summary: Draco had been trying to beat the sunset, walking along the cobblestone road to the Chateau where he would be staying that night, when he saw the door. Le Billet Doux, said a painted red sign. Below it, réservations non requises: ‘no reservations required.’ 49. Wonders wrote The One Where Harry is a Prat (Not Really) (PG-13, 5941) Summary: The one where Harry is a prat, a pig, an incompetent wazzock, an imbecile and ridiculous. Harry hears Draco talking about his favourite flower and buys him a bouquet full of them. Why, then, does he think Harry’s trying to kill him? 50. tigersilver wrote Eighteen Kisses (PG-13, 9436) Summary: Harry is being targeted by a very determined and wily Malfoy, a Malfoy with sly hands and a sweet, sweet mouth. 51. germankitty wrote The Best of Food (PG-13, 16884) Summary: It all started at the Hogsmeade Food Fayre. If some people those idiots Smith and McLaggen hadn't tried to sabotage a few participants, Draco would never have had to put up with having Potter's bread stall jammed in next to his. (And no, that wasn't a pun, thanks ever so.) Because then nobody could have claimed they'd seen him nibble morsels of tasty, delicious home-baked bread directly from Potter's fingers. Or let Potter lick spoonsful of Draco’s exquisite, scrumptious gourmet preserves directly from the jar. Clearly, Pansy, Blaise and Granger those people were quite delusional. At least that's Draco's story and he's sticking to it. 52. potteresque_ire wrote The Kitchen Thieves (and the Kitchen Herself) (NC-17, 67053) Summary: In a deserted cottage miles away from Hogsmeade, a pair of young spirits waited for a new owner to call the place home. One day, Auror Harry Potter bought the cottage. One evening, farm wizard Draco Malfoy showed up to spend the night with Harry… and steal from the kitchen. Why don’t we let Kate tell you their story? She’s the spirit who looks after the kitchen, and she’s got quite a bit to say… 53. sassy_cissa wrote Three Months, Eleven Days and Nine Hours (PG-13, 11029) Summary: Broke and living in a one room hovel in Knockturn Alley, Draco hunts in rubbish bins for food. Nothing could be more humiliating, right? Unless you're Draco Malfoy...

PODFIC

1. semperfiona read Pomegranate (NC-17) Summary: Podfic of "Pomegranate" by treacle_tartlet. More than a decade after the War, Draco makes a triumphant return to the wizarding world as the successful chef/owner of Pomegranate, only to have his world thrown into disorder when Harry arrives unexpectedly in the dining room.