#Harry is besotted

[drarrily-we-row-along]

11. Barefoot

Harry'd never seen Draco with a single hair, a single button out of place.

It was fucking hot, if Harry was being honest, which why wouldn't he be? At least in the privacy of his own head.

Draco was always posh, always pristine; tailored robes and tailored suits, shoes always shined, platinum hair in a perfectly coiffed undercut. It drove Harry wild; desperate to muss him up a bit.

And nothing. Absolutely nothing could have prepared him for what he was currently seeing.

Draco Malfoy was standing by the pool, a strand of (silky, soft) hair hanging over his eye, shirt unbuttoned halfway down his (ridiculously toned) chest, his linen trousers rolled up to expose his (unfairly delicate) ankles. And he was barefoot.

Godric. Harry didn't have a thing for feet but something about seeing Draco's made him want to fall to the ground at his feet and never move. They were very pretty, honestly; delicate, long, slender, with graceful high arches. And it made him look strangely vulnerable.

Harry ached with it.

"Potter," Draco said, long fingers snapping at him.

His eyes snapped up to Draco's face to find the other man smiling at him in that peculiar way he did sometimes. All exasperated fondness, eyes crinkling at the corners. "Mmm?" he managed inelegantly.

"How drunk are you? It's like you were staring through me into all of time and space," he chuckled as he planted himself beside Harry on the edge of the pool and dipped his feet into the water.

(read more below the cut)

"Very," Harry lied because he couldn't very well admit that he'd just been staring longingly at Draco's feet.

Draco tilted his head toward the drink in Harry's hand, "What do you spike sparkling water with?"

Harry blinked over at him, he always forgot how bloody observant the other man was. "Vodka," he lied quickly.

The corner of Draco's mouth curved up and he took a breath but then seemed to think better of it. "Everyone's around the fire pit," he commented.

"Yes," he agreed.

"Except you."

He hummed, not sure what response Draco was looking for from him.

"And me," he added.

Harry turned his head so he could look at him properly.

"Are you actually drunk, Harry?"

He swallowed, wondering what his answer should be, wondering what Draco wanted him to say. "Why?" is what came out of his mouth a few seconds later.

"Because you're even more forthcoming when you're drunk than usual."

It was his turn to smile at the other man, "What are you hoping I'll say?"

Draco stared at him for a long moment before wrapping his lips around the mouth of his beer bottle and finishing it in one long pull.

He couldn't help but watch the way his neck muscles worked as he swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing. The urge to lean in, to lick, to suck, to nibble on the other man's long neck was almost overpowering.

Then, when he'd finished his beer he stood up and Harry shifted back on his hands so he could see what he was doing.

Draco's fingers went to the buttons on his shirt and Harry's mouth went dry, his own fingers tingling with desire. He made quick work of them before pulling his shirt off, and Harry was met with the sight of a lightly muscled chest, and two petal pink nipples. Harry's mouth had dropped open but he didn't really think there was anything he could possibly do to stop it.

When he finally managed to draw his eyes upward, Draco was smirking at him, one eyebrow raised. "I'm going to go for a swim," he said, and his hands moved to his trousers, unbuttoning and unzipping before hooking his thumbs in the waistband and pulling them off. He stood there for one moment, in nothing but a pair of very tight boxers that left little to the imagination, before saying, "join me?" and jumping into the pool.

Harry sat there stunned, uncertain if he was hallucinating (it wouldn't be the first time he'd accidentally eaten a hallucinogen at Luna's), and feeling like he must be losing his entire mind.

But what a way to go, he couldn't help but think as Draco resurfaced and finger combed his hair back out of his eyes. He watched as a drop of water rolled down his high cheek bone, then down his neck, sluicing along his clavicle, before dripping into the pool. He tread water and stared at Harry, waiting.

"Are you serious?" he asked.

A look of hurt flashed in his eyes before he covered it, so quickly that if Harry hadn't spent decades of his life watching Draco, he would have missed it.

"I mean," he swallowed, might as well at this point, "you're not just fucking with me?"

"How would this be fucking with you?" Draco asked, spreading his arms wide.

He pulled his shirt off over his head and stood to yank down his shorts before jumping in after Draco. When he popped his head back above the water, Draco was only a few feet away, watching him with a little smile at the corner of his mouth. "You should know," he said conversationally, "that I am not a terribly good swimmer."

Draco was at his side a heartbeat later, hands bracketing Harry's ribs as he buoyed him to the surface a bit, treading and keeping himself afloat with only his legs. "I'm a very good swimmer," he murmured, his voice low and a bit rough.

"Tell me why we're swimming together," he blurted.

"Isn't it obvious?" he asked, head tilting to the side like he was really trying to understand the puzzle that Harry was.

"Not to me," he replied.

Draco re-angled his body a bit and pushed Harry backward, swimming until Harry's back hit the side of the pool and then pressing their bodies together. "Luna had a drink," he said.

Harry, whose head was very much elsewhere, attempting to catalogue the hard planes of Draco's body pressed against his own, made a vague "Oh?" sound.

He nodded, "Had a bit of felix in it, apparently."

"And-" Harry started, his heart pounding in his chest as he waited for Draco to continue.

"It led me to you," he murmured. "And honestly?"

He nodded, trying not to let his mind race to improbable conclusions.

"I've fancied you for ages."

"You have?" he blurted, looking between Draco's eyes, trying to discern any semblance of an untruth.

"I have," he murmured, bending forward so that his lips brushed over Harry's jaw. "The only question is whether you feel the same."

"How is that a question?" he asked, tipping his head back to allow Draco's mouth to brush tantalizingly over his skin. "Of course I do."

"Do you?" he asked, voice just a little afraid, "or is it the alcohol?"

"I'm not drunk," he said, cupping Draco's cheek and drawing him back far enough that they could look at each other. "I had one beer, two hours ago."

"So it wouldn't be taking advantage if I kissed you?"

Harry didn't think, didn't say another word, he just wrapped his arms around Draco's neck and pulled him in closer so their lips could touch.

The other man's body surged against his, kissing him deep and slow in a way that made Harry feel like he was floating through the universe, the only thing tethering him was the hard wall of the pool against his back.

Merlin only knew how long they might have gone on kissing if it weren't for the sound of merrymakers coming up from the fire pit. But as it was, Draco pulled back and said, "I really don't particularly want to see anyone else."

"Me either," he replied, glancing over his shoulder.

"Come back to mine?" he offered. "We don't have to-"

He leaned in and kissed him again, giddy with the possibility of more time together, of more kisses. "Yes," he murmured against Draco's lips. "Let's just figure out the rest once we get there."

"You're sure?"

Harry laughed, "I've never been more sure of anything in my life.

And it wasn't until the sun was peaking through the blinds in Draco's living room the next morning that either of them remembered they'd left their clothes lying on the deck by the pool.

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

Read more of my gentle July ficlets

#listen. I know these were supposed to be done in July but (insert shrug emoji here) #is this one out of order? also yes. #my summer got a little bit blown up #and the author is practicing being kind to herself so she's not going to apologize. life is a lot sometimes and i am small. #drarry #love #soft #Harry is besotted #i don't make the rules #fluff #harry is thirsty and not for water #pool #confident draco #yes.

[lyra-the-constellation]

Drarry post-war where Draco works in the muggle world as a puppeteer in theaters and circus. He is very popular because his performances are always great, almost magical, but he never actually uses magic.

Harry goes to one of his shows, not knowing Draco works there, because his daughter loves puppet shows. cue Harry falling in love with hot happy Draco Malfoy who built a life of his own and (probably) lives in a circus and is very good with children (Harry's daughter would probably be obsessed with him too because it runs in the family).

#drarry au #draco malfoy #harry james potter #harry potter #drarry #drarry fic idea #fanfic prompt #harry potter fanfiction #Draco has circus vibes #fic ideas #fic prompt #hp fandom #Draco might also do aerial silks #harry is besotted

[greenlighted]

hc that the golden trio were all each others first kisses in fourth year. harry knew that he liked girls, but he was noticing he couldn't stop staring at boys like draco malfoy and cedric diggory and viktor krum and being nearly oblivious to the concept of bisexuality. hermione was nervous from her interactions with viktor and worried, maybe a little subconsciously in some ways, about having her first kiss with someone she doesn't truly care about and isn't completely comfortable with. ron is starting to become interested in girls and dating and feels inferior about his near total lack of ability to navigate either of those things and just wants to get it out if the way so he can stop falling all over himself about it. there's nobody that they trust as much or feel as comfortable with or love as much as each other and there is not a single thing they wouldn't do for each other

#HARRY POTTER #HERMIONE GRANGER #RON WEASLEY #GOLDEN TRIO #golden trio are just besotted w each other #and not even necessarily in a romantic way either (unless u want it to be) #they just live in each others pockets

[basicallyahedgehog]

Today marks one year of the incomparable @ihopeyoubothstaysafefromharm making this little corner of the world a better place. Joy, you were one of the very earliest Drarry accounts that I followed, in what I realise now must have been your 2nd or 3rd week of posting. I found you through 25 days of Drarry, and stayed for your your beautiful art and even more beautiful heart and soul.

It has been such a blessing and a privilege to watch you grow as an artist and a person over the last year. Every piece of art, every word that you post leaves me feeling raw, like all of my nerves are exposed, in the very best way. Your brain never stops blowing me away.

So happy anniversary, my friend. Thank you for being your incredible self and making so many lives brighter just by being here. I hope you enjoy this fluffy little sequel to The Strings That Weave Us.

Read on AO3 or under the cut

Links to sources can be found on AO3

Draco sat in the back of his little shop, fingers stitching intricate designs onto fresh linen with utmost precision. These would not be the first handfasting cords that he had embroidered, but they were by far the most important. In less than a week he and Harry would be formalising their betrothal, and Draco was determined to give Harry the best cords in England. 

Blue, for patience and devotion.

He grinned as he pulled the new length of thread through the eye of the needle. Between Harry’s stubbornness and his own prickly personality, patience had been something that they had needed in spades when they had first come together. Draco had quickly discovered, though, that he could be infinitely patient when it came to Harry.

Harry, who waited quietly until Draco was ready to make their relationship public, even though he had been bursting to share his love for Draco with the world. Harry, who still seemed to expect Draco to leave after every nightmare, every panic attack. Harry, who never once raised his voice in anger, who never let Draco go to bed without telling him he loved him. 

No, patience came easily when it came to Harry, the natural outpouring of the devotion Draco felt towards his incredible man.

Grey for balance.

From day one, it seemed like the whole world had been waiting for them to implode. Even their loved ones had expressed concern when they first started dating, worried that they were too different in the ways that mattered most. 

But it was those differences that had made their relationship so strong.

Harry was a morning person, practically bouncing out of bed to make Draco’s requisite three cups of coffee. By 8pm, though, Draco was bundling him under their duvet, watching Harry’s sleep-slack features as he read or worked for another two hours.

Harry went soft over any living creature. The tiny kittens he found shivering under a bush now hunted rats in the Grimmauld Place basement. Their garden was tended lovingly as Harry spoke to the plants, telling them about his day and his plans for the little patch of soil. Every person Harry crossed paths with left with a lighter heart, and almost always a fuller stomach.

Draco went soft over things. Coffee mugs were placed tenderly back on their shelves, matching sets together so they wouldn’t be lonely. Books were dusted weekly, in case their allergies flared. Every year Harry would bring Draco another plushie for their anniversary, and Draco would tenderly tuck them into place on the sun bed — not the spare bed, never spare when his little friends sunbaked on top of one of Molly’s quilts. 

Harry’s emotions were big, were loud. Bounces in place, clapping hands, exuberant yells. Shuddering gasps, heart-rending screams, gut wrenching sobs. Slammed doors and kicked chairs, melodramatic apologies with big bouquets of flowers. 

Draco’s emotions were small, quiet, secret. Trembling finders and shaky limbs, lips pressed tightly together. A rigid spine, a face towards the wall, the inward curl of shoulders. A hand carding through hair, lips on cheeks, a single rose in a vase.

Yes, they were different, but it was what made them work, perfectly balanced against each other. 

Pink for unity and truth.

And for his hair, Draco thought with a chuckle, starting on the third interweaving design. Once, about a year ago, Draco had let the charm fade, his natural blonde peeking through the fairy-floss pink. Harry had sulked for days, singing dirges to his peonies and curling up with the cats for hours on end, refusing to speak to Draco.

The pink had stayed.

It was one of their greatest strengths, Draco thought, that they never concealed anything from the other. They hadn’t even made it to a “proper” proposal, the thought of keeping such a secret — a good one though it was — from each other so unnatural. 

Every thought, they shared with each other. Every fear, every doubt, every self-recrimination. Every dream and hope and decision were shared and cradled and made together. 

It was their greatest strength, and Draco’s greatest joy.

He felt a smile tug at the edges of his mouth as he stitched, the pink the exact colour of Harry’s cheeks when he blushed. 

Pink for rosy cheeks, soft lips, the tips of his own ears when he was embarrassed. Pink for cotton-candy kisses and Teddy’s hair yesterday and the flowers that Harry grew in the spring.

Pink for the colour of his love.

Green for prosperity and health.

And Slytherin, Draco thought ruefully. Green to remind him of his roots and how far he had come. Green to remind him of the good sides of ambition and cunning, and to warn him of the dangers. 

Green for prosperity, not in wealth, but in love and laughter, in bright sunshiny days and soft, tender nights. 

Green for prosperity shared. With friends, family, strangers in the street who looked like they needed a lift. Shared with schools and orphanages and animal shelters.

Shared with each other, always.

Green for health, of body, mind and spirit. Health for their relationship, that it never go stagnant. For the strength to push through the unhealthy times, determined to be healthier and wiser on the other side.

Green for Harry’s eyes, for the mother he never knew.

Red for passion and strength.

It had been the first colour Draco had chosen. Red for his Gryffindor, his Lion in word and in deed. Red for the strength of Harry’s devotion, his emotion, his conviction.

Draco wasn’t a strong man, he knew that. He was easily hurt and easily swayed. He gave up when the going got tough. Until Harry swept in and showed him true strength. Until Harry encouraged him and challenged him and loved him enough that he forgot what it was like to give up.

Forgot what it was like to feel weak and helpless.

Red for the blood shed on both sides, that they may never forget what brought them here. Red for the father Harry could not remember, for the uncles he doesn’t have enough memories of. 

Red for the Weasleys, the strength of their love holding them together on the worst days. Draco had been nervous that first summer after the war, when Aunt Andromeda had orchestrated first his friendship with Harry and then his integration into the Weasley clan. He hadn’t deserved their love, their compassion — still didn’t think he did, in his deepest, darkest thoughts — but they had given it anyway. Strong and steadfast, unwavering in their loyalty first to Harry and then to him. 

They had shown him what it was like to be truly passionate about a cause — what it was to be passionate for a person.

And then Harry had shown him another kind of passion, burning hot, bubbling under the surface, ready to explode at any given moment. A passion shown through tender caresses and whispered endearments as much as it was through lips on lips and skin on skin, sweat-soaked and feverish. 

A passion that matched their string, the shiny red on the vast tapestry of their family, around their wrists. Binding them to each other, and to everyone they loved. 

Draco ran his fingers over the finished embroidery, admiring the contrast and harmony of the various colours. Green for family, blue for godfamily, grey for the beloved deceased. The pink of soft hair and softer lips.

The red of his soulmate, his heart-mate, the love of his life. 

As this knot is tied, so are your lives now bound.

Woven into this cord, imbued into its very fibers, are all the hopes of your friends and family, and of yourselves, for your new life together.

With the fashioning of this knot do I tie all the desires, dreams, love, and happiness wished here in this place to your lives for as long as love shall last.

In the joining of hands and the fashion of a knot, so are your lives now bound, one to another.

By this cord you are thus bound to your vow.

May this knot remain tied for as long as love shall last.

May this cord draw your hands together in love, never to be used in anger.

May the vows you have spoken never grow bitter in your mouths.

As any child discovers when they are learning to tie their own shoes, the first move is to cross the ends.

As your hands are bound by this cord, so is your partnership held by the symbol of this knot.

May it be granted that what is done before the gods be not undone by man.

Two entwined in love, bound by commitment and fear, sadness and joy, by hardship and victory, anger and reconciliation, all of which brings strength to this union.

Hold tight to one another through both good times and bad, and watch as your strength grows.

#happy fandomversary Joy #all the best things for Joy #my favourite mouse #look at my talented friend #this led me down a rabbithole very late at night #you bet i'm not done with handfasting #drarry #drarry fic #basically just a load of fluff #draco has pink hair #and is besotted with harry #that's it that's the plot #handfasting #handfasting cords #colour meanings #the red string of fate

[thebooktopus]

I know it's June, but this was a May prompt and I'm too tired to make a new banner. for the @drarrymicrofic prompt "bared" (T, 350 words)

Harry's returning from the hospital cafeteria when he catches sight of his boyfriend, out of bed.

“Draco?” He rushes up to him, alarmed.

“Harry!” Draco exclaims, as though it's been years since they'd last seen each other.

“Baby, you were sleeping; I just went down to grab a cuppa.” He lifts the to-go mug in his hand as evidence. “Let's go back to your room.”

“Okay, Harry.” Draco slurs a bit, clearly still high from the pain potions. As he turns, Harry remembers that the hospital gown wasn't closed properly in the back.

Draco's bum is hanging out.

Harry snorts, shuffling up to walk closely behind him. If Draco was in his right mind, he'd be mortified.

Back in the safety of his hospital room, Draco crawls clumsily back into bed, favoring the arm that has recently been cleansed of dark magic, an experimental procedure that luckily seems to have gone well.

“I love you, Harry,” Draco says once he's settled.

Harry smiles. “I love you, too.”

“No, I mean I love you.” Draco is insistent, reaching for Harry's hand. Harry scooches his chair closer, wincing at the grating sound the movement produces. Draco is unphased.

“I'm gonna marry you,” Draco says with a smile.

“Oh yeah?”

“Mmhmm. And I'm gonna be the bride because I want to walk down the aisle.”

Harry breaks out into the dopiest grin. “You can be a groom and still walk down the aisle.”

“No!” Draco frowns. “I'm going to be the prettiest bride.”

“Ok, my darling.”

“Tell me how pretty I'll be, Harry.”

“The prettiest.” Harry kisses the back of the hand that's clasped in his.

“Gonna have a flower crown.”

“Okay.”

“Gonna get a really expensive Muggle suit.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. And you're gonna pay for it.”

Harry chuckles. “I'll buy you whatever you want.” He hopes that Draco hasn't found the ring box that's hidden amongst his socks.

Draco's grey eyes are fluttering as he struggles to stay awake. “Buy me anything I want,” he echoes.

“Anything, love.”

“Don't leave me again.” With this, Draco's breathing evens out.

Harry whispers. “Never.”

<<previous microfic>>

oh also? I'd love it if you gave my new Jegulus fic a read, if that's your thing! 🔌 (get it? it's a plug.) I don't know why I'm like this, either.

#booktopus writes #bared two ways #i couldn't get the image of Draco's bare bum out of my head #back on my fluffy bullshit #besotted Harry Potter #drarry microfic #drarry #drarry fic

[emeritusemeritus]

Beloved, Besotted, Betrothed. [Fred Weasley x Reader]

Title: Beloved, Besotted, Betrothed.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader.

Timeline: {DH1} set during Bill and Fleur’s wedding. No mentions of War or Voldy.

Summary: Weddings always bring out the best in people, but you hadn’t expected it to bring out something else entirely within Fred.

Warnings: SMUT. P in v sex, oral sex both male and female receiving, Role-play, illusions to choking, Fred has a wife kink? Innocence kink. Strong cursing. Mentions that reader has curves and large breasts. Established relationship. Talk of marriage.

"Oh Molly you look beautiful," you say as you step into the kitchen, seeing your boyfriend's mum all dolled up ready for her eldest son's wedding. You had been upstairs getting ready with the bride and the rest of the bridesmaids, finishing your hair and makeup when you remembered that Fleur's fascinator was still in the box on the kitchen table.

The men had been tasked with setting up the marquee outside and had been essentially banished from the house as the women got ready, with strict warnings from Molly to not mess about, those warnings no doubt pointedly aimed at Fred and George.

"Oh thank you dear," she says blushing as she fusses with a piece of her hair, flustered by the compliment.

She was wearing a long green and turquoise patterned dress with flowing sleeves, a little satin waistband and a ruffled pattern on her right shoulder that resembled a flower. Her signature red hair had been curled with one section pinned back and decorated with a beautiful antique hair brooch and her makeup complimented her look perfectly.

"It's so nice to be all dressed up," she giggles as she waved her wand slightly, the plates of food on the counter becoming magically wrapped by a covering to keep the food fresh. You smile at her, nodding your head to agree as you spot the box from the table, choosing to spend a little time with Molly before retreating back upstairs.

"I wish it were you and Fred getting married today," she says with a sigh, looking out the window towards the Weasley men, and Harry, who are all trying to erect the tent. Your chest swells as you spot Fred looking so handsome in his suit, minus the blazer jacket, his golden waistcoat glimmering in the sun as he concentrates on the spot he's lifting with his wand.

"Molly," you playfully scold, knowing exactly what she meant by that. She gives you a little look where she pretends to be contrite for just a moment before scrunching her nose up and shrugging.

Fleur was not her first choice of daughter in law as she'd admitted to you more than once that she found her bossy and rude and had questioned the longevity of their relationship as she believed they were rushing into things, that the physical attraction between them was the most prominent reason why they were together.

Truthfully, you quite liked Fleur. She could be a little off handed with some of her comments, a little too quick to say what she thought rather than consider the effect of her words but you always thought it could be because of her having to mentally translate before speaking English. You couldn't deny that she had not made clever moves to try and impress Mr and Mrs Weasley and had inadvertently criticised their home, the family and Molly's favourite singer, Celestina Warbeck, all in the same sentence. If you hadn't been so protective of the Weasley family, you'd probably had actually found it impressive that she'd managed to offend nearly everyone in the household in less than two minutes.

You'd met during your sixth year at Hogwarts when the triwizard tournament had taken place and had become good friends with her and two of her Beauxton schoolmates Colette and Clemence, both of whom were also bridesmaids.

"I'm just saying," Molly says with a little knowing smirk. "I can't wait to have you as my daughter."

"Then you'll have to talk to your son," you quipped, casting one last look back outside to where the men were still trying to get the tent up straight, seeing even from afar that Fred's tongue had slipped out to rest in his bottom lip, something he did when he was concentrating hard.

"Believe me I will," she says with a smile, reaching out to pat your shoulder before walking over to the sink to busy herself.

You grab the box with Fleur's fascinator in and return back upstairs to finish getting the bride ready. Once Fleur was ready, you quickly changed into your bridesmaid's dress, each of you helping zip the others up before smoothing out your curled hair in front of the mirror.

The dress was a beautiful grey silk with a blue undertone that clung to every one of your curves, perfectly tailored to your body. Each dress was just slightly different but all had the same structure and little cape over the shoulders that was reminiscent of their Beauxbaton school uniform, a little ode to their magical roots.

"Fred will die when he sees you in that," Colette says as she appears behind you in the mirror, a smile tugging at her glossy lips as she looks at you. Her accent never failed to make you smile, hearing her try to pronounce 'Fred' in such a thick, French accent was always a little humorous to you.

"Oh hush," you say, casting one last glance at your body, smoothing out any lines in the silk.

You had to admit that you did feel incredibly sexy in the dress, though it was still modest in principle, it definitely showcased your features splendidly. Your breasts were considerably fuller than the other girls who all had slim figures and small breasts whereas you had a more hourglass figure that was openly showcased in the dress, something you knew Fred would enjoy greatly. You'd had to make adjustments to the cups of the dress multiple times in fittings as your breasts didn't fit in the same style as the others and so with a little ingenuity from the tailors, they'd adapted your dress to hold your chest a little better.

You checked the time and saw that there was still half an hour to go before the ceremony was due to begin and so you began to clear away the makeup and beauty stuff that littered the room.

Fleur's mother knocked on the door a little while later and you decided to leave them for a private moment, just Fleur, Gabrielle and their mother.

You passed Ginny as you walked down the stairs, seeing her eyebrows shoot up as she looked at you. Ginny had not been a bridesmaid, on account of her dislike for the bride. Bill hadn't been offended and truthfully neither had Fleur but you still felt a bit of guilt at being a bridesmaid at her own brothers wedding when she wasn't.

"Has Fred seen you yet?" She asks, walking in her dressing gown towards her room.

"No? Hello by the way," you replied, a little confused by her smirk but instead of replying she simply giggled and slipped through the door of her bedroom.

You hadn't expected to see anyone except Molly downstairs, knowing that the boys had been banished, but when you reached the kitchen it wasn't Molly that you saw leaning against the counter. Fred.

He was facing away from you, reading the paper from what you could see, his hip resting on the counter as he leaned down, looking devastatingly handsome, even from behind.

"What do you think?" You asked quietly, creeping into the kitchen. You didn't miss his little jump of surprise, which made you bite back a smile as he turned towards you, smirking already as it he was already planning a snarky reply.

The second he turned and saw you, his mouth opened on its own accord, jaw dropping, seeing him freeze as he openly gawked at you. You had to bite back a laugh at his reaction, seeing that it was even better than you'd hoped.

"I," he began to say before clearing his throat, his fingers doing an involuntary dance at his sides as his eyes take over you, before fixing his gaze to your breasts. "I think it's illegal to look hotter than the bride on her wedding day."

You laugh and watch as he seems to bounce back to usual, though his gaze linger a little longer on your curves before he reaches out to you. You place your hand in his and he pulls you gently towards him, delicately placing his arms around you as to not crease your dress.

"Ah, lipstick," you say, pulling away from him as he tries to kiss you, making him frown and pout at your denial of a kiss. "I promise you can mess it up after the ceremony." His eyes a little as he shoots a wicked smirk at you, his hands wandering over the soft fabric of your dress, running his hands over the curve of your waist.

"You look so beautiful," he says, smiling down at you. Even with your heels, he still towers over you with his height.

"And you look very handsome," you replied, reaching up to push his hair back from his face as you smile at each other.

"Well don't you look nice," George says, interrupting your moment, walking in with his bandage wrapped tightly around his head.

You turn and smile at him as Fred grumbles under his breath for his twin ruining the moment.

"How are you feeling Georgie?" You ask, looking at him with concern, even though it had been nearly five days since he received the unfortunate curse, you were still worried about his pain levels and him in general.

"Stable enough to walk down the aisle with you," he winks, earning another grumble from Fred. He'd been overwhelmingly annoyed at not being able to walk with you down the aisle even though he was also a groomsman but Molly had insisted on the fact, knowing it was both tradition and superstition that unmarried couples should never walk down the aisle together. Fred had instead been paired with Gabrielle, Fleur's younger sister, whilst you were paired with George, a rather unfair deal he had stated.

"I better get back," you said, your gaze flickering to the stairs, knowing that you needed to get Fleur ready for the ceremony.

"I love you," Fred says, a surprisingly sentimental tone to his voice that made you pause, his hand now holding yours as he looks at you with an intensity that makes your breath catch in your throat.

"I love you more," you say teasingly, slowly pulling away from him as you climb the stairs once more to help the bride.

The ceremony was beautiful and the newlyweds looked utterly joyful and in love, with smiles all around. You could feel Fred's eyes on you at multiple times during the ceremony and each time without fail he would either wink at you or smile sarcastically sweetly, trying to break up the formality of the situation.

At the reception, you'd been carrying out your role as bridesmaid flawlessly, helping with gifts, chatting to guests and even helping Fleur go to the toilet in her elaborate, poofy dress. When you returned to the marquee, you could see Fred and Molly chatting in the corner and so you took a seat next to George at the table, resting your head on his shoulder as the early morning and demand of the day began catching up with you.

"Tired, maid of the bride?" George joked as he shifted down a little in his seat so that you would be able to rest your head on his shoulder without straining. You simply nodded in reply, closing your eyes for just a moment before opening them and looking around the room at everyone you loved, all of whom enjoying themselves.

"Mind if I steal my girl?" A familiar voice asks from behind you and you can't help but smile as you lift your head from George's shoulder and look up to find Fred with his hand outstretched, ready to steal you away. You place your hand in his and he leads you to the dance floor as a slow song begins to play.

"This is familiar, eh princess?" He smirks, taking your waist in his other hand as he pulls you close. "I thought nothing would ever top your Yule ball dress but you always manage to surprise me." You smile up at him and can't help but study his gorgeous features, feeling like the luckiest woman in the world in that moment. Memories of the Yule ball danced in your mind, Fred's long hair, your glittering dress and the fun you had that night making a smile erupt on your face.

"You know, when we get married I hope there's none of this crap," he says, looking around at the slightly overdone decorations, curtesy of Fleur's imagination and her father's wallet.

"When?" You asked, a little teasing smile tugging at your lips, "that's a little presumptuous don't you think Weasley?" He smirks, spinning you gently in his arms before pulling you back into his chest, holding you even closer.

"Princess I've been calling you my future wife since the moment we first met, ask George," he chuckles slightly, still rocking you in his arms. "There's no one else I would ever want to call my wife."

You smiled up at him and reached up to press a kiss to his lips in the middle of the dance floor, not caring once bit about the mass of people around you. He kisses you back immediately, also unfazed by the people around you as you sink completely into the moment, just the feel of Fred around you and the sound of the music in the background.

"Have I told you how beautiful you look?" He says dreamily, his hand stroking the spot on your waist where it resides.

"Not in the last hour," you tease with a smile.

"Then I must apologise, a woman as beautiful as you deserves to be told constantly."

"I think you're drunk," you say with a blush at his words and he chuckles whilst shaking his head.

"Just in love," he replies giving you a look of utter adoration that takes your breath away.

You dance for a little while with Fred before George steals you away for a dance, then Bill and then Arthur. You laugh as Arthur twirls you around, seeing Fred doing the same to Ginny not too far away from you. You'd never felt more loved and included than you did in that moment, feeling like a Weasley already. Fred eventually steals you back from his dad as a more rambunctious song comes on and you dance wildly around the dance floor between both the twins, no longer caring about holding your composure or ruining your dress as you fling your arms about, jumping around with the younger guests.

You couldn't help but tease Fred as the night carries on, dancing a little more provocatively as the upbeat music continues, swinging your hips as you dance. You lightly grind against him acting as if it was an accident at first but he soon realises exactly what you're doing, his hands coming up to grip your hips hard as he stands behind you and leans down to talk in your ear so you'd hear him over the music.

"I know what you're doing princess," he says breathily in your ear, pressing his crotch tightly to your backside. Apparently your little deviant plan was working as you felt his semi-excited member pressed against you which made you smirk.

You soon around and Fred immediately places his arms around you, caging you into his body.

"Want to sneak away?" You said quietly with a little devilish smirk as you flirt with him, "you know, I won't be able to get out of this dress all by myself."

"Let's go princess," he says with a little smirk, patting your bum twice before taking your hand and leading you out of the tent back towards the house. You looked around you, checking that no one was watching but it all truthfulness you couldn't care less.

The house was still deserted when you entered, with all the other family members and guests still partying outside. Fred stopped at the base of the stairs as you began to bunch up the bottom of your dress to climb the mountain of stairs and suddenly lurched at you, picking you up bridal style earning a little surprised squeak from you and a chuckle from him.

He attempted to kiss you whilst you were in his arms and ascending the stairs but you quickly put an end to it, knowing that he'd most likely bang your head on one of the many wooden banisters or worse due to being distracted. As soon as you stepped through the door to his and George's room, he slammed the door shut with his leg, still carrying you as he went to throw you on the bed, briefly muttering a silencing charm before he turns his attention back to you. He wasted no time and crawled on top of you, pausing only briefly to take in the sight of you all dressed up and sprawled out on his bed before he captured you in a delicious kiss.

The kiss deepened immediately with Fred's tongue swiping at your lip, his hands already running over your curves, teasing both himself and you as he puts off touching you in the places you desperately want him to. His kisses begin to extend down your neck, towards your collarbones as you heave out a calming breath, already feeling wonderfully overwhelmed by the sensations. He kisses over your clothes breasts and a flick switches in you, needing to feel his lips everywhere without obstruction. He apparently feels exactly the same and begins fumbling at the little zipper on the side of the dress.

You untie the little cape and let that open wide, waiting for Fred to do the last little clasp which you knew he'd enjoy. You reach for his hand and pull it towards the little clasp in between your breasts which he opens in no time, watching as your naked breasts spill out of the dress, not having been able to wear a bra all day. He curses under his breath as he looks at your bare breasts and you take the time to slide the rest of the fabric down your torso so that you're left in just your lace panties.

"Godric you're beautiful," he says more to himself than anything as he looks over your body before his gaze flicks up to you and he smiles before diving it for another kiss. His hand that he isn't bearing weight on comes up to massage and toy with your breasts and you can't help but run your fingers through his hair, trying to get his mouth where you want it. He senses what you want and immediately begins feasting on your tits, licking and sucking as your sensitive nipples which had you gasping and writhing almost immediately.

You begin pulling as his collar, desperate to get him naked too as you push him, flipping him over so that he was lay flat on the bed. You crawl to straddle him and you don't miss the glimmer in his eyes as your almost naked body climbs over his, breasts swaying as you begin to suck at his neck, making him moan.

You pop open the buttons on his collar, pulling off his tie and open up each individual button, placing a kiss on the newly exposed skin as you make your way down his torso, thankful that he'd taken off his jacket and waistcoat earlier in the night. You almost ripped the shirt off him as soon as the last button was done and you ran your fingers over his gorgeous chest and shoulders, running down his stomach until you reached his little happy trail.

You moved down on the bed so that you were face to face with his crotch and began opening the fastenings of his trousers, pulling them over his hips and down his legs, leaving him in just his boxers, the outline of his impressive length clearly visible. You placed a kiss to his cock through his underwear and heard him groan, knowing he was watching your every move.

You looked up at him and saw his intense gaze, making you smirk as you tugged at the waistband of his boxers and pulled them down, his excited length springing out and falling onto his lower belly as you tug away the underwear, discarding them across the room. The sight of him bare before you, his perfect cock already hard and leaking was enough to make your mouth water and you couldn't help but lean down and press a few fluttering kisses along his length, feeling it twitch against your lips in excitement.

Maintaining eye contact with Fred, you gave him your sexiest look and leant down further to take his cock into your mouth, licking all the way around the sensitive tip as you tasted him. He groaned and shoved his head back against the bed at the sensation as you took more and more of him into your mouth, running your tongue along the veined underside of his cock to extend his pleasure. As you began to bob slowly on his cock, you were rewarded with loud groans and curses of your name from Fred, his cock only hardening further in your mouth.

"Godric princess, your mouth is fucking perfect," he groans in bliss.

Your hand came up to support your ministrations as you began to pump the few inches you weren't sucking, running your hands over his balls and giving them a very gentle tug like he liked, all of which making him writhe and groan.

"Princess, get up here," he says, suddenly reaching his hand out for you. You kisses his tip one last time before crawling up his body, his hands immediately reaching for you as he pulls you into him, one hand cupping your jaw as he pulls you in for a sinful kiss.

"Merlin," he says, pulling away as he runs a hand over his face, "you have no idea what these little white panties are doing to me."

"Do they make me look innocent?" You ask with a little smile, kissing down his jaw, eliciting another breathy moan from Fred.

"Yeah, but it's like you're the bride, making me lose it picturing it being our wedding night," he admits, his hands gripping you tighter in his hold, one large hand cupping and massaging your bum covered by the white lace. Your eyes widen a little in surprise, though he doesn't see, as you take in his words.

"That get you going big boy?" You ask breathily in his ear, still nibbling at his jaw as your hands explore his chest, briefly catching his nipples as you roam. "Picturing me as your bride? You like the idea of fucking your new wife?" He curses and moans, hips surging at your words, answering your question.

"Fuck baby," he whines as your hand wraps around his cock and begins slowly pumping him, your thumb catching the beads of precum and rubbing it into his soft tip.

"Maybe you like the idea of ripping off my sweet, appropriate little wedding dress and seeing exactly what's underneath."

He moans louder than you remembering ever being as your speed increases, your words having an evident affect on him.

"Or is it that everyone would know how good you're fucking your new wife, that everyone would know that I belong to you?" His hips start to stutter and you know he won't last much longer, the mixture of your hand on his cock and the words in his ear almost too much for him as he nods along with you, whining and groaning.

"Mrs Fred Weasley does sound good don't you think?" You ask him with a little smug smile at how he curses, hands scrambling to touch your tits as you pump him. "Y/n Weasley, Fred's wife." He's so close you can almost taste it, knowing he's just need a little nudge with the game you were playing.

"You wanna pretend it's our wedding night? I'll let you do anything you want to me husband, let you fuck everything that's yours."

He moans loudly as his hips stutter, your hand working his quickly as your other hand cups his balls as he erupts, ropes of cum spurting from his cock and landing on his stomach as you pump him through his orgasm, not stopping until his body stops twitching. He's breathless as he comes down from his high, chest heaving as a look of bliss falls over his face.

"Merlin," he says, finally opening his eyes to look at you, seeing your wicked little smirk. "Fuck that was hot." You smile as you reach down to grab his shirt from the floor, wiping his pleasure from his abdomen before throwing it back down onto the floor.

"Now, I think it's time I looked after my bride don't you think?" He says with a wicked grin, hands already pawing at you as he cups your jaw, pulling you into another kiss, his other hand creeping over your curves as he suddenly pushes you down onto the bed. His mouth wastes no time in pleasing you, immediately latching back into your breasts as he goes all out, grabbing, toying and sucking your breasts, never leaving the other one left out.

His fingers begin to drift down your body and tease your inner thighs as your legs part in anticipation, your arousal dripping from you at this point. When Fred's fingers finally slip between your legs and he feels the abundant wetness of your panties he curses again, latching onto your nipple and giving a harsh suck making you gasp.

"Mrs Weasley, so wet for me," he says with a smirk, slipping one finger inside your panties and into your waiting hole. You moan out at the sensation, feeling his thumb come up to toy with your aching clit and you can't help but roll your hips, unable to keep still as his fingers work you perfectly. "So good baby, so fucking perfect."

"Freddie," you keen as he adds a second finger, adjusting his angle so that he can press up against your gspot, making you writhe against him. The panties restrict his movements but it doesn't seem to faze him, working his magic on you.

He suddenly pulls his hand from you, making you whine but he quickly grabs and spins you on the bed so that you're on your hands and knees, his ability to manhandle you so effortlessly only furthering your arousal.

He moved to stand behind you, pulling you towards the edge of the bed as his fingers toy with the white lace panties you're still wearing. His hands hook into the waistband and you feel him rip off your panties, pulling them right down your legs, leaving you completely exposed to him. You gasp as the cool air hits your sensitive pussy lips and within seconds his mouth is on you, feasting deliciously on your dripping cunt.

"Freddie!" You moan, pushing your hips back as his tongue slips between your lips, lapping as your clit before slipping into your little hole. His entire face is pressed against your pussy and you can hardly contain your moans as you feel his mouth playing you like an instrument. His tongue circles your clit before he sucks on it in little bursts, making your hips writhe against his face. He alternates between sucking and licking, covering himself in your arousal before he suddenly pulls open your ass and really dives into your pussy, locking his lips around your clit and sucking, tongue circling the little bud.

"Fred!" You shout as you cum, hips rolling over his face as he laps at you over and over in just the right spot, letting you ride out your pleasure.

Your orgasm has done nothing to calm your arousal, if anything it's only spurred on a further need for Fred as you turn and drag him down onto the bed with you, kissing him feverishly as you feel the signs of his arousal renewed against your leg.

"Freddie, fuck your wife," you say, dragging a breathy moan and a curse from his lips as your hands reach out for him in anyway you can get him, hips raising up in desperation.

"I've got you sweetheart," he reassures you as he kisses you one last time before reaching down to kiss your nipples, hands lifting your legs, seeing you beautifully exposed before him. "My perfect girl, so fucking hot."

"Yeah you got a hot little wife Freddie?" You tease, knowing that your words would only fuel his fire.

"The fucking hottest," he growls, pumping his cock twice before positioning himself right at your entrance.

"Give it to me good Freddie, only you can fuck your wife so good like this."

He curses and grabs hold of his cock, tossing your legs into his shoulders as you feel him slowly sink into you, stretching you out as he gets deeper and deeper. You both moan in unison as he moves his hips, hitting all the right spots inside you before he begins to pick up his pace, big hands holding your thighs tightly. He watches as your breasts begin to bounce in time with his thrusts and you can't help but raise your arms up to grab hold of the metal headboard so you can get leverage to raise your hips in time with his, letting the last inch of his sink into you.

"Yeah you like that sweetheart? Your husband fucking you good? Fuck you are so tight," he says, eyes flicking between your breasts and watching his cock disappear into your pussy.

"So good Freddie," you moan out, arching your back as he pounds into you. "Only you can fuck me this good." You right hand slips off the bed frame and you start to circle your clit for a little extra pleasure until Fred notices and bats your hand away.

"Dirty girl, your husband not taking care of you good enough? Is my big cock not enough for you?" He teases.

You begin to whimper in reply, "no it is, so good baby."

He immediately pulls out of you and flips you over like it's nothing, pulling your hips up slightly before he slams back into you. He takes no prisoners with his thrusting as you feel his balls slapping against you, his left hand gripping your hip so hard it'll almost certainly leave a bruise. His right hand snakes around your hip abs begins toying with your clit deliciously and you can't help but rock your hips, your insides clenching around Fred's thick length as you cry out.

"Oh Freddie!" You cry out, feeling thoroughly fucked as he slams into you. "You're so deep!"

"Come on my little perfect wife, I want you to cum all over your husbands cock," he says, leaning down and changing the angle slightly so that he rubs against your gspot making a silent scream erupt from you. The hand that was holding your hip suddenly shifts and he wraps it around your throat as he fucks into you with abandon, his hips stuttering just enough that you know he's close. His hand doesn't squeeze nor put any pressure on but just feeling his long fingers wrapped around your throat whilst he plays with your clit and pounds into you is enough to send you hurling towards your end.

"Freddie Freddie Freddie!" You chant as you cum, nails clawing into the bedsheets as you feel the white hot pleasure erupt within you, your hips rolling back onto his cock as he pounds you even harder, no doubt feeling your walls squeezing him. He suddenly lets go of your throat and scrambles to grab hold of your hips as he slams his length into you once more and holds you tightly to him, buried entirely in you as he cums. You can feel his cock twitching inside you as he shoots his load as deep in you as he can, groaning and cursing behind you as your name falls from his lips.

After a few moments, he pulls out and watches as his cum begins to dribble out of you, cursing once again at the sight. You feel him shift and he presses a kiss to your back before carefully shifting you so that you were lying on the bed as he slips in next to you, instinctively reaching to pull you into his side.

You lean up and kiss him as his arms snake around you, one hand resting gently over your breast, thumb idly passing over your nipple.

"I love you so much sweetheart," he says, pulling off your lips but never really moving away as he kisses you again.

"I love you Freddie," you say, pouring as much love as you can into your words.

"Gonna marry you one day princess," he mumbles and you can suddenly hear the tiredness in his voice.

"If you're gonna fuck me like that again, I'd marry you right now," you said breathlessly, entwining your fingers with his.

He chuckles, squeezing your hand in his as his eyes close, "give me 10."

"I want to be your wife one day," you say quietly a few moments later, no longer teasing. You feel Fred's eyes open and he looks at you with a look you can't place.

"Sweetheart, nothing would make me happier than you being my wife, but stop talking about it before I get hard again."

#emeritusemeritus #harry potter #fred weasley #fred weasley x you #emeritusemerituswrites #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley masterlist #Fred Weasley smut

[elioslover]

Baby Fever- Harry blurb in honour of him becoming an uncle!

More Dadrry / Other Writing

Harry just got back from spending the day meeting his new, teeny tiny niece, and he'd hardly been able to look away- absolutely besotted by her wide and curious eyes, soft hair, and total newness to the world. His heart feels so full it could burst and all he wants is to sprinkle this overwhelming love with those most important to him.

Even on the drive home and for a good hour after arriving home, Harry can't shake the stirring of paternal possibility- especially in the presence of his wife, so lovingly and endearingly sharing supper with him. He's so infatuated with the wholesomeness swelling within, fascinated with these sudden fantasies of bringing home his own baby- a teeny, breathing product of a love so strong- being blessed by the gift of his wife, whom herself, was enough of a gift as it was.

She notices Harry's struggle to focus long before he- chalking it up to the overwhelming excitement of the day, certain that her husband was just as giddy at the arrival of his niece as she always predicted he would be. It was hard enough walking past a cute toddler without his desire to stop and coo taking over.

When asked about it, Harry sighs out contently and simply reassures, "'M just thinkin'..."

Oh, but this type of thinking isn't so easy to shake and follows Harry all the way to bed, burying itself beneath the covers beside him, tugging at his heartstrings with sweet scenarios where he cradles a sleepy infant to his chest, soothed by the softest of snores, watching his wife giggle along to incoherent baby babbles, celebrating milestones, watching them grow, and growing alongside.

Even as the next three days drone on, Harry feels like the universe had 100% overheard his secret daydreams- taunting him with anything and everything resembling children- every where he goes, every thing he does is sidelined by the aching feeling of starting a family.

After what must have been the fourth stroller rolls past, Harry cuts his run short. Realisation that this stirring within will not be going anywhere, solidifying into the desire to say it out loud, to announce and welcome this want- need- to start the next chapter of his life.

He practically bounds through the front door, sneakers squeaking along the hardwood as he urgently calls out in search of his wife., though by the time she sings back a greeting and says "In the nook" Harry has already found her- the same place she usually hides- a book balanced between her fingers, wedding ring flickering from the rays of sunset, luring him closer until he's standing right before her.

Harry drops to his knees before she has the chance to give him a proper greeting, his palms splaying out atop her thighs, and though his eyes are aflame with desperation, a hopeful smile continues to creep up and spread along his lips until his cute dimples are on full display.

Discarding her book to the side, his wife's hands find a home in his curls, gently kneading stray tufts of his silky curls, and Harry's head dips on instinct, forehead resting against her exposed leg, pressing his cheek into her fleshy skin- this only evokes a soft chuckle that slips past her lip as she smiles at him with enamoured curiosity, "What's gotten into you, huh?"

He mumbles against her skin, breath tickling and pricking goosebumps along her thighs, his hand reaching on and wrapping loosely around her calf- thumb stroking circles into her skin.

"Speak up, sweet boy," she coaxes and even after he projects, his words are still muttered into incoherence, her legs bouncing along with her chuckling chest, waiting for him to find the words.

Harry wallows in her patience for as long as it takes to just build up the confidence to match his certainty, unable to soothe all of his nerves, even by the time the rest of him has conjured up enough bravery, his statement is so soft, so vulnerable,

"Wanna have a baby." He still can't muster the courage to look her in the eye.

"Is that so?" The giddiness coursing through her is present in her tone, hiccupping her sentence, hands continuing to play with his curls, "You wanna be a daddy?"

His face feels flush with bashful excitement at the mere sound of 'you' and 'dad' in the same sentence. Harry enthusiastically nods once more against the expanse of her thigh before his face finally tilts back up to meet her fond gaze, she's beaming down at him with newfound hopefulness.

"I wanna be a dad," he finally admits aloud, and it feels so fucking good to say it, "really really wanna have a baby with you."

The sweetest smile creeps well past his wife's lips and crinkles the corner of her eyes as they twinkle back at his own with wonderment. Her nails massage along the nape of his neck before her palm gently cradles his blushy cheek and she hums contently, "Well, that's the best idea you've ever had."

#So... do I write what happens next?? #breeding kink?? #i think i have to do it guys #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles x reader #harry styles one shot #harry styles x y/n #harry styles imagine #harry x reader #harry styles x you #harry smut #harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry fic #harry styles concept #harry styles fic rec #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagines #harry styles writing #harry styles smut #harry styles masterlist #elioslover #dadrry #dad!harry #dad!harry styles #harry styles fluff

[natashatraceromanoff]

Harry Potter Fic Recs Masterlist

☾ 18+ indicates smut

Tom Riddle

☾ easy by @pasukiyo

sugar by @cardansriddle

when i’m with you by @ohthewh0rror

☾ disobedient by @phuckinphia

my soul is too well entangled with you by @a-reverii

Mattheo Riddle

king of my heart @dreamcubed

☾ we aren’t over @slytherinslut0

Theodore Nott

too friendly by @evergone

pet dates by @drmaddict

☾ angry by @earlgreydream

☾ you’ll always be my girl by @caramelcal

the way i loved you by @earthgirl616

☾ shut up kiss me by @theostrophywife

Lorenzo Berkshire

☾ agora hills by @theostrophywife

Fred Weasley

☾ five galleons by @r2d2lover

☾ beloved, besotted, betrothed by @emeritusemeritus

George Weasley

me! by @dreamcubed

Remus Lupin

girls like me by @dreamcubed

✧ hi! here are some of my harry potter fic recs because i’m on an HP kick rn esp with the slytherin boys as you can tell 😩

✧ support writers by reblogging, liking and posting fic recs like these! <3

divider by @saradika ❤️‍🩹

#natashatraceromanoff #natashatraceromanoff fic recs #harry potter fic recs

[moonstruckme]

just finished a rewatch of ootp and i forgot how cute luna and harry’s friendship is!! had me start thinking about what a james potter x luna lovegood-esque reader relationship would look like and i RAN to your ask because i just have to see what your take on it would be! love love LOVE ur writing, no pressure to write this tho if the inspo doesn’t hit!! thank u lovely <333

I forget how sweet they are all the time too! Thanks for requesting honey <3

James Potter x whimsical!reader ♡ 986 words

James comes home to find all of his pants on the floor. 

“Unless I’ve started sleepwalking,” he says, and you look up at the sound of his voice from where you’re crouched next to one pair of jeans, apparently digging through his pockets, “I’m fairly sure I put these away after I took them out of the dryer last night.” 

“Oh, don’t worry,” you reassure him in that quiet, breezy way of yours. “You did. If you were sleepwalking, I would tell you.” 

James waits a second for you to elaborate, then realizes how foolish that is of him. “Then what are they all doing on the floor, my love?” 

“It’s the first day of the waxing moon.” Coins clink in your palm as you remove it from his pocket, and then—to James surprise—simply submerge your hand in the opposite pocket, dropping the change in. “You keep a lot of money in your pants, did you know? It’s lucky the dryer didn’t shake it all out.” 

Actually, he had found a few coins after taking out his laundry the night before, but apparently there’s still some left over in his deep pockets. “What does the moon have to do with anything? And are you robbing me? If so, you’re doing a horrible job, sweetheart.” 

You sit back, setting your bum on your heels, and smile at him in that indulgent way you do when you think he’s being silly. It emits a soft glow, and James can’t help but squat in front of you, pecking you on the lips in belated greeting. 

You kiss him back without complaint, lips soft and pliant and curved against his. “You switch your coins to the opposite pocket for good fortune during the waxing moon, Jamie. You can’t tell me you haven’t done it before.” 

“I can tell you most certainly that I haven’t,” he promises, tucking a hand behind your ear to cradle your head. You lean into the touch absentmindedly even as your lips draw into a little frown. 

“Then how did your family get to be so rich?” you muse softly. 

It takes some effort for James to smother the laughter that rises in his chest, turning it into a pensive hum. “I suppose they might’ve always known and just kept it a secret from me. My mum did say she wanted me to make my own way in the world.” 

“Oh.” You nod, certainty restored to your countenance. “That’s it, then. Not very considerate of them not to give you the tools for success, but I suppose every parent has their own ideas about those things.” 

James only hums again, lips curving of their own volition. “Anything else we need to do tonight to accommodate the waxing moon, darling?” 

You laugh, the sound light and lovely as the tinkling of wind chimes. “Jamie, the waxing moon lasts for fourteen days. We’ve got two weeks for everything we want to do.” 

“Oh, how silly of me.” He grins at you, stealing another quick kiss. “Everything, you say? What might that be?” 

“Well,” you say, returning to your task with the next pair of pants closest to you, “the waxing moon helps draw good things toward you. Like fortune” —you hold up a sparse palmful of coins for him to see before transferring them to the other pocket— “or a good harvest, or new love, or new job—didn’t you say you were thinking about asking for a promotion? This would be a good time.” 

“Maybe,” James replies with due consideration, but truly his mind has gotten snagged on one idea and not let go. “Love, eh?” He grins at you, reaching to wrap his hands around your waist and sliding you across the floor to him. “Should I be prepared to feel extra besotted for the next couple of weeks?” You smile and lean your head onto his shoulder to look up at him, going lax in his embrace. You’re a rather placid thing by nature, but he knows you secretly love it when he manhandles you like this. You go all soft and cloudy-eyed, and even now, you certainly seem far from scolding him for interrupting your task. “I’m pretty far gone already,” he says, just to hammer it home, “so I’m not sure how much worse it can get.” 

He’s rewarded with a light flush across the tops of your cheekbones. “It’s new love, Jamie,” you correct him. “The waxing moon doesn’t affect love that already exists.” 

“Oh, I see.” He narrows his eyes down at you. “So this is your opportunity to ditch me for some new bloke, is that it?” 

The adoration doesn’t leave your gaze, but you shrug. “I’m not manifesting that, so I suppose it’s up to the moon to decide.” 

Some of the levity leaves him. “Wait, so if some other guy said he was drawn to you by the waxing moon, you’d consider it?” 

You let your head weigh heavily on his shoulder, pursing your lips slightly in contemplation. “I suppose I’d at least hear him out. It’s powerful magic during this time, you know? I’d at least be curious what drew him. Or them, you never know.” 

Now James is the one who’s frowning. “That’s not very reassuring, sweetheart.” 

You seem to come back to yourself, eyes focussing on his again and a small smile returning to your lips. “Don’t worry, Jamie.” You lean up to kiss him before slipping free of his hold, going to find another pair of jeans to dig through. “I’d obviously wait until the clarity of the full moon to decide on anything.” 

“Obviously,” James echoes, feeling somewhat dazed as he stands. “Um, angel? If you meet someone who tells you the moon sent them to you, would you at least let me know? I think if I tell Sirius about it, you may find they don’t stick around until the full moon anyway.” 

#james potter #whimsical!reader #james potter x whimsical!reader #james potter x reader #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter x self insert #james potter fanfiction #james potter fanfic #james potter fic #james potter fluff #james potter imagine #james potter oneshot #james potter drabble #james potter one shot #james potter scenario #marauders #marauders era #the marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders fanfic #marauders fic #the marauders era #marauders fandom #hp marauders

[aethon-recs]

23 Tomarrymort Recs for 2023 (Longfic Edition)

Happy New Year! 🤍 Here is a round-up of some of the most engaging multi-chaptered works/longfics that I came across in this ship in 2023.

I found each of these fics, in their depiction of the ship, to be a fresh or surprising take on our familiar beloved characters of Harry and Tom|Voldemort, truly groundbreaking in some way in their approach to the ship. It's amazing to me that even after 20+ years of this ship existing, there's still new themes / tropes / dynamics to explore, and the authors are all so talented in making me think about the ship in some new way — just incredible examples of what it means to be a transformative work of fanfiction.

Criteria for this list: multi-chaptered, Tomarrymort-centric, with at least 1 update published in 2023. As with a previous longfic rec list, I tried to find longer fics that were relatively under-rated (which is hard to define, but below 2K kudos for the most part).

See here for Part 1 (2023 Tomarrymort one-shots), and hope you lose many many happy hours to the unbridled joy of immersing yourself in one or more of these incredibly addictive, lovely longer fics!

*

23 Tomarrymort Recs for 2023 — Multi-Chaptered Fics

A Darkness by Any Other Name by river_marrow (M, 30k, WIP) 

Decades after the war ends, Harry is thrown through the Veil, and finds himself in an alternate reality where the leader of the Muggleborn uprising is the Dark Lord Voldemort.

A Dead God's Faith by @selfishrot (M, 35k, WIP)

Blood and spittle rush to follow Riddle’s words that are dragged out through a wrecked throat. “I will consume you.” Harry felt a thrill run up his spine, along with the usual fear and anger that accompanied Voldemort's threats. “Be gentle, I can feel your soul ripping its stitches.”

And the Living Will Envy the Dead by @k-s-morgan (M, 81k, WIP)

When Harry looks at Tom, he feels overwhelmed. There is a spark that makes him hopeful, the fear that nothing he does will save Tom from himself, and the horror at what his lies might lead to. When Tom looks at Harry, he feels nothing. Until he does, and then Harry’s world starts drowning in blood.

At the expense of the world by @itsevanffs (E, 24k, WIP)

"He had a lover, you know," Jenkins says to Remus once Harry's behind a wall and out of sight again. "A boy, and a gorgeous one at that. Nobody really knew where he came from, and Tom didn't seem to favour him either, at first, but by the end, he was besotted."

Bitumen by @crowcrowcrowthing (E, 32k, WIP)

Harry finds out the hard way that Dementors can’t digest Horcruxes. Now separated from his body, his best option is to seek out a similar soul for help. A love story about immortals with too much time to kill.

Creatures of the Dark we are by @hikarimeroperiddle (M, 25k, WIP)

Banished to his cupboard at age 4, Harry learns to listen only to the Voice in his head. Its teachings wrap all around Harry until no more than dark magic and devotion remains, along with visions of a wraith with red eyes.

Exceeding Expectations by @mosiva (E, 56k, complete)

Harry Potter’s life ran along very different lines than Tom Riddle’s. He knew nothing more of the man than he read in the Daily Prophet. Then they get stuck in a lift together.

Exegesis by liquoricepantomime (M, 38k, WIP)

In exchange for peace, Voldemort asks for Harry Potter. And so, there is a new legacy that forms — of The-Boy-Who-Was-Sold, and his childhood spent in a castle, with a man who has killed his parents. A man who is mad, and whose ire reigns fiery hell. A man he will marry, and yet knows nothing about.

found by @honbug (E, 112k, WIP)

Tom knows from the beginning that he is destined for greatness. Nothing and no one will stop him from achieving his goals. (And then, of course, there are the dreams.)

hook, line, and sinker by @purplemineralwater (E, 21k, WIP)

Harry asks Professor Riddle for help in killing Voldemort. Riddle is endlessly amused.

if we were lovers by @reggieblk (E, 277k, complete)

When Harry arrives at the most prestigious theatrical school in the country, he doesn't have many expectations. The most unexpected thing he encounters is Tom Riddle, and subsequently, falling in love with the only other person who deals with feelings as well as him. But maybe, just maybe, he and Tom will find out that not all love stories have to end in tragedy.

Lover's Spit by @pinktom & @k3uuu (E, 123k, WIP)

Following his father's arrest on a dull hot Sunday in North Yorkshire, 10-year-old Tom Riddle becomes a dark internet sensation.  If Harry Potter listened to his father, he would never speak to Riddle again. But eight years after the arrest, an unexpected and painful encounter leads Harry to reconsider events — and arrive at a conclusion all his own. 

One Year In Every Ten by @saintsenara (E, 189k, WIP)

A decade after the final battle, a serial killer emerges, with a message that proclaims the Dark Lord has risen again. Harry is assigned to the case.

Oversight by @dividawrites (E, 21k, WIP)

Voldemort’s resurrection ritual doesn’t go as smoothly as he’d planned. He requires assistance and there’s only one person he can ask—the boy tied to his father’s gravestone.

Paved With the Best Intentions by @perhaps-sunlight (M, 113k, WIP)

Instead of dying during the Battle of Hogwarts, Voldemort de-ages into an infant. Until he becomes old enough to be legally executed, he will be magically bound to Harry.

Prison Blues by @metalomagnetic (E, 68k, WIP) 

Harry and Voldemort find themselves locked up in a mysterious prison in an A/B/O alternate universe setting.

Revolution of Configured Stars by @tollingreminiscentbells (E, 110k, WIP)

In a Voldemort Wins AU, Harry Potter was spared, and enters his seventh year at Hogwarts wanting to do Arithmancy research and keep his head down. However, after a chance encounter, it looks like it may not be so simple. Marvolo Gaunt seems to have his eye on Harry. The trouble is, Harry has no idea why. 

Tender Reigns Our Night by @noumena-writes (M, 93k, WIP)

Sent on a Ministry mission to fight for magic's survival, Harry goes back in time with two simple objectives: find and destroy any existing Horcruxes, and stop Tom Riddle ever evolving into Voldemort — using any means necessary. Harry thus finds himself working alongside Riddle at Borgin and Burke's, examining dark artefacts and desperately trying to fulfil his orders.

the demiurge, the leontoeides by @ramabear (E, 125k, WIP)

Thomas Gaunt reaches through the dimensions and plucks an eleven-year-old Harry Potter from his world and brings him home again.

the eternal flame by @duplicitywrites (E, 25k, WIP) 

There’s a well-dressed older man who enters the orphanage asking after Tom Riddle. The man’s green eyes fix on Tom’s face, searching and searching.  “My name is Harry Gaunt,” the man says, the tenor of his voice soft and faltering, a reflection of Tom's deepest, most secret anxieties, “and I’m here to adopt you.”

the righteous dead by @aspengray (T, 23k, WIP)

Harry is resurrected, sewn together with thread and magic. He remembers nothing except that he loves his savior, a man named Voldemort.

The Longing by @aglassroseneverfades (M, 33k, WIP)

Harry is not thinking of his parents right now as he trudges up to Voldemort’s eerie castle. He is thinking instead, as he often does, of a name that burns too brightly on his wrist in the pre-dawn light. He is wondering if somehow the fruitless tugging on his heart means that somewhere, some way, Tom is watching over him. 

With a resolute heart by Act_Naturally (M, 157k, WIP)

A Hunger Games-AU featuring Harry and Tom as competing champions.  Harry has a saving people thing. It’s not conducive to surviving a battle royale. He doesn’t fancy his chances. Especially against Tom Riddle.

*

#tomarry #harrymort #tomarrymort #tomarry recs #tomarrymort recs #hp fic recs #longfic recs #ao3 recs #fanfic recs #harrymort recs #2023 reads #2023 recs

[hihimissamericanbi]

what’s the best smut you’ve ever read?

I HAVE BEEN SUMMONED. I WAS MADE FOR THIS MOMENT.

Non non you know I can't pick just one/rank my beloveds like that. So I'll throw a few atcha that always come up for me, again and again. If you hang out with me a lot, they probably won't surprise you.

And to any creators I tag who have seen me rec these things over and over again. Hi let's get married.

Mmmmwah! Enjoy! <3

Quebecois by @we-are-swearwolves

Sirius/Logan (Sweater Weather by @lumosinlove), Sirius/Remus

34K words

The first two chapters are the bulk of the smut. Canon ships with consensual/ethical friends fucking, everyone loves each other, porn with GIANT feelings, heeling through sex, exhibitionism.

Scorch by @theresthesnitch

James/Lily/Other

11K words

Devil's threesome. So much consent and enthusiasm and dirty talk. Yes I know I LITERALLY just referenced this fic but I am never getting off Snitch's dick okay don't come for me. Or do heh.

collarbones like a bow, skin an arrow to the heart by @lqtraintracks

NB Gin/Pansy

4K words

"Are you packing, daddy?"

For Queen And Country by Quietlemonhush

Sirius/Remus, James/Regulus

***A/B/O***

6K words

This whole series is one of my all-time faves. Fucking hilarious and hot. There are podfics available too.

i've got diamonds in my eyes (for you) by @crushofdoves

Sirius/Remus

6K words

ALL THE FEELINGS trans joy hot hot hot they are in LOVE. Sirius is Gender. Remus is Besotted.

Keep Your Hands on Me by @tenthousandyearsx

Draco/Harry

21K words

This author and I currently have an adorable meet-cute miscommunication thing going on (hiii <3) so it's extra spicy for that reason alone. Read the tags. You'll know why I recc it :D.

Last but not least:

My own shit!!! :D If I am truly asked to pick my favorite smut ever, I'm going to pick my own stuff. It doesn't get more tailored to one's tastes than that! Don't hate the player hate the game idk.

Many many blessings to you, Non Non, for asking such an important question, for all of humanity, really. We are all indebted to you.

#celine's library #celine spills #non non #bonjour! bonjour! bonjour bonjour bonjour! #marauders smut #smut recs #drarry smut #fic recs #wolfstar smut #ginsy smut #poly smut

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Flufftober 11: Poetry, Art, Music, and Craft

There were proper ways to go about wooing someone. 

From watching other people attempt to woo Draco for the past 6 years of their auror partnership (5 of which where they’d been friends), Harry knew that this was true. And he’d actively spent the past year trying to understand what Draco saw as adequate wooing. He’d observed their techniques and tried to determine what things worked and which things didn’t.

He’d seen people write him poetry, dedicate art to him, compose songs in his honor, and bring him all sorts of hand-crafted things (soaps, and coffee, and chocolate, and wine, and honestly, Harry could go on all day about the things that he’d seen Draco receive from potential suitors). He’d watched the suitors take him on all sorts of trips and all sorts of dates. 

But what he couldn’t understand was what he was actually meant to do in order to win over Draco’s heart. Because the truth of the matter was that Draco never seemed to be won over, he never let his heart be taken, never let himself be thoroughly wooed. 

So, his observations all came to nought and Harry decided that he couldn’t wait any longer, because the thought of Draco actually getting wooed by someone else, of him actually giving his heart away, was more than Harry could bear. He thought that he might die if the other man found that his heart belonged to someone else. 

Draco was chattering away about their latest case, verbally processing all of the details to be sure that he wasn’t missing any connection, even though they were technically supposed to be done for the day, when Harry decided to broach the topic. 

“Hey, Draco,” he said, heart leaping to his throat and making his voice crack slightly.

The other man paused and turned to look at Harry, an eyebrow quirked as he waited for Harry to continue.

“Do you have any plans tonight?”

Draco shrugged on his jacket, “What did you have in mind?” 

“Wouldyouliketogotodinnerwithme?” he blurted, too fast and too inarticulate. And Harry had watched enough people bumble the opening line to know that that was something Draco detested.

“Sorry?” he asked. 

He took a deep breath, determined not to waste the second chance he’d just been granted. “Would you maybe like to go and have dinner with me tonight?” he repeated, skin heating and palms sweating.

“Oh,” he said, “It’s not Tuesday,” he added, because they always went out for drinks on Tuesday together; they’d been doing that since their third month on the force, even before they’d become friends. 

“Right, no,” said Harry, licking his lips, “I just,” he shrugged. “I thought maybe you’d like to go and have some food together. Like maybe-” he broke off and scuffed his foot.

“Maybe what?” 

“Maybe like a date?” he offered a tad meekly, then he continued before Draco could shut him down completely. “I know you have a thousand options, that people are literally always taking you to fancy places and bringing you fancy things. And I know that you have plenty of options, but I really like you.”

“I-”

“I know I’m maybe not the best candidate; I’m not cultured, I don’t know how to pick a good bottle of wine from a bad one, I haven’t ever been to Paris and I wouldn’t pick the right soap or chocolate if I tried. But I really like you. And I’ll be good to you,” he promised earnestly, unable to stop now that he’d started. “I will treat you with such kindness and tenderness, the way you deserve. I-”

Draco stepped into his space and grabbed Harry’s cheeks in his hands, “Breathe,” he whispered. 

Nodding, Harry took as deep of a breath as the heart rattling around in his ribcage would allow.

“Yes,” Draco said simply.

He blinked, “Yes?” 

The other man smiled at him, “Yes.” 

“Oh,” he whispered.

Draco leaned closer and pressed a soft, short kiss to Harry’s lips; a kiss that Harry felt in the tips of his fingers and toes, tingling in his scalp and setting his heart a flutter once more. “I’ve been waiting for you to ask me for two years,” he said with a little smile.

He laughed, too loud and too bright for how close together they were. “What was wrong with all the other blokes?” 

“They weren’t you.”

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

Read more of my flufftober ficlets

#drarry fic #drarry #fluff #love #awkward harry #besotted harry #auror partners #flufftober #crushes #soft #short and sweet #friends to lovers #one shot

[newtonsheffield]

Oh you just know the Ton’s mama’s are frustrated before their daughters are getting all sorts of thoughts about who they should marry

Lord and Lady Bridgerton are convincing more men than ever that marriage is a great idea. Look how happy he is? Look how besotted? Look how they only seek out each other’s company.

Problem being: They’re also ruining marriage for the young ladies.

“Look at the way he looks at her. I want someone to look at me that way!”

And a poor harried Mama has to sigh, “We might have to settle for a kind look.”

#kathony #anthony x kate #kate sharma #kate sheffield #anthony bridgerton #molly’s asks and answers

[phoebe-delia]

Keep You Warm

For the @drarrymicrofic prompt: keep

"Aww Draco, love," Harry chuckled warmly, squeezing him impossibly tighter against him on the couch.

Draco wiped away the tears welling in his eyes. He lifted his head slightly from its resting spot on Harry's chest to give him a half-hearted glare. "Don't make fun of me. You're the one who got me hooked on this Muggle show to begin with."

"Fair enough," Harry said, pressing a kiss to the top of Draco's head. He reached for the remote and paused the show as the episode credits rolled before the next one could start playing. "D'you want to take a minute?"

Draco rolled his eyes, despite allowing a small sniff. "I'm fine, Potter. But it's just...beautiful. It didn't make sense when they first got together; like it could've ruined their friendship. But when I think of it, he was always sort of in love with her, wasn't he? And—and maybe she didn't see it at first but he's made her happier than anyone. And now they're going to be together forever."

Harry couldn't stop the besotted grin that spread helplessly over his face. "They are," he agreed, hoping his warm tone didn't come across as too amused. "And it was a beautiful proposal."

Draco hummed. "True. I love that she initiated it, and he took over when she became overwhelmed. It was lovely, if a little out of character for her to set all those candles up. I mean—imagine the clean-up, not to mention the fire hazard."

Draco wrinkled his nose at the thought, and Harry huffed a laugh. "No candles," he said. "Good to know."

Draco stilled. He was silent for a moment, and Harry tried not to grin down at the top of his head. "Harry—what do you..." Draco trailed off, uncertain but not anxious.

"I'm saying it's good to know. For the future." Harry gave in to the urge to run his fingers gently through Draco's hair. "When I ask you to marry me."

Draco visibly swallowed. "Is that so?" he replied, clearly going for nonchalance and falling far from it.

Harry nodded. "Yes—I've got nothing planned in the immediate future. But you're it for me, Draco," he said softly. "Is that alright with you?"

Draco turned to face him fully. He studied Harry for a moment, then put his hands on Harry's chest, gaining enough leverage to slide up and press their lips together.

They kissed for a long moment, through several skipped heartbeats before Draco pulled back with a small, satisfied smile and said, just above a whisper, "I'm alright with that."

#drarry #draco malfoy #harry potter #draco and harry #harry and draco #draco x harry #harry x draco #draco/harry #harry/draco #draco malfoy and harry potter #harry potter and draco malfoy #draco malfoy x harry potter #harry potter x draco malfoy #hpdm #drarry squad #drarry fic #drarry fanfic #drarry fanfiction #drarry ficlet #drarry drabble #drarry fandom #hp fic #hp fanfic #hp fanfiction #hp fandom #harry potter fandom #harry potter fic #harry potter fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #phoebe-delia

[orange-peony]

I've written something for @flufftober with today's prompt “I hate it” – “No, you don’t.”

It just screams drarry, and I've been thinking all day about this wonderful art piece by @caspervi.

This is exactly 1k, rated E, 8th year spin the bottle shenanigans and a very besotted Harry.

Draco is clearly not expecting him to cheat.

The thing is, Harry has grown a little desperate over the weeks. After spending every night in the same room as Draco Malfoy, listening to him turn in bed with endless sighs, and sometimes cast a very suspicious Muffliato right after Harry has come back from his shower completely naked and dripping wet.

Harry’s caught him looking, more than once.

He knows Draco’s been staring at him, just as much as Harry has. In lessons and in the Great Hall and in the eighth year’s common room. A silver gaze following him around the castle, cheeks flushing every time their eyes meet.

Harry’s had enough of lying to himself about what he wants. He almost lost everything—he’s already lost so fucking much. He can’t let this slip from his fingers.

So, when a drunk Zabini suggests a game of spin the bottle, Harry only agrees to it when Draco walks into the room. The bottle never lands on either of them—Harry makes sure of it.

“My turn,” he declares, everyone clearly too tipsy to object. Harry hasn’t had anything to drink, knows full well that Draco is just as sober. And when the bottle spins and spins and then lands on Draco, he watches pale cheeks flush a deep red.

Someone gasps next to him. Pansy shrieks, too loud and too obvious.

Draco stands up abruptly and runs to his room—their room.

Someone shouts coward, that it’s unfair, and wait, whose turn is it now?

Harry ignores everything and everyone and just follows Draco to their bedroom, locking the door behind his back once he’s inside, watching Draco’s grey eyes widen, his cheeks catch fire as he stands there, unmoving. Harry takes a step towards him, then another, until they’re almost touching.

“You cheated,” Draco accuses, sounding dumbfounded by his own accusation. “I could feel your magic, you—”

“I wanted it to land on you,” Harry explains stupidly. The truth is that he needed a reason to kiss Draco. One that wasn’t the fact that his heart’s been hurting at the thought of it for weeks now, craving it with all that he is, dreaming about Draco’s lips and about the sounds he would make for Harry—god, Harry wants to feel him shiver and pant against him.

Draco seems conflicted, his eyebrows quivering as his mouth opens and closes without a sound.

“I hate it,” he finally says, wetting his lips with his pink tongue, his eyes sliding down, lingering on Harry’s mouth.

“No, you don’t,” Harry murmurs.

He’s almost expecting Draco to tell him to fuck off and get lost, but then Draco huffs, his blond eyebrows knitting before he shakes his head and sighs.

“No, I fucking don’t,” Draco whispers, almost a whine, then, “Come here. Potter, c’mere—”

Harry thinks it’s impossible this could feel better than he imagined. But the taste of Draco’s lips, so sweet and soft and irresistible as they press to his and then open on a whimper, just for him. The way Draco moans against him, his long fingers sliding through Harry’s curls to tug at them and make him open his mouth more, to deepen the kiss—it all feels like a dream, and one of the best ones he’s ever had. The perfect little sounds Draco makes when Harry lowers him onto his bed, the way his lips part on a gasp when Harry kisses his way down his neck, sucking on that milky-white skin to make it bloom in pink and red hues while Draco falls apart under him. Harry wasn’t expecting that. He didn’t think he would get to have more than a kiss. And that already felt like asking for too much.

He most certainly wasn’t expecting Draco to open for him like a flower, delicate and quivering under Harry’s clumsy hands, spreading for him and making the most perfect sounds as Harry sinks into his tight heat, cursing at how blissfully good it feels, how utterly divine it is to be inside Draco.

And then later, lying on the bed next to him, watching Draco loose and sated, falling asleep with a contented hum after countless minutes spent talking about inconsequential things, because everything else felt too scary to be mentioned. A dream come true.

When Harry wakes up in the morning, too early and too bright, he realises Draco is still there, naked and covered in the marks Harry left on his delicate skin. Harry’s tie is stuck under his hand, Draco’s face buried in the duvet, as if he were hiding in his sleep. And Harry can’t stop staring, can’t stop thinking that he shouldn’t be so lucky because he always manages to fuck up everything, somehow.

But then Draco stirs, a flash of silver landing on Harry as a little sound leaves Draco’s lips, something soft and undone that threatens to make Harry’s heart crumble to pieces.

“Stop staring, you weirdo,” Draco mumbles. Harry casts a mouth-freshening charm on them both. Wishful thinking, he reckons, but Draco mutters minty before he lets his lips stretch into a tiny smile.

So Harry grows bold and leans forward, pressing their lips together one more time, hopefully not the last. Draco hums softly and reaches for him when they part, his fingers wrapping around Harry’s neck to pull him impossibly closer. And Harry can feel Draco’s hand lingering on his neck, then sliding down his chest, making him shudder before his fingers curl around his length.

“Want you,” Harry confesses, his breath hot against Draco’s mouth, that opens as a small laugh tumbles out of it.

“Not a one-night stand, then?” Draco asks, hope shimmering in his voice and on his face.

“Merlin, no,” Harry replies. He’s in for good. He’s in for his life, as scary as it seems.

“Good,” Draco replies with a smile, one of those genuine ones that Harry has learnt to cherish.

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” Draco confirms. “Kiss me.”

#my writing #listen it's late #and I wanted some 8th year pining #drarry fic #my fics update #flufftober

[theycallmemisterbutterfingers]

Somebody To Luuuvvvvvv

so, i wrote this fic a WHILE ago, and promptly forgot abt it lmao. it was something i worked at on and off for a month, so it may be a little disjointed. also, I very much recommend listening to Somebody To Love (Queen) while reading, although depending on how speedy you are with reading, the fic will extend past the song's length. ALSO, I started writing it to mirror the lyrics of Somebody To Love, but I lost track of it a little in the last stretch, since there's a lotta instrumental and I just kinda went off HAH

anyhow

oh also i drew this little animation in like October and i'm sorry and you're welcome? sorry because ACK i swear to god i can draw better but you're welcome in case you like it ,,,,, yeah ,,,,,,, much love!!

Can

Anybody?

Find me

Somebody to…

Love.

…

Crowley launched himself up from his desk, sending a few pieces of glass clattering to the floor, shattered remains of his heart. He wobbled for a moment, the alcohol settling in weird places.  Reality spun. He thought he saw stars. And then worse.

He thought he saw his angel.

His knees buckled, and his hand shot out to brace himself on his desk. His other hand reached up to shakily run a hand down his face. Take a look at this poor sod, he thought bitterly, about to berate himself. Then he caught a glimpse of himself in the reflection of his window, and he traced the scars down her cheeks that the tears had left in their wake. Crowley sighed, then chuckled—a small, self-deprecating one. Oh, what he’s doing to me.

He’d spent all his years believing in the bastard, chasing him, wanting him, hoping that they were the same. Thinking that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t fully alone. 

And then the angel took his heart and blasted it away with his halo. With his Heaven-besotted ideals that Crowley thought he had left behind. No such relief.

And all Crowley wanted was to love and be loved by him. Too much to ask, turns out.

…

He was behind the wheel. Again. He didn’t quite know how he got there, really, and he didn’t know where he was going, either. All he knew was that he was driving—driving away. Driving far away from…what? The work he had put in for himself—for his angel—to live a life safely in the corner? Maybe. Driving away from being alone? Hm. As if he could be driving away from the ache in his bones and towards Az—well. He wasn’t, at any rate. Crowley cursed himself under his breath and pulled over.

The sun was setting, colors bleeding out into the sky. Bleeding out. Now that was something that Crowley was familiar with. He looked up at it all, trying in vain to see anything—any sign from the Universe, from God, anything at all—but no. His knees hit the dirt. “God…what’re you doing to me? You listening? This part of your Great Plan, too?”

Nothing. Crowley dug his nails into his palms until he drew blood.

They do say that snakes can’t cry. 

Well. 

They also say snakes don’t fall in love. That they can’t feel it.

But just look at Crowley.

🌟

Aziraphale hurried through the empty space of Heaven, a harried look on his face. He had been working nonstop ever since he returned, trying to prove his worth, trying to do good, trying to be good. But there were stares pricking the back of his neck. Veiled criticism, judgement. They thought him odd, strange, impure. Tainted from Earth. They don’t want me here, he thought, then quickly shook it away. He had to keep faith. Believe in good in others, and the good of God. 

But there’s nobody left to believe in me.

…

Aziraphale blinked. He had been heading towards the higher floors, but his feet had betrayed him. They had led him to the globe. His chest warmed seeing Earth, but there was this terrible, sudden ache in his gut. Aziraphale put a hand to his stomach, breathless for a moment. 

Guilt. 

Horrible, horrible guilt. 

His hands shook. His stomach roiled like there was a nest of snakes, snakes, Crowley, his Crowley, his Crowley that he left behind, the desperation etched into his face as he—

Stop, he told himself. Stop. You can’t. Push it down, push it down, remember? You need to focus on your tasks. You need to forget.

Do you? Part of him whispered.

Quiet, he thought. No thoughts. You must be good. 

It would be good, this traitorous part of him whispered. You would be doing a good thing. Checking up on that nice angel, Muriel. 

Oh, yes, Muriel. Of course. It would only take a moment to pop in, after all. He wrung his hands, thinking hard and thinking fast. His tasks weren’t too urgent—just some paperwork, a few visits to the superiors; yes, it would be fine. Tickety-boo. Besides, he really needed to make sure the bookshop and Muriel were fine. Nothing else. What else would there be, really? For such a quick visit, especially? Aziraphale was still for a moment—save for his hands, which shook like leaves—and then with one decisive motion he tapped the globe, and felt himself dissolve into light. 

🥀

Crowley slumped in his Bentley, cheeks stinging, throat hurting. Queen played over the speakers, but he kept losing track of the song, sliding in and out of white noise. After a few moments, he inhaled sharply and clenched his jaw. He was alright. He was fine. He was a demon. Of course he was alright. In fact, he was so alright, he would go and make sure Muriel hadn’t sold anything. At the bookshop. Because he was alright he was alright he was FINE. He stomped on the gas pedal with a bit more vigor than usual and began to whip through the streets, disregarding anything his mind might mutter to him. Perhaps that—Crowley ignoring himself as much as he possibly could—perhaps that was why he didn’t notice the feeling of his angel returning to Earth. 

…

Crowley slammed the Bentley’s door shut and sauntered across the street to the bookshop, confident as a lioness. The confidence was a sham. He was a right wreck internally. He unlocked the door and swung inside with carefully practiced nonchalance, carefully hidden nerves, everything under the surface, as it should be. But the memories still hit him like a Bentley going 90. Frozen, he could do nothing but boggle at the bookshelves with their alphabetized books all in the right places and the angel wing mug with hot chocolate still steaming, until he heard a cheerful voice from up the stairs, “Be with you in a minute!!”

This managed to jolt Crowley out of his reverie, and he managed to shout back, “It’s me!”

“Oh!! Ah,” and there was quite a bit of shuffling around. Crowley shoved his hands in his pockets and tried to take measured breaths. Being back in the same place, the same spot where he—

“Hello, Mr. Crowley!!” Muriel beamed over the banister upstairs before hurrying down the stairs. “Haven’t seen you in a bit!”

Crowley hummed noncommittally. Muriel fidgeted.

“Did you need anything, Mr. Crowley?” They asked, looking at him a little too expectantly. Crowley had a sudden memory of that kid he had encountered as Bilidad, the little one who wanted to be a lizard. 

“Erm…”

It wasn’t to check on the books, really. What did Crowley need?

Well.

Wasn’t it obvious?

He needed him. 

His angel. His Az—hm. 

His A—guh.

His A…He needed Aziraphale. 

There, he said it. Wasn’t so hard.

He needed his somebody to love.

But his somebody was gone.

He didn’t say any of this to Muriel, though. Instead, he just shrugged. “Thought I’d stop by, make sure you hadn’t sold anything.”

Muriel shook their head vehemently. “Oh, no, certainly not!! I remember what you were like when I first took over the shop,,” they took on a grumpy, spiky air then, ignoring the dinging of the shop bell, “Now listen here, Muriel, if you sell any one of these books, I will march right up to heaven and tell those higher-ups that you are doing Very, Very Bad Things. So do not, under any circumstances, sell these books!!” Muriel finished their impression attempting a scowl matching Crowley’s, cementing their inability to make any sort of coarse expression.

Crowley scoffed and was about to complain that he did NOT sound like that, not in the slightest, when—

“Oh, Crowley, did you really?”

Fireworks rocketed up Crowley’s spine and exploded in his chest, and he whipped around to see—

To see—

His angel. 

Aziraphale standing in the doorway of the shop, looking like he was already regretting even stepping through the door, but still with that nervous, gentle smile Crowley loved so, and he could do nothing but gape at Aziraphale, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Aziraphale didn’t fare much better, only just managing to stand there, wobbly and woeful. Muriel, slowly becoming more adept at social situations, sidled into the back room, and the sound of the door shutting snapped Crowley out of his stupor—and his wounded heart throbbed.

“Back to forgive me again, then?” Spat Crowley bitterly.

“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale breathed, teary-eyed, and before Crowley could say anything else, Aziraphale rushed into him, grabbing his lapels and burying his face in Crowley’s chest. 

“I mi-i-issed-d you,” He sobbed, and Crowley wanted to shove him away, wanted to snarl barbed words and sharp jabs, wanted try and make him feel some semblance of the pain he felt—

But he couldn’t bring himself to do so. He couldn’t bring himself to hurt his angel, when he was already so awfully distraught. So he put a tentative, shaky hand on Aziraphale’s back, and said, quietly, “Hi, Angel.”

Aziraphale sniffed loudly at that and looked up at him. Then he stepped back, only slightly, and they simply looked at each other for a moment. Then—

“Why did you leave—?!” They started, simultaneously, then stopped. 

“Well, you were the one leaving, Angel,” Crowley snapped, brows knitted together.

Aziraphale looked at him quizzically and sniffed again. “B-But I asked you to come with me, dear. I wanted you to come with me. I wanted you to come so terribly,” his lip wobbled, “And-and then you got mad, and ki-kissed me, and then—hic—and then you left!”

Crowley scowled, confused. He was quite certain that Aziraphale had been the one to do the leaving.

“But you abandoned me,” he said, voice rough, “After all we’ve gone through! I thought we were a team, Aziraphale. I thought you liked me how I was—not an angel, not a demon, as me.”

Aziraphale whimpered, wringing his hands. “But I do like you, Crowley! I’m so, so s-sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you, I promise, I just—I want to be with you, oh so much! And we could be together, in Heaven, as angels, without messiness, and—and, oh, I thought you’d be happier as an angel. I mean, you used to be, when you were…”

Crowley sighed, his anger beginning to cool. Oh, Angel. “I don’t want Heaven. I don’t want to be who I was. I just want to be me, now, here, with you,” He said, as gently as he could muster, taking his sunglasses off. Aziraphale blinked, another sparkling tear trailing down his cheek. Crowley had to curb the urge to wipe it away by shoving his hands in his pockets.

“B-But…but an angel? A-a demon?? That—”

“Would be alright.” Crowley finished, trying to smile, trying not to hope. “We could do it.” Aziraphale wavered, unsure, worried. He cast a look around him, and then, resolutely, 

“I need to go back.” Crowley’s heart plummeted to the floor and shattered like an empty bottle. Again. 

He made to leave, eyes already stinging, but Aziraphale grabbed at him. “Wait, Crowley!!” But no. Not again. Never again. Crowley wrenched away, looking at the ground, trying to stride past him, a painful crescendo rising in his head, already berating himself for trusting so quickly, hoping so easily, and then, and then he felt a soft hand tilt his face up and take off his glasses and, and, and—and Aziraphale was kissing him. Kissing him. Crowley’s thoughts blinked out of existence completely. All he could focus on was Aziraphale, him against Crowley’s lips, again, finally. Aziraphale’s tears wet Crowley’s cheeks and burned there and Crowley didn’t mind in the slightest. And he kissed back, fiercely, not caring if the rest of him burned up as a result.

Aziraphale gasped at the kiss deepening, and something roared deep inside of Crowley, and then, suddenly—Aziraphale pulled away.

It was as if Crowley had been lit on fire and then doused with cold water, and all he could do was stand there, shivering and overheating at the same time. Aziraphale, though shaking as well, took a deep breath.

“Crowley. I am going, but I’m not leaving,” and he took Crowley’s face in both hands, “I’m not leaving you. I never meant to in the first place. I’m sorry. Please…forgive me.”

Crowley didn’t know how to respond. What could he possibly say? What could he—

A tear slid down his face, and Aziraphale brushed it away with his thumb, tenderly, lovingly. 

And Crowley broke. 

“Oh, dear,” Aziraphale murmured, and cradled Crowley close as he crumpled into his arms. He trembled like a leaf, loud sobs wracking his body. 

They sank to the ground together, and stayed that way for a long time. 

Eventually, Crowley could breathe without feeling like he was suffocating. Cheeks burning, he slowly sat up, looking anywhere but at Aziraphale, embarrassed. “Ngk—sorry, Angel.”

“My dear boy,” Aziraphale turned his face back to him with a feather-light touch, “You have nothing to be sorry for.” Crowley damn near started crying again. He nodded and sniffed, rubbing his face. “You’re too nice to me.”

Aziraphale smiled at him, eyes twinkling. “Nice is a four-letter word.”

They gazed at each other adoringly, neither quite believing that they could hope again, hope for a future together, as hope was a four-letter word, too. Then Crowley looked down at the ground. “So…you have to go.”

“I will be back, Crowley,” Aziraphale said, and stood up, “I just need to do a few things first.”

“I need you,” Crowley pleaded, on his knees, all defenses forgotten, all barriers down. “Stay. Please.”

“I need you too,” Aziraphale said softly, doe-eyed, and kissed him on the forehead. “I want to stay with you. But I have to keep Earth safe. I can change things, in Heaven. I can stop the Second Coming.”

His face hardened and, for a moment, looked every bit the Archangel he was supposed to be. “Even if it means making a few…executive decisions. In the name of good, of course.”

“Of course,” Crowley echoed, feeling a bit dazed.

Aziraphale smiled at him and then looked up, wings materializing behind him. “I’ll see you soon, dear.”

Crowley, as if struck by a pin, sprung up towards Aziraphale and kissed him once more. Aziraphale, who had already begun to glow with departure, kissed back just as hard, if not harder. Crowley held onto the quickly dissipating angel tightly, as long as he could, until Aziraphale fully disappeared…and then Crowley fell flat on his face. 

Oh, would you look at that, Crowley mused to himself, ass up, face down. I’ve fallen. “Erm,” said a timid voice behind him, “Would you like some hot chocolate, Mr. Crowley?”

thank you for reading!!!!!!!

#good omens #gomens #ineffable husbands #ineffable divorce #anthony j crowley #crowley #aziraphale #aziracrow #these idiots #theyre so gay #theyre so in love #look at them #the angst #ahhhh #i love them sm #good omens fandom #archangel aziraphale #good omens fanart #aziraphale loves crowley #and i will stand by that #there is no way he does not #michael sheen did not spend a whole season goggling at david just for us to think that aziraphale does not like crowley #good omens fic #good omens fanwork #good omens fanfic #queen band #somebody to love #ngl #kinda proud of myself #someone stop me