#i think harry would wear this proudly

[milkcricket]

Would it be insane to knit this as a scarf, yes

am I going to do it anyways, yes

#disco elysium #knitting #ignore the mistakes in the pattern im going to fix those im just lazy #i think harry would wear this proudly #so i must make it

[grapejuicestyless]

But I’m Kind Of Green

Harry Styles x fem!reader

Summery: April showers bring May flowers. As the warm spring air carries in a warmth you and Harry haven’t felt for months, you spend the day basking in the sunlight and admiring the things you couldn’t really see in the dark winter.

The grass underneath my fingertips tickles my skin as I wrap my knuckles around the roots a tug. Soft sounds of squeaking filling the silence that lingers between us. The silence is never awkward, nor is it heavy. Our eyes flicker between each others faces and our hands narrowly avoid the others in the freshly cut grass.

“Did you wear sunscreen?” Harry smiles with his front teeth before shaking his head, and his eyes flicker down to my nose for a moment.

“I can tell.”

“Yeah?” He mumbles, scooting his hips closer to mine and tucking his hands beneath his head like a pillow. He rests his hair in his palms.

“You get burnt under your eyes real bad, I can see that coming in. But you’re also getting freckles again.” Harry laughs.

“Anything else?”

I think about it for a second, but decide to just move impossibly closer and place my own palms beneath my head to rest.

“No.”

Harry hums.

“Well, I like being in the sun, we haven’t had weather like this in a while.” He begins, “and I think it’s my favorite kind of weather because it’s easier to see you.”

“How so?” I smile, still searching around his own face. I can feel the heat not only radiating from the sun above but also bouncing off of his body onto mine. It’s a warm blanket of love and comfort wrapping around us in the early may heat.

“In the winter your eyes are brown.”

I raise my brow, blinking more rapidly subconsciously.

“Well, my eyes are brown.” Harry smiles smugly, “Says so on my license too.”

“Well then your license is wrong. Your eyes are hazel.” He smiles proudly, his leg throwing itself over my knee to link us together in yet another way.

“Are they?”

Harry hums, smiling sweet at me and turning to the side completely to admire the way the sun beats down on us. He has a dopey look in his eyes I wish I could capture forever in my memory. A lazy haze that he only gets at this time of the year, when the harsh winter is transitioning into a breezy summer.

“Yep. But you can only tell in the sun. They look plain brown in the dark, but when we lay out like we are now you’re green all over. Not to say I don’t like your brown eyes, but I just think it’s interesting because I don’t really get to see the green for that long.” His thumb swipes over my cheek slowly, tracing my cheekbone down to my chin. He sets his hand back under his ear with a shuffle.

“Well, your eyes are just kind of green in the winter but they get really green in the summer. I think that’s pretty cool too. And your hair, it’s darker in January than it is in June.” I laugh under my breath, melting into every lingering touch of Harrys skin to mine.

“I guess we’re both kind of green then. That’s something else we have in common.”

Sometimes when Harry talks to me like this I wonder if I’ve done anything in my life good enough to deserve this. All the love the that pours out of him reflects back onto me so I can send it back over. We sweet talk and laugh like we have no stress in the world and if I cry I know he’ll be the one to hold me. I wonder if there are other people out there who experience the same kind of love we have, if the little things make them feel as giddy as they do for us.

I can feel the laughter bubbling up my throat and through my body with the realization that we both share a but of green in ourselves. I never really noticed the green before Harry pointed it out, and I would have never have known if he hadn’t told me.

In moments like this I wonder how I survived in such a grey and dreary world without Harry by my side. I think back on all of our adventures and think about how boring everything must have been without his warm presence and soft laughter in my ear.

“But I’d still love you if you weren’t.” He adds with a cheeky smile, his hands gripping my waist to lift me over his hips. I lay my head near his and bathe in the may breeze with the people around us and the bees in the leaves.

I think I whisper to him that I love him, but I’m not really sure because now I can only focus on him and all of his greens.

I once lived a life of total winter, darkness clouding my eyes, but now I see the world the way I think I should have always been seeing it. Because summers are more fun and the winters are shorter. Brown eyes are nice, but I’m kind of green and so is Harry.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #yn x harry #hslot harry #harry x reader #harrystyles #harry styles #yn x harrystyles #ynxharrystyles

[mybutcheredtongue]

I'll Love You 'til the Grass Around My Gravestone is Deceased

harry potter timeline sirius black x reader

CHAPTER NINE (see full series list here)

1993

You sip your tea, actually up in time for breakfast for once. Because of the night-time nature of your subject, you tend to go to bed later than the rest of the school and wake up later. It means you're especially close to the kitchen's house elves, as they often prepare you breakfast for when you eventually do get up. Especially Bitsy. You've taken to buying her film for her camera every Christmas, but it doesn't last long as she takes pictures of everything, including you.

"You know, I had the strangest dream last night," you say to Remus beside you.

"Oh, yeah?"

"Mhm, I was in a sort of muggle circus tent, right? But it was on fire. And there was this guy there, wearing like a weird three-foot tall wizard's hat that morphed into this odd kind of wig afterwards," you recall. "And then, I kinda thought, 'hey, maybe I should use my wand to put out this fire' but instead of putting it out I transported it to Madam Puddifoot's."

Remus blinks at you, and you try and stop the smile from appearing on your face.

"You know what? That is a strange dream," he responds, shaking his head and you laugh.

"I know! It was so weird."

"Oh, I actually read something about dreams recently," Remus says thoughtfully. "Apparently they reflect things going on in your life."

You snort. "What, my desire to set Madam Puddifoot's on fire? I mean, I suppose it's not wrong..."

There's loud noise at the Gryffindor table, even students from other houses going over to it. You lean your head to the side to see Harry sitting at the table, grinning proudly at his Firebolt. You chuckle, looking down the table at Professor McGonagall.

"He got his broom back, so?" You say and she nods.

"Yes, couldn't find anything wrong with it, thankfully. And I must say, never have I seen a student so happy with something I have told him," she remarks and you grin.

"A Gryffindor win this year, perhaps?"

"Oh, I do hope so."

"You would only be so lucky," Snape says snidely beside her and you scoff.

"Don't need luck with that broom, right Severus?" You say cheekily and he raises his eyebrows disdainfully at you.

"At least my house have skill, and do not rely on their broomsticks to do the work for them."

"You're just jealous 'cause you want a spin on the Firebolt, Severus," you tease, returning to your breakfast.

Later, you sit with Remus in the Quidditch stands, looking out at the pitch in the cool, clear air.

"Merlin, I hope they win. I'm after placing a five-galleon bet with Filius that we win," you say, watching as the two captains shake hands and Madam Hooch blows her whistle to set off.

"You can't say 'we'," Remus says with a sigh. "We're supposed to be impartial, remember?"

"Ah, you hardly think any of these teachers are impartial, do you?" you laugh. "Sure even Dumbledore leans to Gryffindor just a little."

Lee Jordan's voice can be heard over the stands.

"They're off, and the big excitement this match is the Firebolt which Harry Potter is flying for Gryffindor. According to Which Broomstick, the Firebolt's going to be the broom of choice for the national teams at this year's World Championship — "

"Jordan, would you mind telling us what is going on in the match?" interrupts McGonagall's voice.

"Right you are, Professor — just giving a bit of background information. The Firebolt, incidentally, has a built in auto-brake and — "

"Jordan!"

"Okay, okay, Gryffindor in possession, Katie Bell of Gryffindor heading for goal..."

Remus chuckles beside you, nudging you with his elbow. "Mr Jordan reminds me of someone."

You roll your eyes, laughing. "I can't say that you're too far off...he can definitely give me a run for my money. I think my title of Best Commentator in the History of the World is in danger."

"Oh? And where were you given this prestigious award? The Academy of Modesty?"

You cackle, throwing your head back in laughter. "You witty bastard."

You watch as Harry zooms past on his broomstick, the Ravenclaw Seeker, Cho Chang, tailing after him.

"Gryffindor lead by eighty points to zero, and look at that Firebolt go! Potter's really putting it through its paces now. See it turn — Chang's Comet is just no match for it. The Firebolt's precision-balance is really noticeable in these long — "

"JORDAN! ARE YOU BEING PAID TO ADVERTISE FIREBOLTS? GET ON WITH THE COMMENTARY!"

Harry suddenly dives to the ground and you hold your breath, thinking he's seen the Snitch, but then he pulls up sharply and heads for the Ravenclaw end of the pitch, accelerating. Cho Chang follows suit, before she lets out a scream and points at three tall, black, hooded Dementors looking up at Harry.

You and Remus both turn to each other before quickly turning back to the match, just in time to see Harry produce his wand and yell, "Expecto patronum!"

A large silver stag erupts from Harry's wand and throws itself at the Dementors and knocks them off their feet —

Wait, their feet?

As you squint at the dark figures, you make out four young boys tangled in dark cloaks and click your tongue in disappointment, just as Harry grabs the Snitch and the stadium explodes into cheers.

You and Remus stand and leave your seats like the rest of the supporters, the Gryffindors rapidly streaming onto the pitch in celebration.

"You saw what I saw, right?" you ask.

"If you saw four boys playing dress-up as Dementors, then yes."

You find the four boys, immediately recognizing the faces of Draco Malfoy, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle and Marcus Flint.

"Well, well, well," you tut, hands on your hips as you look down at the heap of Slytherins. "Bet you regret doing that now, eh boys?"

They groan collectively and soon enough, McGonagall approaches with an expression of pure fury on her face. She starts to yell, and then Remus arrives with Harry in tow, and you don't miss the look on Harry's face at the sorry site in front of him.

"An unworthy trick!" McGonagall shouts. "A low and cowardly attempt to sabotage the Gryffindor Seeker! Detention for all of you, and fifty points from Slytherin! I shall be speaking Professor Dumbledore about this, make no mistake! Ah, here he comes now!"

You grin at Harry, whispering, "Excellent Patronus, Harry!"

He beams proudly.

An great victory for Gryffindor indeed, especially considering you're five-galleons richer as you return to your bedroom.

✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

Sharp knocking on your door jolts you awake that night, and you quickly swing your legs over and out of your bed to answer the incessant knocking. Dubh meows angrily at the interruption of her sleep, as if she doesn't sleep the whole day anyway.

"I'm coming, I'm coming..." you quickly leave your bedroom and enter your small office, unlocking the door and swinging it open. "Minerva?"

"Sirius Black has broken into the school again," she tells you quickly. "Ronald Weasley said he was standing over him with a knife not too long ago."

You feel your mouth drop, unable to form any cohesive sentences as your brain tries to wrap around the information you've just gotten. "What?"

She nods, a grim look on her face. "I am terribly sorry about this...but I do need to check your room."

You nod wordlessly, opening the door for her to step in. "Yeah, yeah, go ahead..."

McGonagall does a quick sweep of your office and bedroom, stopping to give Dubh a brief few pets before she returns to your side at the door, shaking her head.

"Nothing here, of course," she says. "Will you accompany me in my search of the rest of the castle?"

You give her a confused look. "Are you sure? I thought Dumbledore doesn't want me to be involved in any searches like this...lest I sabotage it."

McGonagall scoffs. "I trust you. I know you are not stupid enough to let him into the castle, let alone let him out of your sight if you had. "

You give her a small smile. "Thanks." You grab the keys to your room and step outside, closing it behind you and locking it firmly. "Alright, let's go..."

You walk down the hallway together, wands shining light and at the ready. "How the bloody hell did he get into Gryffindor Tower? Did he attack Sir Cadogan too?"

McGonagall kisses her teeth, shaking her head in frustration. "No. Neville Longbottom was so incredibly foolish he wrote down the whole week's passwords and then left them lying around for anyone to find."

You sigh. "Oh, Neville...poor, forgetful Neville."

You scour the halls together, occasionally passing Professors Vector and Flitwick on their own search, but end up finding no trace of Sirius anywhere.

You bid goodbye to McGonagall and return to your room. As you unlock the door, you half expect to find him on the other side, but when you open it there's no one there, just your desk, messily covered with parchment and quills.

You return to your bed, but can't sleep at all so you choose to sit up and read more of the book you've been reading lately. Dubh stretches, jumping up onto your bed to nestle herself in your lap, purring softly. You pause to reach out and scratch her ears, before returning to your book.

Why was Sirius standing over Ron Weasley with a knife? It just doesn't make sense to you. You really are beginning to think he did truly go mad. And there's no way Ron dreamt it because Sir Cadogan confirmed that he did let him in...so why? Why would he do that? He wasn't actually going to murder an innocent boy like that, was he? He wasn't going to really take someone's life just like that, was he?

You reach the end of your page and realise that your eyes are just looking at the words and not actually taking them in. So finally, you step out of your bed and choose to do what you always do when you can't sleep: stargaze.

You shrug on a warm hoodie and a pair of slippers, grab your wand and leave. Dubh decides to follow and the two of you make your way up the Astronomy Tower. You sit beside the railing, legs dangling out over the edge as you grip the railing, looking up into the dark sky above. Dubh wanders around the room, sniffing various objects and rubbing up against them, before eventually she settles on curling up beside you and closing her eyes.

It's a clear night thankfully, and you can see all the twinkling stars perfectly. Beautiful, flaming objects of gas that are millions and billions of light years away from you. It's crazy to think that you are just one small, near-imperceptible speck on the ever-growing canvas of the universe. It's what drew you to astronomy in the first place. The study of space, because that's all it is. Space. That idea that, really, nothing matters at all. The world does not revolve around you. It never has, and it never will.

It's something that's always fuelled you to stop worrying about things. Why spend your time on this earth, your beautiful one-in-an-infinity chance to live, worrying about things? Though you say that, you can't help but worry anyway. You worry about Sirius, you worry about your friends, your family, your students, your godson, your cat, your job. Because even though the world doesn't revolve around you, your world revolves around the things and people you love.

A thin line of light streaks through the sky and you silently wish for peace from the thoughts that trouble you.

✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

Security is noticeably tightened around the castle the next day. Filch is boarding up every crack and mouse hole in the castle; Flitwick teaches the front doors to recognise a picture of Sirius; and with Sir Cadogan sacked and the Fat Lady restored, big security trolls now patrol around her portrait, grunting at each other and comparing the size of their clubs.

You miss breakfast again, and tickle the pear on the fruit painting outside the kitchen, stepping inside quickly. The house elves all look up and greet you, immediately setting to work on something for your breakfast. Bitsy runs up to you excitedly, camera swinging around her neck.

"Hello, mistress!" she squeaks, holding up her camera. "Say 'cheers'!"

"Cheers...?" you say quizzically and there's a flash from Bitsy's camera.

A photo slowly emerges out the end of the camera and she shakes it excitedly, thrusting it into your face. Sure enough, there you are, mouthing the word 'cheers' with a confused expression.

You chuckle lightly, pushing the photo down out of your eye line gently. "Lovely, Bitsy. You could be a professional photographer at this rate!"

She grins wide, her big brown eyes twinkling. "Thank you, mistress!"

"Oh, and the word is 'cheese', not 'cheers', Bitsy," you say with a small laugh and she lets out a loud "Oh!".

Then you're presented with a tray of breakfast from another house elf, and you accept it gratefully as the elf bows. You sit down at a small table, tucking into a breakfast of fruit, pancakes and a great mug of tea.

You drain the mug, though you find you haven't got much of an appetite and give the house elves in front of you an apologetic look. "I'm awfully sorry, but my appetite just isn't there. Thank you all very much."

Bitsy bows with a smile. "That's okay, mistress! Bitsy is happy to help!"

"Bitsy is not the only house elf that prepared mistress's breakfast," another elf says with a scowl.

You chuckle lightly, smiling. "Don't worry, I am well aware. Thank you very much."

You turn to leave but are stopped by Bitsy. "Oh, mistress, the Headmaster told Bitsy to tell you he wants to see you in his office! He also said he really likes Bubbling Bonzies!"

You raise your eyebrows, nodding. "Oh, right. Okay. Thanks, Bitsy."

You leave, knowing well what Dumbledore wants to see you about. It's certainly not a raise in your pay, anyway. As you move through the castle, you pass Ron Weasley standing with Harry and relaying his chilling tale to a few second-year girls.

" — and I saw him standing over me, like a skeleton...with loads of filthy hair...holding this great long knife, must've been twelve inches..."

You continue walking past them, shaking your head, and it's not long before you arrive outside the entrance to Dumbledore's office. "Bubbling Bonzies," you say to the stone gargoyle. The wall starts to move and a spiral staircase is revealed to you. You make your way up and knock on the door to Dumbledore's office.

"Come in."

You push the door open, finding Dumbledore sitting at his desk and sitting in front of him, is none other than the Minister of Magic.

"Minister," you say in slight surprise, walking further into the room. Dumbledore gestures for you to sit down beside Fudge and you do, eyeing him warily.

"Now, Professor...I am sure you know why I have called you here," Dumbledore says and you nod.

"Yes, Headmaster."

"It is my understanding," Fudge says, turning his head to you, "that Sirius Black once again broke into the school and this time he successfully managed to get into Gryffindor Tower, terrifying the students there."

"You'd be right about that, Minister."

"What is your involvement?" Fudge demands, and you turn to him in disbelief.

"What is my involvement?" you repeat, glaring at him. "I didn't have any!"

Fudge scoffs. "It is more than just a coincidence that Black has managed to get into the school more than once! How did he do it?"

"I don't know, ask him!"

"Stop your denying!" Fudge snaps. "I have given you the benefit of the doubt time and time again, but I have had it up to here! Did you help Sirius Black get into this castle?"

"No, of course not!"

"Cornelius, please," Dumbledore intervenes calmly, bringing a hand up to silence the both of you. He looks at you. "Professor, please, can you tell us what you were doing last night after the Quidditch match?"

You sigh, kissing your teeth. "Alright. After the match, I went back to my quarters. I worked on a few things from my fifth-years, then I went to bed."

"What exactly did you work on?" Fudge demands.

"Essays on the relationship between Saturn's moons and its rings," you reply bitterly.

Dumbledore motions for you to continue. "Then, at around half one or so, Professor McGonagall came and informed me of the break-in. Then we searched the castle together, found no one, and I returned to my bedroom. Then I read a book, tried to sleep but couldn't, and went up to the Tower to stargaze."

"A likely story," Fudge mumbles under his breath.

"See, Cornelius? A perfect alibi," Dumbledore says.

"Perfect alibi? She was practically alone the whole time!"

You scoff. "Minister, honestly, what reason would I have to let him into the castle? Do you think I want him to go around scaring the life out of my students?"

"I — I don't know! How else could he have gotten in? He would have needed inside help."

"Take a walk, Minister. Don't you think that a man capable of breaking out of Azkaban on his own is capable of breaking in to Hogwarts on his own?"

"But — the Dementors — "

"If the Dementors didn't catch him then that's not my problem," you snap. "If they're really so hell-bent on giving him that Kiss then they ought to work a little harder."

Fudge doesn't respond.

"A lovely thing, by the way. The Dementors' Kiss."

Fudge makes a noise, halfway between a frustrated growl and a sigh. "He is a murderer. He deserves no better fate."

"No one deserves that fate other than Voldemort himself."

Fudge winces, hissing, "Don't speak that name!"

"Coward," you mutter under your breath, and Fudge doesn't hear it. "You didn't give Sirius a trial last time, why give him one this time? You're so kind, Minister."

"Please, Minister, let us put this matter to rest," Dumbledore says. "I have the utmost faith in my staff. I know she wouldn't do anything to jeopardize the safety of her students."

"I really, honestly, wouldn't," you say to Fudge earnestly. "I love my job and I love this school and I love my students. I would never do anything to hurt them."

It's quiet for a moment, before Fudge speaks, "Do you still think he is innocent?"

You don't respond.

Fudge silently fumes in his seat and Dumbledore says, "I think that is enough. You may go, Professor."

You breathe a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Headmaster." You give Fudge a parting glare and depart from the office, closing the door behind you.

→ all kinds of interaction are appreciated ♡

✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

->-> read chapter ten here!

#sirius black #sirius black x you #sirius black x reader #the marauders #marauders #harry potter #fanfic #fanfiction #hp #angst #angst with a happy ending #hp fanfiction #hp fanfic

[sleepstxtic]

Fluff Fest: Dead Pigeon Edition - Masterlist

@maesterchill and I bring to you the masterlist of works from the Fluff Fest: Dead Pigeon Edition! All 22 works are 2k or under (with the exception of our multi-chaptered fics). You can find them below! Thank you so much for following along <3

Hungry Face by @themiddleofwonderland | Explicit Draco's been at the cottage for a week.

Asphalt and Asphodel by @jtimu | Mature Harry and Draco take a road trip.

Spellbound by @wolfpants | Explicit Draco Malfoy's crime ring have captured the one asset they know will get Harry Potter's attention: his son, Albus. With their location in France no longer untraceable, Draco must move Albus to the next safehouse. They're alone, in a shitty Muggle car in the middle of the European countryside, and the tension is about to hit its crest.

Camp Crystal Wood by @leahrocky | Explicit Harry is hired to be a camp counselor at the newly reopened Camp Crystal Wood alongside his very best friends. When he finds out Draco Malfoy will be there as well, he knows he's in for a boatload of trouble.

Carnivorous Plants and What to Feed Them by DrPansyParkinson | Mature Neville Longbottom's too busy at work to find a girl to date, but when the perfect witch walks through his grandmother's flower shop doors, he'll stop at nothing to dance with her.

bad omen, right? by @maesterchill | Explicit George Weasley is a busy man.Busy managing a very successful joke shop, and a moderately successful social life, and a less-than-successful sobriety issue. Certainly far too busy to spare a single thought for something as everyday as his talking mirror. So, it's only when his girlfriend Angelina is helping him decide what to wear for his fortieth birthday party that evening that he finally sees it. A glimpse of his long-dead brother, silent and unspeaking. Which, as all wizards know, can't be a good omen.

Soft Love by @just-a-whorecrux | Explicit Albus has the best birthday ever. 😌🧸

Waters of the Womb by @annanother-thing | Explicit Two decades is too long, and Ginny is finally free from the girl in the mirror.

Garden Scene by CreepingMyrtle | Mature   Narcissa welcomes Lucius home from Azkaban. It’s a warm night, not yet dark, and, as he speaks, her heart collapses inward on itself until it is as hard and dense as a hagstone, calcified around its gaping hole. She thinks she will perhaps never cry again. “Yes, darling,” she says, and “Here, there’s something I’ve been wanting to show you.” She summons his favorite robe. She leads him to the garden.

A Drowned Man by @apricitydays-lazynights | Mature Is there anything in this world more restorative than a bubble bath?

Mushroom Hunting by @apricitydays-lazynights | Mature Ollivanders wands are crafted with only the finest materials, proudly sourced locally using sustainable practices.

A Soft, Low Strain by @dodgerkedavra | Explicit Harry can’t help that it feels so good.

poison every little thing by veradubhghoill | Explicit “Yuck,” Draco says in a tone of such vehemence that Harry feels a sudden, violent pang of longing for the Draco Malfoy he’d known in Hogwarts.

Aged unto perfection by @maesterchill | Mature Draco and Harry enjoy a tipple together on their honeymoon.

Hold me like water by @uncannycerulean | Mature After the war, Draco starts frequenting bookshops all over London, not knowing what he is looking for. Until he finds Harry, who is looking for something, too.

This Messiah Needs Watching by @themiddleofwonderland | Explicit The baby comes the day after Draco's birthday.

The Dancing Hours by @dodgerkedavra | Explicit Harry begged. Draco couldn't say no.

His Ghost by @sleepstxtic | Mature “I saw his ghost," Hermione says.

Bridal Rose by @dodgerkedavra | Explicit Harry would do anything.

Gutless by @sillywives | Explicit Malfoy is sick. Harry is getting better.

I would love you if you had a worm by @elskanellis | Explicit Living in the Room of Requirement during Snape's tenure, Ginny has had to do a lot of things to help her community survive. Saving Seamus Finnegan might be the most difficult thing yet.

Now I Wake Up In The Night and Watch You Breathe by @hoko-onchi-writes | Explicit Harry has been pining for years. It's time he finally makes his dreams come true.

#fluff fest: dead pigeon edition #masterlist #drarry #harry potter #draco malfoy #lucius malfoy #narcissa malfoy #lucissa #panville #pansy parkinson #neville longbottom

[cherryjuiceblues]

𝐒𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐃𝐄𝐃

➯ Y/N AND HARRY GO TO A HALLOWEEN PARTY AND HARRY HAS THE PERFECT COSTUME. ✰ vampire!harry small warning for a minor encounter with some gross men. suggestive themes. 𝑤𝑐 4k

Halloween has always been disappointing for Y/N. Every year, the air gets colder and the leaves float down from their branches, and the shops start to stock spooky decorations and pumpkin spice candles. Warm orange and brown hues become the trendy colours and people finally snuggle down in their sweatshirts and jackets that they’ve had stuffed in their wardrobe all year.

It all sounds so perfect, and romantic, and every time October rolls around, Y/N thinks: this year will be better! She pictures herself watching scary movies every night, wrapped in her thickest blanket, with a warm drink and she gets giddy with excitement. And all the hype leading up to Halloween persuades her to stay optimistic. But then the day arrives and her best friend hosts the most amazing party, as always, and Y/N attends in her costume (which she is never completely satisfied with) and leaves inevitably underwhelmed.

Harry, on the other hand, loves Halloween. Well, maybe loves is an exaggeration but he never takes the freedom for granted when the day rolls around. Yet he never relents the rolling of his eyes and the pointing out of all the pathetic ‘vampires’—“We do not look like that,” he would grumble in Y/N’s ear, his mental script of complaints completely memorised in her head.

Of course, he’s never admitted that he doesn’t completely despise the holiday, but Y/N notices the way he ever so slightly lets his excitement show at the fact he doesn’t have to conceal his true self, even if it’s just for one night a year. So since meeting him, her disappointment has subsided; replaced with happiness for her boyfriend, and she’d never take that away.

However, currently, she is really dreading leaving their house, dressed in a costume that she knows is unoriginal. She thinks that’s the worst part of Halloween—the trying so hard to wear something new and cool whilst simultaneously maintaining the ability to blend it. It stresses Y/N out far too much for something that is supposed to be harmless fun. And it’s not like Drew Barrymore in Scream isn’t indisputably iconic, but has it been done too much? She’s staring at herself in the floor-length bedroom mirror, trying not to adjust her blonde wig for the umpteenth time and delaying the completion of the final part of her costume, just in case.

“Love? Are you nearly ready?” Harry pops his head around the door, catching Y/N’s frown before she can hide it. “Oh, you haven’t done the blood yet,” he walks over and stands behind her, brushing his lips along the shell of her ear. “Do you want my help? It’ll be undeniably realistic.” He catches her eyes in the mirror before making a dramatic noise and pretending to bite into her neck, shaking his head with exaggeration.

Y/N releases a stream of giggles and squirms in his grip. “Harry! Drew Barrymore wasn’t bitten by a vampire!” She’s smiling as he stops his relentless tickling and looks at her again, a shameless grin plastered on his face, fangs gleaming proudly.

“I know, but it made you smile,” he places a soft kiss on her neck and rests his chin on her shoulder, squeezing her waist. “Why’re you all pouty, hm?”

“I dunno, I’m just nervous about my costume,” she shrugs, fiddling with the hem of her sweater. “Do I look lame?” Harry lifts his head with a frown of his own.

“No lovie, never. Y’look so pretty, always,” he grabs at her fretting fingers, holding them in his warm palms. “Look at me,” he’s gentle in turning her around, away from the mirror that’s breaking her down. Pulling their joined hands up, Harry dots little pecks on as much of her skin as he can find, manoeuvring her palms open to continue his onslaught of affection.

“Harry—” she starts, watching him with big eyes.

“You look infinitely better than any of the morons that try to dress up like vampires. They’re lame. Your costume is unmistakable, yeah?” He looks at her expectantly, like he does when he wants her to show she’s listening. She nods, turning back around to see herself. “I mean, look at what I’m wearing. I’m not dressed up at all—bet that will really rile some people up,” he boasts, pride in his voice.

“Oh, I’m sure I’ve got a cape in my wardrobe somewhere,” Y/N teases, smiling at Harry’s sudden scowl. Immediately, his hands find her waist and he’s lifting her off the ground easily to turn her around in his arms, eliciting a squeal from Y/N as he trudges to the bathroom and places her on the counter.

“Don’t think I won’t bite you tonight. I’d get away with it,” he taunts, watching as Y/N’s eyes widen momentarily.

She gasps, “But that’s private, Harry! You don’t want anyone seeing me like that, I know you,” chancing her luck.

He only seems encouraged. “You shouldn’t have said that, love, now I’m tempted,” he smiles, pointed canines shining as his irises flood with red. “Come on, let’s get you all bloody,” he reaches for the bottle of fake blood sat next to Y/N. “Where do you want it?”

“Everywhere,” she grins.

ㅤ

Harry is right. His lack of costume does rile some people up… until he bares his teeth, and he’s met with ohh’s and what kind of vampire wears a sweater vest? Y/N thinks he looks perfect, because why would he dress any differently than normal? He was her Harry, in his flared trousers and sweater vests and chunky cardigans. She makes sure to tell him this as soon as the unimpressed crowd disperses. “Think all vampires should dress like you. You’re a fashion pioneer.” He looks down at her, an amused smile on his lips.

“A fashion pioneer? You’re cute,” he coos, as he gives her chin a little squeeze between his thumb. She begs to differ, right now, with the amount of fake blood that is caked in her sweater and up her neck, but she leans into his touch with a smile. “You want a drink?” he asks and she hums in reply, as he intertwines their fingers and walks them in the direction of the kitchen.

The atmosphere is electric, colour changing lights beating in time with the music that seems to be blaring from every corner, as they weave through bodies. Y/N catches a glimpse of the TV playing a horror movie in front of a sofa littered with people not paying it any attention. She’s hyper aware of the lack of recognisable faces, senses heightened with more anxiety than excitement. Harry squeezes her hand, noticing her wandering eyes, face not quite hiding her dazed expression. Her grip tightens in return, looking up at him with a small smile on her face.

“What do you want to drink?” Harry asks once they reach the kitchen, lifting her onto the island and moving to inspect the fridge’s contents.

She hums in brief thought, “Surprise me,” swinging her legs, gazing at her boyfriend’s back like it is the canvas Van Gogh painted The Starry Night on. Harry rolls his eyes at her unhelpful answer, and just pours a vodka lemonade.

“I’m sure you’ll be very surprised by this exotic beverage,” he drawls, handing her the cup and standing in between her legs with his hands on top of her thighs.

Y/N giggles as she takes a sip. “S’yummy though, thank you,” she says. “Gimme kiss.” Her lips form a pout as she tilts her head back expectantly. Harry pulls her to the edge of the counter, arms wrapping her up as he places a peck on her waiting mouth. She kisses back, attempting to suppress her smile and failing miserably. “Another one.”

“Manners, baby,” he teases, nudging her nose with his.

“Please,” she drags out, leaning forward, trying to catch his lips in hers but he doesn’t let her reach. “Harry,” she frowns. He relents and kisses her again as she relaxes in his grip.

“Y/N! You’re here!” The sound has the pair pulling away from each other abruptly, the shrill excitement coming from the lively woman bursting their bubble of contentment. Y/N smiles brightly at Sarah, in her Daphne costume, as she all but bounds up to the island in which she is perched. “And Harry, of course. It’s nice to see you too,” she teases.

“Sarah,” Harry nods, stepping away from his girlfriend’s body to allow her to jump down and greet Sarah as they always do; in a hug that would suggest they hadn’t seen each other in years. Y/N is careful to hold her glass away from Sarah’s back as she sways them from side to side.

“Do you mind if I steal her for a moment?” she asks Harry, arms not breaking the hug. Y/N’s back is facing him but she can almost hear his knowing smile, as if Sarah’s question had needn’t even been asked.

“I think I can allow that.”

“Will you be okay?” Y/N turns around to face him, a look of sincere worry on her face, aware that neither of them really know anyone at this party.

“I’m sure I’ll cope just fine, petal,” he reaches out his fingers to brush lightly against her cheek and she leans into him gently, eyes widening to take in as much as possible of the man in front of her.

“I’ll come back, promise.”

“Promise!” Sarah chimes in, “Promise, I’ll give her back.” She slips her hand into Y/N’s and softly pulls her along as they exit the kitchen. Just as they’re walking under the doorframe, Sarah leans over and whispers, “He’s so sweet to you.”

Y/N can only smile and reply, “I know,” picturing Harry leaning against the counter with a similar expression as he hears the words without even the slightest strain.

ㅤ

Sarah lets go of her hand once they’ve reached upstairs and stopped outside her bedroom door. They’re hardly settled on top of her bed until she’s asking, “So, what’s Harry come as then?”

Y/N smiles to herself, “He’s a vampire.”

“Vampires don’t dress like that,” she says, unconvinced.

“Says who?” Y/N shrugs, “They don’t exist, Sarah.”

“Yeah but—” she sighs, exasperated, “It’s Halloween! There’s nothing scary about a man in jeans and a sweater vest.”

Y/N hums, “I would argue that gives him the element of surprise, no? Looks unassuming so you barely give him a second thought, but then he opens his mouth to reveal rows and rows of razor sharp teeth,” her fingers prod into Sarah’s sides to elicit a squeal. “Pretty effective if you ask me.”

Sarah wiggles away and rolls her eyes, “Whatever. I’m just saying he isn’t winning any prizes for originality.”

Y/N cackles, “And you are?” she waves a hand at her great, but overdone, purple getup.

“Heyyyy,” she whines, swatting at Y/N, “let’s move on.”

ㅤ

About forty minutes and an undetermined number of drinks later, Sarah and Y/N are whirling in giggles, blathering nonsense so jumbled that no one else would even attempt to translate. They have long since caught up on each other’s lives since the last time they’d spoken (which, whilst they do text everyday, they don’t always dive into the details, leaving them with news to share when they finally find time to meet in person) and quickly delved into meaningless chatter which becomes less and less intelligible the more they drink, especially when Sarah remembers the bottle of wine she’s been keeping in her room for emergencies. (Y/N tries to argue that ‘no one keeps wine in their room for emergencies’ but soon ignores the peculiarity of it for the chance to have a nice swig from the bottle.)

They’re both lying on their backs on top of Sarah’s bed and it falls silent for a minute, the alcohol finally making them sleepy, and the lack of conversation to focus on, along with Y/N’s tipsy—bordering on drunk—state, is really making her miss Harry.

“I’m going to find H,” Y/N sits up slowly. Sarah has her eyes closed but she acknowledges her with a hum.

“I think I’ll call Mitch,” she yawns.

“Isn’t he downstairs?”

“Yeah, but I don’t wanna move,” she smiles sleepily, curling into her side and pressing further into her mattress. Y/N only giggles before nudging her phone closer to her idle hands. “I’ll see you before you go, yeah?”

“Of course you will,” Y/N assures, before getting up and shutting the door behind her. She takes the stairs slowly, aware that she is most definitely more drunk than tipsy and hoping that Harry is easy to find.

ㅤ

The crowds haven’t died down in the time that they’ve been upstairs and Y/N is reminded, as she is every year, that Sarah knows how to throw a really good party—which is unfortunate in this moment when Y/N can hardly see through the masses of people.

Deciding to go back to where she last saw Harry, Y/N heads towards the kitchen, blocking out her surroundings as much as possible in order to focus. She has a poor sense of settings when she’s sober, let alone drunk, so she really doesn’t see the footstool as she trips into it, hand shooting out to grab hold of anything that will keep her balanced. What she doesn’t equate for, is the thing she grabs onto being a complete stranger whose cup gets jolted by Y/N’s sudden movement, spilling the near entirety of it down his front.

“What the fuck?” The stranger startles, head whipping towards a very distressed Y/N who has her hands held up in surrender, apologies bubbling out.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” She is merely met with a sneer, the faces of the rest of his group all matching his own expression as he tries to dry his arm off with a shake. Her cheeks are heated, heart thumping with embarrassment.

“Stupid bitch,” he spits. “Drunk girls like you should be more careful.” Y/N’s brows pinch, words slicing deeper than she’d like to admit; the half a dozen men in creepy costumes having their desired effect in making her uncomfortable.

“I—I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to bump into you—”

“No shit,” the man rolls his eyes and some of his friends smirk—stares patronising. “Now fuck off princess,” he pauses and Y/N can see his next words forming before he says them, “before I suggest you apologise some way else.” His friends all smile and Y/N feels her breath catch, foot stepping back and making its way to turn when her back collides with something.

She jolts her head to see and swears her bottom lip wobbles in relief when she finds it’s Harry, immediately melting into his chest as she feels his knuckle stroke her forearm softly.

“And what would you suggest, hm?” Harry asks in a seemingly unbothered tone, but Y/N can only imagine what his eyes are saying. She doesn’t have to imagine the look of regret on the man’s face at his sudden arrival.

He laughs awkwardly, “Ah, come on man, she knocked into me. Reckon you should keep an eye on her.” Y/N wishes she felt angry, but her emotions are frazzled from the alcohol and the way he’s talking about her is so mean and just plain sexist and she wants to leave. But before Y/N can turn around, Harry’s voice drops and he grits out:

“You’re a pig. Apologise to her,” and Y/N knows that voice—knows his pupils have widened and his jaw is clenched. She gasps slightly, surprised by his blatant public display.

The man stutters, face immediately apologetic, “I—I’m sorry,” he stammers, unblinking, but Harry isn’t impressed and he clears his throat, urging him to continue. “You’re not stupid, a—and I was in your way, if anything!” he laughs slightly but his face is void of humour, and Y/N can’t look him in the eyes, knowing they’ll look trapped.  

“And you’ll treat women with nothing but the utmost respect, yes?” Harry pushes, fingers sliding down to Y/N’s own, telling her he’s nearly done.

“Yes! Yes, of course,” the man rushes out, head nodding maniacally, and Harry hums, seemingly satisfied before squeezing her hand and pulling them both away from the bemused group and their mesmerised friend. Y/N hears their instant jeers of what the fuck was that, you pussy? and that was weak, man—she’s heavily overwhelmed by the whole thing; Harry rarely displays that in front of her.

ㅤ

He guides her back upstairs but into the spare bedroom this time, before locking the door. Y/N lets go of his hand and immediately crawls onto the bed, flopping onto her stomach. Harry walks around the side and sits down, pulling one knee up onto the mattress. She’s frowning, bottom lip jutted out and eyes red.

“Are you okay, baby?” He brushes her wig away from her face, fingertips tracing the top of her ear.

“I’m drunk,” she blinks at him. “You did your scary vampire voice.”

He frowns, “I didn’t scare you, did I?”

“No silly, you came to my rescue. You always take care of me.” She feels her eyes well up, emotions overwhelming.

“Don’t cry, petal.” Harry cradles her face, leaning down to brush his lips against her cheek, and then his nose against hers. She rolls onto her back and pulls him on top of her with an ease that he makes available only for her. Fingertips digging into his back lets him know she wants his weight on her, as he drops his lower half down to meet hers and leans on his forearms that rest on either side of her head. A single tear escapes her eye and drips down onto the sheet before Harry has the chance to swipe it away with a thumb. She’s got a small smile on her face though, as she takes him in, pupils dilated.

“I love you.” She whispers. How could she not?

Harry’s heart nearly beats then; swear he feels it swell. He would never react any differently to those three words coming from her lips. “I love you too. Make me so happy, you know that?” He moves a hand to hold the top of her head. She nods softly, eyes closing as she feels him scratch lightly through the wig.

“Take it off.” she whispers as he gently pulls, the blonde bob coming away in his hand as Y/N lets out a sigh of relief that turns into a moan when Harry takes away the tie holding her hair in place and continues to massage her scalp. She leans her head into his hands, neck stretching out, and Harry leaves a kiss on his favourite spot. “Will you bite me, H?” His ministrations stutter slightly.

“I was only joking earlier, love.” He angles her head back up. “Look at me,” his voice is so soft it’s melting. She whines at the lack of movement in her hair but opens her eyes to meet his. The sincerity of his gaze would be intense if she didn’t know just how much he cared. “We’ve never done that outside of home before.”

“I know. Want you to. Please?” She knows Harry is questioning her ability to make rational decisions but she’s never been more sure of anything. “Makes me feel better. You make me feel better.” His eyebrows pinch slightly, before he’s dipping his head down to connect their lips. Y/N opens up immediately, making one of the little noises Harry has come to crave so much, pulling him into her—desperately clawing at his back. He pulls away with a quiet smacking sound; she tries to chase him and he can’t help the way his lips curve as he watches her blindly search for him. Her eyes blink open slowly, a faint frown on her face.

“Only a little bite,” his gaze hardens slightly, “okay?” pulling her bottom lip down with his thumb. She nods urgently and Harry can tell she’s one moment away from being unable to effectively communicate. So he complies, cupping her face and pressing a quick but ardent kiss to her mouth before trailing pecks across her cheek and down her jaw. Y/N can’t help but melt into the mattress, letting her brain switch off from any thought that isn’t about Harry and the way he feels against her skin. He is encompassing all of her senses entirely, just the way they both know she loves.

She keens when he nibbles her neck slightly—one hand cradling her jaw with the other one buried in her hair—angling her head the way he likes. When he kisses the spot he wants to mark and licks once, her breath catches in anticipation and he brushes his thumb across her cheek in understanding before sinking his teeth in; inexplicably grateful. Y/N twitches at the contact—much less than she used to when they first started doing this. Still, a fragmented moan gets caught in her throat as she feels his lips suction around the bite, feeding from her—although she feels she gains far more from this than he does, especially in this moment.

The floating feeling that Y/N knows she is safest in, that has slowly been creeping into her head ever since Harry found her downstairs, suddenly hits her full force when he groans into her neck—the weight of his body still comforting her endlessly. Her hands move from his back to grasp onto his hair which only makes him press into her further, heat swarming both of their bodies as they spur each other on.

But he pulls away entirely too soon, licking a fat stripe up her neck where a couple of drops have trickled and placing one last kiss over his tooth marks. Y/N whines, bucking her hips in a plea. Harry pulls away from her neck and she sees his red irises slowly ebb back to their viridescent hue.

“None of that, I told you it would only be a little bite.” He watches her pout, big watery eyes ready to beg. So he changes his tactic, leaning his mouth down to her ear before whispering, “Can’t take care of you properly here, don’t want you getting too worked up, yeah?” He smiles against the shell of her ear when she whines again. But he’s serious, looking at her again in her disheveled state. “And you’re drunk, my love,” but Y/N doesn’t want to hear it, too far gone to accept that he is right, as she tries to pull his head back down to hers. He doesn’t budge, hands firmly planted at either side of her head.

“Please, Harry, please,” her bottom lip wobbles; she hates it when he resists like that, not even letting her pretend she’s strong enough to shift him. “Please.” She feels her eyes well up at his furrowed brows. His thumb brushes across her own eyebrow and then under the eye that a tear escapes from, and he feels very reminiscent of about ten minutes prior. Only this time he can tell there���s something off; she is overwhelmed for a different reason.

“Are you feeling floaty, baby?” he asks, gently stroking her hair. And that’s all it takes for her face to scrunch up and her nodding to shake more tears down her cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” her voice is thick, “I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry.”

“Shh, don’t apologise. Done nothing wrong, okay?” He kisses her tears away, and then he’s kneeling back, pulling her with him and onto his lap, guiding her legs to cross behind him. “You’re so good.” He tucks her head under his chin and Y/N feels herself melt into him immediately, ear pressed over his heart even though she knows it won’t beat. “Never apologise for feeling floaty.” She nods against his chest and he tightens his grip around her. “How about I take us home and run you a nice bath, yeah? Would you like that?”

Y/N immediately lifts her head up, glistening eyes hopeful. “Yes please,” she stares up at him, “Will you get in with me?”

“Of course I will, darlin’,” Harry traces her features slowly with his forefinger, smiling as her eyes flutter closed and she leans forward slightly. “And I’ll make you feel good in the morning, I promise.” Heat dances across her cheeks, fighting the urge to squirm in his lap—instead pouting her lips and waiting for him to comply. He does and it’s soft, delicate, the most gentle feeling in the world. A kiss to keep her perfectly blurry around the edges as she falls further into the luxury that is someone else’s control. “Let’s go say goodbye,” Harry says into her mouth, standing himself up and letting Y/N stay latched on as they make their way to bid their goodbyes and manoeuvre through the crowds.

ㅤ

She doesn’t bother to hide the bite mark.

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[collecting-stories]

Treacherous - Remus Lupin

Request: i love you taylor swift song series!! i was wondering if you could possibly write a fic for treacherous using remus lupin:)) xoxo

Summary: After being left suddenly some months earlier the reader stumbles upon Remus in an old bookshop.

A/N: I made this more as Remus being the one sort of, cautious to trust the relationship and then kind of being pulled in because I thought it made for a nice story that way.

TS Anthology Series | Harry Potter Masterlist

...I hear the sound of my own voice, asking you to stay...

"So this is where you've been hiding?" you asked, fingers running over the edge of a cling-film wrapped fudge brownie. You picked it up off the tray of baked goods and set it atop the book you had laid on the counter. A pretty hardback edition of Dracula that you probably wouldn't even crack the spine on but that you would proudly display on your bookshelf. 

You hadn't come up to Tyne upon Wear looking for Remus, obviously. You hadn't heard from him in months and weren't even entirely sure where he had landed after leaving Hogwarts and then James summer cottage. It was an accident of nature, a fluke (though you could hear Peter in the back of your head saying that it was 'fate') that you were here for holiday and that you had walked into this bookstore. 

"I've not been hiding," Remus rebuffed, taking the book and the brownie, his fingers brushing yours. "Who told you that?"

You shrugged, "no one. I just assumed, I mean, this isn't exactly close to anyone." You knew Sirius had gotten a flat in London and Lily and James were talking about Godric's Hollow. Peter was in London too but you felt like you rarely saw him these days, though more than Remus. 

"My nan's from this area," he replied, eyes never straying from the till. He'd seen you outside the window, staring a book on display, partially obscured by the sign painted on the glass. Hiding seemed like a marvelous idea, ducking down behind the counter or slipping behind a bookcase. Marvelous but impractical, probably, at the very least unprofessional. And besides, he was too slow to act. He felt like he'd frozen in place the moment you appeared, as if someone had cast a petrificus totalus spell over him. Remus just stood there and then you turned your head to the side and looked through the window and saw him and smiled. 

When you came into the shop, Remus wasn't entirely sure if the bells he could hear ringing where the ones above the door or the ones in his own head. You hadn't said anything at first, just smiled and browsed around the front of the store, very obviously for show, before plucking a book off a shelf that Remus knew you owned, putting it on the counter for him to ring up. He'd expected you to hate him the next time you saw each other. Perhaps you would yell or give him the cold shoulder or, worst of all, he'd be gone so long that you would move on without him. But here you were and you didn't look upset at all. As if he hadn't disappeared, as if you believed him when he lied and said he wasn't hiding. 

"I don't think I knew that," you looked genuinely like you were trying to remember if he had ever mentioned his nan to you or where in Britain she lived. 

"What are you, uh...what are you doing here?" He asked, moving away from the topic of his family (always a rather delicate matter as you knew) and onto something more important, at least in his mind. You were here and you must've been here for a reason and he hadn't spoken to Lily or James or Sirius or Peter in months which meant that no one could have let on that he was here. No one knew, as far as he was aware, aside from himself and he wasn't advertising the information. 

"Oh, on holiday," you replied. "I was quite influenced by Sirius...or at least that awful monstrosity of his."

"The bike?" Remus asked, eyebrow raising in suspicion, "you've not bought one, have you?"

"No, god no. But I have come into possession of a lovely little green people-carrier. It's quite lovely and I've decided to drive it up the coast to Scotland. Trouble is, I always forget about the petrol until I get going," you explained, "I'm afraid I ran out of gas. A very friendly old man in a funny looking truck picked me up though, picked up the car as well! I believe he called it a tow. How marvelous really, a tow."

"So an empty tank brought you here?" He clarified. How truly like you to forget something so vital but also how like the universe to play such terrible tricks on him as this one. To have you strand yourself on the side of a road just kilometers from him and forced to be deposited into his town. "Where are you staying?"

"A cute little B&B. My room has floral wallpaper and a little tea kettle on a hot-plate. I've not used the hot-plate though the old lady explained it to me...seems very tricky if you ask me. I'd much rather just magic the pot." 

"I don't know of any....that is, I think the town is largely muggles." Remus replied.

"I gathered. Don't worry Remus, I haven't been waving my wand about everywhere I go." You laughed. You took the bag he pushed across the counter, your book and brownie inside. "I missed you quite a lot."

Graduation had felt wildly exciting. All that talk of future plans and goals had never been overshadowed, even when inklings of sadness had crept through at the thought of not seeing your friends every single day for months at a time. You would all be close, you were sure of it. James planned the summer holiday, an almost immediate trip to a summer cottage for a small (though large at the final head count) group of friends to avoid saying anything like goodbye to each other right away. 

The summer cottage had been lovely and you and Remus had only just begun dating each other before the holiday, still shy about each other in the way that new romances are. It had felt exciting, to be away with him. You'd been friends for so long, seven years, and then you were dating and suddenly it was like everything was new and you thought it would all last forever. But then you'd woken up on the last morning at the cottage and Remus was gone and you didn't see him again. Until this very moment, in a tiny bookshop in a little seaside village of muggles. 

"I'm sorry," Remus began to say but you shook your head, stopping him from saying anything more.

"No need to be sorry," you promised. You'd experienced a vast range of emotions in the days and weeks and months post Remus' departure. Ultimately though, you knew your friend well and knew that (despite Sirius always getting the credit for being the one most prone to dramatics) Remus could be very dramatic when he chose to be. Disappearing was not as surprising as you would have liked it to be when you actually thought about it and had resolved yourself to the knowledge that should he choose to, he would show up again. He couldn't stay disappeared forever. And you were mildly thrilled to know that you were right about that, though he was found out against his will, completely by accident. "You're not as unpredictable as you might think Remus."

"I wasn't trying to be unpredictable," he reasoned, "I just-"

"I know." You cut him off, "I've had ages to think out all your reasonings and arguments and I've reenacted them all with myself. I can't imagine you could argue your case any better than I already have," you explained. "Now, what time does this little shop close?"

"Why?"

"Because I just told you that I missed you and I'm certainly not planning on walking out the door and leaving and not seeing you again Remus. In this singular case I would use Peter's reasoning and say that this," you gestured between the two of you, "is certainly fate. I'm not one to ignore fate, should think you wouldn't want to either." 

Remus sighed, shoulders relaxing as though he were giving up a fight and probably, he was. "About an hour. I need to sweep up when I'm done. And there are a few books left to put away."

"Oh well, that's much too much work love, I simply can't wait that long." You joked, looking around the shop. You and he were the only ones in there. "Shall I browse around or can I have a stool?"

"I only have the one," he replied, side eyeing the stool that was placed beside him behind the counter. He wasn't sitting on it and hadn't in the entire time you'd been there. 

"Is it a prized possession?" You joked, "or am I just not allowed behind the till?"

Remus shrugged, "you are."

You came around the side of the counter, placing your bag down and sitting on the stool beside him. You fished the brownie back out of the bag and carefully removed the cling-film, "are you allowed a snack on the clock?"

"You don't really have to wait here," Remus said, taking the brownie piece from you and popping it into his mouth. 

You watched him for a moment, suddenly well aware how many 'little things' there were about him that you had missed. Minute details like the satisfied smile he always gave away without knowing when he ate something sweet. Or the way he brushed his thumb across the tips of his fingers, ridding his hand of invisible crumbs. 

"Why are you looking at me like that?" He asked, realizing that you were watching him, cheeks staining a lovely pink at the attention. 

"I am committing you to memory, in case you should disappear again."

"I didn't mean to leave you...I mean," he sighed, hands clasping together as he cracked a few of his knuckles. You noted a newer looking scar on the back of his left hand. Your boy was never careful with himself when he was alone. 

"Relationships as scary for everyone Remus," you replied. You had already been through all these conversations, you wanted to remind him. You knew what he would say. "Sometimes you just have to decide it's important enough to do the scary thing."

"How philosophical of you."

"No need to be mean to me," you replied, hearing the edge in his voice. 

He shook his head. Taking a box of books that was sitting behind the counter, Remus passed you and walked around the counter, out to the middle of the shop. You watched him disappear behind a bookcase, going to house some books and avoid further conversation on the topic of his leaving. You knew it was a sore subject for him (Remus was quite talented at making almost everything a sore subject for himself) but it wasn't easy for you either. He was the one who had left but you were the one who was left behind. 

"Do you love me?" You think aloud, turning in your stool to try and see Remus down an aisle. You can hear the soft rustle of books stop abruptly and then he appears, as tall as the case itself, eyes wide as he stares at you from behind the fringe that hangs in his face. He looks surprised, perhaps caught off-guard and you aren't really shocked. He'd told you plenty of times that he did, over and over for months from the week after you began dating until the early hours of the morning in James' summer cottage, hours before he left you. 

"What?"

"Do you love me?"

"Why would you ask me that?" Remus questioned, tongue darting out to lick his lips nervously. 

"Because I want to know the answer," you offered, "do you love me?"

"Of course I love you," he finally replied, frowning. 

"Well, it's hard to know Remus, you did leave after all."

"You said you weren't upset about that." He reasoned.

"No, I believe I said that I'd already given myself all your arguments. I considered that maybe you didn't love me and that was the reason. A clean break...I only considered it for a moment though, you wouldn't have left everyone like that if you didn't love just me," you explained, "so I thought about it and I decided that you did love me."

"Then why ask?"

You ignored his question, continuing your explanation instead, "you love me but you're ridiculously afraid of that."

The look he gave was particularly sour, as though he was trying to be mad but couldn't quite bring himself to stop being embarrassed at having been caught out long enough to succeed in being angry. "What's your point?"

"We've been friends since we were eleven, sitting beside each other on the train. And I've known about you since third year," you reminded him, "so what are you afraid of?"

"We all have our own lives now," Remus argued, as if that was actually a legitimate reason for leaving everyone behind, "you don't need to be burdened with-"

"You know I love you also," you said, cutting him off, "I hate when you say things like that. Burdened, as if I'm not actively choosing to sit here with you and ask that you give it another go."

"It's different out here. There is no shrieking shack. Sirius, James, Peter...they have their own lives. They can't be dropping everything whenever it's a full moon. We can't go on this way forever." 

"You may not, you said yourself that Dumbledore told you there was a potionist working on something for-"

"It wouldn't stop the transformation...if it works," Remus replied, "I just, wouldn't lose my mind. And you'll remember that Dumbledore said it would be extremely difficult to come by and even harder to make." He pointed out. 

You sighed, standing up from the stool and walking over to him, "always the pessimist. What are you afraid of?"

"I've told you," he took a step back, as if he were afraid that you might cage him in.

"Not really," you argued, "you've given me plenty of excuses though. I'm not afraid of you, Remus, and none of your friends would ever leave you alone with anything. You know that." 

"I can hardly find work. I've been here four months and missed countless days, if it did any real business I doubt they'd want me around. How can I contribute to any sort of relationship if I can't even work. Not to mention that afterward I'm," he glanced at the newer scare on his hand and you knew what he meant, he used to spend days after in the infirmary when you were at Hogwarts, "and I've a terrible temper, which I know you are aware of, and you were right before I was being mean, and I still haven't quit smoking and I have a terrible diet. Can hardly keep anything down these days, I'm always nervous. And I don't like to go out and I'm not very romantic and I have terrible insomnia-"

"I know all of these things about you Remus," you replied, cutting him off as he rambled. 

Remus sighed, setting the books in his hands down on the shelf and then, unsure of what to do with himself, reached for your hands (which you gave willingly). "I have very little control over most things in my life and I...as trifling as it sounds, I'm quite terrified of giving up control of my emotions," Remus admitted, "suppose that's what I'm afraid of after all, allowing myself to love you. God, I sound like some tragic muggle novel."

"You sound very honest, and not trifling at all," you replied, "you're allowed to be afraid Remus, but you've got to vocalize these things. Running off to a little corner of England alone isn't a very good solution. Don't punish yourself...or me for that matter."

"I know." 

"Besides," you mentioned, tugging his hands gently so that he moved closer to you, so close in fact that you had to tilt your head just slightly to look him in the eye, "you know me well enough to know I'll take supremely good care of all your parts, heart very much included."

He hummed, "good to know." He leaned ever closer, to give you a kiss and to relish in the sensation of being kissed by you, something he had not allowed himself to enjoy for months and now wondered how it was he had managed for even an hour. You were right, and he wasn't surprised by that fact at all. He had been afraid and could still feel the grip of that fear in the back of him mind, no matter how distracting (or reassuring) you managed to be. "I do love you," Remus admitted again, "very much. My leaving...it wasn't because of you, and I never meant to hurt you. I didn't...I didn't think I would."

"You didn't think I would be absolutely gutted?" 

"I suppose I was trying not to think too much about it at all," he replied, honestly. Remus wasn't nearly as daring as James could be, or Sirius for that matter, but he liked to think that in most aspects he was willing to take a risk. It was in the matter of giving himself to some that he found he struggled. If he gave too much away, what would be left of him at departure (and he was always expecting a departure). He'd given all of himself to his friendships, to James and Lily and Sirius and Peter. How could he risk anyone else being granted the ability to hurt him?

But then, you'd been more than willing to take that risk, wholly unafraid of one year or four years or ten years down the road. You weren't thinking in endings, only in right then. And right then you loved him (though probably tomorrow you would too. And in one year, four years, ten years). 

He kissed you again, because even the minutes between when he had just kissed you and right at the moment he did it again felt like it had been too long. He'd missed you terribly and he hadn't really let himself acknowledge it until he'd seen you through the window. 

"I do have to finish closing up," Remus admitted, pulling away from you. 

"Do you?"

"You can help," he replied, "stop distracting me."

"I'm not being distracting," you laughed, "if anything you're the one who's distracting." 

"How so?" He let go of you and moved back toward the box of books, beginning to sort through them. 

"How so?" You repeated the question, a tone of disbelief in your voice as you stared at him. "Well I would tell you but I doubt that you would believe me."

"Probably not," he admitted, knowing his proclivity for self-deprecation. 

You shook your head at him, looking about the small shop, "alright where's the broom then? I'll sweep up," you said, "no magic, I suppose?"

"No magic."

#collecting stories imagine #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin x you #remus lupin fic #remus lupin fluff #the marauders era fanfiction #marauders fanfic #marauders fanfiction #marauders fic #marauders era imagine

[goldenromione]

Why Ginny fell in love with Harry?

She had an crush on the boy who lived but fell in love with Harry Potter himself.

Many say she's perfect for Harry ( which is true) but people forget how perfect Harry is for Ginny.

What are your thoughts on this?

There are a couple of reasons I could draw from, but I imagine it had a lot to do with his proximity to her family. Not in the "he was just there so it made sense" kind of way, but how he was truly one of them (and wore that badge proudly).

She didn't need to defend her family to him. She didn't need to explain why they shared a room, or why they didn't have a lot of money for new clothes. Because he grew up wearing hand-me-downs too.

Harry willingly stayed associated with the Weasley's, even when it brought him negative attention. When they got teased for being poor, he took that personally.

Literally. He jumped Draco for insulting the Weasley's wealth after that Quidditch match in OOTP. Madam Hooch had to cast impedimenta on Harry to get him to stop. That's how angry he was.

As family-oriented as Ginny is, I think that would all mean a lot to her.

#hinny #harry potter #ginny weasley #ask #hp #jk rowling #girl love

[dixonsgirl93]

What I think the Harry Potter men’s type of partner would be:

(I tried to be as realistic as I could with HCs that people might not like. But remember this is just for fun so if you don’t like it, just scroll. Thank you)

Draco Malfoy

- I think Hogwarts era Draco would be more likely to date a Slytherin girl mostly because he would be afraid of his father ridiculing him. I feel like his mother would just be happy to see Draco happy but he cares a lot about what his father thinks.

- I don’t think he would care about their hair colour, he wouldn’t have a preference but he would be hesitant to date someone with red hair. Partly because Lucius would make a big deal of the image of the Malfoys and mention their children being gingers and how much he’d despise that and also for the similarity of the “blood-traitor” Weasleys.

- I think his personal preference of body type would range from very slim to midsize. Whether because of his upbringing or what, I just don’t think he would date a plus-size or larger girl.

- Adult Draco wouldn’t care so much about their blood status but having been brought up with racist views, that kind of ingrained mentality would be hard to shift.

Sirius Black

- I don’t think he cares about their body type. Skinny, midi, larger, whatever. As long as you get on well and find each other attractive then he’s happy.

- He prefers more boisterous women, who can match his energy and put him in his place. The type who rather rebellious but also intelligent and kind.

- I’d say he’s also heteroflexible to a degree. He enjoys kissing men and doesn’t care if people think he’s gay but he definitely prefers to date only girls.

Lucius Malfoy

- His type? Basically Narcissa. Pureblood, slim, intelligent. Someone who can also put him in his place but respect him.

- For him, he wants someone equal to him, someone he can proudly show on his arm. This also means she has to be pretty and slim and well groomed.

- He’s grown up with the ideals and racism that Draco faced but leaned into it rather than away like Draco wanted/tried to do.

Severus Snape

- He’d perhaps want someone who matches his energy. I think he’d want someone happy-go-lucky to suit his more serious personality. Someone patient and kind. He hides it but he has a delicate heart.

- Looks-wise I’m not sure he could date someone with red hair, her reminding him too much of his first love. She would have to really wear down his walls before he would consider letting her in. Otherwise he wouldn’t have a preference.

- He wouldn’t care about their blood status if he felt a true connection with someone. At the end of the day he wants someone kind.

- He’s a sucker for brown eyes and freckles.

Remus Lupin

(I know he’s with Tonks but let’s say if she wasn’t in the series, what would be his type?)

- He’s a smart, bookish guy so I feel like he’d want his partner to be similar. He’d someone he could debate with about world topics and literature.

- He’d prefer if she was well dressed but if there was a genuine connection he wouldn’t care so much if she wore hoodies or something all the time.

- He goes more for personality than how pretty someone is, but he is a sucker for long, wavy hair (that was until Tonks came along and he realised he didn’t even care about hair).

- He would either want someone who was rather opposite to him in terms of out-going and more interested in movies than books or someone who’s more bookish.

- He would like someone he could settle down with though, who would be serious about him. Family is a big deal to him.

Alastor Moody

- As much as I adore Moody and want to just write that *I’m* his type, he’s actually pretty hard to write for. He’s a very stoic person, very serious and paranoid.

- I think he would just be surprised if someone desired to get close to him and didn’t care about his scars or missing body parts. He’d be paranoid at first, assuming the worst but presuming this…

- He wouldn’t really have a preference of how they look. More so that they take care of themselves and present themselves nicely etc. That sort of thing.

- Now, if I am to picture Moody with a partner. I imagine a woman in her mid-late 40’s (youngest), smartly dressed, maybe a secretary or manager, brunette, sophisticated.

- However, do I think he would date someone younger? Like half his age? (If we are to assume he’s in his 60’s). It’s possible. He’d be very hesitant though so you’d need to form a strong bond first which could take years. He’d be worth it though.

#Harry Potter #harry potter aesthetic #harry potter moodboard #harry potter imagine #Harry Potter imagines #Severus Snape #severus snape moodboard #Severus Snape imagine #Sirius black #sirius black imagine #sirius black moodboard #lucius malfoy #Lucius Malfoy moodboard #lucius Malfoy imagine #Draco Malfoy #Draco Malfoy moodboard #Draco Malfoy imagine #mad eye moody #mad eye moody moodboard #mad eye moody imagine #Remus lupin #remus lupin moodboard #Remus lupin imagine

[harrieatthemet]

Pantry

In which Harry invents ‘fun day’ and Angel Baby tries to keep a secret.

You were very clear. At least you thought you were. 

“Absolutely no more skipping school” and you stood your ground, despite the two sullen faces looking at back at you, “understand?” 

The only thing you hate more than being the bad cop: being out of the loop. Which is exactly the position you found yourself in three weeks ago, twice, when Harry kept angel baby home from school for ‘fun day’. And ‘fun day’ typically leads to the principal phoning your cell to ask if she’s sick. She must be, since she’s out of school. And what you hate more than being out of the loop and being the tough parent is having to lie. 

“Was fo’ a fun day,” he pleaded his case for hours afterwards, “and I was missing her so bad!” 

“If you let her skip again, she’s gonna be the only one having any fun” and really you thought this threat would be enough, “your right hand isn’t as fun as my mouth.” 

The look of fear in his eye, an exasperated reaction to the indefinite absence of blowjobs, gave you the impression that he’d put a pause on ‘fun day’ for a while. Which is exactly what he needed you to think. He’d even laid on a little extra moping last night; pouting about how ‘unfair’ it was that he was only home for three days and had to wait until school was over. Disneyland was in the cards all along, which was likely why he pushed you to enjoy your day with friends for ‘as long as you want’. 

Clearly you were too quick to jump to conclusions. There was gonna be a ‘fun day’ whether you wanted it or not, and your friends have the photos to prove it. 

“Harry’s such a good dad,” one of them gushes, phone attached to her hand, “he was definitely meant to have a little girl.” 

You nod in agreement before swallowing a mouthful of iced tea, smiling when the rest of your friends glance at the phone and coo in unison. He is very good with her; very invested and attentive. And definitely meant to be a girl dad, you agree; he’s never shied away from wearing tutus or sloppy blue eyeshadow out of the house. You wait for your turn to gawk at the phone proudly, eager to see whatever article is praising Harry as dad of the year.

“Look at the second one,” your other friend chirps, “he’s having more fun than she is. (Y/N) look how cute these are!” 

She extends her arm across the table with the phone in tow as she eagerly waits for you two swoon like they are. 

Angel baby’s clad head to toe in Disney swag; the ears on her head are sandwiched between two braids, a light up balloon in one hand and Harry’s hand in her other. You’re looking at her colorful butterfly face paint before you notice her shoes; brand new Gucci ballet flats. The same ones Harry brought home from London yesterday and the same ones she wore this morning. For the first time. 

“Fucking fun day.” You’re muttering as you tuck a few things away in your purse. 

He was a little too keen on driving her to school this morning; a little too insistent you needed an afternoon out with friends. He was a little too excited to get you out of the house altogether. Harry’s a lot of things; a man of empathy being one of them. He wants to take care of everyone all the time and it’s admirable. But he’s also a sneaky son of a bitch, which is exactly all you manage to digress to your friends before excusing yourself from lunch. 

It’s not like he wanted to lie. He didn’t want to be sneaky. If anything, it’s really your own fault. Had you jumped on the ‘fun day’ bandwagon he could’ve gotten tickets for three instead of two. You’re a ‘fun day hater’, he tells angel baby, so there was no other choice but to withhold his plans. So he needed to make sure that you were properly distracted, which meant being a little bit sneaky and swearing angel baby to complete secrecy. Which she was fine with; that little girl is a vault and whatever Harry tells her, he knows she’s good on keeping it locked away. 

Not that it mattered because he beat you home. He’s smug when he pulls into the driveway. Your cars absent which reassures him he’s just that good. He’s about ready to relish in the victory when he shuts the front door behind him. And as he readies himself to ask angel baby if she enjoyed her day whilst following her into the kitchen, he hears it; the shutting of a car door. 

How naive of him to think he had at least another hour; both him and angel baby lock widened eyes across the kitchen counter. He knows your’re about a handful of seconds away from hitting that front door and he becomes royally screwed. It’s not nearly enough time for angel baby to get upstairs; she can’t move those little legs that fast. A quick sweep across the room is all it takes for him before he lands on the door to the pantry, then glances back at the wide eyed toddler right across from him. 

“Oi,” he scurries to her side of the kitchen, scooping her up and fast-pacing it to the door, “m’gonna hide y’from mummy, okay peach?” 

This is somewhat amusing to her. Angel baby is just that; an angel. She knows she’d never catch any heat for this. Harry’s gonna fall on that sword like always, she’s just along for the ride. That’s why she lets one of those amused belly laughs out after catching the panicked look scribbled all over his face. When he puts her down before handing her a snack from one of the shelves to keep her occupied, she can’t help but giggle again. 

“Just fo’ a minute, okay?” And he’s trying to shove in all the fucking toys he impulse bought as gently as possible, “Can y’be super quiet f’daddy?” 

She’s giggling at how frantic he is, “you’re in troubleeee” 

“Course not,” he whispers, backing out of the door before mumbling under his breath, “not yet, anyways.” 

He refuses to close it all the way; instead just encouraging her to sit quietly underneath one of the shelves. It does dawn on him to pile up a few bags of chips to better fuse her in with the abundance of snacks, but he doesn’t have time. He can hear you call his name out from the hall before you spawn a few feet away from him. 

“Helloooooo there,” it’s obvious in his tone that he’s up to something, “y’home a bit early.” 

“I am,” and you’re onto him, he can see it in your face, “figured we could pick our girl up from school together.” 

He insisted that he’d be the one to do school pick up - much like he insisted to be the one for morning dropping off, too. And you thought it was sweet; it’s just an excuse to spend a couple extra minutes with her when he could, give you a break and take on whatever responsibility possible now that’s he home for a few days. But now you feel like you finally have the upper hand; he thinks he’s so clever with his rouse when he smiles at you. It’s amusing to you how he’s got no idea your kid is somewhere hiding in this house. She’s probably still in her Disney t-shirt. 

Honestly, whatever you summed it up to be was fine with him. He didn’t care; as long as he managed to finesse her out of school and into a Mickey Mouse hat without suspicion was all he needed. What he hadn’t taken into account was you flipping the script and cancelling your lunch plans. He also didn’t take into account the fact that this isn’t the Stone Age; he’s an A-list celebrity galavanting around the most crowded amusement park in a society where everyone has their phones out. Really, he should’ve thought of that beforehand. 

Because now he’s got angel baby hidden in the snack closet with all 13 of her Disney souvenirs. 

“No need,” he insists, watching you slide your purse onto the counter, “told y’I would.”

He awkwardly shuffles a little to his left in an attempt to divert your attention away from the pantry door. It’s almost like he’s walking funny; awkwardly dancing over to you to give you the hello kiss he assumed you were waiting for. 

“I know,” you hum when he lays a kiss to your temple, “but I thought, y’know, since you’re home we could pull her out early.”

“When,” he blurts, “like, y’wanna grab her right now?”

“Why not,” you’re baiting him and he has no idea, “we could take her to the beach, do something fun.”

He’s squinting his eyes at you because, let’s be honest, he knows you well enough to figure out when you’ve got something cooking. Especially when it comes to prioritizing fun over academics. Yes, you know kindergarten is not college and she’s not learning the cure for cancer. He’s argued that point about fifty times. Which is why he remembers you very clearly reiterating that school is important. So why are you switching sides all of the sudden and so unprovoked?

“S’a good idea,” he nods a little too aggressively, “how ‘bout y’head upstairs ’n fish out some bathing suits while I sign her out, yeah?”

If he can just get you upstairs and out of the way, he thinks he’d have about a solid 3 and a half minutes to fish angel baby out from the closet and smuggle her to the car. He’ll worry about the toys later, but he can do a loop around the neighborhood once or twice and come back like he just snagged her out music class. 

“No, no,” and of course you’ve pissed all over his get out of jail free plan, “we should go together.” 

He exhales, shaking his head like somehow it’ll drudge up a good excuse for why he should probably go on his own. He can’t really think of anything; he’s lagging and you’re boring a stare so heavy at him he feels it burning a hole through his forehead. And he thinks he’s got something but as he opens his mouth to say it, he’s promptly interrupted by loud tousling coming from the pantry. 

So you get serious and dart your eyes between Harry and the door, “What was that?”

“Weird,” he’s acting confused but really, it’s such horrible acting that you wonder how he landed three roles in three different movies, “don’t hear anything.” 

Angel baby can’t for the life of her help him out here, because louder tousling erupts from the pantry. He knows she’s about elbow deep in a bag full of goldfish. All he needed, he thought, was just a few more minutes to throw you off. But you look at him, eyebrows raised, and he can’t ward off the look on his face; like he got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. 

“That bloody cat,” it was all he could think of under pressure, “real menace, he is, always getting into th’snack cabinet.” 

The jig is up. He knows it, and you’re tired of playing the long game. So you stride past him before he shuts his eyes. He’s caught red handed and there’s no way he’ll drum up a good lie for why he tucked angel baby in between the tortilla chips and canisters of spaghetti. She tousles around in there a little more before your hand falls on the knob, blowing the door and his chance for another fun day wide open. He turns around apprehensively to size up your reaction; he wants to get an idea of how bad the outcome is gonna be. 

But he melts at his little girl, her face painted as she sits aside all her toys and smirks innocently up at you and giggles, “I was hiding good, huh?” 

“The snack closet,” you groan, cocking your head at Harry “Seriously?” 

He’s got nothing to say; he knows what he did. It was just the most convenient place to put her on short notice. He looks right past you though and shoots angel baby a lopsided smile. You and him are in the same boat; she’s too wholesome to get stern with. Especially when she’s doing her toothy grin with a face painted like a butterfly. You tilt your head at her though before sighing. A good talk about lying can take place later; right now you’ve got another liar to deal with.

“Why don’t you take a few of these toys upstairs,” you encourage, gesturing the pile of trinkets she’s surrounded by, “put those away so I can talk t’daddy.” 

She grabs as many as she can fit in her hand, which would be a solid two toys, and leaves the rest for you to manage before she embarks on her journey upstairs. Not before stopping by Harry, apologizing for not keeping his secret. And she also apologizes for snagging as many Oreos she could and stuffing them in her pocket to bring with her upstairs. She makes sure to keep that part hushed so it doesn’t fall on your ears. Then he’s left with you - not the ending he was hoping for after enjoying a day with angel baby. Your arms are folded, face flat in annoyance before you do that thing he fears most; that annoyed breath of air out before shifting your weight onto one hip. Seriously, it terrifies him. 

“Know y’mad,” he puts both his hands up in surrender, “but m’leaving again soon and I thought, hey she hasn’t been t’Disney lately and-“

“That’s more important to you than going to school and learning?” Your tone tells him he’s not gonna maneuver out of this by being cheeky, “going to Disney? She’s not learning anything in Disney.” 

“Sure she is!” 

“Right,” oh now you’re being sarcastic, he’s really done it, “ because It’s A Small World and Mickey Mouses’ legacy is really gonna shape her educational development.” 

“I mean,” where he’s gonna go with this, not even he’s so sure right now, “Mickey’s got his own franchise, could probably learn something there.”

He landed the point but it totally crashed and burned. Epically, because you roll your eyes and reach for one of the stuffed dolls angel baby left behind to hurl it at him. Really he’s not trying to make a joke out of this. And he swears he won’t do this again. Touring is coming to an end so there’s no need to honestly. But he doesn’t want his brief trip home to be infiltrated by hostility; he’s just trying to make light of the situation. You’re not biting though. For a minute he thinks you are because you uncross your arms and start to walk away. Not before breaking the bad news to him. 

“I’m taking you off the pick up list indefinitely,” the words come so nonchalantly from you and he acts like you shot him, going to argue the unfairness before he’s swiftly cut off, “and if you argue that I’ll take you off for good. You know I will.”

“And I don’t get any blowies before I leave?” he exhales; he’s gotta ask to prepare himself for an answer, “how long am I being punished?” 

“Long,” you nod affirmatively but he frowns in response, sighing as you stroll by and pat him on the back, “that right arm’ll be real strong.” 

#why am I literally cackling at this #harry imagine #harry imagines #harry one shot #harry one shots #harry drabble #harry drabbles #harry x y/n #harry x reader #harry x you #harry writing #harry writings #harry fic #harry fanfic #harry fanfiction #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles one shot #harry styles one shots #harry styles drabble #harry blurb #harry blurbs #harry styles blurb #harry styles blurbs #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic

[hoodharlow]

Day Care in Her—

An: I had THOTS and had to 🤭🤭🤭 gif from @jackharlows in this gifset.

Requested? No

Warnings: smut, rude fans that like to give their unwanted two cents

Word Count: 2.1k words

Miriam huffed in frustration. Jack called her and asked if she could go to the studio so that he could show her something. She agreed but she didn’t know what to wear. She saw that EST.Gee posted that he was in the studio with him but there were a few girls chilling on a couch. They were dressed like they were heading out to the club. So Miriam had to look good, but not too good that it was obvious that she was trying to show them up.

She settled with a black denim skirt and jacket from Diesel paired with a cropped wife beater (sans bra) and her Doc Martens. She grabbed her petal pink Prada terry mini bag along with her car keys. 

Miriam hated driving at night, but luckily Jack’s apartment wasn’t that from the studio. They were in Atlanta for a few days before they went to Louisville for a dewndays. Jack wanted to spend as much time as possible with Miriam before he had to go on tour and she started working on her show. 

Twenty minutes later she arrived at the studio. Before getting out of the car, she texted Jack that she was already there. She made her way inside and greeted the front desk woman. Security greeted her and told her the room Jack and EST.Gee were in. Before she could knock, the door swung open, revealing Jack.

“I was gonna go get you.” he said before greeting her with a kiss. He pulled away and took her, noting how short her skirt was. “You look good. You think we can go to the car real quick?”

“No, you said you wanted to show me something.” Miriam said, pushing her way inside. She went to greet EST.Gee. “Hi George!”

They made some small talk while the sound engineer set up the song for Miriam to listen to. Jack had recorded his verse for the song, but he wanted her input on it because the lyrics were a bit raunchy and he didn’t want to put something out if it made her uncomfortable. 

“Aight Mina, Dina and Karina we’re gonna need you guys to step out.” EST.Gee said to the influencers that were on the couch and didn’t greet Miriam back when she said hi to them.

“Why does she get to stay?” one of them said in a snarky tone.

“Because I said so. Now step out so me and Jack can work.” he said, nodding to the door. 

The three women grabbed their bags and stepped out of the room. Miriam shrugged off her jacket and draped it behind Jack’s chair. She settled on his lap. 

“You’re a fucking tease.” Jack murmured, not tearing his gaze away from her chest. Her top was very thin and the AC was on, meaning her nipples were proudly on display. 

“With what?” she tilted her head. 

“‘With what?’” He mimicked her. He wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on her shoulder, giving him access to her neck. He whispered, “You’re lucky Gee is here because wasn’t, I would have bent you over and taken you right here.” 

“We’re gonna play the song, so cool it on the dry humping.” EST.Gee said.

“Yeah, Jack, cool it with the dry humping.” Miriam said, pressing her ass on his dick. 

The producer typed some things on the computer and then the song started to play. All focus was on Miriam. Her face was neutral and unreadable as the song played. She shifted on Jack’s lap, turning so she would be facing forward. 

“Can you play it again, please?” Miriam asked the producer.

“Of course.” they said, replaying the song.

“I liked it. It reminded me of the ‘Stranger Things’ theme song which was cool.” she said once the song ended. “And the ‘another quarter million on the wrist’ line was so relatable. I have this gorgeous diamond cluster bracelet from Harry Winston that–”

“It’s ‘another quarter million on the list’ not wrist,” Jack cut her off. EST.Gee nodded in agreement.

“Oh, never mind that part then.” she giggled. “Either way I liked it.” 

“What about the ‘daycare in her throat’ line? It doesn’t bother you, right? You don’t find it offensive?” Jack asked. 

“Personally I think you should have said ‘daycare in her pussy’ instead.” she told him.

Behind them, EST.Gee choked on his drink, hearing her say that. 

“So you don’t have an issue with lyrics?” Jack asked her once more.

“No, they’re fine,” she reassured him. “But I appreciate that you asked.”

“We just have to tweak some things, and the song is done.” the producer said. “It’ll take at most half an hour. 

“You drove right?” Jack asked Miriam. 

“Yeah,” she nodded.

“Gee picked me up, wanna hang back and then we’ll go get something to eat?” 

“Okay.” 

Miriam knew Jack was a perfectionist. He's the type of guy to stay in the studio hours after with the sound engineers and producers until the song was perfect for him. Her astrology friend said he was a perfectionist because he has a virgo mood in his birth chart. Miriam had no idea what that meant, but she just nodded along to what her friend was saying. 

As promised they finished in half an hour. Miriam was on her phone playing Candy Crush, struggling on a level she’s been stuck on since this morning. 

“What are you in the mood for?” He asked as he helped her in the car. 

“You.” she said, eying how good he looked in his t-shirt and sweats.

“Be serious, Miriam.” 

“I know this isn’t coming from the guy who said that he would have bent me over in the studio.”

*

Miriam’s eyes never left Jack’s blue ones as she took him deeper in her mouth. He tightly gripped the center console on his car. His stomach began to contract, letting Miriam know that he was close. Slowly, she pulled him out of her mouth until only his tip rested on her tongue. She widened her eyes, making her look more innocent as she stroked him. Then she took him back in her mouth, bobbing her head, as he came. 

Just to annoy him, she cleaned him up like she was licking a popsicle to keep it from melting. She wiped the corners of her mouth and sat in her seat. 

“Are you still in a bad mood?” she asked him, referring to how their server at the pizza place they went to kept going back and forth trying to flirt with her while they ate. 

“He was fucking fliritng with you and you let him.” he argued, putting his cock back in his sweats.

“I didn’t hear you complaining when you were eating the free wings.” she muttered low enough for him not to hear her.

“What was that?” he snapped at her.

“Nada malagradecido.” 

Miriam got out of the car and stomped ahead of him. Jack had to jog to catch up to her before she got in the elevator. 

“I’m just saying if the server was a girl and flirting with me, you would be giving me shit.” he said when they reached their private floor. 

“No I wouldn’t have. I would have pimped you out so we can get free shit.” she said, replying to a text Claudia sent her as he unlocked the door. 

“Bullshit.”

“I’m not lying. I’m not fucking insecure of some girl who’s only flirting with you so you can give her extra money.” 

“But if it was Anitta.”

“That shit is different and you know it.”

“Enlighten me, Miriam.” 

“It just is and you’re being unnecessarily petty.” 

“Are you kinda turned on?” He asked her, changing the subject.

“A little.” she giggled.

“Can I bend you over on the couch?”

“Yeah.'' Miriam nodded enthusiastically.

She tossed her jacket and top on the ottoman and climbed onto the couch. She took her time, stretching a few times while Jack took off his sweats and boxer-briefs. She wiggled her ass, taunting him, but Jack pretended she wasn’t getting under his skin. He pushed her skirt so that it was on her hips and slowly peeled off her panties down to her knees and lined himself up like he was about to enter her.

Instead he gripped her hips and kissed up from her waist. He reached her cheek and gave her a gentle kiss before leaning back on one of his knees, the other leg planted firmly on the hardwood floor. While one hand was on her hip, the other went to her core. His fingers teasingly rubbed her clit. Miriam dropped her head and groaned in frustration. She didn’t need to turn around to know that he wore the biggest smirk on his face. She just knew with the way he kept touching her, making her grow even more restless than she was.

“Jack, please just fuck me.” She gave in. She couldn’t take it anymore. It was all fun and games, but not when she was the one getting teased. She looked behind her where Jack was. “I’m about to go up to your room and fuck my—AH!”

Jack pulled out and pushed himself in her once more. His hands gripped her waist as he slowly rocked into her. As the minutes passed, his thrusts got rougher, and Miriam couldn’t hold back. She begged Jack to keep fucking her at that deliciously slow and rough pace she loved. He leaned over, his chest against her back.

“Fuck.” Jack moaned out.

His lips kissed all over her neck as he continued to fuck Miriam. She rocked back against him, meeting his thrusts.

“That’s it, take me so good, Miriam.” He groaned in her ear. Jack shifted his hips as he thrusted into her. The new angle hit her in that spot that made her beg for him.

“Please, fuck—”

She pushed back rougher to meet his thrusts. He gripped her hips with one hand while the other went back down to her clit. Jack worked his fingers roughly as he pushed his hips into Miriam. He buried his face in her neck, kissing her sweet spot. Her quiet praises filled the room, egging him on. She quietly whimpered his name, lazily meeting his thrusts before her orgasm took over. Jack’s orgasm followed soon after. He cried her name and pushed himself deep inside Miriam, spilling every last drop in her.

“Are you still mad?” Miriam asked Jack, shifting around so that she was laying on top of him. 

“Nah,” he shook his head. “Next time try to get some free cheesy garlic bread.”

***

A few weeks had gone by. Jack was on tour and Miriam was at his Atlanta apartment making breakfast before she headed out to set. She was staying there because she was filming a mini series with her mom and Aaron Taylor-Johnson but she was staying at Jack's apartment because her and Isabela had opposing characters and they didn’t want to interfere with their characters’ dynamics if they stayed in the same place.

She was typing out the caption for tik tok she filmed with Aaron Taylor-Johnson when she got a call from Jack. She declined his call and finished up the caption. Not liking the long caption she deleted it and wrote ‘you’re welcome’ because it her and Aaron doing Beyonce’s ‘Cuff It’ challenge. She knew the girlies, gays and theys were going to enjoy watching Aaron sway his hips in grey sweats.

Jack called her again. She furrowed her eyebrows. He rarely called her back when she denied his calls.

“Yeah?” she answered, switching to facetime.

“Have you checked Twitter?” he asked in an anxious tone.

“No, I deleted the app off my phone after the Emmys.” she said. “What happened?”

“People are mad.” he sighed.

“About?” she said walking to her MacBook.

“The song with Gee. According to people I shouldn’t be talking about you like that because you’re now an Emmy award winning actress.” he rolled his eyes.

“Hold on.” she said quickly logging into Twitter. 

Once the page loaded, she was bombarded with people’s tweets calling Jack disrespectful for objectifycing her and how he shouldn't lie about the types of sex they have. Some tweets are from his fans crying because they wished they were Miriam. But the ones going around more are the people calling out Jack.

“Okay they’re doing too much.” she said, closing her laptop. “I’ll fix it.”

“How?” 

“Leave that to me.” she said, pulling out her bagel out of the toaster. “Can I call you in a bit?” 

“Sure.”

“Okay love you.”

“I love you too.” he hung up.

Miriam added some light butter to her bagel and munched on it while she scrolled through her videos. After what felt like an eternity, she stumbled on the video of her eating vanilla ice cream. She uploaded it to her instagram. She captioned it, ‘substituting my man’s sweet, sweet se– with ice cream since he’s not here to put a daycare in my throat’ and posted it. Instantly her phone was flooding with comments and reactions to her post. 

taglist- @cherryxcreme​ @heavyhitterheaux​ @carma-fanficaddict​ @youngharleezyxo​ @deannaard​ @meyocoko​ @babyharleezy​ @whywontyoulovemecami​

#jack harlow smut #jack and miriam

[daaydreamy]

we’ve got a thing goin’ on

summary: harry and y/n can’t seem to get enough of each other.

warnings: coarse language

pairing: harry styles x fem!reader

•••

4 days later. (Saturday)

“Jesus, what’s got you so happy?” Niall said grumpily, ruffling his sleep-mussed hair. As soon as he walked into the kitchen, Harry was sitting on one of the stools at the kitchen island, smiling and giggling quietly as he spooned cereal and milk into his mouth. His eyes were glued to his phone and his thumbs kept moving. He had been texting ever since his eyes opened that day, actually, and couldn’t seem to stop now that it had started. 

Niall tried to catch a peak over Harry’s shoulder to see who he was texting and who had him so giddy, only for Harry to turn his phone screen away from him, furrowing his brows as he turned his head to look at Niall. 

“What? I’m curious. Who’s that, huh, H? Got a little crush?” Niall teased and Harry rolled his eyes, using his elbow to nudge at Niall’s stomach. “You’ve got a little crush.” Niall was not going to stop now that he caught Harry, wiggling his eyebrows at him as he poured cereal into a bowl for himself. Despite Niall’s teasing, Harry was still texting Y/N. He had told her one of the few jokes Niall said would never, ever make anyone laugh, except she did laugh, so… piss off, Niall, it was funny. 

“Did ya meet her at the bakery?” Niall asked him and sat down on the stool opposite of Harry, shoving a full spoon of cereal into his mouth. 

But Harry couldn’t even reply, too engrossed in his and Y/N’s conversation. Niall only shook his head and took his bowl of cereal, heading over to the couch instead of trying to put himself into a fruitless conversation. 

From Y/N, 9:37 AM

do you wanna come over later?

Harry glanced over at where Niall was busy watching something on the TV, before smiling to himself. 

•••

“He’s coming overrrrr, Mochi!” Y/N said in a sing-songy voice as she swaddled her cat in her arms, who was now starting to squirm, so she put her down. Mochi instead went through her legs, purring and rubbing up against her. Y/N chuckled softly and crouched down, rubbing the underside of her chin. She smiled gently when she rubbed her face into her hand even more. 

“You’ll be meeting someone new, yeah? Be nice.” She murmured softly. 

•••

“She asked you to come over?”

“Yep.” Harry grinned at Niall as he sorted through his closet, trying to look for something to wear. He wanted to wear something casual, he didn’t want to look like he was trying too hard. Maybe just a T-shirt and some nice jeans. Or a sweater. Sweater vest? Long-sleeved shirt? Shorts? No… surely not. Shorts seem like a strange thing to wear on a date. Was it even a date?

“Alright, mate!” Niall said proudly, hitting Harry on the back a little too hard and causing him to wince. “Finally getting some, eh?” Niall was wiggling his eyebrows annoyingly again and Harry rolled his eyes, chuckling softly. Harry was hanging up all the clothes he liked up on the handle of his closet and Niall furrowed his brows as he browsed through the shirts Harry had picked out. 

“Harry, mate… seriously?” Niall had a small frown on his face, holding up a bright yellow shirt that had pineapples all over it. 

“Yeah, you’re right.” Harry mumbled, taking the shirt from Niall’s hands and putting it back in his closet. 

“Hey, it’s alright, man. You can do this.” Niall said quietly, patting Harry on his back. 

“It’s just,” Harry sighed, “What if she thinks I’m some loser?”

“Harry, you’re 24, not 42. You’re fine. She asked for your number and wanted you over for a reason. If you wear some of these really, really ugly shirts, then I’m afraid she might think you’re a loser, though, so maybe rethink your clothing choices.” Niall said comfortingly… kind of. “I’m gonna play FIFA.” He gave Harry one last firm pat on his back with a smile on his face and left his room soon after. 

“I…” Harry said once Niall shut the door, “Fuck.” He groaned loudly, burying his face in a bright pink shirt that had flamingos all over it. 

•••

Shot. 

Y/N needed a shot. 

She took a deep breath and shook her head, no, she could do this sober. She folded her lips into a line, unsure of where to start. Should she get ready first, or cook dinner? What if Harry had already eaten before he came over? What if he comes early and she’s barely even ready? He can’t possibly see her wearing those really old shorts along with a really old shirt that said “I Heart Pandas” with a random picture of a panda on it that was also, coincidently, very old. 

She called Zayn first. 

“I asked him to come over.” Was the first thing she immediately said. 

“What?” Zayn said groggily, voice deep and raspy. 

“Did you just wake up? It’s almost 3 PM.”

“Leave me alone.” Zayn sighed and Y/N knew his thumb was moving towards the end call button. 

“Wait! Zayn, help me, please.” She said desperately, “Pretty please?”

“What could you possibly need help with? He’s just coming over, I don’t know, cook him dinner. Watch a movie with him. Give him a blowjob for all I care.”

Y/N was toying with her lower lip, “Right.” She nodded. “Thanks, Z.”

“Jesus, did you really need to call me fo-”

Y/N ended the call.

•••

Harry’s hands were sweating immensely. God, it was disgusting. He wiped his hands against his pants and took a deep breath. Was he still sweating? This was going horrible already, he thought, and tried to think about what Niall said. He thought most of it was helpful and comforting, except for the feeling of his heavy hand slapping his back multiple times. He checked his watch and looked back up at the door in front of him, finally raising his hand to… wait.

Should he knock or ring the doorbell?

He gulped dryly and chose to ring the doorbell, trying to soothe his beating heart that was moving a little too fast for his liking. 

“Hi, Harry.”

“Hey.” Harry smiled and Y/N noticed how his cheeks were pink again, but she didn’t want to point it out. “Er, these are for you.” He said softly, handing her the bouquet of pink easter lillies he had bought, flushing a little more at the sight of her smiling as she took them from his hands. She pressed the flowers to her nose, inhaling their sweet scent with a small smile on her face. 

“Come in, come in.” She chuckled softly. 

“I, uh, made dinner. I hope you haven’t eaten yet?” She asked him hopefully after closing the door behind him and he shook his head with a kind smile. He shrugged his coat off and hung it up beside the front door. 

“Okay, good.” She smiled brightly, “I’m not the greatest cook, unfortunately, so feel free to tell me if the food is shit. Criticism is appreciated.” She laughed and so did he. 

“It looks amazing, I’m sure it’s great.”

“Oh please, give me fabric and a sewing machine and you’ll see something actually good.” She joked, motioning for Harry to sit. 

•••

“I really enjoyed tonight.” Harry said softly as he fixed his coat, standing outside of Y/N’s front door. She was smiling gently, leaning against the door a little, slightly wine-drunk. 

“Me too.” She chuckled, “Definitely the best date I’ve had in a while.”

“I can say the same.”

There was a moment of silence that was shared between them. Harry was starting to get flustered again but he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from hers, and she couldn’t tear her own from his either. He darted his tongue out to wet his slightly chapped lips and Y/N’s eyes flickered down to look at them. So wet, so kissable. 

“I-”

He was cut off by the press of her lips against his.

a/n: part three!

🏷: @crow-i-guess, @planetflos, @harrycanyonmoonn, @bxtchboy69, @sweet-as-lilacs, @lyricalniall, @venusincleo (couldn’t tag you!), @bxbun111, @tenaciousperfectionunknown, @emispleased, @goldenhrry, @cinnamongirlrry, @manifestrry, @niallhoranshotgf, @sad1esgf, @taylorsreputationsversion, @violetsandfluff, @purplefishingline, @a-strange-familiar, @moonlightbea-33 (couldn’t tag you!), @famedrs-blog, @coochiesteak, @blahblahblah-888 (couldn’t tag you!), @milesisntdonewritingyet, @harrysgoth, @theroosterswife24, @cinnamonlola, @youcan-nolonger-run

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x you #harry styles oneshot #crybaby!harry #writing #Spotify

[greenerteacups]

Hello, it’s so good to have you back. I earnestly hope your healing journey is easy and straightforward.

I’m seeing you answer questions about Tonks, and I wanted to share how intrigued I am with the way you used Tonks’ Animagus ability to navigate and represent her estranged relationship with the Black family. Given the “mass of black hair” she sports in the Ministry and the “pixie cut shock of electric pink” at Grimmauld Place, we intuit that Tonks clearly plays around with her face to heighten and decrease her resemblance to her aunts on a situational basis. I presume she thought that resembling Bellatrix would be a tactical advantage for her Ministry interview.

In that vein, I’m curious to know what you think Draco would do with his appearance if he had Tonks’ same abilities. If Draco had the Animagus ability that Tonks does, would he also play with his face and how it resembles that of his father? I think he doesn’t mind being a resemblance of his father at Hogwarts, because none of his friends had any relationship with Lucius. But given that during Narcissa’s episodes she perceives Draco as his father, I wonder if you think Draco would change his face to avoid triggering another episode.

In general, I’m very intrigued by the idea of shape shifting and what it represents. I think in terms of his relationships with Theo and Pansy, Draco would sometimes (metaphorically) shift into the image of an ideal Slytherin, playing up his pedigree and knowledge of pureblood tradition.

This is a really cool question, and I took a hot minute to think about it. For one thing, metamorphmagus!Draco would be even more ridiculously vain than he is at present; it seems useful for all sorts of things like haircuts and spots (even fit aristocratic fifteen-year-olds get them, tragically). I don't think Draco would deliberately try to play up the resemblance to his father — in most cases. For one thing, he's very much attached to his mother, and he wears that resemblance proudly; he identifies as a Black as well as a Malfoy, if to a lesser extent, and those echoes are part of his heritage. That said, Narcissa (who's the best and only real authority on the subject) thinks Draco looks a lot like Lucius anyway, and everyone already associates him heavily with his father, so playing up the resemblance wouldn't do much for him. Playing it down, on the other hand, is an intriguing idea... except he'd probably be making himself resemble the Black side of the family more, and we're all familiar with the fates of the two most recent sons of Black.

That being said, there are places it would probably be useful. Tonks definitely played up the family resemblance to lean on Bellatrix's reputation. (Also, Tonks's normal aesthetic is very Manic Pixie Dream Witch, and it would not go over well with the wizard Tories.) It also would have changed major plot points related to the Polyjuice Potion in Book 3 (although to what extent, I'm not sure; we're never really told what a fully realized metamorphmagus's abilities could do, e.g. if Tonks could alter whole body parts, height/weight/build, or even internal organs; is she doing a glamour, or is she actually changing parts of her body, and if the latter, can she heal her own injuries; as always, the first rule of every magic system in Harry Potter is Don't Think About The Magic System).

To wit: if the current version of Draco could change what he looked like, I don't think he would, and that's quite telling in and of itself.

#greenteacup asks #by current i mean start of fifth year to be clear #there's a header on my outline document that's just called 'Lucius Stuff' and that's nowhere near covered yet #anyway! thank you for the comment and the question! blessings as always <3 #lionheart spoilers

[sykokilljoyy]

do you think you could write cute smut about harry? maybe like after smoking a blunt or something :p

love drug - 18+ wroetoshaw imagine

request: do you think you could write cute smut about harry? maybe like after smoking a blunt or something :p words: 2055 warnings: sex! weed! hehe, oral (male receiving), p in v sex, heavvvyyyy mention of weed. reader & harry r stoned. harry has big heart eyes for reader

tl;dr: y/n and harry get stoned and horny

Summer air slipped in through the open windows, a soft hum of music playing from Harry’s speakers and a gentle aura of smoke floated through the room. Duvet abandoned due to the heat, skin flush against skin as Harry’s arm hooked itself around your shoulders. Laying on his back, torso out in the warmth of the July evening, his fingers playing with the joint pressed to his lips.

Already buzzed, you turned to put your chin on his chest, watching as his neck flexes to blow the smoke from his mouth.

“You look so hot,” Your voice was quiet, your energy pouring itself into the heat that formed where your skin met his.

Chuckling, Harry took another toke, his head tilted back to give you a show as he puffed the smoke into the air of his room. Smirking at his reaction, you leaned up quickly and placed a kiss on the base of his neck, relishing in the red tint that grew quickly on his skin.

“Can I have some more?” You asked, gesturing to the joint in his hand.

“Of course,” He nodded, his voice low and hoarse from smoking, “Come here.”

Hands on your waist, Harry lifted you towards him, your thighs flush against his hips as you straddled his lap bashfully. One hand came to cup your cheek, whilst the other lifted the joint to his own lips, his eyes stuck on you. Breathing in, he pulled your face towards his, meeting you halfway, his lips collided with yours.

Your chest spread with warmth, not only from the smoke that clouded your vision, but because of his soft lips and coarse hands holding your face against his. Parting his lips, you inhaled the smoke from him, moaning at the way your head spun and the heat hit the back of your throat.

Keeping you on him, Harry’s hand slid from your face to your waist, slipping just under the baggy t-shirt you were wearing. Your body reacted immediately, hip rolling to meet his touch, heat spreading to wherever his fingers rested.

Kiss deepening, you dragged your hands down his chest, nails gently scratching his already red-tinted torso, his hips bucking slightly at the feel of you exploring his body like it was your own — which, if you asked him, he would proudly say it was.

“You look hot in my t-shirt,” He breathed out, pulling away from your lips, feeling a warm pit in his stomach at the sight of your reddened lips from his kisses. He loved seeing evidence of himself on your body.

“Hotter with or without?” You smirked at him, toying with the hem of the shirt that hung off your body, pulling it up slightly to expose skin.

“That’s not even a question, Y/N,” Before you could tease anymore, he was already pulling the shirt from your body.

“Shit.” He muttered under his breath, taken aback by the vacancy of your bra, eyes lapping up your almost naked body in top of his. In between your thighs, you felt him harden at the sight of you.

In retaliation, you rolled your hips against his, feeling his grip tighten on you as you moaned at the friction.

“Fuck,” He groaned as you continued to grind against him, the pleasure exaggerated by the high you were both riding.

Leaning down to him, you kissed along his neck and jawline, enjoying the way his body reacted to your touch. Kisses fell down to his chest, your lips leaving goosebumps in their wake as you lowered yourself down his body, finally reaching the waistband of his boxers. He watched you adoringly, moaning when you palmed him through the material.

“Please,” He was breathless, and you took his word as a green light and removed his boxers, smirking to yourself at the sight of him, hard for you and only you.

Without much hesitation, you wrapped your hand around him, feeling his cock twitch at your touch, running your thumb along the underside. A moan left his lips, and you placed a kiss on his tip.

“Is this okay?” You assured quickly, your hand pumping criminally slowly as he tried not to buck into you.

“Mhmm,” Harry moaned, his body feeling lightweight as the joint in his hands hit him properly, his mind only able to focus on you.

Needing no other encouragement, you wrapped your lips around him, breathing through your nose as you took him into your mouth the best you could. His hands wrapped themselves in your hair, guiding your mouth gently onto him, moaning at the feeling of you around him.

God, he would never get tired of you. The feeling of your hands rubbing circles into his skin whilst his cock twitched in your mouth, the pace you set having his hips roll to meet you. Hand still wrapped in your hair, he guided you softly, getting lost in the pleasure of it all.

“Fuck, Y/N,” He was breathless, leaning over to rest the joint on his bedside table, his other hand lifting your head from him. Groaning slightly at the lost contact, he pulled you gently back up to him, holding your waist against his for a moment to look at you, “You’re beautiful.”

Red blush blossoming on your cheeks, you looked down at him adoringly, hiding the fact you could feel him hardening against you, struggling to ignore how wet it made you, “I couldn’t ask for anyone better, Harry.”

In a second, his arms had wrapped themselves around your waist and you felt your back hit the mattress, him now towering above you with a shit-eating grin on his lips.

“‘M gonna show you how much you mean to me,” He muttered, his lips meeting your jaw sloppily, kissing trails from your neck to your chest, tongue finding its way around.

Your fingers found themselves in his hair, holding him against your skin as pleasure ran through you, a warm kind of pleasure that had your hips rolling towards Harry.

“Please,” You moaned out breathlessly, his fingertips dancing teasingly at your underwear, “Please, Harry.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” He smirked, and his lips came back up to meet yours, his hands slipping below the cloth of your underwear, toying with your clit slowly.

You moaned into his mouth, bucking up to meet his touch, your body silently begging for more friction, touch, anything. Instantly, his fingers slipped inside of you, your back arching at the feeling.

“Fuck, Harry,” The haze of your high clouding your mind and heightened not only the relentless pleasure, but the feeling of his body pressed against yours, his erection pressed onto your thigh, groaning slightly at the feeling of you grinding against him.

His touch on your skin was somehow delicate but strong, his fingertips ghosting the skin of your chest, but his hand moving roughly inside you, hitting all the spots you needed him to. It wasn’t long before his bittersweet touch became stronger, the core of your stomach heating up as the sudden need of release begun to blossom.

“Harry,” You moaned breathlessly, your hands flew to hold his face and look into his blue eyes, pupils blown at the sight of you, “I’m so close…”

“You gonna cum for me? Let me know how good I make you feel?” Voice hoarse and breathless, his mind swimming with the feeling of you, the sounds you’re making. He couldn’t bare thinking of anything but you in that moment.

Barely able to respond, you nodded your head, body reacting to his like it was made for him. Back arching, hands grasping at his arms, you let go, his movements sending waves of pleasure through you as you came.

“There you go, pretty, come on,” his intoxicated voice talked you through it, coaxing you back to his arms, removing his hand from you and cupping your cheek, “You look so hot when you cum.”

As your orgasm washes through you, your head spinning from the heat, cheeks blushing crimson from his comments, you barely noticed him climb on top of you entirely, until his body was flush against you and his chain hanging, pooling on your chest.

His body was built, you knew that, but with the height of your orgasm and the fuzz that swam through the inside of your brain, his arms felt like heaven to you. Intently, your hands ran down the smooth sculpture of his biceps, the strength anchoring you to him as your chest rose and fell heavily.

“Can I?” Lips against your neck, a slight desperation slipping from his mouth, breath heating your skin as desire trickles down your spine.

“Can you what?” A moment of pride slams through you, your usual teasing nature presenting itself, even though its frantically obvious his intention, “Say it, pretty boy.”

“I need you, Y/N,” He practically begs in your ear, weak at the nickname, heart beating against his chest, the feeling of your body hot and wrapped around his sending his brain into a frenzy, “Can I fuck you?”

This made every teasing, playful bone in your body melt at the need in his voice. He needed you more than you could ever imagine, and though you’d been together for a while, he’s never gotten over the feel of you. The sounds you make, the way you make him lose all touch with his reality with just a brush of your lips or fingertips. God, you lived at the front of his mind at all times.

“Please,” You moaned, wrapping your legs around his waist and your hands finding his hair, preemptively tugging at the strands.

Lining himself up, he thrust into you, moaning against your neck, his name leaving your lips like a prayer. A thousand times he’d fucked you, but not once did the feeling fade. The excitement, the passion, the desire – the pleasure.

“You always take me so well,” Breath catching in his throat, his hips flush against your own as he bottoms out, “Always.”

Thrusts begun to pick up, his chain hanging and you slid your hand from his hips to his neck to pull him closer. His breath felt hot against your face and you were barely able to keep your eyes open. When you closed them for a moment, you felt Harry’s fingertips brushing over your cheek while he slowed down his motions.

“Look at me, baby,” he cooed.

You opened your eyes and you could’ve sworn he looked more beautiful than you’ve ever seen him. Pupils blown to the rim, lips plump from your sweet kisses, blush tainting his cheeks as he chases his pleasure, fucking you so good you couldn’t believe he was real.

Pleasure rising, nails clawing at his skin and his hips bucking tenderly into yours, the angles hitting exactly where he knew would make you moan the sweetest, tighten your grip on his arms and arch your back into him. It wasn’t long until his thrusts got sloppier, you name leaving his mouth more frequently and your own pleasure building tightly in your stomach.

“I’m so close,” You moaned, breathless and bucking your hips into his so hard, that you knew there would be bruises in the morning, when you both sobered up.

Grabbing your thighs, Harry hiked them up around his waist, using the new angle to bring you closer, push you off the edge and god, were you close. Hearing his soft, heated groans against the skin of your neck sent you spiralling, waves of pleasure overcoming your entire body.

He followed you into a state of pure bliss as he throbbed inside you, finding his own release with a desperate call of your name, before he collapsed into your arms.

Soft kisses, gentle touches and delicate words were shared between the two of you, his body weight pressing against you as you helped each other’s breath steady. Hearts clambering against each other rapidly.

Leaning over, you pulled the joint to your lips, untangling your arms from Harry to light it blissfully. He took this opportunity to pull himself off you, resting back against the headboard and watch you carefully.

“I’m never gonna let you go, you know,” His tone was playful, but the look in his eyes as you met his gaze told you he meant it.

“Good,” You huffed in response, blowing smoke out into the room, handing the joint to Harry and snuggling into his side, “Because, I love you.”

“I love you, Y/N,” He kissed you. Not like before, this time sweet and delicate, meaningful. Loving.

“Come on, let’s put on some Family Guy or something.” You giggled, the high setting in once again.

#wroetoshaw fanfiction #wroetoshaw imagine #wroetoshaw imagines #wroetoshaw #creative writing #writing #wroetoshaw fanfic #wroetoshaw x reader #harry lewis x reader #harry lewis fanfic #behzinga #harry lewis fanfiction #harry lewis imagine #harry lewis imagines #harry lewis smut #wroetoshaw smut #sidemen imagine #sidemen fanfiction #sidemen fanfic #sidemen imagines #sidemen #sidemen smut #fanfiction #ksi #miniminter #tbjzl #smut #smut with no plot #sykokilljoy #mia

[four2andnew]

May Prompt #22: Grief for @hinnymicrofic (This literally has nothing to do with the prompt, but I used the word so I'm counting it! Muggle AU. CW for language)

Harry loops Hedwig’s lead around a park bench and pours some water into her collapsible bowl he’s unclipped from her harness before working through some stretches for his post-run cool down when a yappy hairball rushes up to them, quite literally hopping with each yap. It would be funny if he didn’t think the fluffy thing could fit entirely in Hedwig’s mouth if she saw fit to bite the dumb dog yipping at her feet.

“Oi! Control your dog,” he calls out to no one in particular, unsure of where exactly this tiny dog came from.

A woman saunters up lazy like and scoops up the hairball. She’s wearing the tightest fucking t-shirt Harry’s ever seen, an electric blue scrap of fabric that proudly pronounces her to be a “Cereal Killer” in shiny silver vinyl letters straining across the most perfect pair of tits in the universe. Her jeans are clearly men’s and at least one size too big as they sag low over her hips, exposing nearly a hand’s width of taut belly absolutely covered in freckles and the tiniest sliver of the elastic of her neon green knickers. Knickers Harry has to physically shake himself from staring at when she tucks her dog into her jean pockets and the weight of it pulls her trousers down that much more. His eyes jerk to her face in an attempt to be less pervy, only for his brain to stutter to a complete stop at the sight of her flaming hair and doe-eyes.

“Sorry about that,” she says brightly, “I’m dog-sitting Pig here for my brother across the street there and this little shit used his tiny size against me to slip out the door just now.”

She pats her pocket with the dog in it fondly, clearly not too fussed at the “little shit” who is fighting to push its head out. Harry is standing like an absolute imbecile with his right leg still bent up, heel to arse for a nice quad stretch, staring completely dumbfounded at this stunning beauty. Hedwig seems to understand that his brain is short-circuiting and nudges his hip with her nose, jerking him out of his stupor. He drops his foot to the ground and thrusts out his hand.

“No problem, I’m Harry.”

She laughs, a full bodied, head thrown back laugh, and shakes his hand, leaving his tingling in her wake.

“Ginny. I think you know my brother, Ron? At least, I’m assuming you're Harry with the wicked big dog that Ron always talks about,” she says with a pointed look at Hedwig, his Great Dane. The dog in question preens under her attention, sitting regally next to Harry to allow Ginny to scratch her ears. Harry feels an irrational pride at hearing Ginny coo over his dog, even though he knows Hedwig’s beauty has everything to do with her rare white coat speckled with black and nothing to do with him at all.

“Yeah, I know Ron. We usually wind up running together in the mornings. I didn’t know he had that furball though,” he says, pointing at the fluffy face that had finally succeeded in removing itself from Ginny’s pocket.

She waves dismissively, “Ron’s aways going on about birds of prey snatching little puppies off the street. If you ask me, he’s a little ashamed of falling in love with a purse pup instead of a hulking beast like your beauty here. But the heart wants what it wants and I give him enough grief as it is. It’s my duty as the youngest.”

She ends with a little shrug and shoves Pig’s head back down into her pocket, pulling her jeans down a little more and Harry gets enough of a glimpse of her knickers stretched over her hipbone to know her freckles are everywhere. He coughs, choking on his spit and flushing furiously, sure his face is as red as Ginny’s fire-kissed hair. She’s staring at him, a polite smile on her lips, waiting for him to respond like a normal human being, but all he can do is nod and gather Hedwig’s bowl and lead and run away like an absolute coward.

#hey look at me writing again #hinny microfic #hinny #muggle au #I really just wanted Hedwig to be a Great Dane #and Pigwidgeon is a Yorkshire Terrier

[kawawababy]

decked out in you

{oliver wood x reader}

This is it.

This is the day Oliver has been waiting for. This is the day he is going to win the quidditch cup. The last couple years had some minor setbacks with magic stones, basilisks, and everything in between, but not this year. Well, almost. Turns out, Harry had to deal with some family problems that turned up unexpectedly and had Oliver flying out on the pitch from days on end to blow off some steam. Harry couldn’t go ONE year without anything happening. One year of peace was all he asked for.

But all was well when Harry went up to him and told him that everything was taken care of and that he was still able to play quidditch this year. Oliver fell to his knees thanking merlin for bringing his seeker back. He would never admit it, but he was almost to tears.

Oliver was eerily quiet at the quidditch changing tents. He sat at the front, facing his teammates, elbows on his knees, fingers locked, and head down. Fred and George looked at each other with confusion as they have never heard the captain so quiet before a game. Angelina looked worried and the silence was giving Katie anxiety. Harry was just sitting there, waiting for Oliver because he knew this was a big day for him. No one can really understand what he’s feeling right now.

Finally, Oliver looked at his team. They expected to see a cold, hard face to greet them. To their shock, Oliver was smiling at them. Pride evident in his eyes.

“There’s nothing else for me to say.” He started, getting shocked faces from his team. “You’ve all worked hard and tried your best in every game. That’s all I’ve ever asked from you. I’m proud of all of you.”

Now it was the team’s turn to be silent.

“Godric Oliver.” Katie Bell spoke up. Everyone looked at her. “That was the best speech you ever did.”

The Gryffindors all laughed together, reminiscing all of the long a agonizing speeches he did.

“Now let’s go out there and bring the cup back in Gryffindor hands!” He exclaimed, earning cheers from everyone else. They all grabbed their brooms and headed out.

Oliver was the last one out only to find his team just standing and staring at something. Looking in the same direction, he immediately spotted his girlfriend. He couldn’t believe his eyes. There you were, wearing his spare jersey with a black long-sleeved shirt underneath, black jeans, with red and gold socks over your ankles. His name has been painted on your cheeks- Oliver in red on the right, Wood in gold on the left. You wer also holding up a handmade sign with his last name and jersey number decorated in Gryffindor colors.

Oliver thought you couldn’t be more be more beautiful than you were, but you just proved him wrong. His house-pride girlfriend is wearing his house colors. Merlin, he loves you so much. He is so in love with you.

Oliver started walking towards you with a smile mirroring yours. As soon has he reaches you, he picks you up and spins you around. He’s so happy right now that he even ignores the teasing and whistling from his teammates. Nothing can bring him down from this.

Nothing.

“Look at you decked out in red and gold.” He said proudly, putting you down. “Looks good you, my love.”

“Nope. I’m just decked out in you.” You beamed at him, slightly waving your sign to him.

Oliver gave you another once over admiring how beautiful and stunning you are and just thinking how lucky he is to be with someone like you. He took your face in his hands and studied you before kissing your nose and then your lips.

“Thank you for this leannan.” He started. “This… means everything to me. You didn’t have to do this you know?”

“I know.” You answered. “But I love you and I wanted to.”

“I love you.” Oliver responded. “Merlin knows how much I love you.” Oliver leaned down, capturing you lips once again. This time with more passion, more needing… more love. You pulled away as the lack of air was starting to get to you. You stared at Oliver right into his deep brown eyes and can see that he’s nervous about today. He’s confident but you know, you can see, that there’s a hint of doubt in there.

“You are going to do great, and you are going to win.” You assured him. “Don’t think Ollie. Just play. Okay?”

“Okay.” He whispered, putting his forehead to yours. Hearing you say that made his heart feel lighter. It amazes him how easily you can make his worries go away. You calm him down but still excite him at the same time. He can’t really explain this feeling, but he knows he wants it forever and he wants it with you.

“You better go.” You told him, hearing Lee make his first announcements. Oliver nodded, giving you a quick kiss before heading back to his teammates.

“Hey Wood!” You called after him. He turned his head towards you along with the rest of his teammates. “Give those Slytherins hell.”

Oliver smirked and winked at you before mounting his broom and taking off to the pitch. He felt his teammate’s support as they rode behind him. He felt his house’s support as they cheered for the team. Most importantly, He felt your support as you’re seated next Hermione and Ron cheering the loudest out of anyone in the stands.

He will win the Quidditch cup tonight.

#harry potter imagines #oliver wood imagines #oliver wood x reader #oliver wood fanfiction #oliver wood x y/n #harry potter #oliver wood #hogwarts #quidditch

[tracingpatternswrites]

My lovelies, this is not only the final July prompt for @wolfstarmicrofic​ but it’s also Harry’s birthday so please, have an extra long and extra sappy microfic with Wolfstar raising Harry for the prompt sunset. 

Remus looks up as there’s a noise behind him, Sirius stepping out onto their porch, levitating two glasses of wine in front of him. He takes one out of the air as Sirius settles beside him with a low groan, stretching out his long legs in front of him.

”Think we’ve earned it today, don’t you?”

”Definitely,” Remus agrees, deadpan, ”who would’ve thought a birthday party with ten five year olds would be so exhausting?”

Sirius snorts into his glass, settling comfortably against Remus side as he sips from his wine.

“Haz asleep then?” Remus asks, wrapping an arm around Sirius shoulder, pulling him a little bit closer. 

“Mhm,” Sirius nods, taking a sip from his wine before setting it aside. “Just the one story before he was out like a light.” 

There’s a hint of pride in his voice, a smug sort of pull around his mouth and Remus rolls his eyes. 

“Well, of course there’s no problem getting him to sleep when he’s been running around all day. I’m knackered myself.”

”You’re just jealous that I have the magical touch,” Sirius teases, making a protesting noise as Remus elbows him lightly.

”Whatever Padfoot.”

Neither of them speak for a while, although Sirius is still wearing the same smug grin, Remus is sure even though he can’t see it. They’re watching as the sun begins to sink into the sliver of sea that they can see from where they’re sitting. It’s a comfortable silence, Remus thinks, and he hadn’t been lying – he really is knackered.

It had been a good day, Harry seemed to be happy enough with his birthday party. They had invited some children from the village, a muggle party, but it had actually gone better than Remus had dared hope. 

Remus is just about to say that when there’s a sound behind them, the quick pitter-patter of bare feet against their hardwood floor and before Remus has a chance to turn around he’s got a just-turned-five year old on his back, shrieking delightedly a bit too close to his ear.

”MOONY!”

”Oof, ow, Merlin Haz,” Remus thinks his heart stops for a moment, just about saving his glass from toppling over as Harry squeezes himself in between himself and Sirius on the porch.

”Whatcha doin’?” He asks brightly, eyes shining as he looks from Remus to Sirius.

”Yeah, he seems plenty asleep to me,” Remus mutters under his breath, giving Sirius a pointed look over the top of the boy’s head, and his partner at least has the decency to look slightly sheepish.

”Harry,” Sirius says, hoisting the boy onto his lap, his voice mostly serious but Remus can tell he’s trying not to smile. ”What are you doing up? You’re supposed to be asleep, sprog. Remember we read a story and everything?”

”I was sleeping,” Harry nods in agreement, squirming around until he’s settled comfortably in Sirius’ lap, ”but I’m done with that.”

”Oh, are you now?” Remus mutters, trying to stop his lip from quirking into a smile.

”Yes,” Harry states. ”I’m five now,” he holds five fingers up proudly, showing both Sirius and himself, ”so I can be awake later. Like a big boy.”

Sirius ducks his head, hiding his grin in Harry’s hair but Remus can see his shoulders shaking with withheld laughter and Remus sends him an exasperated look, but Harry’s smug expression has him suppressing a grin himself. Harry doesn’t seem phased, rocking a little in Sirius’ lap.

”Whatcha doin’, Padfoot?”

”Oh sprog,” Sirius says, a little breathless, amusement and fondess weaved so tightly through his voice that it makes warmth bloom in Remus’ chest. ”We’re watching the sunset, me and Moony.”

”Okay,” Harry nods, settling back comfortably before reaching over to grab Remus’ hand, pulling it into his lap so he’s touching both of them. ”We’re watching the sunset,” he agrees, stifling a yawn before giving a satisfied little sigh. ”Like big boys.”

”Right,” Remus agrees, swallowing past the lump that’s suddenly in his throat, watching the boy he loves so much he thinks he might burst wrapped up in the arms of the man he loves just as much. He shakes his head, a little helplessly, before he shifts closer to them both. ”Sure, Haz, like big boys.”

”Because it’s my birthday,” Harry whispers, his eyes on the sun as it sinks below the horizon.

”Yeah, it is,” Sirius agrees, sending a small smile Remus’ way as he murmurs a heating spell to settle around the three of them to protect against the evening chill. ”Happy birthday, sprog.”

#wolfstar microfic #wolfstar raising harry #harry's birthday #sirius black #remus lupin #harry potter #young harry potter #wolfstar