𝓒on ౨ৎ

୨ৎ 𝓪𝓫𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝓶𝓮... i'm a daniel radcliffe, lana del rey stan, and harry james potter's lover so mostly all of my blog is myself going crazy about him. i love sofia coppola's universe, i do ballet and i'm a girlblogger <3333 i'm into shifting and manifestation so sometimes i post about that.

౨ৎ 𝓌𝓇𝒾𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔... i only write about harry james potter. requests are open, but i can't guarantee all will be written, though i will take them into account! i hope you understand.

୨ৎ 𝓶𝓸𝓿𝓲𝓮𝓼... some of my favs movies are the virgin suicides, kill your darlings, prozac nation, girl interrupted and i believe in unicorns! i also love twin peaks and i'm getting into lynch's world, so fire walk with me is one of my favs too.

୨ৎ 𝓶𝓾𝓼𝓲𝓬... i loooove lanita's music and i also like jeff buckley, lou reed, nessa barrett, mazzy star, fiona apple, some of deftones, hole and nirvana, but i listen a lot of music and i like to and experiment with my taste so i really like a lot of things!!!!

"hey, lola, baby! don't—" you ran after the lamb, quickly wiping your hands on a kitchen towel before catching her. she was trying to nibble on one of the table legs again.

"how many times have i told you? you can't do that!" you scolded.

lola answered with a tiny meeh.

she'd developed the habit of chewing on pretty much any surface she could find, especially if it was wood.

"you little cheeky girl," you shook your head and went back into the kitchen. lola followed.

sunlight poured through the windows and filtered through the curtains, making your forehead damp with sweat from the heat, so you tied your hair into a messy bun.

you looked at the clock. it was getting close to noon.

harry still hadn't arrived. he'd told you he'd be home for lunch — he'd spent the whole morning fixing things outside.

you were preparing lola's bottle, warming the milk.

lola was a tiny lamb you'd become emotionally attached to — maybe because she'd been one of the first, and one of the only girls among all the lambs you were raising with harry — to the point she sometimes spent time inside the house. you were practically raising her like part of the family.

you tested the warmth of the milk on the back of your wrist when lola let out a small bleat.

then the dining room door opened, and a familiar voice made you turn.

"y/n?"

harry.

his cheeks were flushed from the heat, his hair messy like he'd run his hands through it more than once throughout the day, and his shirt was stained — evidence of a long morning spent working outside.

"i was waiting for you," you walked over and greeted him with a quick kiss.

"yeah, 'm sorry. took me longer than i expected."

he slipped off his shoes by the door before stepping further inside.

there was something about seeing harry after work that felt incredibly attractive.

maybe it was what it meant — the intimacy of knowing he came home to eat, that he'd worked hard under the sun for both of you.

or maybe he just looked good like this.

maybe both were true.

you smiled and leaned in to kiss him again, this time longer.

"love, 'm all dirty," he warned softly between kisses. he wasn't sure where to put his hands. they were still dirty and he didn't want to stain your clothes.

"i don't care. i like you like this." you prolonged the kiss, your hands resting against his chest. you could feel the warmth of his body through his shirt.

he smiled against your lips and kissed you again, more deliberately this time.

then you felt something bump into your leg, followed by a meeh.

you yelped and pulled away from harry with a little ouch. looking down, you found lola staring up at you impatiently.

"oh, hey," harry greeted her with a chuckle.

"someone's hungry," you said, heading back to the kitchen. now harry and lola followed behind you.

"yeah, that's me," harry said as he poured himself a glass of water.

"i was talking about my baby," you shot him a playful look while grabbing the bottle.

"i thought i was your baby."

"you both are. she's just my daughter-baby."

you sat down on the kitchen floor and handed the bottle to the impatient lamb. immediately, lola began drinking eagerly, her tiny tail wagging frantically.

"didn't know i already had a daughter."

harry raised an eyebrow before taking another sip.

"yep. we're parents."

that sentence.

the way you said it so casually — like it was the most normal thing in the world — made something warm in his chest.

harry looked at the scene in front of him with softened eyes: his girl feeding their daughter.

he admired the tenderness you had with animals, the way you treated them like they were the purest and most innocent souls in the world.

you always said they were. that's how you'd convinced him to start raising lambs.

at first, he'd thought it sounded complicated. too much work. too much responsibility.

but how was he supposed to say no when you looked so excited about it?

without noticing the way his expression had softened, you kept feeding lola. you were fascinated by how eagerly the tiny animal sucked from her bottle.

"aww, that's my girl!" you cooed at her in your baby voice, smiling at how cute she looked.

"y'know, i think we can call her brother stevie." you looked up at harry.

"stevie?"

"because of stevie nicks." you said it like it was obvious.

"that's a very specific reason to name a lamb."

"i know, but it's stevie nicks," you huffed.

"the lamb isn't going to know that." his arms crossed as he leaned against the kitchen counter.

"but i do." you tilted your head.

"fine." he sighed, already knowing he wasn't winning this one.

the lambs were your thing.

"see? your dada likes it! i told you." you smiled proudly and petted lola.

harry shook his head and turned toward the hallway. but before leaving, he looked back.

you were still sitting on the floor, lola resting across your legs.

it was like you two had a secret language. one he didn't completely understand, but could still feel.

you understood each other.

he smiled.

even if he never admitted it out loud, he loved your silly naming ideas and your baby voice, and he couldn't deny that he liked that — at least to lola —he got to be dada.