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jtargaryen18 · 9 months

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His Inheritance ~ Chapter 31

Part 31: Girl on Fire

Series Masterlist

Words: 6.7k

Pairing: Mobster Steve Rogers x Mobster daughter reader

Warnings: References to mafia, reference to violence and violent acts, references to sexual violence. Strong language, dismemberment, and physical violence. This is a dark fic. Please read responsibly.

Disclaimer: The author of this work claims no ownership of characters aside from the reader, and original secondary characters mentioned. This work is not intended for those under the age of 18 due to explicit sexual content and darker themes. By reading this work or any works on my blog (jtargaryen18), you agree that you are at least 18 years of age. I do not consent to have my work hosted on any third party app or site. If you are seeing this fanfiction anywhere but archiveofourown and tumblr, it has been reposted without my permission.

Summary: For @alexakeyloveloki. Your father is the head of one of the most powerful crime families in Boston but he’s protected you from that life. In your quiet home outside the city, you’ve been cared for and protected. When the desires of a more powerful man with the will to dominate bursts into your life, all your illusions are shattered as he comes to claim what is his.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Bucky’s phone rang, it didn’t surprise him. When he saw Kat’s number… They didn’t have plans tonight. Why the hell was she calling?

“Hello,” Bucky said, pausing the cage match he’d been watching.

“Bucky?” Kat sniffled, tears in her voice.

“Yes?”

“I’m at the hospital,” she said, clearing trying not to sob.

“Have you been hurt?” he asked, pulling the lever to sit up in his recliner. “What happened?”

“I’m fine,” she said. “It’s my sister, Paulina.”

Ah. “What happened?”

“She’s unconscious,” Kat managed. “I don’t know what happened. But neither of us have insurance…”

Neither of them was legal residents of the US either. Bucky sighed.

“I’ll send someone down there,” he told her, ready to get back to his fight. Before his hand reached the lever on his chair, she started sobbing in earnest.

“Please,” Kat begged him. “Will you come down here?”

Kat wasn’t usually so needy. Usually, she stuck to their agreement. Something had her shaken up.

“Give me a few minutes,” he said before hanging up. Shaking his head, he shot a text to his men telling them he needed the car ASAP.

Erik Killmonger was there in less than five minutes. He’d been a soldier for the Barnes family for the last five years. The entire time, he’d handled the tasks that he was given. He never failed, followed orders to a fault, and was always quiet and respectful, Bucky’s three favorite qualities in a soldier.

Erik’s ambition had been obvious from the beginning. It was in the confident way he walked, the efficient way he took care of business. It was there when he asked Bucky if he could serve him personally. Since then, he had Erik reporting directly to Hansen, and he showed the same respect to him.

The two men were comparable in their abilities, evenly matched when it came to killing a man. But where Hansen liked to put on a show and preen around, psychologically breaking down his prey, Erik was silently lethal. Bucky had to wonder if half of the men he’d sent him to kill even saw him coming.

Now that Hansen was wherever the fuck Hansen was, Bucky didn’t believe for a fucking minute the bastard was dead, Erik was his top lieutenant. Maybe he should have been all along.

He’d put the man in charge of finding Hansen. Erik knew him better than he did. Bucky’s only request was that Hansen be brought in alive. Bucky wanted to kill the fucker himself. The betrayal signed his death warrant. The fact that Hansen thought he was going to just make off with the woman Bucky coveted, the bright jewel in the crown he'd soon wear... Bucky was just sorry he could only kill him once.

“Where we off to?” Erik asked, ready to go.

“The hospital,” Bucky said, following him out to the garage. “Kat’s sister is there. I don’t know what happened yet.”

Erik held the door open for Bucky to climb in the back of the huge SUV. Walking around, Erik took a seat in the front next to the driver.

Bucky caught Zemo’s gaze in the rearview mirror. “We’re going to the hospital. St. Agnes," he told him.

When they reached the hospital, pulling up to the door at the ER, Zemo again met his gaze in the mirror. “Should you be going in there, boss?” he asked respectfully.

“He can go wherever he wants,” Erik said, opening his door. “Nothing’s going to happen to him.”

Damn right. Very soon, Bucky would be the goddamn king of Boston.

He waited while Erik inquired about Paulina, speaking to the older woman at the emergency room desk. His man led him past the desk, swiftly through a maze of corridors until they found Paulina’s room. Kat looked grateful when they arrived, her dark eyes still shiny with tears when she opened the door.

Paulina lay in the hospital bed, curled in on her side. Her hair was a wild tangle around her head and her face was streaked with makeup and tears.

“What happened?” Bucky asked, moving to stand at the foot of the hospital bed. Erik closed the door, staying close to it.

“We went shopping,” Kat explained in her tear-filled voice. “Our car dropped her off first at her apartment building. And then… I w-went home.”

“So she was attacked in her apartment?” Bucky asked.

“I didn’t see it happen,” Kat went on. “But she didn’t make it into her apartment. Someone found her in the hallway… One of her neighbors called an a-ambulance.”

Great. More people in his business.

“My number was the emergency contact on her phone,” Kat went on. “They called me.”

“I’m sorry this happened, Kat,” Bucky said, his patience slipping. “But you didn’t need me to come down here to pay the bill.”

“What if this wasn’t random?” Kat asked.

“What else would it be?” he countered.

“Steve,” she said. “I think Steve is behind this.”

Bucky shook his head. “Why would you think Steve had anything to do with this?”’

“Why?” Kat threw her hands up. “Isn’t it obvious? With everything you’ve done to him? With you taking me away from him? He’s hitting back.”

That had Bucky chuckling. Yeah, he’d put Rogers through some things. And it wouldn’t be long until he finished Rogers, put him and his fucking family down and took the lead that should have been his when the old boss died.

“Yeah, he’ll try.” Bucky stared her down. “But what does that have to do with you and your sister? I didn’t take you away from him. You were all over me when he threw you off to get married if I remember correctly.”

Kat looked affronted. “You took me away from him. Paulina? She was seeing his consigliere.”

“Still not seeing a connection,” Bucky told her, ready to end the conversation.

Ready to end things with her period. Pretty soon, he wouldn’t need Kat.

“Banner betrayed him,” she said. “Maybe that’s why they went after Paulina.”

It was plausible. But why hit his family there? As Kat pointed out, Paulina had been Banner’s side piece. Banner was out of the Rogers’ family and no longer any use to the Barnes family. Honestly, Banner was lucky Rogers let him live. But messing with Banner’s mistress after the fact? It didn’t make sense.

It wasn’t Rogers’ style.

That reminded him. Banner had been laying low on Stark’s turf after Rogers ousted him. Then he’d disappeared. Bucky made a mental note to follow up on that.

“Did anyone see who did it?” Erik asked. “Did the neighbor see anything?”

“No,” Kat told them. “They just found her. Beaten… Don’t you understand? She wasn’t robbed or violated or anything else. Just beaten. To hurt her was the point. What else could it be? Am I next?”

Bucky moved closer to Kat, taking her chin in his fingers. She trembled in his grasp, and he knew she was scared. He wanted her to be.

“Pain and death are always the point,” Bucky whispered, gazing into her eyes. “But Steve’s not after you, Katerina. He’s not after you sister.”

Releasing her, he watched indignation and hurt bleed into her expression.

“When Rogers strikes at me,” he explained, “he’ll make it hurt. He’ll make it personal.”

“This is personal,” her voice was rising. “This does hurt.”

“You and your sister maybe,” Bucky told her. “It’s not personal for me. It doesn’t hurt. I’d have to care about you and your sister for this to hurt me and I don’t.”

Tears slid from her eyes now. “You’re wrong.”

Bucky moved closer to the woman on the bed. Her makeup was a mess but on closer inspection, there were no cuts on her face. There could be bruises under the makeup, he supposed. Pulling back a tangled section of her hair revealed her throat. No bruises there or any injuries at all.

Kat said she was beaten. Were they fucking with him?

Grabbing the edge of the blanket covering the woman, he pulled it back to reveal her unconscious form covered by a thin hospital gown with shorter sleeves. He half-expected her arms and the rest of her to be unmarked as well. He was all ready to flip shit on Kat and her sister for wasting his time.

Paulina’s arm? That was a different story. The bruises were red and angry, lacing up from her forearm like macabre artwork. The gown opened at the back, and she lay on her side facing him. Throwing the blanket back, he leaned over to look at the woman’s back. A wild patch of pink and red marks covered most of it. The one contusion right where her kidney was? That had him wincing.

Tomorrow, her skin would be purple, black, and blue and she’d be feeling it. Shaking his head, he pulled the blanket away from the rest of her. More evidence of the beating she’d taken over thighs and upper shins. Nothing close to the ankle…

Kat, still lost in her indignation, glared at him as she grabbed the blanket to cover her sister up again.

“Still think this is random?” she asked, still swiping away tears.

Bucky shrugged as he headed for the door. “I’ll handle the billing,” he said over his shoulder as he walked out.

The entire situation should have left his mind never to return the minute he was back in his car and headed home. Bucky just couldn’t get his mind off it. It was just so off. Why was it done? What did it mean?

Was it a message for him?

***

After finishing his run, Bucky headed for his study to check messages before getting a shower.

“Bucky?”

He jumped at how off-guard she’d caught him. There Kat stood in the door of his study, looking like a deer caught in headlights. Her big dark eyes were on him, a shiny red shopping bag dangling from her manicured fingers.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he asked irritably. He didn’t like her coming by his house uninvited. She knew that.

“I’m sorry.” She looked it.

As he stood watching her, a sweaty mess behind his desk, she meekly approached him. Stopping on the other side of his desk, she carefully placed the bag on the top of his desk between them.

“It’s for you,” she said forlornly. “Thank you for helping Paulina.”

Blowing out an exhale, he looked at the bag. “She out of the hospital yet?”

Kat nodded. “She’s home. Resting. I’m staying with her since we don’t know who did this… or why.”

Bucky hated wasting the manpower but in the off-chance Kat was right… “I’ll send someone to keep an eye on her place for the next couple of days, okay?”

“And mine?” she asked, flashing him a smile.

“You said you were staying with her,” he pointed out. “You stay with her, someone’s looking after you too.”

The smile faded and he couldn’t even feel badly about it. Kat was one of many. He’d had women who were more beautiful, better in bed. She wasn’t unique. She wouldn’t even be memorable.

And she’d served her purpose a long time ago. He took up with her to piss off Steve, to hurt his wife. While Rogers had been pissed and insulted that Bucky brought his former mistress to his wedding, he hadn’t succeeded in his second objective. The new Mrs. Rogers hadn’t been hurt.

No, the daughter of the old boss and the new bride of his enemy had turned out to be a lioness.

Think of that. The girl had been hidden away like Quasimodo in his bell tower, mutilated and not fit for society. That was what he’d always been told about the old boss’s surviving child. His bitch wife, who’d ripped Bucky’s family apart by having an affair with his father, died trying to get out and killed the man’s son. The daughter was never supposed to be anything for Bucky Barnes to be concerned with.

Even so, Bucky hated her. He’d been glad she was disfigured, glad she’d never be out in the world. He’d even toyed around with the idea of paying her a visit once her father died. Taking care of the disfigured little lamb once and for all.

Rogers had executed his plan well. That he was kissing ass to claim the crown, Bucky got that. He had no idea, however, that Rogers planned to marry the boss's daughter who was supposed to be horribly disfigured. Within a week of her father dying, Bucky gets word that she’s engaged to Rogers and the wedding Is being rushed.

When he went to confront Rogers about it, he was surprised to find her alone and barely dressed in the kitchen. She was uncovered enough for him to see there wasn’t likely a scar or blemish on her. She was amazingly beautiful wearing her whore mother’s face with innocent eyes. That first impression of her had him both hard as a rock and ready to commit murder, right there in Rogers’ kitchen.

Rogers knew what he was doing. He didn’t care who she was, that her mother destroyed the Barnes family. Rogers didn’t care about anything but the throne and it was then Bucky decided he’d do whatever it took to take Rogers’ crown, to take him and his bitch wife out.

But he couldn't get her out of his head. Not once he saw her.

Bucky had assumed for most of his life that Mrs. Rogers was his half-sister. The daughter of his father. After meeting her, he looked into it, knowing her father would have had a paternity test done under the circumstances. With a little patience and a lot of money, Bucky had an answer.

Mrs. Rogers was not related to him by blood. The old boss was her father after all.

By the time he figured this out, Bucky had found his attitude toward Mrs. Rogers shifting. Yeah, he could kill her when he destroyed her husband. No one would be surprised or even blame him.

But he’d never met a woman like her. There was a fire, an iron will, buried beneath the persona. Mrs. Rogers was stunning, beautiful. But according to Loguidice, Rogers’ bride wasn’t just a pretty face. There was a beast in her heart. The lioness could handle her husband, win his men’s loyalty, and even fucking shoot Lloyd Hansen which had been hilarious when his lieutenant had to explain it to him.

And she would be Bucky’s at the end of this. It was going to happen.

Glancing at his current mistress, he knew it was past time to end things. But he’d wait until Paulina had mended. Make sure nothing else was heard about that little incident. Then he’d drop the hammer.

“Do you really care so little about me?” Kat asked him, pulling him from his thoughts.

It wasn’t a bad acting job. Bucky smiled.

“Do we really care about each other?” he wanted to know. “Relationships aren’t based solely on love. That’s the movies. Relationships are based on mutual need. You need someone to give you money to maintain your lifestyle and I need sex and occasionally some arm candy. Don’t make this something more than it really is.”

Hooking a finger in the bag, he peeked into it to see a wad of tissue paper.

Kat watched him expectantly.

Grabbing the bag, he pulled out whatever she had wrapped in that tissue paper. It felt odd in his hand, more than one thing. The first thing he encountered was a small jewel box. Setting the rest down, he opened that to see a set of ruby cufflinks winking up at him from the black velvet.

He had to give her credit. She knew his tastes.

“These are nice,” he told her with a grin. “Thank you… What else do we have here?”

Kat’s brow creased as she watched him pick up the wad of tissue still in front of him.

“There was nothing else,” she said, looking confused.

But there was something else. Peeling away the tissue paper, Bucky stared at the fucking fingers – five human fingers – he held in his hands. In disgust, he dropped them onto the desk as Kat covered her mouth with her hand, backing away in horror.

“What the fuck?” he demanded, staring at those digits.

She shook her head. “No,” she said. “I didn’t do that. I didn’t… I feel sick.”

Kat dashed from his study like the devil was chasing her as Bucky muscled his way past the revulsion to study those digits. The fingers of a white man, toughened from work. There was no blood. No rings. No scars or other identifying marks.

Grabbing the bag, Bucky looked to see if there was something else. There was. A business card for a donut shop on Rogers’ turf. He recognized the name of the shop.

Fuck.

Bucky hadn’t ordered a hit on that shop or the girl. No, that was all Hansen who took the girl that worked there. Bucky hadn’t known a thing about it until after Rogers’ faceoff against Hansen who had since disappeared.

Bucky studied the fingers again. Were they Hansen’s? He didn’t think so. Hansen had big hands, he didn’t remember the fingers being slender.

Well, they’d find out.

Fishing his phone out of his pocket, he shot a text to Erik to come right away.

Now he wondered if the attack on Paulina was related. Was it tied to this? Was there more to come?

It would make sense if it was Rogers. But Rogers wasn’t usually so theatrical. He’d hit hard, head on. Anyone who was at odds with him always saw him coming. In his defense, he always hit really fucking hard.

This? It was puzzling. And not Rogers’ style at all.

What game was he unwittingly playing? And with whom?

***

The tap at the door pulled Bucky away from trying to catch up on his investment portfolio, sheets scattered all over his normally immaculate desk. His mind wasn’t on it. He’d been pretending to look at the numbers for damn near an hour.

Erik looked as tired as Bucky felt. He was hoping his lieutenant had some news for him. The episode earlier with Kat and the dead man’s fingers still had him rattled.

“Found out who those fingers belonged to,” Erik got right into it. “Belonged to one of Hansen’s men. One of our guys found the rest of him in a dumpster on your turf. The prints matched.”

Bucky nodded. Hansen likely had the guy pick up the donut shop girl for him. And the ax fell on him because they didn’t get Hansen. Bucky nodded. It was something he’d do.

The donut shop girl. What did she know, if anything, about everything going on? Maybe he should chat with her.

“Hansen’s still alive,” Buck said flatly.

Erik nodded. “There’s no proof he’s not.”

“Anything else?”

His man’s dark-eyed gaze met his. “I sent men looking for Banner, but it looks like he skipped town.”

A wise move on the man’s part.

“You don’t think he targeted Paulina, do you?” Erik asked.

Bucky shook his head. “Not with that temper of his. If Banner decided to do that, she would know it was him. He’d make sure she knew it was him.”

Scrubbing a hand through his hair, Bucky leaned back in his office chair, tried to relax. To think. “Any word on Rogers?”

“You knew Hansen and Frankenstein grabbed Dyson to draw Rogers out,” Erik said.

“Frankenstein?” Bucky asked.

“Neal Logiudice,” Erik explained. “Pop some bolts on his neck and he looks like Frankenstein.”

Bucky snorted. He could see that.

“Then he was supposed to off Dyson and Logiudice,” Erik continued. “Grab Rogers if he could. Hansen changed the plan. He drew Mrs. Rogers out instead of her husband.”

Bucky was still furious about what happened. Dyson would never betray Rogers and Logiudice was collateral damage. The move was meant to break Rogers down. Dyson’s loss on top of Logiudice’s betrayal would demoralize him. Bucky thought it might just finally finish his rival off.

Instead, Mrs. Rogers showed up, playing right into Hansen’s hand. Then her husband showed up and he brought friends. A shootout ensued. Rogers, his wife, and Dyson made it out. So did Hansen and Logiudice, apparently. And Bucky was out several men. Several good men.

“Does anyone know?” Bucky pressed. “Was Rogers shot?”

“Most likely,” Erik told him. “There’s different versions of the story. Some say he got shot. Some say Dyson got shot. Other say Mrs. Rogers was shot to protect Dyson and Rogers got shot trying to shield her.”

Rolling his eyes, Bucky blew out an exhale. Needless to say, whoever did or didn’t get shot in Hansen’s grand fuckup was a moot point. Rogers was fine. He’d apparently had enough of Bucky fucking him and now he was firing back at the Barnes’ family.

There was nothing altruistic about their chosen business. You were either a ruthless bastard or dead. Back when they were both younger and coming up under their fathers’ wings, Steve Rogers had been a cocky, dangerous bastard and Bucky always hated all the attention he got. How Rogers always got away with everything.

Bucky always knew that the minute his father was gone, the minute it was just him calling the shots, that Rogers would fail. Then he’d found another mentor in the former leader of the five families but that didn’t last, and he died too. Bucky just knew that without the mentorship of better men, Rogers wouldn’t make it on his own. He was one hell of a soldier, terrifying if he came after you. But a leader?

Still, something was different. So far Rogers had pulled himself out of the trap Bucky set for him with Hansen, sent him the fingers of one of Hansen’s men in Kat’s little gift bag, and maybe had someone beat the shit out of Paulina, Kat’s sister.

While Kat swore to him she had nothing to do with the fingers, Bucky wasn’t leaving anything to chance. He had her taken to her sister’s place and there she would stay under close watch. He didn’t think either woman had anything to do with whatever the fuck was going on. But he’d keep them under glass for now to make sure.

Rogers?

There was an underlying menace to sending Bucky the dead man’s fingers. It wasn’t just the barbarism of the act. It was multifaceted. It was Rogers letting Bucky know that he knew about the donut shop girl and exactly who abducted her. It was knowledge that she’d been taken under Bucky’s command even if it wasn’t his personal decision. It was accusatory and direct.

It left him feeling unsettled. Bucky had been so close to shutting Rogers down, to finally taking everything he wanted.

And now? Well, he sure as fuck couldn’t slow down now. He couldn’t let Rogers even the score.

“My Vinny’s gotten here yet?” Bucky asked. He’d sent out for food from his favorite restaurant. Vinny’s was the best Italian restaurant in all of Boston and the owner's brother was one of Bucky’s best soldiers.

“I’ll go check,” Erik said, heading off to do that.

It was only a few minutes later that Bucky had his takeout, enjoying it in his recliner while he took in an action movie he’d been wanting to watch. His meal didn’t disappoint. The veal was perfect, just what he’d wanted.

After he’d digested a few minutes, he took his dishes to the kitchen, ready for dessert. The tiramisu was in the fridge and Bucky grinned as he pulled it from its foam box to carefully place it on a plate. With a fresh glass of wine, he returned to his recliner and resumed the movie.

Bucky was two bites in when his fork hit something that felt unexpectedly solid in the layered dessert. Frowning, he worked at using his fork to grab the next bite. But something was wrong. Something was in there…

Taking a closer look, he found something solid in there. Plucking it at with his fingers, he found… meat?

He almost lost his meal to realize that something was the tip of a human ear.

“What the fuck?” Bucky said to himself, his heart starting to race in his chest.

Sitting up in the recliner, he kept digging through the dessert to find an earlobe, just as bloodless as the tip.

It was the dark eye staring up at him that from the bottom that had him screaming, fighting nausea as he slung it all away and sent it flying across the room.

“Fuck me! Fuck me!” he was shouting as Erik and Zemo both raced into the room to see who was killing their boss.

Covering his mouth with a hand, Bucky fled to the bathroom…

***

“I am so sorry,” Erik said for the hundredth time. “I looked in there, but I should have looked a lot closer.”

Soldiers were crawling his house, crawling the grounds. Zemo was at Vinny’s, no doubt tearing the restaurant apart. And he’d specifically requested that Zemo take Vinny’s brother with him. If there was a rat in his ranks or at the restaurant, heads would roll.

Bucky shook his head, sitting in his recliner with his elbows on his knees. He felt like shit. More body parts sent to him set his nerves on edge.

Was it Rogers? If so, he didn’t like the fact that his enemy was running up the score. That really pissed him off. His mind was spinning with the theories forming in his head.

“We’ll try to figure out who those…” Erik shook his head. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Don’t worry about it?” Bucky asked, rising from the recliner to glare at Erik. “That’s all I’ve been fucking doing the last three days. You know?”

Erik didn’t drop his gaze, didn’t back down. Bucky admired his quiet accountability.

But it wasn’t exclusively Erik’s fault. It was on all of them. Even him. No one had ever been able to get him directly. People around him, yes. But never him. Taking another drink of his Scotch, his mind spun webs with his instincts. He was starting to form a few ideas on his current situation.

“Boss,” Zemo called, walking into his living room.

Bucky spotted his man, standing a few feet away with a white takeout carton in his hands. He wasn’t going to like whatever was in the box, he knew from the way Zemo shifted his weight from one foot to the other nervously.

“What is it?” Bucky asked, trying to be ready for anything.

“We went through Vinny’s, and we found this in Vinny’s office,” Zemo explained carefully. “It’s for you. Vinny swears he didn’t see who left it and he doesn’t know anything about it.”

“You believe him?” It was an honest question.

Zemo nodded.

Bucky motioned him forward, not looking forward to his latest surprise with the dark red stains at its bottom corners. He plucked the card off the top. It simply read, “Hint: It’s not Snow White’s.”

Bucky really shouldn’t have been surprised to find what appeared to be a human heart in that box. He really shouldn’t have. Once he started laughing, it was hard to quit. His laughter was manic, a stress response. Something he hadn’t done in years.

It’s not Snow White’s.

Erik looked concerned. “I’ll get on figuring out who that is,” he offered.

Laughing, Bucky sank back onto his recliner, still laughing as he set the carton on his end table like it didn’t have a human heart in it.

“I think… I might know who this is,” Bucky said when he caught his breath. “It’s not Snow White’s. What did the magic mirror tell the evil queen about the heart the huntsman delivered to her? The mirror said it was the heart of a pig.” Laughter threatened to halt his conversation as pieces of the puzzle started to slide together in his mind. “This is the heart of a pig.”

His men didn’t speak, looked like they had no idea what to say to that.

“This is making a little sense now,” Bucky told them. “Erik, you and Zemo stay. Everyone else, fuck off.”

The soldiers cleaning and checking everything cleared out fast while Erik and Zemo moved closer.

“Who do you think that is?” Erik asked.

“That?” Bucky pointed to the carton. “That’s the heart of a pig. I’ll be really fucking surprised if it’s not Bruce Banner.”

Zemo’s brows shot up. Neither man spoke.

“Kat was right,” Bucky said. “This is Rogers hitting back. But… it isn’t.”

Rising from the chair, Bucky started pacing. Both men watched him in silence.

“Think about each incident,” Bucky told them as he paced. “Paulina was attacked. Then the fingers, eyes and ears, now the heart. All of it’s personal. It’s very, very personal.”

“Personal?” Zemo asked.

That stopped Bucky. “Don’t you see? Paulina was Banner’s side piece. Someone did a number on her.”

“In a way that could be covered up,” Erik muttered.

“Yes!” Bucky pointed to him. “Exactly. Hold that thought… And now, here’s the cheating, deceitful pig’s heart.” He continued pacing. “The tiramisu? I think that must be Logiudice. He was my eyes and ears in the Rogers household.”

Understanding lit up Erik’s face. “What about the fingers? That guy?”

Bucky shook his head. “The guy Hansen sent to kidnap the donut shop girl isn’t the point.”

“What is the point, boss?” Zemo asked.

“Each of these messages were sent on Rogers’ behalf,” Bucky explained. “But I don’t think they are from the man himself. No, this is someone else… All three messages have one thing in common… A woman scorned.”

Erik nodded, listening. He was always quick on the take. Zemo still looked confused.

“Bruce Banner was married to Rogers’ sister, but she didn’t love him,” Bucky told them. “She loved her high school sweetheart, Clint Barton. Banner knew this. That's why he’d beat his wife where it didn’t show. It's why he shot Barton.”

“Then,” Bucky stopped in front of Zemo. “Hansen got away but I was sent the fingers of the man who took the girl from the donut shop by Hansen’s order. Hansen was my right-hand man. A reminder of the wrong done to that woman.”

“Explain Logiudice,” Erik said.

Bucky smirked at him. “Oh, I can. He betrayed Mrs. Rogers herself right before we grabbed Dyson. Her husband had restricted her to their bedroom he was so pissed..” An idea with merit.

“You think a woman gave these orders?” Zemo looked puzzled.

“Maybe,” Bucky muttered, as something occurred to him. “I need to talk to one of these women first.”

“Who?” Erik asked.

“I need you to find the girl from the donut shop,” Bucky told them. “I need to see if she knows anything we don’t before I make any decisions.”

***

Bucky was both surprised and pleased to see the girl waiting for him. The park this time of day was quiet with only one man walking his dog, and she was sitting on the bench by the giant sandbox, just as he instructed her.

When he walked around, she didn’t look up. Hell, she probably had no idea who he even was. He didn’t mind keeping it that way. There was no reason she needed to know anything else about their world. All she had to do was be nice, be cooperative, and he’d help her find her way out of his world.

Carefully, like he was trying not to frighten a doe, he sat a couple of feet away from her on the bench, setting the bookbag he brought with him between his feet.

She didn’t look up until he called her name and then, her eyes were wide in alarm. The lower half of her face was covered by a medical mask, maybe because of the flu going around. She’d made herself small, slouching on the bench with her hands folded on her knees.

He introduced himself just as Bucky, that was all she needed to know. Her cold hand was trembling when she shook his. He knew she was scared, and he didn’t intend to keep her long.

“Thank you for coming,” he said. “I wasn’t sure you would.”

She nodded, her gaze on the floor in front of her.

“I want to apologize to you for what happened,” he said without preamble. “The man who… While he was a soldier of mine, taking you wasn’t an order I gave. I know that doesn’t change a lot for you. But you should know that.”

Again, she just nodded.

“And I do want to help you,” Bucky said slowly, leaning a little closer to her. “I’ve brought you a substantial gift. Enough to help you get back on your feet and back to school somewhere else.”

“What do you want?” she asked quietly.

Bucky grinned. It was a smart question.

“You’re right,” he admitted. “There is something I want. I want to ask you a few questions about your time with him. Will you answer?”

She squeezed her eyes shut at the mention and guilt pricked at him. Hansen was a fucking weirdo, and he could only imagine what he might have done to her. It had him wishing he’d framed the question in a different way. But it was out now so…

“Do you know his name?” Bucky asked her.

“Lloyd,” she said. “Sir.”

Oh, he did not want to know about any of Lloyd’s kinks or hangups.

“He didn’t give you any other names?”

“No,” she said.

“Another man brought you to Lloyd’s house,” Bucky said quietly. “Did you see anyone else. Besides him and Lloyd, in your time there?”

The young woman shook her head.

“Tell me about the day you got out,” Bucky said.

She shrugged nervously. “A man broke down the door and helped me out,” she said. “That’s all.”

Bucky frowned. That didn’t sound right. “You didn’t hear a fight elsewhere in the house? The sound of bullets?”

After a moment, she nodded, still staring hard at the ground before them on the bench. “It was the day before. There was shouting and a fight. Guns…”

So no one found her until the next day. Bucky wasn’t happy about that. None of his men swept the house?

“Where did the other man take you once he got you out?” Bucky asked.

The young woman blew out a long sigh. “To a friend’s,” she said slowly.

He nodded. “I don’t need specifics. I just need to know if you ran into anyone else since you were taken. Did you ever leave his house until the guy got you out?”

She shook her head.

He hated to ask. “Did he let anyone else…”

“No,” she said quickly.

“All right,” Bucky said in a kinder tone. “What can you tell me about the guy who got you out?”

She was still for a moment, before shrugging. “Not much. I wasn’t… trying to look at him.”

“Did you see any women?” Bucky asked. “Any other younger women like yourself, about your size?“ Did she see Mrs. Rogers there?

“No,” she said after a moment. “Why?”

“Why what?” Bucky asked, giving her one last chance to tell him something useful before he handed her the bag of money and told her to get lost.

“Ask about other women?” she asked.

“I was just wondering if you'd seen someone I’m interested in,” Bucky said simply.

“Why are you interested in her?” the young woman asked.

“For many reasons,” Bucky told her as he rose from the bench. “For our purposes here, I’m curious about the part she played in the last few days.”

She sighed again but didn’t move as he stood above her.

Hauling the bookbag off the ground, he held it up for her. It was filled with money, a lot of it, hers for the taking.

“Take this and make a fresh start,” he told her. “But this talk didn't take place. You understand?”

Slowly, she stood, her head ducked making her smaller than him. With a hand, she reached to take the bag from him. She froze. Her hand gripped one of the straps, but she’d stopped moving.

“Oh, God,” she whispered. “I can’t…”

She couldn't take the money?

“I’ve got it,” another female voice came from behind him, with a Russian accent. Before he could turn to see who it was, he felt the blade pierce his clothing, pierce his skin before sliding into his flesh at his side. The fuck?

The pain didn’t subside when the blade was pulled free as he expected. The pain grew in intensity, spreading out from the wound.

Was the blade coated in poison?

The woman in front of him now held the backpack in one hand, pulling the mask from her face with the other. Bucky's pain was breathtaking and had him gasping as he dropped to his knees, gripping his side with his hand and listening to shouts from his men drawing closer.

Bucky stared up in pain and rage at the woman he now recognized as Mrs. Steve Rogers.

“You!” he managed. “You fucking bitch! You’re… You did this?!”

Her eyes were fierce on him. “I did,” she said.

"Evil bitch," he hissed.

"When all of you commit violence, you're protecting your family," she explained angrily. "When I commit violence, I'm an evil bitch."

His gaze darted to the backpack and back.

“And you’re taking the fucking money… too?”

Yelena Belova was there, trying to pull her away.

“I’m giving it to her,” she said as Belova pulled her away. “Just like you wanted.”

Bucky's mind was a mad whirl of thoughts as pain strengthened its grip on him. It was her. Not her husband. Did that mean...?

"Is Steve even alive?" he managed.

She held his gaze. "He is."

"He's not in good shape," Bucky shot back, hating how the pain rendered him unable to wring her neck. "He wouldn't let you... He's bad off if you..."

"We have to go," Belova urged her, grabbing Mrs. Rogers' arm and pulling her behind her in earnest.

“I’m… I'll get you!” Bucky promised, his vision fading to black at the edges. "I'll survive this... and I'll get you!"

"If you survive this," she called back, "Steve will get you."

Then she was gone and his men were there, crowding around him, their shouts fading as he let the darkness claim him.

@valsworldofcreativity @21stcenturywitchcraft @coconutqueen21 @bval-1 @caffiend-queen @sadlittlecountess @candy-and-writing @capsicle-shield @chaoticfiretaconerd @chrisevansgirl @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @coldmuffinbanditshoe @daughterofthenight117 @hv-chw3 @iheartsebstan @imanuglywombat @just-one-ordinary-fangirl @justrae9903 @lokislastlove @mariaenchanted @maxwelllee2020 @nekoannie-chan @nerdwholikesword @notyourtypicalrose @optimistic-dinosaur-nacho @peaceinourtime82 @rainbowkisses31 @rayofdawnworld @richonne4life @rissysthoughts-blog @saiyanprincessswanie @scarletsoldier21-blog @shygirl-00 @supernaturaldean67 @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @team-iron-wannabe-man @titty-teetee @tonib666 @villanellev @vitamingummies @what-is-your-plan-today @what-is-your-wish @xoxabs88xox @rosalynshields @naturalthrone22 @marvelovernfan @gotnofucks @eralen @kawairinrin @bluemusickid @geminievans1 @daughterofthenight117 @sunmoonandbuckyrecs @jesevans @kandis-mom @salvatoreitmeanssaviour @kmc1989

#His Inheritance #Bucky Barnes #Yelena Belova #Erik Killmonger #Zemo #Mafia AU #Mob Boss!Steve Rogers #Steve Rogers x reader #Steve Rogers x you

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powderblueblood · 2 months

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Okay so we're just going to pretend that billy is practically neighbors with the doevski's now and he hasn't tried to make a move on lacy's milf mom?

i need him to get rejected so fucking hard it's not even funny. I need his ego to get hit so bad it ends up in a full body cast

DID YOU THINK I MFIN FORGOT ABOUT YOU BABY i didn’t. thank you for sending me this thank you for caring thank you for letting me write some gloriana and helping me ease back into the headspace of writing this fuckin fic lol

warnings: farm to table billy hargrove slander, gloriana doevski outwardly hating her daughter

part of the hellfire & ice universe, natch.

“does this work for you, usually?”

billy hargrove had shown up outside gloriana doevski’s trailer, a vision with a swollen eye on an unseasonably hot day, and had asked her something about having her window boxes weeded. ‘there’s supposed to be flowers in those things, y’know. nothing’s getting a chance to grow.’

tell her about it. gloriana had been locked up inside, the way she spends most of her time these days, which is badly. divorced from the world but not from her husband, steadfast in her commitment for half of the day and considering calling a tip line and fleeing the state for the other.

challenges like billy hargrove could have been sent directly from ray doevski’s prison cell, the convenience at which they showed up. testing her loyalty.

“does what work for me?” billy asks, gardening gloves the only piece of clothing he wears on his upper half.

if this is the challenge, consider gloriana insulted.

“the blue movie setup,” she leans against the door frame, tapping ash from her dunhill onto the step. “the double entendre. nudging yourself into frame, any excuse to take your shirt off. that kind of thing.”

with a ‘heh,’ and a glance to the ground, billy performs knowing bashfulness. it pisses her off.

“depends, i guess. is it working for you?” he looks up at her with his good eye, the one that’s not swollen.

“no, i asked you first. does it satiate the appetite?” gloriana poses, “all of the bored housewives, with whom you’ve lumped me in erroneously, must be fascinated with you. walked right out of their riskier book club novels, didn’t you?”

billy opens his mouth, tongue primed with another smooth line but gloriana stops him short, cigarette arched in her fingers. if he was going to show up half naked, she may as well undress him the rest of the way.

“but does it satiate you? welcomed into the bosom of another woman that doesn’t really want you, other than in a motel six? does that desire make you feel powerful? or does it make you feel cheap?”

“jesus christ, lady—“

“i’m just wondering. innocent question.”

“i see where she gets it from,” he murmurs through an embarrassed choke, an effort that gloriana’s sure is meant to be out of her earshot.

and this could turn into a conversation about lacy, that wretched, double-crossing bad seed of hers whose mud-spattered cheerleading uniform gloriana was clinging onto like a talisman for blackmail, but she’d much rather it didn’t. all it had been since ray had gone to prison was lacy, lacy, lacy, how is lacy, what’s lacy doing, how can we properly utilise lacy. if the girl didn’t come out of gloriana’s very own cunt screaming, she’d bump her off herself.

just for some peace and quiet. and a little attention.

“what happened there?” gloriana leans a touch further out of the door to see the way the sun catches billy’s bruises. they were gnarly, like someone had hit him with a meat tenderiser.

billy snorts through his nose, amorous nature waning into a more comfortable state of sullen dickheadery. “funny story,” he says, “had a run in with your neighbor.”

munson kid, obviously, because it was hardly that decrepit uncle.

gloriana prepared to roll her eyes. “oh?”

“managed to catch a two week suspension for getting between him and his girl.”

if you fail to plan, you plan to fail.

gloriana steps out of the doorway, hip dropping like the heavy end of a seesaw. she gets in billy’s face, in his space, close enough to see the blotchy coagulation of blood underneath the arch of his eyebrow. close enough to smell the richness of his pheromones. close enough to see the gaps in his moustache.

he’s bored, she’s bored. this should be as easy as he thinks it’ll be, right?

“if this is the part where you think you’re going to make me guess who his girl is or hold that information hostage til i invite you inside for a glass of lemonade or a blowjob, you’re heartily mistaken, sweet boy.” gloriana sighs a stream of smoke oh-so close to his mouth. “the only way that daughter of mine could embarrass me any more is if she was sneaking around with you.”

billy might be trembling. this gives gloriana something of a rush. it’s fun to talk down to people when you don’t have a public-facing husband around, admonishing you for it. forcing you to remember your game face.

“you sure about that lemonade?” he asks, dry lips smacking, bewitched.

she’s still got it.

gloriana smirks as the fuck-ugly roar of the munson van draws closer from up the lot. she stamps her cigarette out into the flower box billy is pretending to weed.

“bring me that kid’s fucking head and i’ll think about it.”

#powder room talk #Anonymous #hai brainrot #published by powder

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coochiequeens · 8 months

Text

Once again men show everyone why we want male free spaces

ByYuliah Alma September 18, 2023

Two “gender critical” events in San Francisco were stormed by Antifa this weekend, where trans activists showed up with signs threatening to murder women critical of gender ideology. At one conference held at a Hilton hotel, an employee was assaulted while trying to prevent damage to the property.

Approximately 100 members of the US chapter of Women’s Declaration International (WDI), a global group of volunteers who campaign for women and girls’ sex-based rights, were in attendance for the conference, held on Saturday at the Hilton. Speakers presented on topics such as women’s right to free speech in academia and issues concerning lesbians, black women, and desisted or “detransitioned” women – females who previously identified as transgender, but no longer do.

But attempts were made to sabotage the conference when Antifa and trans activists began to gather outside of the property in protest, some of whom held signs calling for women critical of gender ideology to be murdered.

Kara Dansky, an outspoken women’s rights activist and president of WDI USA, sent Reduxx footage of the Antifa trans rights activists from inside her hotel room. The video shows a group of protestors who had gathered directly in front of the hotel’s entrance.

Trans activists vandalized the Hilton Hotel sign. Photo: Belissa Cohen

“The people outside don’t like it that the US Chapter of WDI wants to have a meeting of women where we gather to talk about our rights,” Dansky was heard narrating in the video.

The demonstration was described as “fairly normal” in the beginning, but Dansky explained that the protesters began entering the hotel and “essentially terrorizing hotel guests and security alike.”

Antifa activists were attempting to enter the building through a third-floor entrance, prompting hotel security to corral them and expel them from the proximity of the doors. In order to prevent them from entering again, hotel staff locked nearly all doors and access points. Only the front door remained open for hotel guests to freely enter and exit the building, while security attempted to keep at bay the protesters who tried to enter.

Police later arrived to secure the entrance to the building, with footage showing four officers guarding an indoor bridge that connected the hotel to its conference center.

Despite the presence of police and security, multiple incidents of vandalism occurred. Belissa Cohen, a women’s rights advocate in attendance, shared photos of stickers and flyers placed in the vicinity of the hotel by protestors.

Slogans such as “Arm trans women, disarm cops,” and “Dykes hate TERFs,” were seen plastered on the Hilton signage and in surrounding areas, as well as stickers featuring the Antifa logo.

But the trans activist detractors didn’t stop at vandalism, and continued to escalate the situation by taking a hammer to the Hilton’s outdoor sign.

Dansky explained to Reduxx that a hotel manager saw the destruction, and attempted to intervene to prevent further damage. In response, one of the protestors physically assaulted him, reportedly punching the staff member in the head.

Reduxx reached out to the Hilton for comment but did not receive a response in time for publication.

But this wasn’t the only event critical of gender ideology that was targeted in San Fransisco that day.

On Saturday evening, a nearby venue was hosting an art exhibit titled “A Nasty Piece of Work: The Art of Dissident Feminists.” The event was intended to host the art of women impacted by gender ideology, and included the work of detransitioned women.

At an unknown time on Saturday evening, trans activists spray-painted the exterior of the venue with anarchism symbols and the threatening message, “No TERFs on our turf!”

TERF, an acronym meaning “trans exclusionary radical feminist,” is frequently used to incite violence against women critical of gender ideology.

The art exhibit was held Acceleration Place, and WDI USA conference attendees were made aware of the show and invited to its opening reception.

Laura Becker, a detransitioned woman, had her art featured alongside the works of other feminist creators. She presented a self-portrait of her chest, scarred by a double mastectomy surgery, to promote awareness around the medical risks associated with so-called “gender affirming” surgeries. Becker has previously had her work censored by online DIY retailer Etsy for advocating against gender identity ideology

Other curators of the show included feminists, artists, and art collectors who are members of San Fransisco-based group Women Are Real.

A Women Are Real representative confirmed that police were contacted and a report was made Sunday morning when the graffiti was discovered.

She told Reduxx: “I was saddened, but not surprised when I saw the vandalism. [Due to the] violence and property damage to the [Hilton] hotel during the daytime on Saturday…it seemed unlikely the gallery would remain unscathed.”

The roaming show is still set to run until October 15, and will be in Los Angeles as its next stop.

Women Are Real will be at San Fransisco City Hall on September 18 to perform a demonstration and have said they are prepared for violence. The demonstration will be live-streamed.

#usa #san francisco #California #Antifa supporting the threatening and harassment of women #Antifa assaulted a member of the working class #Women’s Declaration International (WDI)#A Nasty Piece of Work: The Art of Dissident Feminists #Women are Real #TRAs threatening detransitioned women

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coraniaid · 2 years

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Okay okay on the off chance no one else sent this - Faith Lehane for the character ask game

Favorite thing about them

As I implied in my Buffy post, Faith wasn't really one of my favorite characters when I originally watched Buffy. I certainly didn't dislike her, but I also just didn't find her very compelling. Sure, she represented Buffy's own repressed hedonism, a different path that Buffy could have gone down without her family and friends – she was a glimpse of a side of Buffy we didn’t really see in the first five seasons except in a handful of episodes – and that was kind of cool. But Faith in her own right just didn't feel that deep.

I think that's because, the first time I watched the show, I more or less fully brought into Faith's depiction of herself as cool and aloof and just … skipped obliviously over a lot of the subtext. She was Buffy's friend (albeit probably one of those Bad Influences I'd been warned about), and then she wanted to kill her, and that was all there was to it.

It was only during my rewatch that I realized: hang on, this is a girl who spends large parts of her life alone in her room reading comic books or watching old movies and tv shows on a tiny television, who tells wildly implausible stories about herself to impress total strangers, who lies unconvincingly about "big parties" she's been invited to, and who talks slightly wistfully about wishing she'd had friends in high school. Friends like Xander, no less. In other words, she was a loser. She wasn’t cool at all.

And I think that's really when the whole character finally clicked into focus for me, and she rapidly became one of my favorites, probably just after Buffy herself.

(I mean, she’s a loser with superpowers and serious anger management issues who seems to really enjoy stabbing and hitting things, so I wouldn’t dream of calling her a loser to her face. But that's what she is, all the same.)

Least favorite thing about them

There's not enough Faith in Season 7.

(I mean, there's more Faith than there was in the last two seasons, sure, but I think it would have made more sense for her to be involved in the story earlier than she is, given the specifics of the First's plans and the fact she's still, as far as we know, the only Slayer whose death would actually activate a Potential.)

It would also have been nice if Faith had appeared in Restless actually, taking Tara's place as the voice of the First Slayer (as I think was originally planned?). Of all the individual episodes between Who Are You? and the start of Season 7 I think that's the one where her absence is most obvious (and it doesn't really make much sense for Tara to be taking that role).

In-universe, the scattered hints we get about Faith's childhood in Boston sound utterly horrific, but I think it's impossible to know how much of what Faith says about that is meant to be true. (At least, I hope she’s making a lot of it up.)

Favorite line

A long one, but let's go with:

"I know what it's like. You think you matter, you think you're a part of something, and then you get dumped. It's like the whole world is moving and you're stuck. It's like those animals in the tar pits. It's like you just keep sinking a little deeper every day and no-one even sees. […] Nobody cares, nobody remembers, especially not Buffy, fabulous superhero.

Sooner or later, you're going to have to face it. She was over us a long time ago Joyce. Too busy climbing onto her new boytoy to give a single thought to the people that matter."

brOTP

Angel, eventually.

(Not when he's chaining her up and telling her how killing one person accidentally makes her just like a soulless monster who's never going to get over the taste for deliberate murder, but … you know. After that.)

Not exactly much competition for this one though. I mean, canonically, how many friends does Faith have?

OTP

Buffy Summers. Buffy Summers, Buffy Summers. Buffy, Buffy, Buffy.

(To directly quote another Faith line.)

nOTP

Uh. Pretty much any of the past relationships Faith talks about, assuming she isn't making them up entirely.

In the show itself, Faith hooking up with Robin Wood seems a bit … perfunctory, I guess. It definitely has something of the air of "this is the end of the last season, so we'd better pair off or kill all the minor characters" about it. I don't hate it, as such, but it's hard to see them lasting.

(It's hard to see any relationship that Faith has lasting long, really, including one with Buffy, until they both have a chance to work out some serious issues. But I guess this is what fanfic is for.)

Random headcanon

Choices aired on May 4th 1999, and Sanctuary aired on May 2nd 2000. In the first episode, the Mayor gifts Faith a knife. In the second, Faith begs Buffy to tell her what to do “to make things better”, then turns herself into the police for murder.

If you fudge the dates a little bit, I think it's possible to see the key events of both episodes taking place on the same day, a year apart. And then that day becomes a great contender for Faith's never-confirmed-in-canon birthday.

On one birthday, the closest thing she has to a father figure gives her what might be the first present she's ever received: the knife that ends up being used to put her in a coma (metaphorically, to kill her, since there’s no indication in the episode itself that she’s ever going to wake up). On the next birthday, she gives Buffy the gift she thinks that Buffy wants, this time accepting her (metaphorical) death and agreeing to go to jail.

I mean, okay, yes, fine, the Mayor claims not to have a special reason to give Faith a present. But I think that's perfectly consistent with what he'd do if he was getting her a stealth birthday present; she wouldn't accept it if she didn't think it came with strings attached.

Unpopular opinion

Once again I bask in the comforting glow of aggressively filtering out opinions I don't agree with before they can register in my long-term memory.

Uh. I guess I’d push back slightly against the idea I see sometimes that Faith’s attraction to Buffy is only a product of Eliza Dushku’s acting choices and that “the writers” as a monolithic block had no idea what they were doing. Yes, the acting is a huge part of it, but I mean … I’m pretty sure Doug Petrie knew.

Song I associate with them

"Twisted (Everyday Hurts)" by Skunk Anansie.

Favorite picture of them

"Um. Looked like that whole party thing was gonna be kind of a drag. I didn't really have anything … you know."

She looks so happy! She is trying her hardest! It is not going to end well!

#btvs #faith lehane #ask game

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wxshing-aep · 2 years

Text

“We were not eye-f*cking!” (pt 1)

Andrew Garfield x famous! reader

One Rule Series

In which Y/n and Andrew were, in fact, eye fucking

Rating: PG 13 (swearing, sexual themes, drinking, two oblivious and horny dumbasses in love, cliche costars falling for each other)

all characters are ages 20-22. Andrew is 21, Reader is 20. In this universe only Tobey’s spider-man movies have been made so Tom and Andrew are not spider-man. I also use current young Hollywood actors as characters so it’s basically present day except Andrew is the same age as them if that makes sense!

a/n: I’m thinking of making this a series? or like a collection of one shots or something idk this is also my first time ever writing a fic I normally just read them so feedback is def appreciated!

It was your first legitimate acting role: a Netflix show somewhere between a Euphoria and Friends set in college

One rule. The director, Mindy Kaling, literally gave you one rule before you even started filming. She was pretty aware of how things among a bunch of young actors would go so she gathered together the main cast for her grand speech

“Don’t date your costars” It was pretty straight-forward. Something about ‘keeping the chemistry alive for the integrity of the series’ blah blah avoiding a ‘potentially horrible breakup so you don’t hate each other’ blah ‘I’m serious’ blah blah blah

The warning was warranted. I mean if you have a bunch of hot college aged people working on a set together for months something’s bound to happen eventually. And you wanted to pay attention, you really did. You take your work seriously, but he had these stupid cute brown eyes and stupid cute hair and stupid dimples and stupid cute face and-

You get the point

so in the midst of your daydreams you’re not really paying attention to her warning… and neither is Andrew

At least you were trying to make it look like you were listening and had your eyes focusing one Mindy while your mind was elsewhere. Andrew simply either did not give a fuck or was a complete dumbass because unbeknownst to you, his eyes were fixed on you through Mindy’s entire speech only looking up after hearing Mindy clear her throat to find that she was looking directly at him

She finishes with an “I mean it, keep it in your pants” without breaking eye contact with him and he nods aggressively along with the rest of his cast mates and tries his best to act as if your pretty face wasn’t engraved into the back of his mind

You were super excited for this job, the show was expected to be huge, Netflix’s next big hit and to be honest you were a bit surprised when you got a call from your manager saying that you booked the job. It wasn’t that you didn’t think you were a good actress: you were and you know that. There were just a lot of big names on this project. The show followed the lives of 4 main girls as they navigated college: the drama, the schoolwork, the relationships, the parties; and you were cast alongside Zendaya, Florence Pugh, and Hunter Schafer so it’s understandable that you were a little intimidated

You weren’t aware of this but the casting directors loved you since they saw your first audition: a self tape sent in from your tiny New York City apartment. And they were absolutely sold after your screen test with Andrew Garfield who had already been cast and your character was a potential love interest for his so they wanted to see how you two paired together

You played Ashlynn “Ash” Douglass: an impressive student with impressive fashion sense, high school valedictorian and debate team captain with a smart mouth but the intellect to back it up. You were really excited to explore the different facets of this character and see what’s lying behind her somewhat icy exterior

Andrew played Max Kingston: who seems like he’d be a typical daddy’s money Econ major frat boy, but he’s actually one of the only people on campus that had the intellect to challenge Ash (a nickname he refuses to call her, always opting for the full ‘Ashlynn’ and always accompanied with a teasing smirk that drives her up a wall, she can’t stand the douchebag… for now

Because of the potential enemies to lovers dynamic that the directors were looking for with your characters they thought a chemistry read was necessary. It was the first scene where your characters meet: the script comprised of a lot of snarky and witty banter back and forth and a lot of underlying sexual tension. You two were electric on screen and it was no wonder that you got along so well off screen.

It didn’t take long for you to develop a crush I mean have you seen him?And he’s not just hot, like he’s definitely hot, but you think you could listen to him talk forever and you simply just really liked being around him.

After a while on set you two were nearly inseparable and it was rare to see one of you without the other. You were positive that Andrew only saw you as a friend (you’re generally a bit oblivious to these kinds of things) and never really noticed his longing stares or the way his eyes would light up when he spoke about you to anyone else

You tried your best to be as inconspicuous about your crush as possible because you think you’d die if he found out. You were clueless to the fact that he harbored feelings for you and you’d be beyond embarrassed if he knew you were into him and it was one sided so you kept it to yourself

Or at least you thought you did

Eventually you wrapped season 1 and did, in fact, successfully keep it in your pants even though Andrew had a few shirtless scenes that definitely tested your self control because damn you wanted to run your tongue down his abs

Thank god the relationship between your characters was still mostly enemies because if your lips had touched his you’re pretty sure all self control would be out the window

After filming season 1, you thought it’d be nice to host a pool party at the house the show directors had put you up in in LA which you were incredibly grateful for, it was much nicer than anywhere you’d ever lived with a huge pool outside and plenty of rooms for guests.

The show premiered on Netflix tomorrow and since the main cast (consisting of you, Zendaya, Florence and Hunter as well as Tom Holland, Andrew Garfield, and Timothée Chalamet had gotten very close during filming you wanted to throw a little rager get together to celebrate.

Hunter offered to bring the drinks since you were still 20 and therefore couldn’t buy the alcohol. The girls came over a bit earlier just to have a bit of girl time before the guys showed up. You guys had basically become a girl gang in real life similar to the way your characters were. You texted in the group chat, because of course you have a group chat, that the front door would be unlocked.

You were in the process of trying on a new bathing suit, a red bikini, you’d just bought when Hunter and Zendaya burst through the front door, Hunter holding a bottle of tequila in one hand and vodka in the other.

“I’VE GOT THE DRINKS BITCH- holy shit you look hot! Andrew’s gonna lose his fucking mind” she says nonchalantly while placing the bottles on the counter alongside some snacks and mixers that you had set out for everyone. You laughed nervously followed by a “what’s that supposed to mean?” while you put on your cover up

Without missing a beat Z responds with “girl don’t act like we didn’t see you two eye-fucking each other everyday on set”

“We- I- we were not eye-fucking” you respond just as Florence had arrived and without any other context besides your previous statement joins the conversation with an “oooh are we talking about Andrew and y/n’s super obvious eye fu-“

“WE WERE NOT EYE FUCKING!” you said incredulously only to met with an “mhmm sure keep telling yourself that babe” from Hunter. “You guys are delusional” you defended. “mm I’m not sure that we’re the delusional ones” Z answered.

“We’re just friends” “See no one who is actually just friends with someone has ever had to say that statement” Flo countered. You huffed “Guys I’m serious, there is absolutely nothing going on between me and-“ you’re interrupted by the sound the front door opening.

You had your back turned toward the door and it nearly hit you as it swung open and you’re greeted by Tom followed by Andrew and Timothée who had also decided to bring drinks “Sorry love” he apologizes for nearly taking you out with your front door

“There’s nothing going on between you and who?” Timothée asks curiously. nosy little shit

“Yea I wanna know” Andrew adds. Your eyes widen slightly as you turn back towards the girls looking for any help out of this situation only to see them all looking at you humorously “yea y/n”, Z adds teasingly “Andrew wants to know” which earns her a chuckle from Flo and a discreet flash of your middle finger

You grab the nearest bottle of alcohol and turn back towards the boys “There’s nothing going on between me and this bottle of-“ you squint to read the label “tequila! And we should fix that immediately! Shots anyone?” which was met with a chorus of yes’s

After a couple rounds of shots everyone headed to the pool and you threw your cover up onto one of the lawn chairs and just jumped in with the other girls and Timothée who had already been in the pool for about ten minutes yelling something about wanting to “destroy literally everyone in a chicken fight” (that pool game where you have a partner and are on their shoulders trying to push the other person off)

Little did you know, Andrew was in fact losing his mind over the red bikini you were wearing

It’s not that he didn’t know you were hot, he definitely knew, but fuck seeing you in that bikini was enough make him weak in the knees

In his defense he’d never seen that much of your skin before and that bikini made you look oh so tempting

And he considers himself to be a gentleman, he really does, but now he’s a little tipsy and your tits, god your tits (and he’s not even a boob guy. he considers himself an equal opportunist and at this point he might just be a you guy) are decorated in this beautiful red fabric that stirs something low in his stomach. He’s trying his best but he can’t help it and his eyes wander and end up glued to your figure watching as the water drips down your body and now he’s thinking about how it would feel to have his hands explore every inch of you and- fuck he needs to look away before his swim shorts suddenly become far too tight so with a shake of his head he muttered a “keep it in your pants, Garfield” to himself to snap himself out of it and forces himself to look away from your beautiful face and equally beautiful body that made him want to take you against the nearest-

Keep it in your pants, Garfield

He looked away and hoped he hadn’t been too obvious but judging from the way that Tom was smirking at him, arms crossed and shaking his head adding a cheeky “need a cold shower bro?” he’d been a bit obvious. He turned a little red in the face and responded with a “Fuck off mate” throwing his shirt at him while Tom laughed and Andrew made his way to the pool

Oddly enough the guys had a similar conversation with andrew in your driveway to the one you’d had with the girls before they’d come inside where basically bullied teased him about being absolutely whipped over a girl he’d never even kissed

“I’m not whipped, I just really like hanging out with her. She’s just one of my best friends” which made Timothée scoff. “No dude I’m ‘just one of your best friends’. Y/n is your favorite person on the planet and also you want her to have your children. There’s a difference” “Even if I was into her which I’m not” yeaaa no one was buying that “it’s not like I could do anything about it. Mindy made it pretty clear that she doesn’t want us dating cast members” “Right but she never said anything about hand stuff so you could probably at least get to second ba-“ Tom was cut off by Andrew smacking him in the back of the head. “I’m pretty sure the phrase ‘keep it in your pants’ also applies to hand stuff you git”

Andrew had been in the pool all of two seconds and was immediately brought out of the memory by you splashing him in the face and you honestly might as well have just declared war against him and questioned his honor because he retaliates instantly earning a giggle from you and god that is his favorite sound in the world. Your little water fight ended with him grabbing both of your hands and pinning your wrists together so you’d stop splashing him. “I’ll take that as you deciding to surrender” you quipped and he laughs. “I’ve literally pinned your hands together love”. You take a half step towards him “Yea but maybe that was my goal” You didn’t mean for it to come off as flirty as it did but hey you were several shots in and now this adonis of a man was shirtless and inches away from you. Andrew had to blink a few times to make sure he hadn’t just fabricated that entire encounter in his mind

Your little moment was interrupted by Florence demanding that everyone take more shots: an idea that Timothée decided to turn into a game by having a chicken tournament in the pool where every time you and your partner lose you take a shot.

After a good amount of rounds and a good amount of shots, the only person you hadn’t been partnered with yet was Andrew. Hunter and Flo had abandoned the game in favor of of some nearby pool floatie and Timothée just about sprinted into your kitchen when you told him you had mini corndogs in the freezer that he could make if he wanted

“Alright Daya lets kick some ass” Tom says to Z as she’s perched on his shoulders and she laughs which she’s been doing at almost everything Tom has said during this entire endeavor (like we get he’s funny but he’s not that funny) but right now you’re not sober enough to care so you store that information away for later and turn towards Andrew. “Alright you ready?” “Hell yea”

Andrew is an absolute ray of sunshine but he’s also extremely competitive and would also never pass up an opportunity to have his head between your thighs so he’s very excited for this game. He submerges himself so you can get on his shoulders and comes back up. You move his hair out of his eyes for him as he steadies you, anchoring you to his shoulders with his hands on your thighs and god do his hands feel nice on you.

“Ready-“ Timmy decided to return to the poolside with a plate of mini corn dogs to officiate and record this momentous occasion on his phone. “Set. Go!” Now the thing is you are also competitive as hell so if there’s one thing you’re gonna do, it’s win and after about a minute you manage to push Z off of Tom’s shoulders earning cheers from your friends. Andrew lowers himself to let you down but hooks his arms back around your legs when they drop near his waist so he’s now giving you a piggy back ride. He rubs small circles on your leg with his thumb and you rest your head on his shoulder but no one is sober enough to make a smart comment about the slightly more than friendly nature of your current behavior. A new conversation starts but neither of you are really paying attention. Andrew turns his head towards you causing you to look at him. No one’s paying attention to the two of you but you still decide to send him a playful “stop staring”. He just smirks, his face inches from yours. “M’not staring” He dares to nudge his face a little closer to yours “I’m admiring” he says in a whisper so low that you think you’d miss it if you weren’t this close to him and you’re now nose to nose and with your body still pressed against him and with the way he was looking you- okay maybe there was some occasional eye fucking between you two- you were about to throw all caution to the wind and just fuck it (or more importantly fuck him) when-

“GUYS TWITTER IS SAYING THEY’VE PUT CARS 2 ON DISNEY PLUS! EVERYONE GET YOUR ASS INSIDE WE’RE HAVING A MOVIE MARATHON RIGHT NOW” Flo yells from the poolside chair that she’s claimed and you and Andrew are pulled from your little moment as he sets you down to follow the others inside

“I’m not sure if two movies counts as a marathon Flo” you comment. “Well, good thing it’s 3 movies then” “Mm cars 3 is more of a spin off-“

As you grab you towel and dry off by the pool before heading inside you sneak a glance and Andrew who’s drying off a few feet away only to find that those brown eyes are already on you, both of you thinking the same thing: god I’m fucked.

read part 2 here!

god that was way longer than I expected lol but andrew x costar reader so true!

#andrew garfield #andrew garfield x reader #andrew garfield x female reader #andrew garfield x you #andrew garfield imagine #andrew garfield imagines #andrew garfield x famous! reader #famous!reader

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imthebadguyyy · 3 years

Note

maybe something like interviewer asking her sexist questions and the boys stand up for her , after that interview she feels insecure and the boys comfort her . that's just an idea you don't have to write it !! <33

I hope you like it, and I'm so sorry about the delay 😭 I couldn't find my footing with this one, and I hope it's what you wanted ! Have a lovely day 💙

The One Where They're There For Her

Pairing - One Direction x Reader (6thmember!female!reader)

Fandom - One Direction (Directioners)

Summary - A particularly sexist interview decides to reduce you to just a sexual being and makes no effort to hide his misogyny. But the boys are there to support you.

Warnings - sexualization of the lgbt community, sexist comments, swearing, (honestly I hated myself for writing some of the comments here,and I'm so sorry)

Being a part of the biggest band in the world comes with certain responsibilities. Not responsibilities that come along with signing a recording contract, but those that a person deems themselves responsible for. For example, as the only female in a boyband, a female with a fanbase as large as yours, you took it upon yourself to always stand up for what's right, and to be an ally for the causes close to your heart.

That meant that your social media was often flooded with information about important causes, or your opinions on issues like feminism. Was it always well received? Heck no. There were people filled your feed with hate and comments calling you the most horrible names and labelling you a 'man hater' and a 'bitch' But you didn't let it get to you. On most days. On days like today, it was all you could do to keep it together. It had been a tiring few days, touring, recording, performing and doing an endless amount of interviews and photoshoots. It was safe to say you were on the last of your nerves, having battled your way through a makeup artist who had insisted on pointing out your flaws and had used a shit ton of makeup to cover them up. You had battled a photographer who had not hesitated to tell you that if you didn't look more feminine people would think you were turning into a man.

Before you could retaliate, Paul had dragged him away and told management to cancel the photoshoot, and find another photographer before grabbing the six of you some sandwiches and had let you all go back for a quick power nap at the hotel. Then in about half an hour he had woken you up, to get you ready for another interview. That's how you were here, in a white jumpsuit and a black blazer jacket, paired with black heels. Another day, another interviewer that got on your nerves. But this one, this one was different. This interviewer was different, but also the same. Another misogynistic man who thought he was entitled to stare at your ass and cleavage, and eye fuck you as you settled into a seat in between Niall and Zayn.

Settling in, you crossed one knee over the other, plastering a fake smile onto your face, as the man leaned back in his chair, throwing you a sleazy smirk. Noticing the look, Zayn shifted so you were out of view of the interviewer, but in view of the audience. It was in moments like this that you were a 100× more grateful to have your boys. They were well aware of how sleazy some interviewers could be, having had plenty of experience with them, and Zayn and Louis in particular were very protective about the way you were treated. Squeezing your thigh softly, he leaned back a little, lips settling into a thin line as he looked at the interviewer with a cold look. A little behind, Louis threw the interviewer a dirty look.

"So, One Direction! Congratulations on the album, as you all know its out on November the 22nd, with eighteen new songs, including the singles Night Changes and Steal My Girl Speaking of stealing girls, do you think I could steal your number Y/N? And may I mention, you look ver, very hot in that outfit" The interviewer joked, throwing you what he thought was a sexy smirk. (P.S - it wasn't) Answering with an awkward laugh, you shook your head, as Niall tensed up beside you. "Aww come on, your'e a pretty girl, I'm a handsome guy, let's go out sometime" he pressed on, ignoring the growing anger in Harry's eyes. "That's umm, nice. But no thanks, I'm not going to go out with you" was your answer, as you pushed a strand of hair behind your ear. Picking up on your nervous tic, Zayn moved his hand to rest on your knee, stopping it from bouncing up and down.

"Aww come on baby, what is it? You like girls or something? Because I wouldn't mind being a part of that action either" the sleazebag chuckled, ignoring the disgusted look Liam sent his way. "That's rude" Liam said, while Zayn tightened his grip on your knee. "Oh come on lads, are you telling me the idea doesn't appeal to you? Two women together, mm, makes me all excited just thinking about it, especially if one of them's Y/N" That comment was all it took for Louis to stand up, turning to the man and saying in a voice much rougher than his usual voice, "Alright, that's fuckin' enough, what the fuck is actually wrong with you?" he was backed up by Liam, who stood up, going to tower over the interviewer, whose eyes had lost some of the sleazy look in them. "All you've done since we walked in here is make those disgusting comments about Y/N, and it's sickening. Have some fucking respect" he practically spat.

Behind him, Zayn took your hand in his and pulled you to your feet, noticing the slight glossiness in them, leading you back to the dressing rooms, while Niall, Liam, Louis and Harry stayed back to continue to snap at the interviewer. "That is no way to treat a woman, and not only are you disrespecting her, you also made those god awful events about seeing women together. Your'e a shame to every single person in this room by talking like that" Harry continued, glancing over his shoulder to check if you were okay.

"And no, it doesn't excite us, because we are not assholes, and you are, a disgusting sleaze who does not deserve the job he has. Fuckin loser" Niall chimed in, standing up and storming out. Louis stood up as well, turning to directly face the cameras and the cameramen and sound technicians, who had all looked shocked when the man had made his comments towards you. "I sure as hell hope you have that on record, so you can see just how fucking sexist this industry is to women. Y/N does the same job as us, works just as hard and has the same number of awards, nominations, and records and yet you decide to only focus on her body, clothes, love life and sexuality. Get a fucking life" he spat at the camera, before walking away himself, eventually followed by Harry and Liam, who apologized to the outraged fans before leaving themselves. As they made their way to the dressing rooms they could hear the audience telling the interviewer to apologize to you, their anger at the way you were treated echoing through the building.

Walking in, Harry caught sigh of you curled up in one of the armchairs, with Louis sitting beside you, while Niall and Zayn talked to a furious Paul. "He had no damn right to treat her like shite, and you need to make sure that he knows those comments were un-fuckin-acceptable" Niall was saying, looking angrier than Harry had ever seen him. "And to make those sickening comments about wanting to get action? Can't we sue him for something?" Was Zayn's reply, glancing over his shoulder at you to make sure you were still okay. "We can't sue him, atleast I don't think we can, but I'll have someone let the smug bastard know that he needs to learn how to respect a woman" Paul said, before leaving the room to give the six of you some time together before you had to head back to the hotel.

"How're you feeling darling?" Louis said, moving over and patting your knee so you moved. "I'm okay" you mumbled back, letting Louis settle in next to you, leaning back to rest on his chest. "He had no fuckin right to say any of that, and don't you let it trouble you for a second" Zayn added, pouring out a cup of tea for you and for Louis and Harry. "I don't care about what he said, I couldn't care less, but it was just so frustrating, sitting there and listening to him just sexualize a whole community of people. You've got to be in a really sad place to think of shit like that. That's what annoyed me. You think I give a damn about what he said about my clothes or wanting to take me out on a date? It was the way he was talking, like he was sure any woman would be glad to have him that irked me. He's really tiresome" was your reply, as you reached forward for a sip of your tea. "That's the right attitude love. Haters gonna hate" Harry said.

"I know that. But I just wish I could punch him once, which sounds mean, but he does kind of deserve it" Niall said, earning a laugh from you. Niall was never usually aggressive, and even now, he wasn't particularly rude but it was rare to see him wanting to punch someone. "It's okay Niall, you don't have to. I can do it myself, but I won't" you replied, leaning up to squeeze his hand. "Besides, Ni, if you went and punched him, I'd do it too, and then we'd all go to jail" Liam chimed in, scrolling through his twitter. "Twitter isn't happy either babe. #stopsexualization and #Y/Ndeservesbetter is trending already" he added, showing you his phone. "If it means some of these sexist asses get their heads out of the sand, I'm happy. But I dont want to to think about it now" you replied, cuddling closer to the warmth radiating from Louis's body.

"Okay, we won't talk about it. Do you want to go back to the hotel?" Harry asked, standing up and walking to the door "No I want to go to Nando's. Anybody else hungry?" You asked, to nods of assent from the boys. "I'm starving. Those stupid sandwiches didn't fill me up at all" Zayn said, standing up to grab his coat and wallet. "I know and I'm craving some hot Peri Peri chicken with some fries. Do you think they'd let me put the lemon and herb sauce on the fries?" You asked, standing up yourself, earning a laugh from Louis. "Your'e an international superstar babe, I think they'd give you some lemon herb sauce" Liam joked.

Laughing, the six of you made your way to the car, with Harry and Niall squishing you in between them, as Louis sat in the back with Liam, and Zayn sat in the front with Paul (he was driving thank GOD) "I'm proud of you darling" Harry chimed in suddenly. "I am too" Niall added. "You know I am" Louis said, before Liam added "Always babe" and Zayn turned to smile at you before adding, "We are all proud of you, and we always will be, not only because you do a damn good job of not listening to the haters, but because you do what you think is right" "Awh come on, your'e gonna make me cry" you mumbled, leaning into Niall's shoulder. "Almost makes me feel bad for teasing you about having an extremely low spice tolerance the last time we were at Nando's Haz" you smirked, earning a roar of laughter from the boys.

"That chicken was spicy love!" "It was lemon and herb with no peri peri!" "And it was spicy!"

And just like that, you were back to messing around with each other. Sleazy interviewers would come and go, but your boys were always there to support you. Always.

-------

A/N - Thanks for reading ! I'd also like to apologize on the behalf of this fictitious interviewer I made up, I felt so bad while writing some of this 😭 anyways, I hope this is what you wanted! Enjoy !

Tags - @zaynkissbot @gucci-hazza @bxtchboy69

#one direction x reader #one direction x sixth member #one direction imagines #one direction fanfiction #one direction #harry styles x reader #liam payne x reader #louis tomlinson x reader #niall horan x reader #zayn malik x reader #imthebadguyyytags #harry styles #niall horan #liam payne #louis tomlinson #zayn malik

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free-pool-trash · 3 years

Text

x of swords - george weasley

part one of three

Summary: Growing up as Harry’s neighbor, you always believed that you were completely regular. In an attempt to feel closer to Harry (your best friend) you begin to dabble in the art of divination and, in the process, you uncover magic that you didn’t know you had. (i hate doing summaries this does not sum it up but you get the jist)

Relationships: George Weasley x Reader, platonic!Harry Potter x Reader, platonic!OC x Reader, platonic!Sirius Black x Reader, platonic!Remus Lupin x Reader, platonic!Fred Weasley x Reader, platonic!Nymphadora Tonks x Reader, platonic!Molly Weasley x Reader, platonic!Hermoine Granger x Reader, Sirius Black x Remus Lupin

Warnings: Swearing, anxiety, fluff, angst, mentions of torture, mentions of death (let me know if I missed anything!)

Word count: 22.9k

so here it is 😏 i was going to wait until i was completely finished with this to post it but i didn’t wanna rush it and oh my god it’s already so long 😫 I’m moving to Edinburgh in 2 weeks so i won’t be able to write as i have so much to pack so i hope this keeps some of you happy for a while <3 obviously i put a lot of effort into this and spent a lot of time on it so i really hope yall like it and i will personally kiss everyone who comments. likes or reblogs <3

mastelist

Life on Privet Drive was definitely something- something being incredibly boring. Nothing even remotely exciting happened on the street and the company was, to put it simply, miserable.

You’d lived in 5 Privet Drive since birth which, unfortunately for you, meant that your family are extremely close with the Dursleys who live next door. The Dursleys are a family of bigoted, pig-headed bullies. Made up of Petunia, Vernon, Dudley and, in your opinion the only tolerable one, Harry.

From the age of five, Harry had been your only friend on the street and vice versa. Initially, the both of you had bonded over your dislike of Dudley but as the years rolled on Harry and yourself had become virtually inseparable.

It was certainly strange- how close your parents were with Petunia and Vernon. Your mother and father are actually quite lovely, they are the complete opposite of the Dursleys, they’re open minded, kind and extremely friendly. But, you supposed, their friendliness didn’t discriminate from person to person, even if said person forced their orphaned nephew to sleep in the cupboard underneath the stairs.

There was no denying that Harry had been miserable with the Dursleys, who were unfortunately his only remaining family and you supposed you should’ve been happy when your best friend finally got away from them after his 11th birthday.

You’d missed him for the entire school year and you only got a chance to ask where he’d actually gone off to when he’d arrived home for the summer. (You didn’t believe the story Vernon had spun about Harry attending a boarding school for juvenile trouble makers).

“It’s incredible, (Y/n), honestly! I wish you could be there too.” He’d told you when you finally saw him again, after he’d finished his first year in his mysterious boarding school.

“That’s great, Haz, but where exactly is it?” You wondered and Harry only gave you his signature grin.

“Scotland.”

With a heavy sigh you let the subject go, he was clearly happy wherever he was going to school so it didn’t matter where or what it was. As long as he was happy.

By the time his 12th birthday rolled around you’d found the perfect gift for him. You’d made your parents buy you a polaroid camera for him to take away to school, he’d told you so many amazing stories about his school, you wanted to see some of it for yourself so you figured a camera would be the best course of action.

The morning of his birthday, Harry was woken up by the sound of pebbles tapping against his barred up window. The boy looked out to see you waving at him, an excited smile on your face and a neatly wrapped present in your other hand. Harry couldn’t stop the smile that formed on his face as you beckoned him down with your hand. It was barely dawn but you knew better than to give a present for Harry to either his aunt or uncle because they’d only give it to Dudley, so it was best to get it to him before the rest of his supposed family woke up.

Hogwarts was amazing and Harry was over the moon to have discovered he was a wizard and make so many new friends, but he had missed you- his only friend in the muggle world. Your birthday was only a few weeks after his and he hoped that maybe you’d get a hogwarts letter of your own, obviously that hadn’t happened. Nonetheless he was happy to see you in the summer, he couldn’t shake the thought that Ron and Hermione would have loved to meet you though.

Slowly and quietly, Harry snook down the stairs and out the front door to meet you.

“Happy birthday, Haz!” You whisper-shouted excitedly, pulling the green-eyed boy into your house so he wouldn’t get caught outside when he wasn’t even allowed out of his bedroom.

Harry rolled his eyes at the nickname, “I hope you know that you’re still the only person who calls me that.”

“Good,” you said happily, closing the front door behind you. “Anyway, I got you something that you can bring away to school with you!” He rose an eyebrow at you as you pushed the carefully wrapped box into his hands, “Open it,” you instructed. And so he did.

It was very possibly the most expensive gift he’d ever gotten, you (or your parents) usually got Harry presents that couldn’t be stolen by Dudley. For example, your mother had taken to buying Harry his own clothes, seeing as your best friend was a lot taller and thinner than his horrid cousin.

You, on the other hand, would usually make him gifts with sentimental value, something Dudley had absolutely zero interest in. The camera though, you knew would be safe as Harry would be leaving for school again soon enough.

Harry stared dumbfounded at the cardboard box that held the rather large polaroid camera, judging by the image on the box it was a good quality thing, probably expensive. “This is… really nice, (Y/n).”

A bright smile found your lips as you rushed into an animated explanation about why you’d picked a camera as his birthday present this year.

“So you can take lots of pictures of you and your new friends in your new fancy private school and when you come back here you can show them to me!” Harry chuckled and nodded his head, hoping he’d be able to find time to take pictures like you wanted.

“I’ll take pictures of everything. Promise.” He told you, holding out his pinky with a cheeky grin. You linked your pinky with his and nodded gratefully.

“We should christen it,” Harry announced, tearing into the box and he quickly set the camera up before he pointed it at you expectantly. “Well, come on then. I’ve told my school friends all about you, they’re going to want to see what you look like too. So, smile-“ with a disbelieving laugh, you crossed your legs underneath yourself from where you were sitting on the floor across from Harry, and tucked your hair behind your ears before you looked directly at the lense of the camera and gave it the brightest smile you could muster. The camera flashed and the picture slowly revealed itself, it seemed to be good enough to satisfy Harry’s twelve year old self.

He’d shown the polaroid to Hermione first, the bushy haired girl had smiled softly as she held the polaroid gently, “She seems lovely, Harry.”

Harry had nodded his head in agreement, you were lovely. He just hoped Dudley wasn’t terrorising you too much while he was away. His cousin always had somewhat of a crush on you, which Harry knew was ridiculous considering you all but loathed Dudley.

True to his word, Harry had taken plenty of pictures, many were of (non-magic) areas of the Hogwarts campus, many were of his friends; Ron, Hermione, Fred and George Weasley (who had an absolute field day with the muggle contraption), one or two of Hagrid and he even managed to capture a nice one of the owlery. Although you were one of his best friends, sometimes thinking about you while he was in Hogwarts brought his mood down. It reminded him of how much he wished you could’ve shared in his adventures and not to mention how much he missed you, you could hardly send him an owl, what with being a muggle and all, so he only got to spend time with you during the summer months.

Things had changed during his third year, though. When he received a rather shocking, albeit very welcome, letter.

Dear Harry,

I’d like to start by saying: hi, how are you? How’s school? Good? Great. Now that that’s out of the way… when you come home I’m going to KILL you!!! I cannot believe you didn’t tell me you are a wizard! Well, I understand why you didn’t but anyway.

You’re probably wondering how I found all of this out. Long story short, I saw Vernon’s sister floating around your sitting room and then I saw you running out swinging a wand around. I put two and two together. You would not believe how long it took me to figure out how to get in contact with you. I practically had to beg Dudley to tell me how to get this package to you, he eventually told me how in exchange for a kiss on the cheek. It was as horrifying as it sounds, the things I do for you, Haz, honestly. Don’t worry though, you can make it up to me over the summer.

I bought an owl by the way. I’m guessing she found you okay? Look after her for a little while before sending her back will you? She’s just a baby so she can’t do too much long distance travel just yet.The lady I got her from is a witch, she was very kind and knew exactly what I was looking to use an owl for. Her name is Astra (the owl’s not the lady’s)! Isn’t she lovely?

Moving on from that, I felt bad forcing you to send me pictures and getting nothing in return so I have decided to very kindly grace you with my exhilaratingly normal life. You will also find I sent you some of those sweets you like.

Tell Ron and Hermione that I said hi! Oh and Fred and George too! Get into lots of trouble for me ;) I suppose I better stop rambling now, sorry about that I’m just excited (and i might be missing you… just a tiny bit!)

Write back to me soon, if you can! Tell Astra I’m proud of her for making her first delivery! (give her plenty of treats for me yeah?)

I’ll let you get back to your wizardy stuff now, Haz.

Lots of love,

(Y/n) xoxo

P.s. your magical secret is safe with me. promise.

Harry looked up from your letter with a dazed smile, your new little owl was looking at him expectantly, no doubt awaiting her treat, “Good job, Astra. Your owner says she’s very proud of you,” he informed her, handing her a piece of bacon from his breakfast plate and laughed when she hooted happily.

Astra is a gorgeous little tawny, she has brown and white feathers that were fluffy to the touch. Harry could already tell she was well suited to you though, she was friendly as anything with the most curious eyes he’d ever seen.

“Whose it from?” Ron grunted from beside him, munching happily on his huge breakfast.

Harry let out a short laugh, digging into the envelope to pull out the photos and sweets you’d sent, “(Y/n).”

“I thought she didn’t know about you?” Hermione asked from beside Ron, Harry only shrugged.

“She figured it out. She’s quite clever, I think you’d like her Hermione. She says hi by the way.” He answered somewhat distantly, distracted by the pictures you’d sent, all of which had writing on the backs. He paused on one photo, he guessed one of your parents had taken it, you were stood in the woods, surrounded by trees with a huge smile on your face, your eyes were closed and your nose was scrunched up as a very tiny Astra seemed to be nibbling at your ear affectionately.

“I’m sure we’d get along, I admire her determination, really. And she even bought an owl?” The girl questioned, reaching over and petting Astra gently.

Harry’s smile was gentle as Astra hopped onto his shoulder, “Yeah, suppose she did.”

“Alright! I’m gonna say it!” George Weasley exclaimed, plucking the photo of you from Harry’s grasp, he held it between himself and Fred, the older twin had somehow swiped the letter you’d written. “Harry’s girlfriend back home is quite cute, don’t you think, Freddie?” Fred nodded resolutely, pushing the letter into George’s face as he pointed towards a specific line.

“I have to agree and look, Georgie, she told Harry to tell us that she says hi! Ugh, such a darling,” Fred fake swooned and Harry felt his face heat up while George made kissy faces.

“She’s not my girlfriend.” Yeah, you had opened Harry up to a whole new world of teasing yet somehow he didn’t mind.

“Oi, do you think she’d like some of our Weasley products?” George asked genuinely, wiggling his eyebrows. Harry shuddered at the thought of you getting a hold of anything that Fred and George had created, because yes, you would like some magical pranking products. You had quite a talent for mischief, only in Harry’s worst nightmares would the Weasley twins ever get their hands on you.

Harry shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, “Dunno.”

“She single?” Fred asked jokingly and Harry scrunched his face up. He supposed you were single, though, he’d never really pictured you with anyone. He felt quite protective over you, but he supposed he'd like to see you happy with someone he approved of- or alternatively; anyone but Dudley.

“Think so,” Harry told him with another shrug before a cheeky grin spread across his lips, as he focused his attention on the twins who were nudging each other in mock victory, “Why? Should I write home and tell her the esteemed Weasley twins have a crush on her?”

George was the first the speak, he nodded, completely serious and Harry found himself worrying that perhaps one of the Weasley twins would get his hands on you.

“Yes. Absolutely,” Fred snorted and said no more, allowing his younger twin to continue the girl based antics seeing as Fred’s actual crush, Angelina, had started to glare. “In fact, give her my name. Tell her to write to me next time, eh?”

Harry’s eyes widened, oh Merlin, George was serious.

“Oh sod off, would you? The poor girl is a muggle, she’d throw herself off the astronomy tower if she got stuck with either of you prats.” Ron said through a laugh, none of them could deny it was quite funny, even Hermione had to bite back a smile at the chaos your simple letter had caused.

Around two weeks had passed until Astra returned to you, two letters attached to her leg this time.

You greeted her with a warm smile as she landed on the inside of you window, “Welcome home, pretty lady! Did you have a nice trip?” You cooed, patting her feathers and giggling when she nuzzled her head against your fingers. Having a magical owl as a pet was weird, but still, you seemed to be managing her okay.

Astra hooted happily, as if informing you that she did, in fact, have a nice trip. “That’s good! Let me take these letters off and you can have a well deserved rest, I’ve made a nice nest up for you,” you rambled softly as you untied the string that was holding the letters to her leg.

Astra hooted, hopping onto your arm and allowing you to place her on the plush pile of pillows and blankets which she immediately made herself comfortable upon, once again hooting in content when you placed a handful of treats in front of her.

You assumed that both letters were from Harry until you noticed the messy handwriting that covered one of the envelopes, handwriting that definitely didn’t belong to Harry. Besides, never, even in the furthest reaches of your imagination, would your best friend ever refer to you as; “Harry’s Pretty Neighbour”. You set that one to the side for the time being and focused on the letter you knew to actually be from Harry.

Dear (Y/n),

Hi. Sorry I didn’t tell you I was a wizard. If it makes you feel better I was actually planning on telling you this summer, but thank you for saving me from that conversation. I miss you too (only a tad). I hope you’re having a good school year so far, it’s been pretty chaotic here but I promise I’ll tell you every single tiny detail when we see each other at the end of May!

Did Astra get home okay? She’s a really lovely owl, she took quite a liking to George who (terrifyingly) has taken quite a liking to you. He’s been badgering me all week for “permission” to write to you, in his words, “just to say hello.” I think you’d actually get along but he and the rest of his family are very magic oriented, I’d be surprised if he didn’t scare you away… the pair of you together would be my worst nightmare. Don’t even get me started on how I’d feel if Fred was in the mix too. I’m tired just thinking about it.

Thank you for the sweets they were lovely, I put a chocolate frog in the envelope for you, it’s a really popular sweet in the wizarding world- don’t freak out when it hops, it’s just a charm the frog isn’t really alive.

I enjoyed the pictures too, I put a few in this letter for you too, the polaroid is running out of film but it should be enough to keep me going until the end of term.

Write to me again soon, I like hearing from you.

Take care,

Harry.

P.S. I’m really sorry you had to kiss Dudley, I’ll do something to make it up to you. Promise.

P.P.S. If George OR Fred manage to write to you PLEASE don’t eat anything they give you.

With a laugh you set the letter down beside you. Curiously, you reached a hand into the ivory envelope and pulled out the peculiarly shaped chocolate box as well as the polaroids. You viewed the photos with a fond smile, Harry always looked so happy, even with whatever chaos was happening around him. Wizard school definitely made your best friend the happiest he’d ever been.

Opening the next letter, which you now guessed judging by Harry’s letter, came from George Weasley, Harry’s friend Ron’s older brother. That was all you knew about him. You let out a gasp once you opened the seal, a small show of tiny fireworks shot out, exploding in balls of reds and oranges across your bedroom before they disappeared as if they’d never been there in the first place.

Slightly frazzled, yet amazed, you cautiously plucked the letter from the envelope and began reading.

Hello, Harry’s Pretty Neighbour.

I hope you enjoyed the show, hopefully it didn’t startle you too much… I’m not exactly sure what muggles are used to… if it did scare you I’m sorry.

Anyway, just wanted to say hi. Promised Harry I wouldn’t spook you, he’s quite protective of you, you know. It’s very sweet.

I don’t blame him, though. If I had a friend as pretty as you I’d be protective too ;)

Don’t break my heart, write back?

Yours truly,

George Weasley x

And that had been the start of it. Two years had passed since you’d discovered the wizarding world and it seemed as though things had simultaneously gotten worse and better. As it turns out, your lifelong best friend was some sort of prophetic hero in the wizard community and on top of that it seemed that there was a war brewing that he would be expected to lead.

Of course, you were completely useless as you don’t possess the ability to perform magic which also means you're at risk of being hate crimed by some classist, wizard, blood supremacists? You weren’t sure. But Harry was worried.

You’d been writing back and forth to a few of Harry’s Hogwarts friends (your friends now too) for a long while now, you’d even gotten a chance to finally meet them when you’d gone with the Dursleys to collect Harry from King’s Cross Station.

You got along best with Hermione seeing as she was raised similarly to yourself and Harry. However, of all of Harry’s school mates, you liked George the most. Everyone could have predicted it really, you’d been writing to each other constantly and the second you’d clapped eyes on each other in the flesh he’d broken out in a run to crush you in a hug. Harry had groaned at the sight of the pair of you, smiling widely at each other, seeming to slot together perfectly. He had to laugh about it now though, if things went well with Ginny he supposed you’d probably end up being his sister-in-law, assuming his predictions of George falling completely in love with you were correct (they were, he knew).

All air of laughter or wizard/muggle romances was gone at the moment however. You and Harry sat alongside each other, your hand holding his loosely between the swings you were sat on, he’d be going into his 5th year at Hogwarts soon, he’d yet to recover from the last. He’d made a friend only for that friend to be killed right in front of him. He’d almost been murdered himself for God’s sake.

“If you don’t feel safe, Haz… maybe, I don’t know? Don’t go back?” You suggested weakly, knowing he’d never do such a thing. As you expected, Harry shook his head and looked at you solemnly.

“Can’t. Not now that he’s back.” With a sigh you squeezed his hand.

“They should be paying you for this, you know,” Harry chuckled then, squeezing your hand in return.

“I’m doing this for you too. To keep you safe.” He admitted and you sighed miserably.

“I wish I could be of more help.” Harry scoffed, his green eyes shining with pure disbelief as he stared at you.

“More help? (Y/n) you must be joking…” he trailed off as you shook your head, you weren’t joking, you hated that you couldn’t help Harry through this, for once you knew there was nothing you could do to improve the situation in any way that would make an impact, “Oi. Look at me,” Harry demanded, no trace of the usual awkward sarcasm to be heard when he spoke.

You let your eyes meet his again and watched how they seemed to soften when he took in how utterly defenceless you looked, “If it hadn’t been for you, the first ten years of my life would’ve been an even worse hell than they already were. You were the only good thing and you’re still the only good thing about being back in this place.”

He watched sadly as your eyes fell to the floor again, “Besides, the sooner we get this mess with Voldemort sorted out, the sooner you and George Weasley can navigate the whole muggle/wizard romance thing.”

At his statement you barked out a laugh and Harry let himself smile too, “Shut up, Potter. S’not like that.”

Harry laughed then too, “Oh it is so like that, (N/n).”

“It so isn’t.” You grumbled, but your little smile confirmed to Harry that it absolutely was like that.

“Okay. Fine, please then do tell, what is going on between you and the infamous George Weasley?” Harry challenged, revelling in the way your cheeks burned with embarrassment. He let out a low chuckle when you shrugged shyly and kicked the stones beneath your feet.

“I don’t know… We write to each other a lot, and I think he’s really interesting and funny and sweet and of course I think he’s fit. But, I don’t know,” you bit your lip as Harry listened to you, he found it quite endearing. “I just don’t see how it would work. I like him, yeah, but…” Harry scoffed again as you trailed off. He hated seeing you feeling so insecure, Harry was clueless about a lot of things, but he knew exactly how much his best friend was worth- more than all the gold in Gringott’s.

“Ok as your best mate, and as someone who is very close with the Weasley family, I’m telling you that he’s mad about you. All he ever does is ask me about you, Fred is completely sick of him. He’s even told Molly about you, which is truly a commitment believe me,” Harry started, growing more content with the more bashful you became, “And didn’t he write to you just before the Yule Ball to tell you that he was going with Katie Bell as a friend but he wanted to tell you just incase you heard it from someone else and he didn’t want you to get the wrong idea?” Finally, you were back to fighting a smile.

“Yeah he did.”

“Well there you go. But seriously he hasn’t dated or even so much as looked at anyone else since he met you. Which I’ll be honest is super annoying for me but you deserve someone who thinks you hung the stars in the sky.”

A mock gasp left your lips and you released his hand to place it over your chest in faux hurt, “You mean to tell me you don’t think I hung the stars in the sky? I’m hurt, Harry. I think I’ll have to rat you out to Mrs. Weasley.”

Harry laughed but the lighthearted atmosphere didn’t last long before Dudley had shown up with his little gang of bullies, all of whom made fun of Harry’s nightmares.

It was then things had taken a turn for the worst, the sky turned black and storm clouds completely blocked out the previously scorching sun. You looked to Harry for answers but he seemed to be seeing something that you couldn’t, all you knew was that it had become unbearably cold, a feeling of misery making a home in your bones as Harry rushed to pull you to your feet.

“Run! Come on!” He shouted, clutching your hand tightly in his and sprinting through the neighbourhood until you, Harry and Dudley found yourselves struggling to catch a breath in a graffiti covered tunnel.

A terrified yelp left your throat as what you’d been running from revealed itself to you.

Several floating, cloaked shadowy figures swooped into the tunnel on both sides, their hands decaying and boney, their presence leaving you with the feeling that you’d never know positively ever again.

Harry had effectively used his body to cage you against the wall of the tunnel, his back pressed firmly against your chest, your own back pressed to the cold concrete wall, his wand was at the ready as the creatures approached rapidly.

“Don’t look at them.” Harry instructed, protecting you first as you watched in horror as one of the creatures seemed to be ripping Dudley’s essence straight out of his body.

It only took Harry a few painfully long seconds to take care of the creature in front of the pair of you, you’d wished you’d taken his advice and buried your head in his shoulder so you wouldn’t see the monstrous creatures before you, yet, you couldn’t seem to tear your eyes away from Dudley.

The rest happened in a blur, Harry had yet to let go of your hand as it (and your entire body) shook violently. Demontors broke even the strongest of wizards, Harry knew that as a muggle who’d never seen a magical creature, other than an owl, you’d react negatively.

“If it makes you feel any better, I used to faint every time I saw a dementor.” You nodded numbly, giving Dudley a side glance of concern while he mumbled incoherently to himself.

“Is he alright?” You questioned meekly, voice shaking. You were still freezing and the all too familiar feeling of uselessness didn’t do anything to help you regain your inner warmth.

Harry nodded, “He will be.”

“The ministry will be after my head for using magic outside of school,” he told you after a few minutes, squeezing your hand lightly for the umpteenth time, “So I’m gonna have to go away for a while. Probably tonight. Eat some chocolate, it should stop the shaking.” He told you, you hadn’t even noticed you’d reached Privet Drive.

“And they won’t-“ your breath got caught in your throat and your eyes filled with fear, “The dementors. They won’t come back, will they?”

Harry shook his head, “No. But come on, we should get you inside before the ministry shows up and tries to obliviate you.” His final words came out as more of a mumble than an actual sentence as he passed a bumbling Dudley over to Petunia and Vernon before steering you down your own driveway.

“You better not have broken her too, boy!” You vaguely registered Vernon’s voice shouting in your and Harry’s direction.

Your parents were away on holiday at the moment, in Spain. They’d wanted you to come but you hadn’t wanted to miss Harry’s visit, so when you shakily managed to open the door the house was completely dark, you weren’t sure at what point night had fallen.

Harry closed the door behind himself and made his way into your kitchen, the boy rifled through your sweet press before his hand finally settled on what he was looking for. A triumphant sort of yell left his lips as he pulled a bar of chocolate out of the cupboard.

While Harry tossed the bar onto the counter and busied himself with boiling the kettle, you stood in the hallway still, completely rigid.

“Come on, (Y/n). Sit down.” He urged gently, not turning around. Wordlessly, you fully entered the kitchen and slid into a chair facing Harry.

“Don’t you have better things to be doing than making me tea?” You wondered, setting your hands on the table and fidgeting with your icy fingers. Obviously, you appreciated Harry’s fussing but with the way he was talking about the ministry earlier you were sure he had more important things to worry about.

Harry only faced you once he was finished making your tea. He carried the hot cup and the previously discarded bar of chocolate over to you, he placed them both on the table before giving you a hard look, “I’m looking after you first. I’ll deal with everything else later.”

“I used to be the one who took care of you.” You said through a sigh, taking a sip of the hot tea and slumping against your seat as you began to heat up on the inside again.

Harry let out a low chuckle, “Oh how the tables have turned.”

“I liked it better the other way.” You complained, munching on a square of chocolate.

“Trust me, so did I,” Harry groaned, standing up and placing a comforting hand on your shoulder, “Don’t worry though, (N/n). Have a sneaking feeling that you’ll be looking after me again soon enough.”

You patted the hand he had clamped on your shoulder in appreciation, “Thank you, though, for looking after me.”

“Course. I better go. I don’t want you getting roped into anything else tonight,” he said with a sad smile and you nodded in understanding, “We probably won’t see each other for a while but I’ll write. Is Astra back from Cecilia's yet?” Celillia is the witch you’d gotten Astra from in the first place, the pair of you had kept in touch and she’d recently offered to try and teach you some basic divination skills, she claimed that, “Being a wizard isn’t exactly a requirement” and you desperately needed something, anything, to make you feel more connected to your friends in the wizarding world. You supposed you’d need to plan a trip to her cottage soon, after tonight you definitely needed some of her wisdom.

“No, not yet. She flew straight there from the burrow so I suppose she’s probably resting,” you informed him distantly, still clutching his hand, “You’ll be careful, won’t you?”

Harry squeezed your shoulder and let out a deep breath, “I’ll try my best. Promise,” with that he lifted his hand from your shoulder and extended his pinky to you, you gladly linked it with your own. Harry noted, very gratefully, that the warmth had now returned to your hands and you’d stopped shaking so violently.

“Send me a letter once Astra gets back, alright? I’ll keep you updated on what’s going on over on my side.” You agreed before walking Harry to the door, hugging him tightly and watching as he approached the Dursley’s front door.

As predicted, Harry, George, Hermione and Cecillia had let you know that the wizarding world was crumbling fast. Admittedly you were worried about your wizard friends, but Cecillia had done a great job of keeping you distracted by keeping you buried under heaps of divination books, tarot cards and crystal guidebooks. As it turns out, though, you had quite the talent for making accurate detailed predictions.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were descended from a powerful seer,” she’d written to you in awe after you’d managed to predict exactly how a date of hers would go without missing a single detail.

Reading tarot cards quickly became one of your favourite hobbies to indulge in when you weren’t in school. You’d made the mistake of telling George about it in a recent letter, Harry already knew and he also knew that there was no point telling you that he didn’t have a heap of faith in divination. George however was having a field day with the new information.

The older boy teased you at every chance he got, but it was all in good fun as in every letter he sent, you’d find a page that he’d ripped out of his own divination book, the pages would be crinkled and have messy notes scribbled along the margins, with explanations over words that he knew you wouldn’t understand as a muggle. They were actually really helpful. Aside from all the teasing he found it quite endearing that you were trying to get familiar with some form of magic. Even if it was a form of magic wizards tended to ridicule.

He’d been quite worried about you, Harry told him about the dementors and how you’d been quite shaken up after your encounter with them. He’d written to you on a weekly basis, constantly checking in on you, making absolutely sure that no more dementors paid you a visit. He and Harry both kept you up to date with the constant and seemingly never ending rules being imposed upon them by their new headmaster, or headmistress; Delores Umbridge. George also disclosed to you all about his and Fred’s plan to leave Hogwarts and pursue their lifelong dream of opening a joke shop. You had nothing but faith in the twins, really. Your complete faith in them hadn’t stopped you from sending George a handful of crystals that you believed would help his and his shop’s success. He’d teased you relentlessly in each letter since he’d received your package containing citrine, tiger’s eye, amazonite, aventurine and smokey quartz. What he hadn’t mentioned since receiving your little gifts, is that he’d been carrying the five crystals around in their little orange mesh drawstring bag in his pocket everywhere he went. He had to give credit where credit is due and, to be fair to you and your holistic ways, he hadn’t run into any serious obstacles since he started carrying the gems around.

November through June had brought forth a plethora of unfortunate events. You were practically swimming in school work which left you with no time to write to Harry, or even practice tarot. As well as that, you’d been having nightmares, although Cecillia had warned that these dreams could hold some sort of prophesies within them, you highly doubted that though, you weren’t a wizard, only a muggle. Whether prophetic or not, the nightmares plagued you, keeping you up at night or waking you at all hours of the morning.

On one particular morning, you’d awoken with a gasp. Sweat coated your face, soaked your pillow cases and caused your legs to stick to your blankets in a way not even the June heat could've caused. Your heart pounded against your ribcage, tears welled in your eyes, and your body shook as violently as it had the night you’d come face to face with the dementors of Azkaban. The unadulterated fear coursing through your bloodstream suggested that perhaps this bad dream had been something more than simply that.

As fast as you could manage in your panicked state, you dragged your body out of bed and stumbled towards your light switch, flicking it on before haphazardly ripping a sheet out of the refill pad on your desk, grabbing a pen and beginning to scribble down the dream that you could only describe as a warning.

Your laboured breaths stirred Astra from her slumber, the tawny hooted tiredly, hopping out of her cage and fluttering over to your shoulder, settling there as you wrote.

Harry,

I hope this letter reaches you in time. I might sound completely mad but something terrible may be about to happen. I’ve been having these horrific dreams over the last few months, I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to worry but Cecillia suspects they’re premonitions and I’m terrified she may be right. I’ve just woken up, it’s around 2am and if I’m lucky, Astra should get this letter to you before 6am…

Onto the dream, you were there and you were asleep, I was standing by your bed, it was a four-poster sort of thing, the room was decorated in mostly red and gold. You woke up panicked, you looked completely overwhelmed and you began shouting about your Godfather Sirius, about how he was in trouble… From then on I watched the day play out. You, Hermoine, Ron, Ginny, a boy with brown hair I’ve never met, I think you called him Neville in my dream, and a blonde girl- Luna I think you called her, you all went to the ministry to rescue Sirius and find some kind of prophecy. Harry you have to listen to me, you mustn’t go, it’s a trick, Voldemort planted it in your head and if you go you’ll only put Sirius in harm’s way. But, knowing you, you’re gonna go anyway… so here’s my advice: keep your eyes open for the witch Bellatrix. Keep Sirius away from the veil and please please please, be careful.

I’m heading to Cecillia’s cottage for the day and maybe even the next couple of days, send Astra there when you find time to write back.

I hope I’m wrong but if I’m not; good luck, Harry. I love you and if you don’t look after yourself the dark lord will be the least of your worries.

Lots of love,

Y/n.

Folding up the letter and placing it in a stray envelope, you addressed it and gently tied it to your loyal owl’s leg. “I’m gonna need you to go as fast as you can to get this to Harry, okay Astra?” She hooted with what you guessed to be determination before she set off, out into the night. Thankfully for you, now that your owl was occupied, you knew Cecillia owned a telephone so you’d have no problems contacting her. While writing to Harry, you’d left out a few details about the dream. You conveniently forget to mention that you’d watched his only remaining family member killed at the hand’s of Bellatrix, it had looked so terrifyingly real that your mind couldn’t have possibly conjured it up all by itself. You also failed to mention hearing Harry’s agonising scream as Sirius fell, the noise was nearly deafening. Seeing Sirius, a man you’d only seen in pictures, die and watching your best friend mourn for him was, well, traumatising. There was no way you’d get a wink of sleep for the remainder of the night, so, you quietly tiptoed downstairs and made a call.

The line rang three times before Cecillia’s voice sounded, chirpy as ever despite the late hour, “Hello?”

“Sorry to call so late,” was all you managed, your voice although shaky was immediately identified by the much older witch.

You could nearly see the soft smile on her youthful face as she spoke, “Ah, Y/n my darling, no worries at all! How is my favourite student doing at half two in the morning?”

“Not well, I’ve had another vision. I think you might’ve been right about the dreams being prophetic,” you told her, willing your voice not to crack as the image of your bad dreams crept into your mind once again.

Cecillia let out a gentle hum, “Shall I apparate over? You don’t sound in the highest of spirits, darling.”

“Yes please,” you answered simply and within seconds Cecillia was standing before you, a worried furrow in her brow and her ashy brown hair disheveled from apparating to you in such a hurry. How could she not? You were, after all, her protégé.

“Oh, darling. You look terribly shaken up, come, come, let’s get you some water,” she fretted, guiding you to your kitchen, magically flicking on the light with her wand and filling up a glass of water, with a few flicks of her wrist the glass had floated over to your usual seat at the table, meanwhile Cecillia had stirred you into the wooden chair adjacent the glass.

Wordlessly, the witch peeled your damp hair away from your face and secured it back with a crocodile clip shaped like a huge golden bumble bee, it’s wings adorned with glittering gems. The bee sat comfortably in your hair as Cecillia finally sat down beside you, she made herself comfortable on the kitchen chair, crossing one leg over the other, resting her elbow on the table and using it to prop her cheek up. Her wide green eyes stared at you sympathetically, watching intently as you sipped your water.

“I’m assuming your loyal familiar is sleeping soundly?” She wondered, referring to Astra. You shook your head, simultaneously swallowing a gulp of water before responding verbally.

“I sent her with a letter to Harry, it was more of a warning really,” Cecillia nodded her head, signalling you to go on, “I dreamt of Harry and his friends going to the Ministry of Magic to rescue Sirius Black, but it was a trap. When they got there they were ambushed by dark wizards and Sirius well he…” you trailed off, eyes growing distant and unfocused when the sight of the man being murdered reentered your mind’s eye. A gentle hand on your shoulder pulled you back to the present.

“This one was far worse than the others then?”

You nodded, “It didn’t feel like a dream, cecillia. It was like I was actually standing there but I couldn’t do anything to help though… as per usual,” you muttered bitterly, receiving a harsh squeeze to your shoulder in response.

Cecillia fixed you with a maternal glare, “None of that! You potentially saved a life tonight. And, as I effortlessly predicted since the moment I met you, you’ve got the magical gift of sight,” her hard look melted into something more forgiving as she spoke, “You’re much more than just a muggle. You may have been an extremely late bloomer, but, you’re a witch and a seer at that. A peculiar case indeed, although in the wizarding world stranger things have happened,” the old witch told you proudly, eyes shining with glee as your own filled with confusion.

“How do we know the dream will even come true?” You questioned.

Cecillia simply shrugged and offered you a cheeky grin, “I trust your feelings, darling.”

True to your initial feeling, you hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep, you knew you wouldn’t be able to rest until you found out whether or not your dream had come to fruition. Cecillia remained by your side throughout the night, eventually the sun had risen and your parents descended down the stairs, neither of them were surprised to see Cecillia sitting at the kitchen table. They saw her as an odd woman, very kind and perfectly lovely, but odd. You’d told them that she owned an animal sanctuary and that you’d been volunteering with her, it wasn’t too far fetched really, she had given you an owl after all, not to mention the amount of cats that hung around her cottage.

She explained to your parents that she needed your help at ‘the sanctuary’ for the next few days and that she’d drop you home once the work was finished. It hadn’t been a problem, so you traveled to Cecillia’s cottage after getting dressed and packing an overnight bag (full to the brim with tarot decks and only some clothes).

It was nearly 8 in the evening when Cecillia sauntered into her living room, where you were sitting, sporting a knowing grin, she held a piece of parchment in one hand and an unopened envelope in the other.

Jovially, she plopped herself down beside you, obviously doing her very best to contain a huge grin from forming on her face. Wordlessly, she placed the envelope on your lap with a mere, “For you.”

On the envelope you could tell by the handwriting that it had come from Harry. This was definitely a make or break moment for you. The contents of this letter would either confirm that you did in fact have magic, or, they would be responsible for causing you to experience a seismic amount of embarrassment. Swallowing the lump in your throat you tore the envelope open, freeing the letter and daring to read what was inside.

Dear Y/n,

Your dream was right. And that advice you gave about keeping an eye on Sirius? It saved his life. I suppose I’m mostly writing to say thank you. I’ve got some updates for you too: firstly, it’s finally been confirmed that Voldemort is back so my name is cleared. Secondly, it turns out that Remus and Cecillia are old friends, she contacted him earlier today about your vision and he and Sirius haven’t shut up about how impressive it is. I have a feeling you might be hearing from them soon, The Order now more than ever is in need of a secret weapon and genuine seers are hard to come by. I hate to involve you in this, it’ll probably be dangerous and you know I don’t want to see you hurt, or worse. But having said that, I’m glad we’re in this together now.

Astra got here in good time, by the way, she landed on my window just after I woke up from my vision of Sirius, it was actually quite freaky. I’m taking good care of her so don’t worry, she should be back to you at some point tomorrow.

Hermoine and Ron say hi too. I’m sure you’ll be hearing from George soon, seeing as he and Fred are in the Order… On that note I better get going.

Thank you again for the warning.

See you soon,

Love, Harry.

A bemused smile spread across your lips as you scanned the page, thankful to have finally made a significant difference in Harry’s life. Cecillia was grinning like a cheshire cat beside you, pride shimmering in her emerald eyes. She bumped her arm against yours playfully when you let the letter fall to your lap, “An old friend of mine will be stopping by in a short while. It seems he’d like to get you trained up in some defence against the dark arts.” She told you, still grinning.

“Defence against the dark arts?” You wondered out loud, you were sure you’d heard Harry mention those words to you before, however, the memories were fuzzy.

“Magic to keep you safe from darker magic, the likes of which the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters rely,” she explained darkly. Just then, a loud bang erupted from her open stone fireplace, a bubble of green dissipated as two men stepped less than gracefully onto Cecillia’s faux-fur rug. You recognised them both from your vision. They were Sirius Black and, if you were to take an educated guess, Remus Lupin.

Cecillia wasted no time before she was giddily jumping from her seat to greet the pair who had just appeared in her sitting room.

“Remus! Oh, how wonderful to see you!” She all but squealed, pulling the tall man into a hug and ruffling his already messy hair.

He reciprocated the hug with a gentle chuckle, “It’s nice to see you again, Cece. It’s been far too long,” he pulled away and the pair of them shared a fond smile before simultaneously looking to Sirius. “I trust you remember Sirius?” Lupin asked, almost rhetorically.

Sirius let out a booming laugh at that, “She could never forget me, now could you, Cece?” Cecillia rolled her eyes, and with a look of endearment nearly tackled Sirius into an embrace.

Seeing the woman who was essentially your magical mentor so overjoyed was lovely, Cecillia was jolly at the best of times but you’d never seen her quite like this. Her happiness added to your sense of helpfulness, Sirius Black was obviously important to more than just Harry, if the smile on the free-spirited witches face was anything to go by. Although you were ecstatic for the three witches and wizards before you, you couldn’t help but feel like you were imposing on an intimate reunion.

Awkwardly you cleared your throat, successfully bringing the trio’s attention onto you as you stood by the sofa, smiling unsurely. If it was even possible, all three of their smiles broadened when their gazes landed on you.

“Am I right in assuming that this is my guardian angel?” Sirius asked, separating from Cecillia.

Cecillia nodded, filled with pride, “And isn’t she just the loveliest guardian angel you’ve ever seen?” She gushed, half seriously.

You offered Sirius a bashful smile, along with a nod of greeting, “I’m glad to see you’re alright,” you told him.

His grin stayed fixed in place but he raised a single eyebrow in confusion, “Glad? And yet you’ve never met me before now…” his tone was laced with inquisition, as if he wanted to figure out what ulterior motive you could possibly have for caring about a stranger you’d only ever seen in a dream.

It didn’t take a seer or a psychic to see what Sirius was after, so you simply answered him truthfully, “No, we’ve never met, but you’re still a person, I watched that woman kill you, it was horrible, nobody deserves that. As well as that; I know how much you mean to Harry and what sort of best friend would I be if I didn’t try to help him keep his last family member safe?” Sirius nodded approvingly at your reply, looking between Remus and Cecillia.

“She remind you of anyone?” The black haired man asked in a low chuckle, Remus snickered and Cecillia bit back a grin.

The witch made her way back to your side and wrapped an arm around your shoulder, jostling you ever so slightly when she noticed your vaguely worried expression, “Don’t worry, darling, you just remind us of one of our most treasured school friends, I promise I will tell you all about it later. But for now, I believe Sirius was about to thank you for saving his life?” She prompted, waiting expectantly.

Sirius cleared his throat and straightened his posture before outstretching his arm, offering you his hand which you took firmly in your own. His voice was steady, strong and genuine when he spoke, “I am truly thankful for what you did for not only me but Harry today. I’m extremely proud of my godson for aligning himself with such a strong, powerful and wonderfully loyal young lady.”

“How sweet,” Cecillia cooed, before guiding you to the kitchen, “Come now, boys, kettles on- we have a lot to discuss!” She called over her shoulder.

There certainly had been a lot to discuss. The Order of the Phoenix thought having a seer at their disposal would be extremely beneficial in the upcoming war, the issue was; you are not yet of age and some members of the group didn’t wish to involve a child in their battle. Sirius, Remus and Cecillia made it abundantly clear that if you desired to join the Order, you were more than welcome but you would be welcomed under certain conditions. Those conditions being that your membership be kept under wraps and not disclosed to any muggles, meaning your parents.

“To keep them safe and to give you an escape route if things get too messy, even with the level of magic you’ll have gained by the time the war is in full swing, as a muggle born you’ll most likely need to flee quickly,” Remus explained, though it didn’t make much sense.

“Wouldn’t it be easier to run if my parents knew what we were running from? They’re open minded people, I’m sure they’d understand,” you attempted to reason, the trio but exchanged yet another loaded look with each other.

Cecillia placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, “We have a contingency plan in place, darling. Nothing you need to worry about for right now,” she reassured, easing your nerves a tad. “You trust me don’t you?” She followed up, her tone slightly stonier, more serious. You nodded your head certainly in response, there was no doubt about it; you trusted the witch with your life. “Then,” she began again, a somewhat chastising look on her face, “Trust that I will not allow a single hair on your head to be harmed.” This rule also extended to wizards not in the Order, which meant that when in the magical world, you were to air on the side of extreme caution.

Relating to that, another condition was that, at all times in the magical world, you were to be accompanied by an of age member of the Order. According to Sirius, who your were growing to like more by the second, he was going to arrange for a member of the Order to bring you to Diagon Alley in the morning to get you a wand. The prospect of having a wand of your own was terribly exciting, once again though, you found yourself wondering if you had it in you to properly wield one, or wield one at all for that matter. You were too exhausted to fret for too long, so the thoughts about magic levels and your own capabilities were only fleeting. Once all of the serious chat dissipated into friendly chatter, you managed to slip away from the table at which you were all sat. Making your way back to the sitting room, you tucked yourself into the corner seat of Cecillia’s old and very comfortable sofa, pulled your knees against your chest, wrapped your arms around them and rested your cheek against your knee. Slowly and deeply, you began to breathe in and out, fiddling with the amazonite bracelet that adorned your wrist in order to quell your ever growing anxiety. For a few sweet minutes you indulged in the calm silence, meditating peacefully in your comfy seat until a soft knock sounded from the doorway. When your eyes fluttered open they were met with the image of Sirius Black, leaning casually against the frame of the door, a hand plunged deep into his trouser pocket and another flipping a stray tarot card between his fingers. His eyes were focused on yours as he spoke, “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

You shook your head and patted the seat beside you, “‘Course not, come sit.”

The man chuckled but obliged, settling in the spot beside you and offering you the card he’d previously been fiddling with.

“The ten of swords,” you identified easily, “I assume you’ve been feeling quite overwhelmed if this card found its way to you.”

Sirius hummed, “CeCe tells me that you’ve a penchant for card reading. I was rubbish at divination back at Hogwarts, only took it because I thought it’d be easy but I could never get my head around it,” he reminisced, an airy laugh slipping from his lips.

“If you don’t mind me asking, who were you all talking about earlier when you asked if I reminded Cecilia and Remus of anyone?” He let out a deep sigh before fixing you with a soft smile.

“An old school friend of ours, she was more than a friend to me, but that’s a story for another time,” he started, staring out into the empty space before him a melancholy grin on his lips, “She was fiercely loyal to her friends, if she wanted to help there was absolutely nothing that would stop her from doing so. I know I don’t know you very well, but from what I heard today and the way in which you’ve been described to me by Harry; I can see her in you,” he finished, bumping his shoulder with yours and forcing a happy smile onto your lips which mirrored Sirius’.

“What’s her name?” You asked.

“Her name was Marlene,” Sirius answered.

Your heart dropped with his use of past tense, “Was?”

Sirius bowed his head slightly and began to twist the rings that adorned his slender fingers, “She was killed during the first war,” he told you, making eye contact once again, a grave expression on his face as he continued, “I saw your apprehension earlier when we brought up the topic of secrecy, but you must understand that during the first war we lost so many who were dear to us, keeping you in our back pocket will ensure that you aren’t harmed in the face of this war, if any dark wizards hear so much of a whisper of a muggleborn seer they will stop at nothing to eliminate you,” he paused for a brief second, never breaking eye contact, the gravity of the situation heavy on your chest your fingers absentmindedly found your amazonite bracelet once again. Your movements were halted when Sirius placed his large hand over yours, squeezing it warmly while staring at you determinedly, “You saved my life today, Y/n. So believe me when I tell you that I will stop at nothing to keep you safe,” he promised and you squeezed his hand in return.

“I know,” he smiled as he watched your eyes return to the ten of swords and your grin broadened with the sort of mischief he’d only ever seen in four people; James Potter, Marlene McKinnon and Fred and George Weasley. “I have a prediction for you.”

Sirius entertained you fondly, a mischievous air that reminded him of when he was your age surrounding the pair of you, “By all means, do tell.”

“I predict,” you paused for emphasis, “that we are going to be very good friends.”

Sirius let out a booming laugh of which the volume he couldn’t control, “That is a prediction I truly hope will come to fruition.”

“Oh no, this is a duo that spells trouble,” Cecillia giggled to Remus as they entered the sitting room.

Remus looked between you and Sirius with a grin, “With a mentor like you, Cece, I’m not surprised Y/n has a taste for mischief,” the ruffled wizard teased, receiving a gentle elbow to the ribs from your mentor.

“Oi, if you’re going to blame my beloved girl’s mischief on anyone you better blame it on a certain Weasley twin,” she said, wiggling her eyebrows and causing the boys to smile giddily like teenagers.

Sirius bumped your shoulder again, this time with a faux-scandalised smile, “A Weasley twin, eh? Come on then, which one?” You blushed heavily and cleared your throat in an attempt to alleviate the embarrassment filling your being.

“He’s just a friend!”

“Mhm. A friend that sends her annotated pages from his divination text book,” Cecillia sang and Sirius snickered.

“Whichever one it is must be quite taken with you if you made him actually crack open a textbook.”

“Annotations are quite intimate,” Remus half teased although you could see he believed what he’d just said, “I bet it’s George,” he directed the bet at Sirius who carefully observed the way you bit your lip and bashfully looked towards the wooden floor.

“I think you’re right, moony. Now!” He stood suddenly and pointed a finger at Remus expectantly, “We best get going and arrange Y/n’s accomplice for tomorrow’s field trip,” he wiggled his eyebrows before turning his head to face you again, he shot you a wink and you couldn’t stop the airy laugh that left your mouth at his lighthearted antics.

Remus gave Cecillia a one armed hug, “we’ll be seeing you both tomorrow then, it was lovely to meet you, Y/n, perhaps next time Sirius will allow me to get a word in,” he chuckled and Sirius responded by throwing his arm around your shoulder.

“I better get off, this husband of mine is growing jealous,” he told you in a teasingly hushed whisper.

Your eyes widened and you looked between the two men, “You two are married?”

A love struck smile took over both of their faces which immediately gave you your answer. “We’re engaged,” Sirius clarified before pulling you into a proper hug, “Get a good night's sleep, we’ll be sending an order member to collect you early tomorrow morning so you can be in and out of Olivander’s before a crowd can build,” he told you while giving you an affectionate squeeze, you could’ve laughed when you realised that it felt like you’d known Sirius forever but you also could’ve cried when you relived the image of him losing his life and realised that just because it was over and prevented didn't mean it hadn’t still transpired in your mind’s eye, you didn’t let that show on your face though.

“I’ll make sure I’m well rested,” you promised.

With that, Sirius bid Cecillia goodbye, and he and Remus left the way they’d came.

The rest of the night had been spent with Cecillia telling you story after story about her school days and the trouble she’d caused with Sirius, Remus, James and Lily Potter, Harry’s parents, and another boy who she only referred to as “the rat”. Though the tone of the stories were completely lighthearted, they weighed on your chest with a sense of such tragedy. A huge majority of their friends were killed young because of the war, a war that was now waging once again. It led you to wonder who’d be lost to this one, if perhaps you’d be on the list of names that Harry or Cecillia or George would speak about fondly with a dense undertone of sorrow in the years after the second war had long since been won. It was a risk you were willing to take though, the notion of fighting for a deserving cause filled you with a sense of purpose, a purpose you’d been searching for for years. More than that, you felt important. You were needed. An asset. You would actually be of some help.

True to your word, you’d been getting a good night’s rest. The bed in Cecillia’s spare room was the comfiest thing you’d ever come across, though, as you began to stir from your deep slumber you couldn’t recall the empty side of the double bed being quite so dipped.

Slowly and begrudgingly, you cracked your eyes open to see Cecillia smiling tiredly at you in the light of dawn, “Morning, darling. Sorry about the early start, I’ve made you some tea,” she greeted quietly so as to not disturb the peace of the early morning. She held two ceramic mugs, one in each hand and passed you the steaming cup that was hand painted green, keeping the brown one for herself. Tiredly, you patted the spot beside you and pulled the quilt to the side, inviting the witch into the warm bed. She happily slid in, pulling the quilt over her and chuckling quietly when you dropped your head onto her robed shoulder and began to sip the tea she’d made. Cecillia rested her head against yours and sipped on her own tea.

“Are you excited for today?” She asked and you hummed.

“I’m having mixed emotions,” you stated, “I’m excited to see everything, but I’m sort of nervous that I won’t have enough magic to even get a wand,” Comfort spread through your chest when Cecillia pressed her lips to the crown of your head.

“The wonderful thing about wands, lovely, is that the wand picks the wizard,” she began, “so whatever wand you end up with will accentuate the level of magic inside you. Its power will grow as yours does and you’ll soon come to realise that you couldn’t imagine wielding anything else,” her voice was wistful and her eyes shined with wonder as she recalled how it felt to bond to a wand.

“What do you think mine will be like?” You wondered, excitement awakening in you thanks to Cecillia’s encouraging words.

The witch took an exaggerated slurp of her tea before answering, “Something curious,” was all she said.

“Insightful,” you murmured and she shrugged unapologetically, her chaotic energy exuding now that she’d started to wake up fully. “What time is it anyway?”

“Half six, your chaperone should be arriving at seven and Olivander’s opens at eight,” she told you before shimmying out of bed, you whined in the absence of your head rest. “You better get dressed. Wear something nice, rumour has it that your tag along is quite the eligible bachelor,” she wiggled her eyebrows and all but floated out of the spare room. It was practically your room by now though, over the years since you’d gotten Astra and met Cecillia you’d stayed in the room on countless occasions. Cecillia embodied something that was something between a second mother, a spiritual mentor, a teasing older sister and a slightly kooky aunt.

“Oh? So do you reckon I should brush my hair then?” You jokingly called out after her only to receive a harsh scoff.

“Absolutely not! Don’t be desperate!” You barked out a laugh at her response, shaking your head and getting ready for the day ahead.

You were just about finished getting ready when a familiar bang sounded from the sitting room. Taking a deep breath, you gave yourself one last look over in the mirror, happy with the outfit you’d chosen, you made your way towards the sitting room to come face to face with your surprise chaperone for the day.

When you shuffled into the sitting room, a smile immediately stretched across your lips upon seeing who had been appointed to stick by your side for the day, “George!” His name left your mouth in a squeal that would’ve been embarrassing had you not been so excited to see him. It’d been upwards of a year since the last time you’d seen George in the flesh and although you’d seen each other in photos and written to each other at a rate that was almost excessive, the prospect of spending time together in person was, for lack of a better word; magical.

George drew his attention away from the framed pictures that lined Cecillia’s fireplace to see you standing in the doorway, looking as bright as the newly risen sun and sporting a smile that he couldn’t quite put into words how it made him feel. It only took a second before his own cheek splitting smile grew on his face, and with it left his hopes of impressing you with his cool and collected attitude. You hadn’t given him too much time to dwell on his ruined cool guy facade as you all but threw yourself into his arms. The red head let out an endearing laugh, catching you in his toned arms, wrapping them tightly around your torso. A scarlet blush rising on his ears when he felt your smile against his neck. “Hello to you too,” he chuckled against your ear and you pulled back enough to look at him, your arms still secure around his shoulders.

“Sorry,” you started, the smile that still adorned your lips telling him that you weren’t all that sorry at all, “Hi,” you greeted, bashfully pulling your arms away from him.

The sitting room was quiet for a moment as the pair of you only stared at each other, would it be too much to tell him that you’ve missed him? You didn’t want to come on too strong after such a long time apart, you’d already tackled him into a hug within the first five seconds, but with that came your next internal question of; did you really want to keep this boy on his toes?

George, having already discarded his notion of acting nonchalant with you, bet you to the punch. He rubbed the back of his neck and flicked his gaze to the floor before bringing it back to you, “I’ve missed you.”

A giggle left your lips before you could think about choking it down, you nodded your head, bouncing slightly on the balls of your feet, “Yeah, I’ve missed you too. Sorry I haven’t written, Astra is still with Harry.”

George gave you a grin, “No worries, darling. Heard you’ve been a very busy little psychic lately.”

Darling, you mused internally, the nickname echoing through your head and causing your heart to somersault in a way you’d never really felt before.

“Oh how sweet,” Cecillia sang from the doorway, a wicked grin on her face as she took in the two hopeless blushing messes, staring doe-eyed at each other in the middle of her living room. “I hate to break up the reunion, my dears, but the pair of you really should get going,” she instructed, strutting up to you and holding a cloth pouch in your direction, “Sirius left you some spending money, it’s different than the money you usually use but I’m sure George will have no problem helping you out,” Cecillia shot the boy a wink and he nodded, once again growing bashful.

“Now,” she grew serious, directing her words at George and making him slightly intimidated with her strong eye contact, “You are to be extremely careful. You are not to mention that Y/n is a seer and you are not to draw any attention to the fact that she is a muggleborn, if Mr. Olivander asks, she’s a half-blood who's been living in the states and that’s why she doesn’t have a wand,” you wore a confused expression, George nodded in complete understanding, “Did Sirius give you the list?”

George nodded once again, pulling a folded piece of parchment out of the back pocket of his slightly baggy denim jeans, “May I take a look?” Cecillia asked, already snatching the parchment from George’s long fingers and unfolding the sheet and reading it aloud, “Alright! A wand… seriously? He used a whole page of parchment just to write one thing?” She grumbled, stomping over to the nearest side table, leaning down and began to scribble on the parchment. You looked to George as she wrote, “Why do you have to say I’m from the States?” You asked quietly and George leaned down slightly to be closer to your ear.

“Witches and wizards in America don’t get wands until they’re of age, we get them here when we’re eleven,” just as he was finished offering his explanation, Cecillia walked back over, a hard look on her face that you weren’t used to seeing, though it seemed that the look was reserved for George.

Silently she handed him the parchment before looking to you, hard look dissolving back into her usual playful expression, “Have fun, lovely.” She then turned to George again, apparently having had enough of trying to intimidate the poor boy, she shot him a smile, “You’ll be taking the floo to Diagon Alley, my fireplace is big enough to take the both of you at once,” she handed George a pouch of what looked like green powder, “George knows what to do, now, not to sound like a broken record but do stay safe and have fun,” she finished, ushering the pair of you into her fireplace. You couldn’t lie, it was quite strange, you supposed you should get used to things coming across as strange, you were about to be exposed to the magical wizarding world for the first time after all. In the fireplace, you stood shoulder to shoulder with George, noticing the nervous look on your face, he slid his hand into yours gently. When you looked at him, he kept his face focused on his feet, “Ready, Y/n?” Taking a deep breath you nodded shakily.

“Ready, George.”

At your words, George slammed the green powder onto the ground and shouted, “Diagon Alley!”

You were sure you were going to be sick. Whatever the powder was, it had you spinning at a pace you didn’t know was possible, you had screwed your eyes shut and you were almost certain that you could feel yourself physically moving. It was only when George tugged on your hand that you opened your eyes to see that your surroundings had actually changed. “It’s horrible the first time, but you get used to it,” George said, pulling you by your still intertwined hands onto the cobbled street. The dizziness died down after only a few seconds out in the fresh air, the added sensation of George’s thumb rubbing soothing circles against your hand seemed to do the trick in settling you completely as you took in the street ahead of you. It was dazzling, really. A long cobbled street, lined with shops that looked like they were plucked straight out of a fairytale. As planned, the streets were fairly empty in the early morning as George led you down the path towards the shop where you’d hopefully get your wand. The name “Olivanders” was written above both windows of the dark shop, the words “makers of fine wands since 382 B.C.” were to be seen just above the door. Excitement had completely overridden your nerves and you practically skipped towards the door, George followed casually behind you, his hands tucked into his pockets and a fond smile on his lips.

“I suppose you’re excited then?” He asked teasingly and you didn’t bother trying to hide your obvious childlike wonder as you waited for him to catch up with you.

“It probably seems silly to you, but this morning Cecillia told me all about when she got her wand and it sounded so wonderful,” you told him, smiling when he bumped his shoulder against yours.

“I don’t think it’s silly, I still get giddy thinking about the time Fred and I got wands of our own,” he pushed the door open and motioned for you to step inside, slowly you walked into the empty shop. It was dark and somewhat dingy but there was something very mystically inclining about it, you could feel the energy and it was utterly exhilarating.

“Wow,” you breathed out, spinning where you stood, gazing at the boxes upon boxes that lined the shelves.

Only a minute passed before an old man stumbled to the front of the shop, smiling at the pair of you from behind the counter, “Ah, Mr. Weasley, it’s good to see you, it’s been some time. What can I do for you this morning? I see you’ve brought a friend,” the older wizard greeted and you smiled in response.

“I’m looking for a wand. I’ve been living in the states for the past few years but I just moved home,” you lied easily, George couldn’t help but smirk, what he’d give to have had you around for some of his and Fred’s pranks at Hogwarts.

The old man nodded in understanding, his eyes scanned you, his eyes were scrutinising and you fought the urge to squirm under his gaze, “Interesting. One moment please,” he said, murmuring to himself as he searched the isles for what he was looking for. A small “aha” sounded from within the isles, he was back in front of you within seconds, an open rectangular box in his hand. It was absolutely gorgeous, it resembled a raw tree branch, wood spiralling up its expanse until it stopped at the top, cutting off in a jagged, dull edge. He must’ve noticed how your jaw dropped, how could he not? He hadn’t been able to take his eyes off you since you’d wandered into his shop. He was an old wizard, but he wasn’t naive, he was well aware you weren’t returning from America, he could sense an energy in you that he hadn’t come in contact with in a long time. “Curious, isn’t it?” He prompted you, causing you to let out an airy laugh. Cecillia was going to tease you big time when you got back to her cabin.

“It’s lovely, what is it?” He offered you the box expectantly and you hesitantly picked up the wand with as much care as you possibly could. It was cool against your skin and was heavier than you’d imagined it would be.

“Thirteen inch, oak; cut from the base of a tree, which at the time, was almost six hundred years old,” he explained, watching happily as you ran your fingers along the wands several ridges,”With a phoenix feather core, quite a rare piece indeed. Unfortunately, this particular wand has been extremely difficult to match to a witch. But something tells me that you might be just the witch for the job,” he held your gaze and you once again got the feeling that he knew something he shouldn’t, “Go on, then. Give it a wave,” he prompted and you looked to George for further encouragement. George laughed at your lost expression, pulling his own wand out and pointing it towards the now empty box on the counter, “Like this, love,” he demonstrated, moving his wrist in a semi-circle motion, making the box levitate off the counter.

Another pet name. You ignored the butterflies in your stomach in favour of clearing your throat, squaring your shoulders and pointing your wand at the same box George had just made float, which was now settled back against the counter. Imitating the boy beside you, you moved your wrist in a swift semi-circle. Suddenly, a golden light poured from the tip of the wand and warm air surrounded you, gently blowing your hair back and forcing a laugh of disbelief to leave your lips. George stood wide eyed beside you, his lips parted slightly. He was amazed really, he went through five wands before he found the one that fit him, yet you’d found yours on the first try, and he had to admit; you looked glorious doing it.

After paying for your wand, you exited the shop, looking around George’s side at the list he was holding. From what you could make out, Cecillia had added a number of items to the originally very short list; 1) a wand, 2) a pendulum (crystal of the ladies choice), 3) crystals: labradorite, lapis lazuli & azurite, 4) mugwort, 5) new tarot deck (again, whatever she wants Sirius can afford it ;)).

“Suppose our next stop is the divination shop,” George said, mostly to himself but gave you a mischievous smile, “If we hurry up and get our shopping done fast we could probably get a butterbeer in before we rejoin the rest of the Order,” he sang, grazing his hand against yours as you walked side by side.

“Beer? You seriously want to drink beer at half eight in the morning?” You asked him, your eyebrow raised and he replied with an exaggerated roll of his eyes and draped his arm around your shoulder, pulling you close against his side and once again leaning his head down so his lips were level with your eye.

“No, you git,” he began with a laugh, “It’s not really beer, it’s pretty sweet; most wizards love it.”

You hummed in acknowledgment, “Sounds nice,” you told him absently, preoccupied with all the intriguing shops that surrounded you. George’s arm remained wrapped around your shoulder as you strolled further into Diagon Alley, seemingly uninterested in his offer for a butterbeer. The pair of you got what you needed from the shop and, since it hadn’t taken long, you decided to take George up on his drinks offer. You noticed that he seemed a little bit crestfallen since your noncommittal answer earlier.

“Hey,” you said, bumping your arm against his.

“Hello,” he replied, returning the gesture.

“So… d’you wanna go get one of those beer things that you were talking about earlier?” You asked nervously, your lip between your teeth. For all you knew, asking someone to grab a butterbeer in the wizarding world was the muggle equivalent to proposing.

George flashed you a grin that was almost childlike, it was mesmerising, so sweet and pure and you almost wished you’d brought your camera to take a picture of it. “I thought you’d never ask.”

With a giggle you let him grab your hand and lead you excitedly towards a building that had “The Leaky Cauldron” written above the door. When you got inside, George led you to a small round table with two chairs and you both sat down opposite each other. As casually as you could, you rested your elbow against the table and let your cheek rest against your fist, for a solid few minutes, while George ordered, you curiously looked around the pub until your gaze finally rested on George who was already looking at you with a soft smile, “Having fun?” He asked, genuinely curious.

You nodded your head, “Mhm, are you? I’m sure getting up at the crack of dawn to take me shopping isn’t something someone like you would usually like to do for fun,” you said, becoming slightly self conscious when you realised that he probably wasn’t enjoying the morning as much as you were. This was all normal for him, you’d nearly forgotten.

George gave you a perplexed look, “Course I’m having fun, love. But, what do you mean someone like me?”

You shrugged, once again pushing down the butterflies that arose in your stomach from the pet name, “I dunno, you’re just- you’re mischievous and fun and… I don’t know, shopping for stuff with me doesn’t seem like it’s something you’d want to do. I just hope Sirius didn’t force you into it,” you admitted shyly, smiling gratefully at the waiter when he placed the mugs of golden liquid on the table.

George chewed on his bottom lip for a second before he shook his head, “He didn’t force me. I sort of, well, I sort of forced him to let me take you. He wanted Professor Lupin to do it but I…” he let out an exaggerated sigh before giving you a smile, “I wanted to spend time with you,” he confessed sweetly, watching happily as a smile formed on your lips and you tried to hide it in the rim of your butterbeer. He laughed when your face lit up once the liquid hit your lips, “Like it?”

“This stuff is amazing,” you almost shouted, taking another large sip from the drink, “No wonder you all love it so much.”

George snickered, “Just in case it wasn’t clear; I’m having a lot of fun with you,” he said all too casually, taking a sip of his drink.

“Where to now?” You wondered, after you’d finished your drinks and set off back towards the floo network.

George shot you a cheeky look and wiggled his eyebrows, “I’m taking you back to headquarters.”

“Sounds ominous,” you commented, following him into the fireplace, nervously.

“D’you want a tip?” George asked out of the blue and you looked up at him expectantly, nodding. “The dizziness isn’t as bad if you keep your eyes open,” he whispered, taking your hand once again and throwing down the same green powder from earlier and shouting a new location that you hadn’t heard before. You cringed as the world began to spin, listening to George’s advice hadn’t helped much as the transportation was just as awful as it had been the first time. Unbeknownst to you, you were squeezing George’s hand like your life depended on it, George’s thumb had resumed brushing circles around your hand in response, the harsh squeezing didn’t bother him at all, not when it was you doing the squeezing. Just like earlier, George led you out of the fireplace and into the unfamiliar sitting room. Though the room was completely unfamiliar it was full of faces you immediately recognised, one face in particular standing out above all the rest.

In a second you’d dropped not only George’s hand, but all of your shopping bags to the floor carelessly and hurled yourself towards the boy who had already begun rushing towards you the second he caught sight of you appearing in the fireplace. Your bodies collided with so much force that you nearly sent each other tumbling to the ground, laughter sounded from both of you as you swayed the other, almost roughly, the way you always did when reuniting after an extended period of time.

“Glad to see you in one piece, Harry,” you told him with a cheeky smile on your lips, opting not to call him Haz in front of all of his wizard friends lest they tease him, not to mention you’d become quite possessive of the nickname, you wouldn’t be too pleased if anyone else started adopting it. Not that you’d ever admit that out loud.

“Yeah, you too,” his smile was as wide as could be when he shook his head, “I can’t believe you’re actually here.”

“Do you want me to pinch you?” You teased, jokingly taking his cheek between your thumb and your pointer, giving the skin between them a gentle squeeze. Harry swatted your hand away with a low chuckle and unraveled his arms from around you.

“Alright, you two, if you’re ready we have some matters we need to discuss with our newest member,” Sirius’ voice sounded from behind you, a knowing look on his face as he watched Harry sneakily pinch your arm in retaliation. He had to fight the urge he felt to reminisce on his old school days; when he’d purposely annoy James, Remus or Peter and receive the exact same mockingly vengeful look that you’d just given Harry.

“I’ll bring your things to the kitchen,” George announced, reminding you of his presence before he walked rather quickly out of the room, bags clutched in his hands.

Harry snorted out a laugh when Sirius followed George out of the room, leaving the both of you alone. Harry wiggled his eyebrows and did his best to make his voice take on a sultry tone, “he’s bringing your things to the kitchen.”

“Shut your mouth, Potter,” you replied, pinching his cheek for the second time and tossing your arm around his shoulder, him doing the same as he led you to what you assumed was the kitchen.

“Do I have your permission to open my mouth to tell you something,” Harry asked lightly, stopping so you were both standing outside a closed wooden door.

“I’ll allow it,” you answered, smiling softly at your best friend.

Harry grinned, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Haz,” the boy groaned at the name but made no further comment, he pushed the wooden door open and walked inside.

The room held a long table where many adults were sat, chatting in hushed whispers when you entered the room, some of whom you recognised and some you didn’t. Mrs. Weasley was fluttering about the table, filling people’s tea cups before she spotted you. The woman, who you’d only ever met briefly at King’s Cross station one year, rushed over to you and greeted you warmly, “Hello, dear! Come, come sit down!” She ushered you to a vacant chair beside George and across from Fred, Harry took the seat on your other side. “I trust you got everything you needed from Diagon Alley? I hope that son of mine didn’t cause any trouble for you,” you gave her a friendly smile and shook your head.

“Yes, we were able to find what we needed and George was very helpful,” Mrs. Weasley, seemingly satisfied with your answer, offered a gentle smile to you and George. She then pushed a cup of tea towards you before sitting down herself.

Beneath the table George bumped his knee lightly against yours, but didn’t break from his conversation with his twin as he left his knee pressed against yours. You didn’t draw attention to it either, simply letting your knee relax against his as the witches and wizards at the long table grew quiet in favour of staring at you wordlessly.

“I’m sure you’ve all heard the news of the seer we’ve acquired,” Sirius’ commanding voice broke the silence as he stood up from his chair, and placed his palms against the table, “I’ve brought her here today so that we may discuss proceedings to ensure her safety.”

“Yes,” a toneless drawl, drawn out nasally from the end of the table drew your attention to a black haired man at the opposite end of the table, “and what of Mr. Potter’s presence?” He asked, almost menacingly. Right off the bat, you didn’t like the greasy haired man. He was rigid and his face sported a permanent snarl and from across the table you could already tell; he wasn’t on your side.

“She’s my best friend, I’m here to make sure she’s not going to be put in any unnecessary danger,” Harry told the man shortly, in a tone that he’d more than likely perfected after having spoken to the man previously.

“As touching as that may be,” the older man snarled, “you are not a member of the Order.”

“Oh, enough, Serverus,” Sirius scoffed, pulling his hand down his face in exasperation before he let his eyes settle on Harry, “Perhaps you should wait upstairs for now. We’ll let you know of any significant updates.”

“I’ll tell you everything later, promise,” you whispered quietly, linking his pinky with yours beneath the table before he stropily took his leave.

“As I was saying,” Sirius spared Severus a glare and continued, “As we know, Yn is an unregistered wizard with an unregistered wand, meaning she won’t be on the radar of The Ministry of Magic. On the downside of this, seeing as her power manifested late, she is also untrained.”

All gazes fell to you once more, only Remus’ eyes were staring softly, crinkled at the edges from the smile on his lips, “I’ll be tutoring her in Defence Against the Dark Arts over the summer. She’ll catch up quickly, no doubt,” you smiled gratefully at him from your spot, relaxing a bit knowing that you’d actually be learning how to defend yourself the wizard way.

“I suppose I will be tasked with teaching the art of Occlumency? A seer with an easily accessible mind is hardly an asset,” Severus drawled. You didn’t have a clue what occlumency was, in all honesty, but you kept your mouth shut in favour of asking Remus when the meeting was over.

The meeting soon drew to a close, the older Order members slinking to one end of the table to arrange the schedule for your glorified summer school while you, Fred and George snuck away to find Harry. You found him sitting against the headboard of a bed in one of the upstairs bedrooms, “How’d it go?”

“Take a guess, mate, Snape had a right sour look on his face the whole time,” Fred answered, sitting on the bed across from Harry’s. George sat beside him and you made your way to sit with Harry.

“Ah, so that was the infamous professor Snape?” All three boys nodded, looks of exhaustion on their faces, “I don’t trust him. Something is very off about him,” you spoke thoughtfully and the boys nodded in agreement once again.

“I don’t like the idea of you being alone with him,” George said, his brows furrowed.

Fred snorted and clapped his twin roughly on the shoulder, “Getting a bit jealous are you, Georgie?” Harry laughed along with Fred while you blushed lightly and George felt heat rising up the nape of his neck.

“Sod off,” he muttered, but made no attempt to deny that he was slightly jealous of all the alone time his old evil potions professor would be getting with the girl he was harbouring feelings for.

The afternoon quickly turned into the evening and before long you were gathering your things and preparing to return to Cecillia’s. Harry would be heading back to the Dursley’s later that night, much to his dismay. You told him you’d be back on Privet Drive at some point the next morning since Cecillia would be dropping you home, as she promised your parents, so he wouldn’t have to suffer alone for too long.

That summer came and went in a bit of a blur. Two days in each week were spent learning how to protect yourself against the dark arts with Remus. He’s an amazing teacher, that couldn’t be disputed. In the space of only two months he had you duelling like you’d been doing it since the day you were born. Of course, you were thrilled to be bonding with your wand and developing (according to Remus) a very impressive skill for Defence Against the Dark Arts. But, on top of that, the shared conversations and exchanging of stories over hefty mugs of hot chocolate with the werewolf had been a huge highlight of your summer, and had caused the two of you to grow exponentially closer.

September was nearing and with it came a stiff breeze that prompted the hair on your arms to stand alert as you waited by the bus stop, the one just down the road from your house. Today was to be an important lesson with Remus, he hadn’t told you what the lesson would entail, but he had said that it was a charm that was “of the utmost importance”.

Although June, July and August were technically your summer holidays, you’d barely had a second to rest. You were, at this point, running on fumes and sheer will power. Extensively using magic was bound to wear you out, however, getting a good night’s rest after a gruelling training session had become something of a luxury for you. Visions of the future and retellings of past torments plagued your dreams and allowed you no time to rest. One vision in particular had been reoccurring, it arrived every night for the past two weeks, taunting you. The autumn chill that dripped down your spine reminded you of the premonition, having your hairs standing due to fright, rather than cold. It was always the same, no details ever shifted or warped and, unfortunately, the experience never grew any less harrowing. The warning that the vision brought about weighed on you heavily and followed you around like a stray cat. Images of a cold, desolate, blue-hued cellar lived behind your eyes, the phantom feeling of freezing metal shackles weighed on your wrists painfully and the undiluted terror combined with the indescribable agony brought about by the unfamiliar wand shoved against your throat had you forcing yourself to stay awake until you physically couldn’t anymore, each and every night. Nobody knew about the vision, you didn’t want to worry them, though, you knew that your distress was beginning to become visible; dark bags were prominent beneath your eyes, Harry had watched you fall asleep in the middle of the day, often on his shoulder, almost everyday that week and Remus could tell by the sluggish movements of your wand that your mind was elsewhere.

A few minutes passed before your bus arrived, the journey to Grimmauld Place was quite long but you couldn’t seem to warm up to floo travel, so going on a regular bus was the better option. When the red double decker pulled up, you greeted the driver with a smile and paid for your ticket. You made your way up to the second story and sat right at the front. The bus, as it normally tended to be, was empty. Resting your head against the window, you let your eyes slip shut, the noises of tree branches brushing against the speeding windows lulling you into a, hopefully, peaceful sleep.

Thankfully when you woke up, no visions lingered. You woke up just in time too as the bus was rounding up to your stop. As usual, Remus waited for you at the bus stop, his hands shoved deep in his tattered jacket pockets and a gentle smile on his lips.

Still groggy from your nap, when you exited the bus you greeted Remus with a tired wave.

“Dare I say you haven’t been sleeping well, dear?” He said gently, walking alongside you towards the house.

You thought about it for a second, perhaps telling someone wouldn’t be the worst idea in the world. “I’ve just, well, I’ve been having this nightmare,” you started, growing nervous just thinking about it.

“Nightmare or vision?” He pressed as you walked into the house.

Guilt creeped into your chest upon seeing the clear worry on his face, “I think it’s a vision.”

Remus nodded quietly, placing his hand on the small of your back and pushing you in the direction of the living room. He gave you a warm smile, when you sat down on the sofa. He grabbed a blanket that hung over the back of the sofa and draped it over your lap. “I’ll make us some hot chocolate and we can discuss this,” he suggested.

“I thought you had an important lesson for today?” He only shook his head, smiling lightly.

He made his way to the door wordlessly and returned within two minutes with two big, steaming mugs in his hands. Remus handed you a mug and sat down beside you on the sofa, accepting your invitation to pull the blanket over his lap too.

“Now tell me; what has been going on in that wonderful mind of yours?”

You took in a deep breath, staring into the hot chocolate and avoiding his understanding gaze, “It happened for the first time around two weeks ago. I thought that it was just a dream, it didn’t feel like a dream but I thought that if I kept telling myself it was I would start to believe it,” you started, taking a sip of your drink before going back to staring at it, “But it kept coming back. Every night for the last two weeks. I haven’t been able to sleep, I’ve been too scared to,” your voice was small as you made the confession. You hated that the feeling of helplessness was beginning to wash over you yet again.

“What happens in this vision?” At his question, you placed your cup on the floor and turned to face him fully, turning on the sofa and pulling your knees up to your chest.

“It’s always the same. I wake up and the first thing I know is that I’m absolutely freezing. I’m in this cellar-like thing. I’m chained up by my wrists and my feet are barely touching the ground… I can’t see anyone but I can feel-“ your breath hitched and you rushed the swipe the tears that were falling away from your cheeks, “I can feel a wand against my throat, it’s pressing hard. There’s a whisper, it’s quiet and ghostly and I can barely make it out but I hear them say; crucio.”

Remus’ eyes widened in horror.

“Then I feel nothing but agonising pain and then I wake up,” Remus’ eyebrows furrowed.

“You’ve had this same vision every night?” You nodded.

“I know I should have said something but I didn’t want anyone to worry,” it was then that Remus grabbed your hands and looked at you with a sense of urgency you didn’t know he could possess.

“I need you to listen to me very carefully,” his eyes were wild and his hands shook lightly as they held yours, “You-Know-Who is back. There are already reports of certain Wizards going missing and none of us have any doubt that it’s his doing. And although I- we- care for you a great deal, it would serve us all well to remember that you’re a detrimental piece in this war. If he catches wind of you, he’ll stop at nothing to take you from us,” your heart was now running at the speed of a hummingbird. “We have a plan in place to keep you safe, I fear we may have to implement it sooner than planned.”

Before you knew it, you were surrounded by the entire Order of the Phoenix, all of whom looked grave. Cecillia sat to your right while Nymphadora Tonks occupied the seat to your left. You had the pink haired auror to thank for your duelling capabilities, as well as Remus of course. Her presence was comforting, she made it a point to shoot you a wink every time she caught your eyes looking more fearful than usual.

“Our original plan will need to be tweaked, I ran into Narcissa Malfoy in Diagon Alley and she very plainly insinuated that I was a person of interest in the death eating community,” Cecillia informed the table, a, for lack of a better word, bitchy tone laced in her voice. She’d told you many of her Hogwarts stories, you could recall her telling you that she and the woman she’d mentioned, Narcissa, had once been good friends until around their fourth year. She hadn’t told you what exactly had happened, only that it had been messy.

“What was the original plan?” You asked, growing frustrated with the Order’s lack of communication skills.

Thankfully, being one of the younger members of the group, Tonks understood your frustrations and spoke up on behalf of the group, regardless of whether they were ready for you to know or not; she understood that it was your life they were coordinating.

“We talked about relocating you to CeCe’s. We also, and far more pressingly, planned on erasing all traces of you from both the muggle and wizard world. Which would mean using a memory charm on your family and friends in the muggle world,” Tonks explained, eyes locked on yours while everyone else in the room glared daggers at the purple haired girl.

“Yes. Though we also planned on telling you this information with a far more delicate approach,” Snapped Molly Weasley from the end of the table, causing Fred, who sat to her left, to roll his eyes.

“She’s been riddled with visions of being ruthlessly tortured with an unforgivable curse for the past two weeks. I think the time for delicacy is long passed,” the older of the two twins practically scoffed. George nodded in agreement.

“Besides,” he set his gaze on you, eyes genuine and unwavering as he spoke, “she’s strong enough to handle the truth. It’s time you all stopped acting like she isn’t.”

The table fell silent. His words hung in the air as many of the adults hung their heads.

“By memory charm I’m assuming you mean obliviate?” You broke the silence, if you could you hoped to start an open conversation with the experienced witches and wizards that surrounded you.

“Yes. They’re completely reversible and once the war is over I’ll restore all of the memories.” Cecillia said.

“We know it’s a huge ask, dear, but it’s our best chance at keeping you out of that wretched creature’s hands,” Molly attempted to soothe both you and herself when she pictured what it would like to be in your shoes, how she’d feel if she had no other choice but to be forgotten by the thing she valued the most; her family. Molly Weasley had never been very good at hiding her maternal instincts, over the summer that fact had become glaringly obvious to you. You and Harry had laughed about how the children of Privet Drive had a special place in her heart.

“I understand,” you told her sadly, chewing on the inside of your lip, “I’m guessing by the atmosphere in the room that I won’t be home to say goodbye before you wipe their memories,” you shifted yours eyes from person to person, stopping when Cecillia took your hand firmly in hers.

Her lips were downturned and her eyes filled with guilt, she shook her head mournfully, “I’m afraid we can’t risk it, my darling. Even being here places you in danger at the moment.”

“Where will she go then? If CeCe’s place isn’t an option we’ll have to find a safe house,” Sirius sounded and, simultaneously, both Fred and George stood up, shoulder to shoulder with very professional expressions on their faces.

“We may be able to help with that, actually. George, if you would,” Fred started, nodding to his twin who straightened his shoulders and puffed his chest out over so slightly.

“Thank you, Fred. As you know, we have a property for Weasley Wizard Wheezes secured and we’ll be living in the flat above where the shop will be,” everyone at the table, including yourself, stared at the twins in confusion, not quite sure where they were going with their little pitch until Fred took over again.

“And that flat has three bedrooms,” he said, a smirk growing on his thin lips.

George spoke again, “Which means there’s one for me and one for Fred.”

“Which means there’s one spare,” Fred grinned wickedly.

Tonks let out an impressed laugh once the penny finally dropped, “We apparate her in and nobody would ever know a thing. Nobody other than those of us in the room know that Y/n is a friend of the Weasley’s, plus us visiting the joke shop wouldn’t raise any suspicion. I have to give it to them, it’s a great idea,”

“And one of the two of us will always be within shouting distance if anything happens,” George added, somewhat pleadingly.

Sirius looked across the table at you, “Y/n, it’s up to you. Whatever you decide will be final, we won’t interfere,” he promised sincerely. It was an easy decision, but still, it weighed heavily on your chest. In all honesty, you weren’t worried about your location, staying with the twins would surely be a light and fun time amidst all the doom and gloom. Your worry was that you would, once again, be handing over your control. Sirius dressed it up as though it was your choice, but you knew that this was probably their best option and in reality you really had no other choice than to move in with Fred and George.

“Sounds good to me,” you whispered halfheartedly, eyes dropping to stare at your lap as your teeth pulled anxiously at the skin of your lips.

“So it’s settled then,” Remus said, “Y/n will go with Fred and George tonight.”

Abruptly, you pushed your chair away from the table and stood up. Sparing nobody a glance, you left the room as quickly as you possibly could, before the lump in your throat could choke you or the tears that pooled in your eyes spilled like water through a broken dam. George made a move to rise from his seat only for Remus to stop him by placing his hand on the boy’s shoulder, “Give her a moment.”

You found yourself locked in the second story bathroom, sitting in the bath. Your legs hung out over the side of the tub while your head was tilted back against the black tiled wall. As hard as you tried to prevent them, tears were streaming down the expense of your cheeks, neck and beneath the neckline of your shirt. The minutes ticked by yet your chest continued to rise and fall rapidly due to the sobs that shook it, your breath uneven. Visions of brutal torture were bad enough when you were in your own home, in your own warm bed, with your parents just a room away and ready to make you a hot cup of tea after you woke up screaming. Now, the visions would without a doubt continue to plague you, unlike before though, you wouldn’t be waking up in a familiar setting, nor would you fall asleep in the comfort of your own mattress, when you woke up screaming so loud that your throat grew raw, your comfort would rely on two seventeen year old boys who seldom took things seriously. It’s not that you didn’t trust them, no, you trusted them with your life- you are trusting them with your life, it’s just that there was already a lot going on in your mind at the moment, moving in with your crush and his identical twin brother isn’t exactly your idea of a nerve killer.

A knock against the bathroom door pulled you from your thoughts. You rushed to wipe your tears with your sleeves, sniffling, “Come in,” you choked out. Cursing your voice for breaking when you spoke.

Remus’ head poked through the door, his body following soon after. Even in an atmosphere as dense as this one, a sense of gentle calm always followed Remus wherever he went. Clumsily, the werewolf slid into the bath beside you with a low “oof” sound, mimicking your position with his much longer legs dangling closer to the wooden floor than your own.

“CeCe has gone to collect your things for you and get Harry, then, I believe, perform the spell,” he eyed you cautiously, hyper aware of your glassy eyes and puffy face. When your eyes widened and you whipped your face towards him, his stomach twisted into knots, he hated seeing you like this. He could sympathise with your feelings. When James and Lily were killed, and Sirius went to Azkaban and even when Peter was presumed dead, Remus had been left with a vicious frustration fuelled by his belief that he was utterly powerless in his own life. He could see in your eyes that that same notion was starting to creep up on you too.

“Already?” You gasped out, pulse rising again, a slight panic setting in. “It won’t hurt them will it? The spell?” You fretted, looking pleadingly to the man beside you.

He shook his head, tenderly taking your hand and placing it against his clothed chest, his beating heart present against the palm of your shaking hand. “I promise you that they won’t feel a thing. They will go on living an exciting life, travelling, seeing the world safely while you’re away. When this is all over we’ll place their memories of you back in their minds and it will be as though you were never gone.” Your teeth found the inside of your cheek again, gnawing relentlessly at the skin as you failed miserably to hold back a fresh set of tears. Remus squeezed the hand he held against his chest. “Let it out, Y/n. It’s okay, I won’t tell anyone,” he whispered, heart sinking lower when your bottom lip quivered and you let a rasped sob leave your body. With a deep sigh, Remus used the hand he was already holding as leverage to pull you into him, wasting no time he enveloped you in his arms, holding you securely as you cried against his chest. Admittedly, it felt good to let it out, Remus’ hand rubbed soothing circles against your heaving back and eventually, you didn’t know how long it had been, you calmed down, your tear ducts all dried out.

Remus held you in his arms for a while longer, even though you’d stopped crying, he could feel your body as it continued to shake. “I can’t promise you it will all be okay, but I can assure you that myself and Sirius, and everyone else for that matter, will be there for you at the drop of a hat; whatever you need,” he spoke against your hair.

“Whatever I need?” You echoed, the pit in your stomach ever growing.

“Of course,” he confirmed.

Remus startled slightly when you suddenly tore yourself away from him. As best you could in your awkward position, you turned to face him and grabbed his hands with as much urgency as he had done with yours. “I need you to do something for me,” Remus furrowed his brows in confusion, but nodded his head anyway.

“If anything happens to me… Don’t make them remember,” you instructed, maybe the request would’ve seemed radical if you had said it to anyone else, but you knew that Remus had experienced losses like no one else you knew, perhaps Harry came close but even his shortcomings couldn’t compare to Remus’. “It’d only cause them pain. If I die and they’re happily living none the wiser, leave them be, please,” the man let out a heavy sigh and took a moment to take you in. Your eyes were hard yet pleading, they left him no room to negotiate and he understood perfectly where you were coming from.

“Alright,” he agreed before raising his eyebrow and readjusting himself to get a better look at you, “However you should know; no matter what may come of this war, none of us will forget about you. In such a short time you’ve given us so much… you gave Harry his first friendship, a friendship that he cherishes more than anything in the world, I might add. You saved Sirius from death, my fiancé and Harry’s godfather. Mentoring you has given Cecillia a new lease of life and Molly Weasley one more child to knit jumpers for at Christmas,” he took a brief pause then went on, “For the sake of saving time I won’t even begin to tell you what you mean to the twins. My point is;” there was a melancholic type of smile on his face when he paused again, as if he was imagining what it would be like to remember you fondly if you did in fact die for the cause, “What you’re asking is incredibly selfless. And while your mother and father may not remember how wonderful you are, we all will.” Remus chuckled lowly when you shuffled your way back into his arms, squeezing his middle tightly. He slung his arm around your shoulders and delicately pressed his lips to the top of your head. You held so much love in your heart for the man who was currently cradling you in his arms. You debated telling him, you weren’t sure if it was entirely appropriate but after the speech he’d just given you couldn’t have cared less, “Remus?”

“Hm?”

“I love you,” you murmured, looking up at him innocently.

He offered you a toothy smile and breathed out a soft laugh, “I love you too.�� With a content nod, you rested your head back against his chest, enjoying his soothing heartbeats against your ear. A melodic hum rumbled against your cheek, a quiet giggle left your mouth when you recognised the melody to the song he was humming. The tune of “Rhiannon” by Fleetwood Mac floated through the bathroom bringing a genuine smile to your lips. The werewolf’s humming was interrupted by another knock against the bathroom door, whoever was knocking didn’t wait for a response before entering the room. Sirius stepped in and quietly shut the door behind him. He didn’t question you and Remus' position in the bath but simply slid into the tub on the other side of you, sandwiching you between himself and Remus. The black haired man let out a heavy sigh and leaned his head back against the tiles.

“The mother hens downstairs are worrying up a storm,” he said in exasperation, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Tonks so riled up about someone’s safety. I tasked Molly with making you some hot chocolate to keep her occupied”

“Maybe I should go back down…” you muttered halfheartedly, begrudgingly peeling yourself away from Remus’ warm body.

Sirius gave you an apologetic look, “I held them off for as long as I could.”

“Thanks,” you whispered, bumping your shoulder to his, making him chuckle. After pulling yourself out of the bath, rather clumsily, you took a second to check yourself over in the mirror.

“You’re glowing, darling,” Sirius all but sang from behind you and you couldn’t stop the slight snort that escaped you.

“That’s one way to put it.”

“If you don’t believe me go on downstairs and ask George what he thinks,” Sirius teased, wiggling his eyebrows and receiving a light shove from his fiancé who couldn’t hide his grin.

“Leave her alone, love,” he chastised weakly, “You look perfectly fine, Y/n. Go downstairs and get something to drink, you need to rehydrate.” A bittersweet smile broke out on your lips, his fatherly tone simultaneously soothed you and left you yearning for what you were in the process of losing. Trying not to dwell on the sad fact, you left the bathroom and slowly descended the stairs.

As you assumed, the second you stepped back into the kitchen, Molly began to fret over you as if her life depended on it. Sipping on the hot chocolate she’d given you, you were reminded of how desperately tired you were. All the crying hadn’t helped ease the heaviness in your eyes either. Every bone in your body felt heavy for that matter, you were struggling to even hold your head up.

“You can lean against my shoulder if you’d like,” George’s voice broke you from your hazed state, you’d completely forgotten he was sitting beside you despite his leg that was pressed against yours beneath the table. You gave him a sleepy but grateful smile, as subtly as you could you scooched closer to the ginger and slotted yourself against his side, letting your head fall onto his shoulder. “Will you keep me awake until Harry and Cecillia get here?” You requested in a slurred murmur, your eyes fluttering between open and shut.

“Of course,” was all he said, he looked down at you adoringly, smiling like an idiot when you nuzzled into his shoulder, your nose rubbing against his neck. Try as he might, George couldn’t pull his eyes away from your drowsy face. “What do you propose we do?”

You shrugged your shoulders lightly, “Just talk.”

“How would you like your new room decorated?” He asked quietly, his head tilted down while he spoke to you, so you could hear him and so he wouldn’t ruin the lulled bubble you’d managed to obtain between you by talking too loudly. A sweet smile grew on your face, a smile that all but knocked all the breath out of George’s lungs when you angled your head to make eye contact.

“Can I have a double bed?” George snorted at your question and shook his head no.

“Nothing smaller than a king. What else?”

You pretended to ponder for a moment, “Can we paint it?” The ginger nodded, taking his bottom lip between his teeth.

“If you want to,” he started, almost sounding nervous, “We could paint it together?” Even in your sleep deprived state you hadn’t missed the vulnerability in his voice, it was the same vulnerability that you’d noticed when he’d asked you to go get a butterbeer with him a couple of months ago.

“I’d love that,” you told him, your answer causing his lips to twist into a pleased smile, “How do you feel about the colour green?”

Immediately, his smile dropped and he let out a disgusted scoff, “Green is a Slytherin colour.”

“You keep forgetting that I don’t get the whole house sorty thing,” you reminded him, not happy with his reasoning for hating your favourite colour. “Besides, I love green, it’s my favourite colour.” You told him truthfully. Not content with his disgruntled facial expression you began to defend your preference, “A lot of beautiful things are green; you’ve got grass, trees, emeralds- did you know that emeralds are really useful for enhancing psychic abilities? It also evokes clarity of thought,” you rambled, willing yourself to be quiet when you registered George’s fond expression.

The look of endearment aimed at you brought butterflies to life in your stomach, effectively waking you up somewhat.

“Do you have any emerald?” He asked, you assumed he was only feigning interest, you didn’t know that he could’ve listened to you go on and on about anything and everything for the rest of his life.

“No, not yet. I should probably get some though.” You said through a yawn. Your breath against his neck made him giggle, it was pure and unsuspecting but you took note of it. Everything about George Weasley felt like sunshine to you, his laugh filled your chest with warmth whenever you heard it, his eyes found yours like a lighthouse, guiding your lost mind back to the present each time your gazes connected. His voice, like his laugh, warmed you up when you were cold, giving you a reason to stay awake when you’d rather just slip away. In conjunction with the sun, even if you couldn’t physically see him, you never doubted that he was always there. As well as all of that, like your favourite tarot card; The Sun, he signified good things, hope that hard times will end with you on top, contentment and happiness. While your thoughts consisted of George’s similarities to the sun, his were consumed with the, in his mind, overwhelmingly cheesily romantic notion that you were the moon and the stars, he would’ve cringed if he didn’t wholeheartedly believe it. Everything that made the night sky magnificent was reflected in you. Like the stars, you were mysterious and captivating. Nothing seemed to compare to your glow or beauty, if you were to ask him what he preferred; you or the night sky on a clear night, he’d happily ignore a blank, starless sky in favour of simply staring at you as you went on tangent after tangent about crystals or tarot cards.

The pair of you were pulled from your musings when Harry rushed through the kitchen door looking unmistakably heartbroken, ever the empath when it came to his best friend, Harry’s heart sank the moment he laid eyes on your form, limp against George’s side. The second you saw him you all but ripped yourself from George’s side and the older redhead felt a surge of irrational jealousy begin to build in his chest at how fast you left his hold in favour of the chosen one. He knew it was ridiculous, he’d heard the way each of you respectively talked about each other, at this point you were practically siblings. But he supposed it was rational to be jealous when you liked someone the way he liked you.

Quickly, you crossed the room to Harry who had his arms already outstretched. He knew you were emotionally exhausted when you didn’t bear hug him. You meekly slid your arms beneath his open zip-up hoodie, tucked your head beneath his chin and didn’t say a word. “I shouldn’t bother asking if you’re okay then,” Harry muttered to himself, leaning his cheek against the top of your head and wrapping his lanky arms around your frame.

“Did Cecillia remember to bring Astra?” You asked, it was all you wanted to know about the night’s events.

“She’s in her cage in the living room, darling,” Cecilia said, walking into the room looking guilty.

“C’mon, let’s go have a chat,” Harry suggested, leading you out of the kitchen and upstairs to his unofficial room. Once inside the room you sat down on the edge of the bed, the blue duvet softly creasing beneath you. Harry plopped himself down beside you and offered you a gesture that was always saved for when either of you felt the other was on the edge of something dangerous. Your hands rested against your lap and he deftly slid his pinky over yours, intertwining your two littlest fingers. It was such a familiar experience; he’d done it when your grandparents died, when you’d cried over failed exams that you worked hard for, and in turn, you did it for him when he’d felt as though he had no place in the world, when he’d open up about his parents and when Cedric died and the ministry dragged his name through the mud you’d find your pinky tangled with his almost every night after he’d sneak over to your place after another nightmare or panic attack. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You shook your head, “Not tonight. I don’t want to cry anymore,” you croaked out, looking straight ahead of you at the grey painted wall.

“I understand,” he said, sighing and dropping his head onto your shoulder, “Let’s talk about something else then.”

“Like what, Haz?”

Harry snorted out a chuckle, “Like the way George looked like he wanted to hex me when you left him to come to me,” he teased, a smug lilt to his voice.

“He wasn’t teasing me, perhaps I’ll go back to him,” you grumbled, ignoring Harry’s childish giggles.

“Yeah you’d like that wouldn’t you?” You smacked his arm lightly with your free hand, doing a bad job of containing giggles of your own. “Don’t worry, since he’s going to be your new roommate there will be plenty of time for “oh George I’m so sleepy, please hold me until I fall asleep”,” you let out a cackle at Harry’s terrible impression of your voice, laying your cheek against his wild hair.

“That is so not what was going on, Haz,” you defended with a tiny smile.

Harry let out an airy, disbelieving chuckle, “Then what was going on?”

“He just said I could lean on him until you and Cecillia arrived and we just started chatting about how I wanna decorate my room,” you explained truthfully and Harry nodded.

“Riveting,” he mumbled sarcastically. Despite his snarky comment, the boy removed his head from your shoulder and pulled you against his chest. “Jokes aside, I’m glad you’re staying with him, I know he’ll look after you for me,” you rolled your eyes at the sentiment.

“I don’t need to be looked after,” you reminded him, looking up at him with a chastising smile.

He rolled his eyes right back at you, jostling you slightly in his arms, “No. But you like to be.”

You threw your head back in laughter, “Yeah, I suppose I do.” You did. You quite like both doting on people and being doted on, you’d grown up in an affectionate family so it was no wonder really.

“It’s getting late. We should get you settled into your new home,” Harry announced, pulling himself and you up from the bed, “I wasn’t going to say anything but you look terrible. You need sleep.”

“Thank you, Harry. Just what every girl wants to hear before moving in with her crush,” you joked, gently hitting your hip against his.

The kitchen was quiet when you returned, it seemed everyone had grown tired from the dramatic events of the evening.

“Ready to go then?” Fred asked, his coat already on and a handful of your bags in his hands.

“As I’ll ever be I suppose.”

After saying goodbye to everyone you, Fred and George traveled to their apartment by floo, to your dismay. The apartment was bare as they’d only just moved in but you could see it had lots of potential for becoming a cozy home for the twins.

As your first night in your new residence began, your aching eyes and tired mind didn’t leave you with any time to dwell on current events, the second your head made contact with the pillow you were out like a light. A dreamless slumber welcomed you for a while until your peace was broken by the all too familiar nightmare.

The first thing you recognised was the burn coming from your wrists. Shackles adorned them and effectively held your hands high above your head, stretching them uncomfortably. Goosebumps painted the expanse of your arms and legs, due to the freezing temperature in the nondescript cellar. A feeling of hopelessness planted firmly in your chest, the feeling only hightening when the familiar echo of footsteps, heavy and loud, drifted from the corridor outside of your field of vision. You knew who was approaching, you’ve lived this before, and so, you held your lip between your teeth and squeezed your eyes shut. The face of the dark wizard who always brought about your intense suffering was, for the most part, completely fuzzy, unrecognisable, featureless and bone-chillingly terrifying. You’d learned over the last two weeks of having this vision that it was less harrowing if you closed your eyes.

“I’ll ask you once more,” The voice was distorted, like it was being heard through a weedy radio, ominously unplaceable, “Where is he?”

You held no control over your voice, as was the norm during visions, as you felt and heard yourself reply, “I’ll tell you once more; I’d sooner die then sell him to you.” You felt your teeth gritting and your jaw clenching while you spoke. Jaw only tightening when the pointed tip of the wizard’s wand stabbed unforgivingly against the column of your neck.

“And die you will, my dear. But not yet-“ your eyes sealed themselves shut and you did your best to shake yourself out of the vision before what you knew was coming took place, as usual, your attempts were fruitless, “-Crucio.” Just like that your body was consumed by pain, the likes of which you’d never imagined possible, until you couldn’t even register yourself screaming anymore.

You bolted upright, clutching at the sheets of your new bed. Laboured breaths left your mouth and you aimlessly gripped at your neck, where the wand had been pressed, and let the tears spill freely. Momentarily disoriented, you’d forgotten where you were. Deep, heavy bursts of air left your mouth as you hastily scurried out of bed and towards the door. Somewhat aimlessly, you gravitated to the door across the hall. A yellow hue seeped from under the frame into the otherwise dark hallway. Light flooded the hall once you managed to fumble the handle down and pull the door ajar, a discombobulated ginger greeting you with half lidded eyes, obviously having been dozing off before you disturbed his peace.

“Sorry,” you rasped once your peace of mind returned to you and you realised where you were. Despite knowing that you shouldn’t have been standing numbly in his doorway, your feet seemed to be rooted in place, you couldn’t have walked away if you wanted to.

“S’alright,” George called out to you softly, sitting up in his bed, his back against the headboard. “You can come in, you know.”

Shutting the door behind you, you nervously shuffled into the room, stopping when you reached the side of his bed. George’s eyes roamed your face and he took notice of your still somewhat panicked expression, he drew his covers to the side and patted the empty space by his side. Something that always intrigued you was people’s preferred side of the bed, some people gravitated towards the left while others were more biased towards the right, but George Weasley? He slept right in the middle. The twin slept with a huge number of pillows, to the point where it was almost laughable, many of which you could only guess he’d smuggled from the Burrow.

Far too wound up to save face, you slid into his bed and didn’t shy away when he guided you into his side and tucked you tenderly beneath his lean arm. His embrace offered a greatly appreciated warmth as the chill of the dank dungeon always lingered long after the vision itself was over.

“What’re you doing up so late?” You asked, your voice gravelly. As you spoke, George effortlessly shuffled your body and his down so that your backs were resting on the mattress and not the headboard. Your head found it’s home against George’s shoulder and your hair was being tentatively twirled between his fingers.

“It’s our first night actually sleeping here. I couldn’t get to sleep,” he explained, his voice low and laced with fatigue. “I’m not really used to having my own room. It’s strange not hearing Freddie snoring or breathing.”

“I get that,” you whispered, “it’s quite comforting knowing for certain that someone is there with you.”

George nodded then. His eyes were glued to your face and he hadn’t even registered his own thought process before his lips were pressing delicately against your forehead. Today had appeared to be the day for laying all your cards out on the table, yourself and George hadn’t danced around your feelings for each other half as much as you usually did when you’d be in each other’s presence. Neither of you had the energy anymore, besides, if today’s events proved anything it was that; things were getting seriously messy as the war built momentum and it was clear that time was something that could very well be running out.

“Yeah,” he regarded you carefully, a little grin growing on his lips, “It is.”

A comfortable silence overtook the room. George’s twirling of your hair never ceased, every now and then his fingers would ghost over your shoulder and you’d catch yourself smiling against the cotton of his shirt as your eyes grew tired enough that they were close to falling shut.

Just as you were working up the motivation to lift yourself up and trudge back to your own bed, George spoke, “You can sleep here if you want, with me,” there was that innocent vulnerability again. There was never an ulterior motive when it came to him, he did things purely for the sake of making others happy, if he felt he could make a difference he simply needed to. Especially when it came to you, he realised.

“You don’t mind?” You asked, daring to peek up at him.

“Course not. I could use some company anyway.” He reassured you, his lips returning to your forehead, only this time the action held far more intention. “You don’t snore do you, love?”

You snorted out a giggle, looking up at the ginger cheekily, mischief dripping from your little grin that forced George’s heart to stutter rather violently and he hoped you hadn’t noticed. “No. But I drool.”

George’s face contorted, his nose scrunching up adorably in disgust, “Do you really?”

“Suppose you’ll have to find out, won’t you?” You teased and he sighed deeply, his disgruntled expression melting into a soft, adoring smile.

“I should’ve expected this, I knew you couldn’t have been completely perfect,” he said, mockingly sorrowful.

You scoffed, pushing his chest lightly, “You’re doing a lot of sweet talking tonight, Mr. Weasley,” you told him and he shrugged innocently.

“Just wanted to see you smiling again, darling.”

“Yeah, well, you’re doing a good job,” you assured him, the bashful yet tired smile that stretched your lips as you gazed up at him proved that you meant what you’d just said. “I like it by the way, the sweet talking.”

At your words, a huge, shit eating smirk grew on the boy’s freckled face. He managed to rearrange your bodies so that you were still tucked under his arm but you were now facing each other at eye level. “I knew it,” he proclaimed cockily.

You raised a challenging eyebrow, biting back a smirk, “Oh did you?”

George nodded pridefully, “‘Course I did. You see, I’m a little bit psychic,” his words forced a booming laugh from your lips, your cheeks hurting from the smile he’d orchestrated.

You shook your head, smile never dulling as you let out a chastising whisper, “oh sod off.”

“I love your smile,” he said suddenly, his eyes widened in horror when he realised he’d uttered the words out loud. The world could’ve stopped in that moment and you wouldn’t have noticed, all you could take in was George’s face, his eyes searching yours for something.

Carefully, you slid from hand from his chest to his red, blushing face. You cupped his cheek gently, moving your thumb against his cheek bone, almost swooning where you lay when he nuzzled against your touch. Working up some Gryffindor courage, George mimicked your movement, removing his arm from around your shoulder and bringing his palm to rest against the curve of your jaw.

As you stared at each other, you weighed up the pros and cons of telling him that you were completely head over heels for him. Your decision, apparently taking far too long, was made for you when George tugged you impossibly closer to him.

“I wasn’t going to tell you… you’ve had so much going on I didn’t want to overwhelm you,” he said, brown eyes boring into your soul.

“Tell me what?”

He took a deep breath, preparing himself for every possible outcome that may spring once the words on the tip of his tongue are spoken aloud, “That I love you.”

#george weasley x reader #harry potter x reader #sirius black x reader #remus lupin x reader #marauders x reader #fred weasly x reader

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the-iceni-bitch · 3 years

Text

Sweeter Than This

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!spy!Reader

Words: Mobile again ☹️

Summary: You almost miss your first Valentine’s Day with Bucky, but you have a plan to make it up to him.

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (unprotected vaginal sex, oral sex(f receiving), salad tossing, unprotected anal sex, use of butt plug), violence (standard canon stuff), SMUT, 18+ ONLY!!!!

A/N: Happy V-Day y’all! Here’s the next entry in my Holidays With Bucky series (with so Sam sprinkled in) and it’s a fun one! Unfortunately, the power is out at my place right now due to snow and because my city sucks at preparations I’m probably not going to have power until at least Monday, so we’ll see if I’m able to deliver on my other promised Valentine’s treats for you all.

Check out my masterlist and join my taglist if you want!

Bucky hated clubs so much.

The loud music, the overcrowding, the overpriced drinks. He was absolutely miserable.

It didn’t help that Sam was bouncing around like an idiot, enjoying the atmosphere with a stupid grin on his face. Would it kill the man to act like a professional for once?

They’d followed the target to the Cross Club here in Prague after four days of surveillance with nothing to show for it, and now they were watching him talk to some new player in a VIP booth. God he hoped this would be over soon.

“What?” Buck shouted over the music. Sam had said something, but even with his super soldier hearing, he couldn’t make it out over the thumping bass.

“I said, is Y/N pissed you’re missing Valentines Day?” Sam yelled, his hips still moving in time to the music.

Bucky did some quick mental math and cursed under his breath. He hadn’t seen you in almost 3 weeks. You had to head back to the States for some stupid debrief with Sharon and the big bosses while he and Sam kept chasing leads on Zemo here in Europe. He hadn’t even realized it was Valentines Day.

“Shit, he’s moving.” Sam said, tapping Buck on the shoulder as the mark stood up and moved towards the dance floor.

“Fuck, can’t we go around?” Bucky whined, starting to follow after Sam towards the crowd.

“Y’know, when your girlfriend’s not around, you’re such an old man.” Sam teased. “We don’t wanna lose him, so pull the stick out of your ass and try to look like you’re enjoying yourself.”

Buck just rolled his eyes and trailed after him, doing his best to avoid the writhing, sweaty bodies that kept trying to grind against him. Sam was right, it was a lot easier to enjoy these types of ops when you were with him.

He didn’t know how they managed to keep eyes on the target as he moved through the crowd, but they saw him head out one of the exits and were following after him within a few minutes.

“Hey, Wilson? Where the fuck is he?” Buck hissed as he opened the door to an empty alley.

“Shit, hold on, let me pull up Redwing.”

“I still can’t believe you named that fucking thing.” Buck said exasperatedly.

Sam didn’t have a chance to reply before a motorcycle ripped past the two of them.

“Was that him?” Bucky yelled as he whipped his head after it. “Motherfucker!”

“Calm down, I got it.” Sam said, summoning his wings.

“Oh, I guess I’ll just run after him then? I told you we should’ve brought a car!”

“I could carry you.” Sam said teasingly, giving Bucky a stupid grin.

“Oh fuck you.” Buck said, flipping Sam off as he chuckled at him. “Shit!”

The two of them dove out of the way as a Lexus tore into the alley, stopping just short of hitting them.

“Hey assholes! Happy Valentine’s Day!!!” You shouted as you rolled down the window, a massive grin splitting your face.

“Baby!? What’re you doing here?!?” Bucky asked, beaming back at you.

“I had to get the fuck out of D.C. There was no way I’d miss our first Valentine’s Day! Besides, I missed the field! Now get in, I managed to tag his bike but I don’t want him to get out of range.”

“Shotgun!” Sam called with a grin on his face, making you laugh.

“What?!? Fuck you Wilson! You’re gonna make me sit in the back when this is the first time I’ve seen my girl in weeks?” Bucky said in disbelief.

“Sorry Barnes, you should’ve called it!”

“Yeah babe, you really should’ve called it.” You teased as he crawled into the back of the vehicle with a scowl.

“I can’t believe you’re taking his side.” He pouted at you as Sam climbed after him, bringing the back of his seat up to crash against Buck’s knees.

“There’s no sides, honey, it’s shotgun rules.” You said as you peeled out of the alleyway.

“Whatever, could you move your seat up Wilson?”

“Nope.” Sam said grinning over his shoulder before cursing under his breath and bracing one hand against the ceiling as you swerved around a slow moving van. “Jesus, Y/N! Maybe take it a little slower, we’re still in the city.”

You just snorted before taking a sharp turn at an inadvisable speed, barely tapping on the brakes and sending Bucky sliding across the backseat.

“Put your seatbelts on, idiots.” You scolded as the two of them tried to find something to grab onto.

“Honey, pedestrian, pedestrian, Pedestrian!!!” Buck screamed as he buckled himself in, screwing his eyes closed.

“Yeah, I see them.” You said as you took another turn at the last second, barely missing the man who was crossing the street.

“Oh my god! This is how I’m going to die.” Sam said, his knuckles white on the dashboard as you flew up a hill, the car actually suspending in midair for a beat before crashing back to the street with a jolt. “Stuck in a car with a crazy woman and her 100 year old boyfriend.”

“You’re so fucking dramatic.” You said with an eye roll, glancing at him sideways. “It’s like you’ve never been in a high speed chase before.”

“Eyes on the road!” Bucky shouted at you as an unsuspecting couple started to step off the curb directly into your path.

You hopped onto the walkway behind them to avoid the brake lights in front of you and your two passengers started letting out a steady stream of curses as you weaved between pedestrians and carts.

“Just relax you two, we’ve almost got him.” You said exasperatedly, somehow speeding up even more.

You rounded another corner and the bike popped into view, speeding out of the city at a breakneck speed.

“Shit, gun!” Sam screamed as the biker turned around, hefting an AK-47 and pointing it directly at the windshield.

He and Bucky ducked, hands covering their heads. They flinched as they heard a series of pops, then straightened up slowly when they realized the windshield was still intact.

“Yeah, it’s bulletproof.” You said with a grin as you kept the car steady with one hand, reaching under your seat to grab something. You handed a giant pistol to Sam. “There should be a rifle under the backseat, baby.”

“And what exactly do you want us to do with these?” Sam asked warily as Bucky drew out the rifle and nodded appreciatively.

“Shoot at him.” You said, following the bike around a sharp turn that had the boys bracing themselves.

“Fuck that! If you think I’m sticking half my body out of a window while you’re driving like this you’re insane!” Sam said in disbelief. “Besides the car is bulletproof.

“Yeah, well the tires aren’t, and if he hits one of those while I’m driving this fast, we’re all gonna get shredded.”

Bucky shook his head before rolling down his window and pulling his upper body out of the car, bringing the rifle up to return fire.

“You are both fucking crazy!” Sam said, rolling his own window down and shoving his shoulders out, bringing up his pistol.

The biker turned his focus to Bucky while Sam covered him, and you took the opportunity to speed up.

“What’re you doing, babe?” Bucky shouted into the car as you started to get closer to the bike.

“I’m gonna ram him.” You yelled back. “Keep covering me!”

“Umm, isn’t he supposed to lead us to Zemo? Shit!” Sam yelled, a bullet whizzing by his ear.

“I don’t think he’s leading us anywhere Sammy.”

“Well, we could still get information out of him!”

“Yeah, these guys have proven to be pretty impervious to interrogations, Wilson.” Buck said, gripping the roof of the car with his vibranium hand as you followed the bike around another curve.

“I really just need his phone!” You yelled as you closed the distance even further, now only 25 feet from the back tire of the bike. “You might want to get back inside.”

Sam yanked his upper body back into the vehicle with a curse and Buck slid back inside easily as you pressed the gas pedal to the floor. You hit the bike in a few seconds and sent it and the rider rolling over the car with a thud. As soon as it was clear you slammed on the brakes, sending the vehicle spinning out.

“Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod....” Sam was screaming as the car whipped around over and over, his eyes screwed shut and his hand braced against the roof of the vehicle while his foot braced against the dashboard.

Bucky just clenched his jaw and ripped his vibranium fingers through the back door to hold himself in place, shaking his head at Wilson.

The vehicle finally came to a stop about 200 feet away from where the bike had crashed. Sam wrenched his door open and dove out of the car, bending over and vomiting at the side of the road.

“You ok there Sammy?” You asked, rising from the driver’s seat gracefully and looking at your friend with concern as Bucky almost climbed over the front seat with a wince and joined you.

“Oh, what are you wearing?” He groaned as he finally got a good look at you. “Are you trying to kill me?”

It was a skin tight, patent leather pink dress that was pushing your tits together and up in an absolutely delicious way. The skirt barely covered your ass and he was sure there was no way you could bend over in it without flashing whoever was nearby.

“I told you, baby, it’s Valentines Day.” You sad with a grin as you stepped closer to him.

He moved to wrap his arms around you but you stepped away at the last second, moving back towards where the bike crashed with a light laugh as he let out a frustrated huff.

“What is wrong with you two?!” Sam said as he started to follow after you. “Your girlfriend almost kills me and all you want to do is jump her as soon as it’s over.”

“I mean, did you see that dress?” Bucky said teasingly as he joined your friend, walking a little faster to catch up with you.

“Got the phone!!” You said triumphantly as you straightened back up from your inspection of the dead body. “And it’s still in ok shape! I’m gonna call this in real quick and then we can head back.”

“No! I’m not going anywhere if you’re driving!” Sam said, shaking his head vehemently. “Gimme the keys.”

“C’mon Sammy!” You said with an eye roll.

“You do not get to call me Sammy right now, you psycho!” He said, snatching the keys out of your outstretched hand as you laughed at him. “And neither of you gets to sit shotgun! You sit in the back and think about what you’ve done.”

“Jesus, fine dad.” You said as you slid into the back seat, Bucky chuckling as he slid in after you and slammed the door closed.

Sam pulled the car forward a few feet, turning the wheel sharply before throwing it in reverse and spinning it in the opposite direction as he backed up.

“Uh, Sammy?” You said as he repeated the process. “Maybe just crank the wheel all the way and pull a little further forward?”

“Yeah, it’s not called a 13 point turn, Wilson.”

“Both of you shut the fuck up!! I’m not taking driving advice from you!” He shouted over his shoulder as he did the exact same thing and you lost it, laughing hysterically.

“Oh my god, there’s like 15 feet of road that you’re not using!” You said breathlessly as you cracked up Bucky grinning as he watched you fold over in laughter.

“I cannot believe the shit I have to put up with.” He muttered as he finally straightened out the vehicle and drove back towards the city, doing his best to ignore your dying laughter.

Bucky was beaming at you as you settled down, leaning back against the seat as you wiped tears from your eyes. You smiled back at him and gave him a wink.

“Did I tell you how much I love that dress?” He said as he scooted closer to you, his eyes raking over your chest before sinking lower to gaze at your thighs.

“No.” You said teasingly, biting your lip at him and leaning towards him just a little bit.

“Cuz I fucking love that dress.” He growled at you as he wrapped his hands around your waist and drew you closer, nuzzling himself into your neck.

You gave a soft sigh as he ran his teeth over your throat, flinging one leg over his lap as he moved his vibranium hand from your waist to cup your ass. He moved his mouth up to the hinge of your jaw as he pressed you into him.

“Shit, Bucky.” You moaned as he pulled you onto his lap, his hands running over your thighs to tuck under your skirt as he sucked a bruise against your neck. “I swear to god, if you ruin this dress...”

“Oh, what the fuck guys?!” Sam said as he peeked at you through the rear view mirror. “I’m two feet away from you! It’s like you’re a couple of teenagers.”

“Sorry Sammy!” You whined before letting out a gasp as Bucky nuzzled himself between your tits at the same time he bucked his hips up into you, grinding his hardening cock against you.

“Oh, I do not get paid enough for this shit.” Sam groaned as he pulled the car into the parking lot of the hotel and jolted it to a halt. “I cannot believe I have to put up with you horny idiots.”

“Bye Sam!” You called after him as he slammed the door closed, waving a dismissive hand at you as he started to head back to his room. “Mmm, Bucky!”

He drew the straps of your dress down over your arms and wrapped his lips around one of your nipples as you arched your back into his face.

“Jesus Christ, I fucking missed you.” He groaned before moving his mouth up to yours, sucking your bottom lip between his teeth as he laid you down across the backseat.

“Yeah? What’d you miss baby?” You murmured against his lips, wrapping your legs around him and ripping his shirt over his head.

“Missed the way you smell.” He murmured against your neck as he nuzzled into your hair. “Missed these fucking perfect tits and how well they fit in my hands.” He whispered into your ear as he brought his hands up to palm your breasts, making you whine.

“Fuck, baby. You’re making me so wet.” You said breathlessly as a fresh rush of arousal leaked out of you, your fingers moving to work at undoing his fly.

“Good.” He growled against your collarbone as his he dipped one hand under your ass and pressed you into his hard on. “Cuz I missed that pussy the fucking most.”

“Shit.” You hissed as his vibranium hand ripped off your panties in one quick motion before his hands moved to shove your dress up around your waist. “Don’t you dare fucking rip this dress, Barnes!”

“I’m being careful.” He said with a chuckle before lining himself up. He teased his tip against your entrance before slowly sinking into you, grinning as he watched your eyes roll back in your skull as your lids fluttered, a moan escaping from your lips.

He drew himself out halfway, really taking his time as he felt himself drag against every inch of the warm channel between your legs, then slammed his hips forward with enough force that you had to brace your hand against the door to keep your head from cracking against it. You had to bite your lip to keep from screaming as you came immediately, your back arching up off the seat as your pussy spasmed and fluttered around his cock.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you miss me too?” Bucky said with a grin as he kept fucking into you, watching your chest heave as you started to come down from your first orgasm. He hooked one hand under your knee and drew it up to your waist, spreading you apart even further.

“Shit, yes!” You moaned as his dick thrust even deeper into you, hitting a new spot that had you seeing stars. “Missed this cock so fucking much.”

“Yeah? You miss feeling me in this tight little pussy?” He said as he felt you clench around him, your hips meeting his thrusts desperately.

“Fuck, Bucky! My pussy needs you so bad. Need your big cock inside me all the time.” You let out a gasp as he brought his vibranium hand between the two of you to strum at your clit. You wrapped your hand around his wrist to keep him in place as you tossed your head back. “Need to feel you stretch me and split me open, baby.”

“Jesus, keep talking.” He murmured as he collapsed on top of you, burying his face in your neck as he started moving his hips even faster. “Love hearing you use that filthy mouth of yours.”

“Yeah, babe? You wanna hear me talk about how much this pussy needs your big cock?” Your grinned when he let out a groan against your neck. “My pussy would get so fucking wet every time I thought about that dick. Nobody fucks me like you do. Oh god, right there!”

“Damn, honey. You’re squeezing me so good. You gonna cum again?”

You just nodded before a sob ripped through your chest, your knuckles turning white as your grip on his vibranium wrist tightening and a wave a pleasure crashed over you. Your legs squeezed his hips as you thumped your fist against the door, your torso rolling underneath Bucky as your cunt clamped down on him, making him twitch.

You felt his hips stuttering as you writhed underneath him, and with just a few thrusts he was filling you up, panting against your neck as he sank on top of you, pressing his full weight into you as he came down.

“Oh my god, happy fucking Valentine’s Day.” He moaned into your hair.

“Shit, I still need to give you your present, baby!!” You said with a grin as you ran your hands over his shoulders.

“I don’t need a present, sweetheart.” He said lazily before peppering soft kisses over your throat.

“Oh, I really think you’re gonna want to open this one.” You sighed, wriggling a little underneath him.

You grabbed his flesh hand and drew it between your legs slowly, dragging it over your sex until his fingers brushed against the jewel that was nestled between your ass cheeks. He sat up with a jolt when he realized what you were suggesting, making you laugh excitedly as he gave you a massive grin.

“Oh my god, Y/N, I’ve been waiting for this.” He said as he flipped you over, smacking your ass as you giggled at him. He spread your cheeks apart and groaned when he got a look at the pink jewel of the plug you had inserted earlier in the day.

He gripped the plug and drew it out of you slowly, biting his lower lip as he watched you pussy clench at the sensation. His breath came out in a hiss once it was free, your pretty hole gaping and fluttering at the loss as you moaned underneath him, pressing your ass back into his palms.

“Fuck, I’m gonna make you feel so good.”

He didn’t give you a chance to respond before he was yanking your hips back and up, tossing your thighs over his shoulders. You let out a shriek when he ran his tongue over your cunt in a heavy stripe before dragging the flat of the thick muscle over your asshole.

“Fuck, oh my god!” You screamed, trying to find something to brace yourself against as he ran the tip of his tongue around your rim, teasing you and making both of your holes throb with need.

He kept teasing you with his tongue for what felt like hours, alternating between heavy drags that ran over your entire sex and tiny kitten licks that were turning you into a begging, whimpering mess, a steady stream of slick leaking out of your swollen pussy.

“Gotta make sure you’re good and ready for me, gorgeous.” He murmured, giving you a momentary reprieve before he shoved his tongue inside your puckered hole.

The sound you made was otherworldly, halfway between a moan and a cry. He almost came just from the pure wantonness of it, and he felt his cock twitching against your chest as he started to tongue-fuck you. You pressed your cheek to the leather of the seat as he took you apart, mewling like an idiot as he stretched you open, his thick muscle probing you as deep as he could.

“Bucky...” you mumbled before another orgasm shook you, your cunt fluttering around nothing as a wave of bliss traveled up your spine from deep in your core and making you whine as drool leaked from the corner of your mouth.

He pulled his face away from you suddenly and unwrapped his arms from around your thighs. Your muscles were jelly as he lowered your hips, your eyelids drooping as you moaned at the loss of him. Once he finally had you laid back down, he took a second to gaze at you.

He loved how fucked out you got. Your limbs were splayed out at random angles as your back rose and fell with deep breaths, the curves of your breasts just peeking out from where they were pressed against the seat. He brushed your hair away from your face to see you grinning up at him, your cheeks streaked with tears and mascara and your lipstick smeared all over your mouth and chin as you looked at him with lust blown pupils.

“We’re still not done.” He said softly before wrapping his hand around your throat and yanking you up until your back was flush against his chest, making you gasp. He brought his other hand between you to wrap around his cock and dragged it through the slick that had soaked your ruined pussy before teasing his tip against the rim of your tightest hole. “I think you’re ready for me.”

He didn’t wait for you to answer before shoving his hips forward and spearing into you. Your body tried to jolt forward at the intrusion but his palm on your throat kept you in place, holding you still as he bottomed out.

“Jesus Christ, you feel amazing.” He muttered into your hair, his fingers vibrating over your throat as you let out a whine.

He pressed down against your jugular as he started to move his hips, dragging in and out of you at a deliciously slow pace that had you keening. You were losing yourself in the new sensation of having him fill your tightest channel, his thick cock stretching you more than you’d ever been before. Your head dropped back on his shoulder as he started to move faster, the slick leaking from your pussy making it easier for him to slide in and out of you.

“Fuck, I love your body. You treat me so good baby.” He murmured against the shell of your ear. “Wanna fill all your your pretty holes and pump you full of my cum. Wish I could be inside you all the time, pretty girl.”

Your pussy was fluttering around nothing as his soft praises filled your ears, and when he dropped his hand to the apex of your thighs you almost came immediately with a cry.

“You didn’t think I forgot about this pretty pussy, did you baby?” He whispered as his metal fingers spread you apart, teasing over your entrance as his flesh hand increased the pressure on your airway and his hips picked up the pace. “You want me to fuck you with my fingers while my cock’s in your ass, honey?”

“Fuck, Bucky, I want you to spank it.” You moaned as he continued to tease you, your brain starting to shut down as the mixture of sensations overwhelmed you.

He let out a feral growl against the curve of your neck before wrapping his lips around your earlobe. “Shit, you gonna cum if I spank it?” He hissed in your ear as he kept his fingers running over your sex.

“Yeah, I’m gonna fucking cum! Need you to spank my pussy, Bucky, please.”

His teeth nipped at the hollow behind your ear at the same time he smacked your cunt and you let out a shriek as your body vibrated against him. Your thighs quivered with strain as your pussy spasmed uncontrollably, your asshole strangling Bucky’s cock as you shook in your bliss, his hand around your neck the only thing keeping you upright.

“Fuuuuck.” He hissed against your neck as his hips chased his own release. “I wanna fuck all your holes while I cum, sweetheart, get ready.”

You only had a second before he was shoving three fingers into your pussy at the same time he put two fingers in your mouth, choking you as he shoved them down your throat before you were able to relax. He groaned when you started sucking on him, swirling your tongue around his digits while his vibranium fingers curled inside of you against that sweet spot that made your eyes roll back in your skull.

He felt you clench around him everywhere and let out a groan into your hair, his cock twitching inside you as you both neared your ends.

He ground his palm against your clit and you were finished, sobbing around his fingers as you squirted your release all over his hands, his thighs, and the seat in what was the biggest orgasm of your life. Your body tried to lift itself off the seat as you came, your vision whiting out as your muscles stopped working and Bucky let you collapse forward as he finished.

Another few thrusts of his stuttering hips and he let out a wordless roar as he came inside you, filling you completely with his spend until it was leaking out around his cock. He collapsed on top of you as his body rolled on a wave of pleasure, his breath hitching in his chest.

The two of you laid there tangled with each other for what felt like hours. You were so utterly spent that the passage of time no longer held any meaning, and you completely forgot where you were.

“Holy fuck.” Bucky muttered after a while, still unable to move anything except his face, which he nuzzled into your hair.

“Yeah.” You muttered into the seat cushions, your brain finally resetting.

“I mean, holy fuck.” He couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“Yeah.” You said again, wiggling your toes look experimentally as your body started to come back down.

“I’ve never cum that hard before in my life.” He muttered as he drew his hands over your arms until they were pressing into your shoulders, moving your hair aside so he could pepper kisses all over your neck.

“Me either.” You whispered, turning your head over your shoulder so you could press your lips to his softly.

He pulled away once he was able, giving you a sloppy grin as he managed to sit up, pulling out of you gingerly and groaning at the sight of his cum leaking out of you. You twisted until you were able to sit up yourself, leaning back against the car door as you beamed back at him.

“Best fucking Valentine’s Day ever.” He muttered, drawing you onto his lap to kiss you deeply, and wondering if it would be too tacky to tell you he loved you after the first time you let him fuck your ass.

Tags!!!!!

@buckysnumberonegirl @slothspaghettiwrites @captain-asguard @starlightcrystalline @harrysthiccthighss @quxxnxfhxll @bonkywobble @chrisevanscardigan @chubbybuckydumpling @StanAllStarks @blackestpinkworld @fistmebuckyskywalker @wandering-spiritash @khadineberry @muzzyandbusy @slytheriin2002 @isysen @WanderingAlice00 @kaleeelizabeth58 @tlcwrites @angrybirdcr @unsaltedalmonds @amerikakapitanyy @lizette50 @daughterofthenight117 @obsessivereaderchick @drabblewithfrannybarnes @stargazingfangirl18 @jack-skellingtons-stuff @chrissquares @msmarvelwrites

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julemmaes · 3 years

Note

ahem... cassian taking nesta to that bookstore (fluff, don’t try making shit sad aight?)

Our First Non-Date

SURPRISE I GUESS!!

Nessian Archeron x Cassian

You can find the first part here.

A/N: this month has been really nice on me. I finally feel better, not crying every day for literally nothing and I wanna dedicate this to my fren Sim (@perseusannabeth) cause homegirl just finished the offcampus series and she's grieving. I know she is. So yep. Take some Nessian fluff

And Nina, I had to add some angsty parts, but they're not Irene Angst Level, okay?

Word count: 6,833

When Cassian had called her back the night after their outing with Amren and Varian, she'd stared at the phone for a full minute until it had stopped ringing and she could go back to reading the article on poisonous plants that Elain had sent her.

It hadn't even been five minutes before the words had been obscured from the call screen again and the name "Cassian Navarro" appeared.

When she had ignored the call for the second time as well, he had decided to change tactics.

Hi Nes, I was thinking about when you'd be free to go to the library. I need a couple of manuals because I'm building a little gazebo in Rhys and Feyre's garden and your sister is putting a lot of pressure on me, so I was wondering if you had the day off tomorrow.

Nesta was stunned at the amount of useless information he had given her, but managed to reply with a simple, Working tomorrow, day off on Wednesday. Sending you the address later.

She certainly hadn't anticipated how hard it would be to get up that day, her will to live must have been hiding somewhere under her bed and Nesta didn't know if it was directly related to their going out or just her stupid brain not being able to connect to real life.

The only other worst thing she'd been able to think of at that moment was having to explain to Cassian what was going on, so, pulled out of bed by the future embarrassment they'd feel in such a situation, she'd managed to dress, wash and style her hair so that she had a braid crowning her head.

She hadn't put too much effort into deciding what to wear, after all, it wasn't a date and Cassian had seen her many times before in far more outrageous and scruffy clothes than the comfortable black jeans and grey jumper she was wearing right now.

The silence had made her uncomfortable at first, only because Cassian seemed to be really stressed - about what, she certainly wouldn't ask - but after about ten minutes, he'd turned on the radio and popped a CD into the player and the melody of a Verve song had filled the cabin.

She'd started humming under her breath and he'd looked at her with a faint smile on his lips and his eyes sparkling. She hadn't mulled over that look too much, but she'd started eyeing him more closely and noticed the way he narrowed his eyes at every street sign and how he ran a hand over his face every time a strand of hair landed in front of his eyes.

When Cassian had to blow the hair out of his face for the millionth time, Nesta pulled a rubber band off her wrist and handed it to him abruptly.

Cassian looked surprised, but took it almost immediately, brushing her fingers. Nesta immediately withdrew her hand, feeling how warm and calloused his were.

"Thanks, my hair is killing me today," he finally spoke.

Nesta continued to look ahead, noticing that they were about to enter the highway. "Well, it wasn't very wise of you not to tie it up before you got in the car. I never drive with my hair down."

He nodded slowly, still with the band clutched between his fingers. And then, suddenly he let go of the steering wheel, "Hold that for me for a second." and Nesta's eyes went wide, launching herself at him to grab it and keep the car in their lane.

"Are you nuts?" she almost shrieked, keeping her gaze fixed on the road and feeling every nerve ending vibrate with anger.

"Relax." he said in a calm tone, shifting her hands and gently pushing her back into her seat one more time. "It wasn't even five seconds."

Nesta huffed out a laugh that lacked amusement, "You do something like that again without warning me first and I'm getting out of the car."

Cassian looked at her with a raised eyebrow, "A bit dramatic, but alright."

She sighed, shaking her head slightly and resting it on her hand propped against the window.

That awkward silence fell again and Nesta couldn't figure out what the problem was. She hadn't felt any kind of unease three days before, but after all, they'd been with friends and busy walking, not stuck in a car for two hours with no chance of walking away or splitting up.

And in that moment, the reality of their situation overwhelmed her.

She forced herself to steady her breathing, opening the window slightly so that more air could get in. She forced herself to think about all the things she would see today at the library and how beautiful and spectacular it had looked from mere pictures. She wasn't going to let her twisted mind stop her from having fun with someone who was desperately trying to be her friend.

She took a deep breath and a surprising calm enveloped her. She looked to her left to see if Cassian had noticed that temporal change in her behaviour, but it seemed to her that he was just as fidgety.

She was about to ask him if he was okay, because the knee that kept bouncing and the fingers opening and closing on the steering wheel were obvious nervous tics, when he did the eye thing again, this time leaning forward over the dashboard as well, and the sharp turn he took to the right caused her to shift in her seat so much that she bumped her shoulder against his.

Cassian grimaced, "I'm sorry," he murmured.

"What's wrong?" she asked, readjusting in her seat.

"Sorry?"

"What's the matter? With your eyes, I mean."

"Oh." he seemed surprised by the question, almost as if he hadn't realised she'd been observing him for the last twenty minutes. He cast her a curious glance immediately returning to the road. "I wear glasses when I drive, but I couldn't find them this morning and these contacts are the wrong shade and I can't see very well."

Nesta nodded thoughtfully, "Where do you normally keep them?"

"In the glove box. But I already checked," he replied, rolling his shoulders. Another nervous tic.

Nesta had to suppress a smile. There was no way he could be so worked up just because they were talking. She looked down at the phone in her hand to check the time, and a flash of light momentarily dazzled her. She blinked a couple of times and then scoffed, "Found them."

She reached a hand towards the hatch compartment and pulled out a pair of very plain black glasses, handing them to him. Cassian seemed to finally relax since she'd gotten into the car.

"Thank fuck." then he pulled into a lay-by and without turning off the car, slipped two fingers in his eye, removing one contact and then the other, leaving Nesta stunned. He put the glasses on his nose and flashed her a smile that went from ear to ear. And Nesta was stunned for other reasons.

She couldn't deny that Cassian was an attractive man. She wasn't stupid or blind, but the man next to her should have come with a warning sign or a bell.

Attention, hot stuff coming your way.

Nesta forgot the comment she had wanted to make about how antigenic and risky it had been to remove his contacts without first cleaning his hands and in such a dirty environment.

His hair tied back in a messy bun, with the hint of a beard he was letting grow, and now his glasses on, Cassian looked like a model on the cover of a newspaper about sexy carpenters. The short-sleeved black shirt he wore that pulled on his huge biceps every time he moved in the slightest was just one more point to add to the list of things that made him appealing.

"So," he began, getting back on the road, "what's your favourite colour?"

Nesta snorted, "Are you serious?"

Cassian seemed to blanch, "What?"

"Have you ever been out with a girl?" she asked him sarcastically, knowing full well what the answer would be.

He clenched his jaw so hard that a muscle popped out on his face, "Only on dates."

"And this isn't a date." pointed out Nesta, holding back a laugh at how tortured he sounded.

"It's not."

Nesta touched the tip of her nose, thoughtful, "Shouldn't this be easier for you then?"

Cassian released a breath through his nose, "I'm under a lot of pressure right now."

"Yeah?" she asked, looking away and smiling.

"Yeah, and stop looking like you're enjoying it." he retorted.

She feigned innocence, "Enjoying what?"

"My pain." he sheeted.

Nesta laughed, unable to contain herself any longer and when he glared at her, she covered her mouth with one hand, laughing harder. Only when he snapped his fingers against the steering wheel did she stop, laying a hand on his arm, just for a few seconds, "I'm so sorry." she wheezed, "I just don't understand. When you're hanging out with my sisters or Amren, or Mor, I don't know, you don't seem to be in this much discomfort."

Cassian sighed again and Nesta chuckled one last time, stopping when he smiled slightly. "I'm just trying not to make you uncomfortable. You accepted I take you on this non-date, and I'm doing my best not to flirt badly with you every chance I get." he confessed, nodding slowly, as if to convince himself that he was doing the right thing and not wasting their time.

Nesta was genuinely surprised at his answer and decided to offer him an olive branch.

"My favourite colour is blue."

"Nice." he smiled, showing a hint of a dimple, "Mine is red."

"It's too bright of a colour," she said lightheartedly.

Cassian chuckled, "I'm pretty sure it reflects my peppy personality."

Nesta nodded, "I read an article once about how a person's favourite colour says a lot about the person themselves," she said annoyed, "It sounded like one of those quizzes you find in gossip magazines, like it was written by a third grader. I hate those things, like horoscopes."

He grunted, "God, Mor's obsessed with horoscopes..."

The conversation continued without any more awkward silences for the remainder of the ride, and when Cassian turned onto a bumpy road, Nesta knew they were close. Of course, even if she hadn't looked at the directions from her house to the place, the myriad cars parked along the road would have been an indication.

They parked in the first vacant spot they could find and as soon as Nesta was out of the car, an icy gust of wind hit her face, making her shiver with cold. She looked over the bonnet at Cassian and found him staring at her with a half smile on his face. He'd left his glasses in the car and had let his hair down again, her hair band on his wrist, and he looked even prettier than before.

"Do you want my jacket?" he asked her, with a conflicted look on his face, as if he didn't want to. Nesta narrowed her brows and he hurried to add, "There's no hidden agenda to my offer, just a friend lending a jacket to another friend."

Nesta watched him for a moment, trying to really understand his intentions, but then remembered reading in one of the reviews that the library was heated inside and shook her head.

Cassian gave a small nod of assent and then pointed down the street, "Shall we?"

From where they had parked to the library it would have been about a ten minute walk and Nesta couldn't help but notice the way Cassian kept his distance between them as if he was afraid she would get scared and run away.

He was back to fidgeting nervously with his fingers and when he realised she was looking at him, he put them in his pockets, smiling tensely at her. He took a deep breath and then said, "So, what do you know about this library?"

Nesta looked ahead, hoping to catch a glimpse of the building, but the foliage of the trees was still too thick and they were still too far away for it to see anything. She brought her hands to her stomach, crossing her fingers, "I actually did a bit of research before I came. Did you know that the Peace Treaty between Prythian and Hybern of 1864 was signed here?" she asked in an excited voice.

Cassian smiled at her so naturally that she felt herself blush. He had an expression she couldn't decipher, but Nesta had never been good at cracking people in general, so she didn't venture to continue until he said, "Tell me more."

And Nesta launched into a detailed description of the events that had taken place inside the building, which only a hundred years before had become a bookstore. Only one wing of the building had been furnished in such a way as to become a real shop, the rest had been set up to be visited as a museum, one of the oldest libraries. She talked about the architecture and how it was obvious that the palace had been built long before it became an important meeting place for scholars and researchers.

"And in 1932 a fire destroyed the science wing, burning more than a hundred textbooks." Nesta sighed, thinking how devastating that loss had been. She lit up with happiness when she remembered what happened next. "But luckily, one of the most important literary clubs in the city got together and they managed to recover a small portion of the books. It took them years to rewrite every manual, but they got help from one of the local researchers, a certain Mr. Hawthorn, I can't remember the name or details of the research, only that he's mentioned often in the article I read."

When she paused to catch her breath, Nesta realised with immense horror what had just happened. Cassian had not spoken a word after asking her if she knew anything about the place and she had monopolised the conversation without even acknowledging him once. She felt herself flare up and knew in that moment that any hope they had of becoming real friends was gone.

Sometimes she would get lost in thought and ramble on about the things she was passionate about. Quite often people had stopped her, letting her know they weren't interested in the subject, but Cassian had never interrupted her and she was afraid to look at him, convinced she would only find boredom and disgust on his face.

That was why, when he spoke, she was struck dumb.

"I'm impressed." he breathed, chuckling immediately afterwards.

Nesta pushed herself to look at him and he stood admiring her with his mouth slightly open, as if he couldn't find the words. She felt her heart clench in her chest so tightly that she didn't know if she could survive the pain. Who knows how many times he'd tried to stop her and she'd gone on and on about windows and arches and treaties of peace.

But when she got a better look at him, stopping in front of him, Cassian looked... happy.

He let out a laugh, running a hand through his hair, and Nesta was distracted for a moment by the sway of his arms before she was brought violently back down to earth when he said, "You surprise me more and more every time, Nesta."

And the way he said her name - Ne-sta - made her toes curl.

"Why?" she managed to throw out in a weak voice.

Cassian laughed again, raising his eyebrows so high they ended under the hair on his forehead, locking his eyes to hers. "I have a degree in history and my final thesis happened to be on this very library." Nesta felt the ground open up beneath her feet and hoped it swallowed her alive. "I came out of university with top marks and various accolades for finishing my studies on time and you, dreadful creature that you are, have just taught me at least three new things about this place."

His gaze was so intense that Nesta had to lower her head to hide the satisfied and surprised smirk that popped up on her lips.

"You're amazing." huffed Cassian, "Perfect in every way."

She shrugged.

"Although," he clicked his tongue against his palate, "You made a mistake."

Nesta looked up at him, frowning, "Oh, yeah?"

Cassian nodded, smirking fiercely, "Why don't you turn around and admire the palace, and once we're inside, I'll explain what it is?"

She must have been so lost in her chatter that she hadn't noticed that they had arrived in the large entrance forecourt, because when she turned, her back to Cassian, the building stood among the forest trees, as imposing and splendid as ever. The photos had not done it justice in the slightest and Nesta was left speechless.

Living in a country with a history going back millennia, it wasn't hard to stumble upon historic streets with old buildings and monuments, but this was completely different.

She was still admiring the way the stone around the windows had been carved to look like trees trying to get into the building when she felt something settle on the small of her back. A hand.

Nesta stiffened slightly, before closing her eyes and relaxing.

Cassian must have noticed her discomfort because a moment later his hand was no longer touching her.

They entered the museum part of the building in silence and Nesta paid the entrance fees, reminding him of the tea he'd offered her last Sunday and Cassian hadn't been able to argue with that.

They had just passed the doors to the first room, the smallest in the entire palace, when he leaned towards her, to the point of touching her ear with his lips.

The fact that he was whispering as if they had been in a sacred place did things to her little icy heart, "Mr. Hawthorn was not a man."

Shocked by that information, Nesta's head snapped in his direction and she realised too late that she had miscalculated the space.

Her lips brushed against his cheek, the corner of his lips, before Cassian reacted so quickly he startled her, but avoiding them both an involuntary first kiss. His sudden movement caused him to lose his balance and he reached out his hands towards her, straightening as he held on to her shoulders.

Both of them were holding their breath.

Cassian cleared his throat, shifting his gaze to the wall of books, but returning to look at her soon after, "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry, you just surprised me," she said when she had recovered. "I must have read the article wrong."

He was still watching her and shook his head, "Oh no, I don't think it's that. They only found out a few months ago that it was Georgina and not George Hawthorn. They found letters in the house of what was thought to be Hawthorn's wife. Some people think they were just friends, but anyone who has read the letters they exchanged knows full well that they were lovers. Anyone who says otherwise is either homophobic or stupid."

Nesta realised that she could have listened to this for hours on end. And so it was.

The visit continued relatively quietly, Cassian explaining every detail to her, expanding on things she already knew and when he forgot something, she would step in and have her say, commenting on every little aspect.

She'd noticed how Cassian hadn't tried to touch her anymore and how whenever someone was about to bump into her, he'd vocally warn her instead of wrapping an arm around her shoulders to move her out of their way like he had on Sunday.

The visit to the museum lasted less than expected unfortunately, because Nesta hadn't had this much fun in too long. It was becoming easier to smile at him or tease him when he said dumb things and even he seemed to finally be more at ease when he had to make jokes that smacked of him.

When they finally got to the shop, Nesta couldn't stand on her feet anymore, she just wanted to buy all the books she saw and go home and arrange them on her shelves.

"Which section do you want to see first?" she asked him, even though she had started hopping impatiently about the place.

Cassian gave her a smug look, "Why don't you go wherever you want and I'll look for the manuals for the gazebo in the meantime? That way you don't waste time keeping up with me. I'll be right there."

Nesta let out an excited squeal and ran off, hearing only the echo of laughter that shook Cassian from head to toe.

***

As Cassian flipped through the various books to find a picture of a gazebo that looked similar to the one Feyre had requested, he kept casting glances at Nesta.

Her eyes sparkled as she grabbed book after book without even reading the synopses. She was in the romance novels section, from what he could see from where he stood, but soon ended up in the classics, where she grabbed just as many books. She moved to the mystery books section, this time stopping to read the plots and putting most of them back on the shelves.

Then, surprising Cassian, she walked over to where the historical novels were and turned to face him. He bent his head to the side, raising an eyebrow to ask her what she was doing there. Nesta seemed at a loss, trying to move all the books from one arm to the other to point him to join her, but Cassian was already halfway there and when she looked back up at him and found him standing in front of her, she gave him a bright smile.

"Hello." she exclaimed.

Cassian's breath caught for a second before he too sighed a greeting.

"I was thinking," Nesta began, running her eyes over the titles in front of them, "that you could recommend something about..." she wiggled her fingers as much as she could, trying to point to the shelf, and Cassian leaned forward, cursing himself for not thinking of it sooner.

"Here," he removed the first stack of books from her arms and she sagged a little, giving him a thankful look. "I can go get a bag so you can put them all in there and you don't have to carry them like this," he said taking all the books and having her help him arrange them so they wouldn't fall out.

He smiled at her over all the books, looking down at her and she smiled back just as happily.

Hell, if she looked at him like that every time he took her to a bookstore he should do it more often.

He had just turned to go towards the entrance, where he had seen special bags for carrying books, but Nesta stopped him by putting a hand on his arm.

"Wait!" she exclaimed almost impishly.

Cassian turned his head, genuinely worried that something had happened to her in the mere seconds he had been shot. He must have moved too fast, because one of the smaller classics flew off the top of the stack and landed right in her face.

Nesta groaned at the impact and brought her hands to her face, rubbing her forehead where it hurt.

"Oh my God, are you okay?!" he asked with wide eyes. And then Nesta laughed, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she stared at him and he visibly relaxed. "Christ, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to throw a book at you."

She waved a hand in mid-air, to let him know it was nothing, and bent down to pick up what he realised was A Vindication of the Rights of Woman. Of course Nesta was reading feminist classics.

She turned back to the books as if nothing had happened and Cassian had the urge to look for a list of all the bookstores in the world to take her to if it meant having her in such a good mood by his side, it didn't matter if she would never agree to go on a real date with him, he realised. As long as he could see her smile like that, he didn't need anything else.

"So, I was saying, before you battered me with a book-" she cast an amused glance over one shoulder at him.

He frowned, muttering, "I said sorry."

Nesta ignored him, "What do you recommend?"

Cassian blinked.

"You said you read historical novels right?" she asked, looking for confirmation, "You could recommend your favourites. But not the English or Russian classics. Or French ones. Chances are I've already read those."

Cassian was stunned. Nesta wanted advice on books. From him.

They were silent for too long as she turned around impatiently, "You lied?"

He looked surprised, "When?"

"When you said you were reading. Were you just doing it to impress me or were you serious?" she asked and maybe Cassian imagined it, but she looked disappointed.

He was quick to reply, "The Black Coat, by Neamat Imam. It's pretty recent, but set in the 1970s in Bangladesh. It's about a man who needs help and seeks it from a journalist he asks for work and one of the main themes is the famine that hit the country after it became independent. It's not my absolute favourite, but it certainly gives you something to think about."

Nesta nodded, searching through the titles and finding it almost immediately, "Anything else?"

Cassian felt his neck heat up and coughed a little before resuming speaking. "The Long Ships by Frans G. Bengtsson. Set in the tenth century, it's about a Viking who is called Red because of his hair and focuses on the European political outlook in the late Viking Age. Again, it's not as good as the historical classics, but it's nice and shows a way of life that we're definitely not used to. It's different."

After looking for a few minutes, Nesta gave up reading and turned to him, crossing her arms. She tilted her head to the side, watching him closely, "What's your favourite book?"

Cassian shrugged, settling the books against his chest, "I think at the moment it's The King Must Die by Mary Renault. But I change my mind every month when I find something more interesting or captivating."

She nodded thoughtfully, "I'll take that one then."

And Cassian wished he could change the title immediately because... what if she didn't like it? Or if she thought it was a stupid book? What would she think of him then?

But Nesta had already found a copy a few shelves down and there was no turning back.

He could counterattack, though, "What about yours? You're not going to give me any advice on feminist classics or blatantly trashy romance novels?"

Nesta opened her mouth wide, looking outraged as she placed the latest addition on the pile, settling the book under her chin, "How can you say they're trashy if you don't even know what they're about?"

Cassian chuckled, "On the cover of You Came," he said as he gave her a sly look, "there's something called a 'spicymeter'. How am I supposed to take you seriously?"

Nesta blushed, "I read erotic novels, so what? I have to keep myself busy in my spare time somehow."

And then he challenged her, "Get me the hottest book you've ever read," he said in a joking tone, "I'll go get the bag in the meantime."

She had already left for the section when he had an idea that would surely doom him depending on how Nesta would react.

He walked up to the cashier's desk, making sure she didn't notice, and begging the clerk behind the counter to be quick, paid for all her books, gently placing them back in the bags.

When he reached her again, she seemed not to have noticed anything.

"'So, what did you get me? Ride Me? Fucked You Good? Last Night I Gave You A Thousand Orgasms?" he teased her with an annoyed grin on his lips.

Nesta gave him a fiery glance before noticing the bags, quite different from those you put the things you wanna buy in, and closed her mouth tightly. She frowned and looked at them for so long before speaking that Cassian began to feel self-conscious.

"You paid for my books?" she whispered, looking at him.

He nodded.

"It's not a date, Cassian," she reminded him for the umpteenth time.

"I know, but-"

"So why would you pay for things that are mine?"

He couldn't read her. She wasn't hinting at anything.

She didn't look angry but she didn't look impressed or grateful either.

Cassian placed the bags on the ground between them and Nesta followed his every movement with her eyes.

He ran a hand through his hair, sighing, "My adoptive family is filthy rich. I have a trust fund that I never get to spend on things I really want to do, the only way I get to use it is by giving gifts to my friends, so just accept these as my first gift - friend to friend - and call it a day."

Nesta continued to be impassive as she kept her eyes fixed on the books.

Perhaps he had gone too far. After all, she had taken more than a hundred and fifty euros worth of stuff, but he really didn't mind.

He was about to apologise, tell her she could give the money back if it made her feel better. Cassian would find a way to spend it back on her at other times anyway.

Then she raised her head, handing him two books with hilarious covers to say the least, "These two have storylines full of plot twists. You won't be able to put them down, but don't expect big epic battles or Viking warriors. It's just two college kids trying to survive in the modern world while finding solace in each other."

He didn't even have time to thank her that she was already across the room and waiting in line so she could pay them.

He scoffed, shaking his head.

"I guess you'll be paying for these two," he said as he caught up with her.

Nesta didn't even look at him, pulling out her wallet, "A gift from a friend to a friend."

As they walked back to the car, Cassian offered to carry the bags, but she didn't want to hear one more word so they had managed to compromise and had split the load equally.

They'd been on the road for about thirty minutes now and Nesta had gone through every book he'd bought her, talking about all the previous works by the authors she was holding in her hand at the moment.

Cassian could have died like that. Happy, relaxed, listening to the plots of those dirty books with no moral lessons to teach the reader, just pure entertainment.

He wondered at that moment if he would make it through the first few chapters of the books she had offered him and let out a heavy breath through his nose as he turned right towards the coast.

Nesta looked at him wide-eyed, stopping her rant about the headmaster's son getting the occasional model student to fall in love with him. She brought a hand to her mouth, "Oh dear, sorry, I'm boring you. I'm sorry."

He gave her a confused look ready to tell her she didn't have to apologise, but she continued.

"Sometimes I do and I don't even realize it. And I realize they're not challenging plots where you have to apply some hidden lobe of the brain to understand them, but they distract me from everyday problems, you know? It's fun to be able to unplug a few hours after I get home from work and-"

"Jesus, Nesta, stop!" he laughed, placing a hand on her thigh. She sighed. "You don't have to apologise. Not when you're so excited about something." he looked at her slyly, offering her a reassuring smile, "In fact, I'm glad you're talking so much today. Normally I have to pull the words out of your mouth."

She blushed slightly and then grew sullen soon after, sitting up straighter, "This isn't the way to Velaris, where are we going?"

Cassian didn't answer.

"You're taking me into the woods aren't you?"

"We literally just came out of a forest."

She ignored him.

"I knew it. You're a serial killer."

"Nes-"

"You're a little dense though. Why would you spend so much on someone if you're going to murder them?"

He decided to ignore her, chuckling, "I'm taking you to the beach."

"Why?" she asked, somewhat unconvinced.

Cassian shrugged, "I wanted to see the sunset."

"You didn't ask."

He sighed, gripping the steering wheel, "Okay," he whispered, then louder, "You want to go to the beach and watch the sunset?"

She nodded in assent and then continued to read the plots aloud.

And Cassian could have sworn he was in heaven.

***

Nesta gathered more sand, making a small ball out of it and placing it on the top of one of the towers she had made so far.

"Where did you learn to make such good sandcastles?" asked Cassian suddenly from behind her, startling her.

She jumped in the air, turning to face him and noticing the satisfied smile on his face for having taken her by surprise.

Nesta didn't answer him immediately, but allowed herself to admire him a bit.

Since they had arrived at the beach, they had taken off their shoes and were now both barefoot and then Cassian had bent down and started to roll his trousers around his ankles, offering to do it to her jeans as well, but Nesta had refused. She had sat down, looking at the sea for a while, while he walked along the shore and collected stones and shells.

When he had come back to her and shown them to her, asking her to make a sandcastle, she had laughed at first, but faced with his serious expression, she had been unable to do anything but get up and roll up her sleeves, moving to where the sand was a little more workable.

She looked away from that heavenly vision and made another ball, placing it next to the one she had just made. "When I was little my mum never let me do these, she said I'd get too much sun and forced me and Elain to stay under the umbrella all day," she replied truthfully, remembering the cruel bite of jealousy watching the children on the shore.

"And Feyre?"

Cassian had joined her, kneeling beside her and had begun to place the shells so that they served as windows to the towers.

Nesta sighed, "Feyre was still too little when Mini Me wanted to build sandcastles, but as soon as I became 'too old to play like a kid'," she gave him a knowing look, mimicking her mother's voice, "and Feyre started to figure out she was an actual being, Mama let her do whatever she wanted. Even stand in the sun for hours on end." she shrugged. "Whether it was out of indifference or love, I never understood."

Cassian had been silent the whole time and now he watched her, hands on his thighs as he waited for her to give him more. For her to tell him another little piece of her soul.

So she offered him a forced smile, "So to answer your question, it's all pent-up creativity."

"Well, you're very good at it," he granted her. "I can imagine what you could have done if your mother hadn't been so strict."

Well, yeah.

"What about you?" she asked him.

"What about me?"

"Did you go to the beach a lot?"

Cassian smiled weakly, getting up and heading towards the water to collect more shells. He nodded a couple of times and then said, "My mum and I loved coming to the beach and she loved making castles. And she always put so many 'windows' on the towers-"

Nesta turned to look at their work, realising how many shells he had placed on the piles of sand. She smiled softly, covering her eyes from the sun and watching him walk towards her.

"We always came when she was free from work."

A charged silence settled between them until Cassian chuckled, drawing her attention, "What?"

"You said this wasn't a date. And that we're just friends. Right?"

Shifting her gaze to him, she noticed how he kept his hands hidden behind his back and the mischievous glint in his eyes didn't reassure her at all. Slowly she stood up, nodding.

"So, I must treat you as I would treat my friends. Correct?"

"Cassian, I swear to god that-"

She didn't have time to finish her sentence that something wet and sticky landed in her face with a resounding splash, making her jump back.

She took a deep breath and immediately regretted it when a strong smell of stale water and seaweed flooded her nostrils.

When she opened her eyes again, wiping the seaweed from her face, Cassian was doubled over in laughter.

She didn't even give him time to get up when she started to run towards him - to do what, she had no idea - but he started to run away too and soon they were chasing each other all around the beach, not noticing the sweet looks they were getting from the people around them.

At that moment, Nesta was running so fast that she could feel the wind in her hair and the smell and sound of the sea, together with the laughter of the man who was chasing her, mixed with her own and the continuous tapping of her feet on the sand, made her feel alive.

She felt Cassian come closer every few metres until two strong arms wrapped around her waist and she was pulled up and spun around in the air.

A surprised yelp escaped her as Cassian laughed in her ear, "Gotcha!"

It wasn't until he stopped spinning with her in his arms that they realised the position they were in and immediately broke away, laughing embarrassed.

Nesta turned to face him, her face red from running and her breathing laboured. He was in no better condition. His hair was pointing in all directions and his sculpted chest was rising and falling with haste under the black fabric of his shirt.

He looked away first, scratching the back of his neck and fixing his eyes on the sunset, and offered her his arm as they returned to where they had left theirs things unattended.

Nesta shook her head, laughing one last time and started to run, " Last to reach the castle is stupid!"

Cassian burst out laughing, but he caught up to her in the blink of an eye and they both knew that she had doomed herself to lose. That's why, when he fell tripping over his feet, Nesta knew he had done it on purpose.

She helped him up and they sat back as in silence they watched the sun go down, disappearing past the horizon and the blending lights of the sky created a breathtaking spectacle.

Nesta couldn't have noticed, too busy admiring the clouds, but Cassian had been watching her the whole time, trying to understand how something as sombre and secretive as her could look so bright just by being.

The journey back was silent, but this time the silence was not awkward. They both welcomed it with open arms, a new awareness that there was no need for it to be filled with chatter and that gave Nesta the opportunity to close her eyes for a moment and doze off.

When the car stopped outside her flat, Nesta was surprised to find that she didn't want to get out.

She turned to Cassian after she had gathered her things and nodded, "I had fun today."

He gave her a genuine smile, looking surprised, "Me too."

And then she permanently shocked him, adding, "I'm not working on Saturday, we could do it again. Changing location."

He blinked once. Twice. Then he nodded, "Sure."

He didn't seem to want to say anything more, so Nesta waved goodbye to him and then got out, not waiting for an answer from him.

Cassian stood motionless in the car park of her flat for another half hour, trying to figure out what had just happened, and when the reality of things finally dawned on him, he smiled, "Fuck yeah."

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@sjm-things @kris10maas @awesomelena555 @sannelovesreading @queenamydien-of-nargothrond @ireallyshouldsleeprn @messyhairday-me @ncssian @observationanxioustheorist @my-fan-side @booksstorm @maastrash @sayosdreams @thedarkdemigod @courtofjurdan @thewayshedreamed @hellasblessed @nahthanks @archeron-queens-blog @sleeping-and-books @bri-loves-sunflowers @thegoddessofyou @ghostlyrose2 @claralady @queenestarcheron @oop-theregoesgravity @firebirdofscythia @anne-reads @fantastypenguins @laylaameer01 @thalia-2-rose @darkshadowqueensrule @bookstantrash @lanyjoy-13 @the-regal-warrior @lordof-bloodshed @dealingdifferentdevils @swankii-art-teacher @rowaelinismyotp

#nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #acosf #nessian fic #nessian fluff #fluff

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justauthoring · 3 years

Text

Then, The Moment Came

Prompt: It just never was the right time. Not then, not later, until it suddenly is and everything’s... different. Requested by: no one.

A/N: The Atsumu debut on my account has finally happened. And yes, this is very loosely, loosely based off of A Silent Voice because I literally cannot get it out of my head. Oh, and I love soulmates au’s. Pairing: Atsumu Miya x F!Reader

A hard shove to your shoulders sends you to the ground with a huff, pain radiating through your being as you huff.

There’s jeering laughs that echo, hurtful enough that you don’t say anything, don’t try to stand up for yourself -- instead, you keep your head down, hair falling into your eyes as you bite your lips to fight back the tears that threaten to fall.

It’s not even the shove, or the pain that follows, that has tears welling.

They hurt so much less then...

“You’re just a freak,” Atsumu spits at you, “no wonder no one likes you.”

Atsumu Miya, ten years old, and he absolutely hates you. Why, you have absolutely no idea. It’s been like this ever since you moved into the house across the street from him, walked into his class that one fateful day, and introduced yourself.

You’d felt his glare on your back as you took the seat in front of him, and when you’d turned to face him, a harsh kick at the leg of your chair had you freezing in surprise.

You’d never spoken to him. Never directly. But after school that first day, he’d found you on your way home, tripped you so hard you skinned your knee, and laughed as he walked off.

Then, just as he went to turn, his twin beside him, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else; Atsumu had turned to you, a glint in his eyes. “You’re just a freak. No wonder no one likes you.”

It just never really ended after that.

But when you got home that day, brushing your mothers concerned hands away as she reached for your knee, you’d sat on your bed and looked at your arm only to see those exact same words.

Those cruel, cruel words, and wondered, how unlucky you must be to have a soulmate that hates you.

“Do you want to go to the game tonight?”

You blink, pulled from your thoughts at the sound of Misaki’s words. With a drawl, lips pulled downwards, you turn to her with a quirked brow. “No.” You say simply, shaking your head.

“Come on,” she huffs, head falling into the palms of her hands with a huff, “you never want to go to anything.”

You sigh. ��That’s not true. I let you drag me lots of places.”

“You do not.”

“I do too.”

She pouts at you, lips pursed, eyes set into a teasing glare as she takes another bite out of her lunch. “Our volleyball team is supposed to be so good, though,” she whines, trying to appear nonchalant (though very much failing), as she lets her eyes wander on anything but you. “One of the best, actually. They make it to nationals every year and--”

“And they have their own cheer squad,” you cut in, “good for them.”

“Y/N.”

“What?”

She just glares at you.

“If you want to go so bad, take one of your other friends,” you shrug, brushing her off. “I’m not your only friend.”

“Yes, but you’re my best friend,” she smiles, sickly sweet, all bright eyed and twinkling and you sigh, once again, at the look she sends you. “And I only want to go with you.”

Staring at her for a moment, you laugh; “you’re good.”

And her eyes brighten, hope flooding them; “you’ll go, then?”

“I never said that.” She deflates, “but... sure.”

“Eeee~!” She jumps to a stand, reaching across the table to grab your hands, shaking them with a bright laugh. “Yes, yes, yes! You won’t regret this, Y/N/N, we’re going to have so much fun!”

I’m sure, you can’t help but think. It’ll be so fun to watch him show off.

And even though you don’t say it aloud, Misaki seems to just know.

“Atsumu-san will be there too.”

“He is apart of the team.”

“Maybe you could even try to--”

“He doesn’t want to talk to me,” you cut in, voice sharp, maybe a little more sharp then you mean to be. At the look Misaki sends you, you frown at the guilt that floods you, the hurt look in her eyes, before softening your voice. “Atsumu hates me, Saki. I’ve told you this.”

“But-But that was when you were kids--!”

“And he hasn’t talked to me since.”

Her shoulders fall, and she doesn’t argue after that.

Inhaling deeply, you reach across the table, taking her hand in your own like she had moments ago, though gently and squeeze it softly. It pulls her eyes on you, and smiling gently, you add; “I appreciate you, Saki, and what you’re trying to do. And I love that you want me to be happy, but I don’t need my soulmate to be.”

“You say that,” she frowns, “but you hardly ever smile...”

And she says the words softly, carefully, not wanting to hurt you, but you can’t ignore the pang in your heart at her words. Your hand slips from hers as the words repeat in your mind, and you think of all those years ago, the constant, relentless, cruel teasing that you’d endured from the person that was meant to be your one and only.

You realize, Misaki’s completely right -- you weren’t happy. And it was silly to pretend that you were.

“Yeah, well,” you whisper, and it’s like ironic and cruel perfect timing that has Atsumu walking into the lunchroom at that exact moment, surrounded by his friends, laughing. He hasn’t a care in the world, head thrown back with a laugh as passing girls flock towards him.

“That doesn’t matter to him.”

“Damn you, Misaki.”

Huffing out the words, followed by a curse, as yet another call to your best friend is all but ignored, you grit your teeth.

Where the hell could she have gone?

One second she was right beside you, laughing and cheering as Inarizaki took an already expected win. And then you’d run to go to the bathroom for a minute, only to find the girl had absolutely disappeared on you. Seriously, she was no where. And it didn’t help that the gym was absolutely flooded with other people that you couldn’t properly see anyone.

“I swear to Kami, Misaki, when I find--”

“--Are you okay?”

You freeze.

No. Please, anyone but him.

A hand falls on your shoulder, spinning you round and of course, it is him; Atsumu Miya in all his glory, smiling down at you. And then, as you meet his gaze, his own falters, and his brows furrow and the next words that leave his lips sting more then they probably should.

“Y/N? Y/L/N Y/N?” He laughs, shaking his head, “I didn’t know you went to Inarizaki.”

Yeah, ouch.

You’ve only been in the same school as him since literally elementary.

But apparently, after he got bored of bullying you, he also got bored of acknowledging your presence at all.

You don’t say anything, you can’t. Words feel like they’re lodged at the back of your throat, and it suddenly feels like you can’t breathe. All the people feel like too much all of a sudden, and you’re desperate to get away. You’ll apologize to Misaki later, but you need to leave. You turn, moving to run off, because you just want to get out of there, but then, he reaches for you and--

“Don’t touch me!”

People stop, pausing for a moment at your booming voice, all eyes on you as Atsumu pulls back like you’ve physically slapped him, shock clear on his face.

And then you turn, once more, and walk off before he can say anything else.

You don’t see the frown on his face, don’t see the way he glances down at his arm, nor the realization that dawns on him then and there.

“You just left me.”

“Technically you left me first.”

“Suna-kun wanted to talk to me.”

“Then, it’s your fault.”

“How is it my fault?”

Pausing, you turn to Misaki; “I sent you a text.”

She blinks at you. “I thought you’d been kidnapped! Or worse, killed!”

“Now, you’re being dramatic.”

“Y/N/N!”

Pausing by your locker, you turn to her; “I’m sorry, I just... I had to get--”

“Y/N!”

What in the world--

“Is that--”

“I know who it is, Saki.”

“Okay,” she breathes, “why is he walking our way? Why is he calling for you?”

“I don’t know!” You stress, turning to her with wide, panicked eyes. “Hide me!”

“How in the world am I--”

“Y/N,” Atsumu smiles, finally reaching you.

You freeze.

Misaki stares at you, then Atsumu, then, with a light nudge, turns; “w-well,” she laughs, “I should really get going. Have fun, you two!” And she promptly ignores the absolutely terrified look you send her.

You’re so going to kill her.

Later. Definitely later, when you manage to escape Atsumu, somehow, yet again--

“I’m so glad I found you.”

Turning to him, you swallow thickly.

“I tried to find you yesterday, but I couldn’t and I got scared that--”

“What do you want.”

You’re blunt, more blunt then you mean to be. But you don’t want this mindless chatter, whatever it means, and you’re absolutely desperate to get away that you don’t even care if talking like that makes him mad. You used to deal with it as a kid all the time anyways, so...

“Well, I just wanted to catch up,” he laughs, lightly, a little too airy. Is he... nervous? “We haven’t talked since we were kids, so--”

“You mean when you used to bully me?”

You have no idea where this confidence is coming from.

“I’d hardly call it bullying--”

“I used to come home in bruises because of you,” you whisper, avoiding his gaze as you hug yourself. You’re uncomfortable. You want to leave, you need to leave. “Anyways, it doesn’t matter. I have to--”

He grabs you, your entire body going cold at the feeling of his fingers wrapping around your arm. On one hand, it’s like you can feel... this electric shiver run through your entire being and you figure it’s because of this supposed connection the two of you are supposed to have. But on the other hand, it fills you with such terror, that you almost want to cry.

“I didn’t know.”

But his words makes all that go away, and instead you’re just confused.

“What?”

“I didn’t know that we were... you know.”

Blinking, you finally meet his gaze head on. “How could you have not known?”

“You... You never said anything.”

Shaking your head, you rip your arm from his grasp. “That day, when I introduced myself--”

“You weren’t talking to me,” he argues, “not directly, at least. And you were always so quiet when I’d...-- But then, yesterday, when I grabbed you, well--” He holds his hand out towards you, and sure enough the words written on his arm are:

don’t touch me!

So, apparently he never did know.

It doesn’t change anything. How could it?

Him not knowing doesn’t excuse bullying you. Doesn’t erase everything he did.

It could never.

“What to know what my words are?” Practically yanking the sleeve of your sweater up your arm, you thrust it towards Atsumu, gaze harsh. And his eyes slowly flicker downwards, frowning as he reads the words.

You’re just a freak. No wonder no one likes you.

And the stupid guilty look on his face pisses you off even more.

“I want nothing to do with you,” you spit, “so just leave me alone.”

What the hell is Atsumu Miya doing at your front door.

“I was hoping you still lived here.”

Pausing, you sigh. “You don’t give up do you?”

Grinning, Atsumu rubs the back of his neck, “unfortunately not.”

Sighing, you let your hand fall on your hip, tilting your head to the side curiously. “So what, you know I’m your soulmate now and you want to walk me to school?”

There’s a nervous smile on his face, one that seems odd on him, as he laughs lightly. “Yeah?”

Rolling your eyes, you brush past him, “whatever.”

But he follows, and you don’t argue.

“Let me grab those for you!”

With a blink, the stack of textbooks in your hands is suddenly gone and in another’s. You sigh when you meet Atsumu’s familiar gaze.

“You don’t have to do that, Miya-san.”

“I want to,” he shrugs simply, and you pointedly ignore Misaki’s laugh from beside you. “And, it’s Atsumu.”

“What?”

He meets your eyes, smiling; “call me Atsumu.”

Misaki nudges you with her elbow, pulling your gaze on her momentarily as she grins brightly. Sighing, you turn back to Atsumu, watching as he gently places the textbooks down in the locker you’d just opened. Turning to walk off with a grin, clearly proud of himself.

“Thank you, Miya-san.”

“Atsumu!” He calls over his shoulder.

“Well,” Misaki adds after a moment, “that was sweet~!”

Rolling your eyes, you shake your head. “Yeah, yeah.”

“I would like you to come to my game.”

Staring up at Atsumu, you blink.

“Please.”

Licking your lips, clasp your hands together behind your back; “won’t I be an embarrassment?”

“No.” And he says it quickly, barely letting you finish your sentence, adamantly shaking his head. “No, you could never.”

I used to be.

But you don’t say that.

“Okay,” you heed, hating the butterflies that flood your stomach at the bright grin that curls onto his lips. “I’ll think about it.”

“Yes!��

“Congratulations on the win, Atsumu-san.”

“Y/N/N, you came!”

It’s hard to fight back the blush that threatens to grow on your cheeks at the smile he sends you. Hard to ignore the way your heart flutters as he calls you by that stupid nickname that he’d picked up from Misaki. And hard to forget the way everything screams in you for him at the way his eyes sparkle as he looks down at you.

“Misaki dragged me,” you gesture behind yourself where you know your friend is, shaking your head at the bright grin she sends the two of you.

“Still,” he nods, eyes softening as he looks down at you; “you came.”

“Yes, well,” tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, suddenly feeling nervous, you shuffle on your feet. “I should be going now. Congratulations again on the--”

You don’t make it two steps before he’s wrapped a hand around your wrist, tugged you into him and slipped the other around your waist. You’re flush against him, a huff of surprise leaves your lips as you blink up at the boy, trying to ignore the way it feels like your body has ignited with electricity at just the simple touch of him.

And then his fingers are ghosting across your cheek, brushing back loose hair, and pulling your gaze solely on him, where you can’t seem to look away as everything just... fades away. The crowded gym suddenly feels empty, and everything is quiet as you stare up at him.

You also note that you feel at ease at his touch.

“I never said sorry.”

Lips parting, you swallow thickly; “it’s okay--”

“No, it isn’t,” he whispers, resting his forehead against your own, and it feels like you might melt right there at the feeling of his warm breath on you. “None of what I did was okay.”

“Atsumu...”

“I’m so sorry...”

You relax in his touch, hands moving to fall on his shoulders, where you squeeze, eyes falling to his lips before flickering back up to his own.

“It’s okay...”

“...I want to kiss you,” he whispers, voice gentle, nervous. “Is that okay?”

You nod, feeling the words slip out all on their own; “please.”

And he obliges and suddenly everything just makes sense, just works, and all that gushing Misaki used to go on about about how wonderful soulmates are you completely agree with. Having Atsumu so close, having his warm touch on you, having his lips molding against your own, barely a breaths away, feels so incredibly amazing and right that you wonder how you’d ever existed without him.

He makes up for it all then. None of it matters any more, not the teasing, not the pushing and shoving, nor the tears that would follow.

It’s all worth it for this one moment now.

a little ooc? maybe?

whoops.

#haikyuu #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu x reader #hq #hq imagine #hq x reader #atsumu miya #atsumu miya imagine #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu #miya atsumu imagine #atsumu imagine #atsumu x reader #atsumu #atsumu angst #miya atsumu angst #imagine #imagines #my fics

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harrysgloves · 3 years

Text

The Devil You Know

Harry Styles x Reader

Story Summary: CEO!Harry punishes reader in his office after catching her flirting with his coworker.

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: Language // This is just straight up p*rn // Daddy kink // Spanking (belt) // Oral Sex (male receiving) // Vaginal Sex // Anal Sex // Degrading // The slightest bit of choking // Probably a whole lot more that I’m missing // Not edited... sorry

Authors Note: Another work in progress finally DONE! YAY! Hope you guys like it! Feedback is always loved and appreciated so much! Thank you guys so much for reading. xx

>>><<<

Your high heels clicked against the cold marble tile of the lobby floor for the second time that day. Your billowing black winter coat hit your knees with every step you took towards the elevator.

You could have seen him earlier but his secretary swore he was busy. Like he could ever be too busy for you. You scoffed, a roll of your pretty eyes before telling this no-good conniving bitch what was up.

"Tell my daddy that his girl was here," You said, tongue wetting your lips as you leaned over her desk. Your perfectly manicured hands landing loudly over the papers she should have been working on instead of hitting on your man. "And just so we're very clear on something, sweetheart. He's not my father."

You turned on the spot, hips swaying just a bit extra as you marched yourself back down to the elevator. Grumbling under your breath the whole way.

Who did she think she was?

Harry was yours. Your daddy, your sweetheart, your boyfriend. You two had been together for years. Your name was tattooed in red ink on his wrist for fuck sakes but that sense of jealousy burned deep into the pit of your stomach.

The vibration from your phone was the only thing that pulled you out of your thoughts to go up there and teach that girl a lesson on who ran the show around here. His picture flashed across your screen. You scoffed, ignoring the call, and shoving the phone back into your expense handbag. Yes, it was against his stupid rules to ignore his phone calls but you were pissed. He could go screw Karen, or Tina, or whatever her name was for all you cared.

"Bad day?" The sound of another voice in the elevator made you jump. You didn't even notice someone else in here when you got on. How long had he been watching you throw a fit?

"You could say that." You sighed, your back leaning against the cool metal of the elevator as it reached the bottom floor. Door opening to reveal the perfectly decorated lobby floor.

"Pretty girls like you shouldn't have bad days." He flashed a smile towards you when you chuckled, shaking your head at him. He was cute, you'd give him that, but he was no Harry.

"I'll keep that in mind." You said as you started to walk out in front of him. Until your heel caught on the ledge of where the elevator met the floor. Your hands desperately trying to catch onto something before you hit your ass on the ground. You weren't dressed to be falling. A small silk camisole dress paired with no underwear didn't make for a good look if you landed with your legs wide open right now.

Plus, that pretty pink plug Harry had fucked into your ass that morning before leaving you wanting and needy didn't exactly seem like the best thing to be landing on.

The hands around your waist was the only thing that saved you from mortifying public embarrassment. Your arms against his toned chest as he held you inches from the ground.

"Thanks." You breathed out, a cheeky smile on his face when he lifted you back to your feet.

"Well," he said, his arms still on the small of your waist. "I'm part-time broker, full-time knight in shining armor."

You laughed that big deep luscious laugh that made Harry fall in love with you. Your hand ran over his chest to lay back down the collar of his suit that you had grabbed. You backed away without a second thought, thanking him yet again before leaving the building.

Not once seeing Harry's fuming face staring you down from the stairwell.

>>>

"Kristen?" Harry asked as he exited his office. His eyebrows scrunched together when he opened his door to see the new girl sitting there with no you in sight. He could have sworn he heard your voice.

"It's Catherine." She corrected what he assumed to be a flirty look crossed her face as he stood in front of her desk.

"Right. Anyway, was a girl jus' out 'ere looking fo' me?" He asked, describing you down to what you were wearing for the day. The mental picture of you sauntering around the apartment in that fucking dress when he didn't have the time to do what he really wanted to do to you that morning played in his mind.

"Uh, well, someone was but she ran off pretty quickly." She lied with a shrug of her shoulders. Harry's eyes narrowed at her when her cheeks flamed red.

Why did he always end up with the crazy assistants?

"Y'sure 'bout that?" He asked again, his hardening stare made her splutter and crack as he rounded her desk to stand directly in front of her.

"You were busy, Mr. Styles, I sent her away." She mumbled, her eyes flashing away from him when he cursed under his breath.

He already knew what you'd be thinking. His hands fished in his suit pocket for his phone to press your icon. One ring, two rings, voice-mail. He took a deep breath, reminding himself of how insecure you could get sometimes.

Not like you ever needed to be insecure. He thought you were a total knockout. Plus, he was absolutely head over heels in love with you.

"Y'can pack up yeh things." He said as he slid his phone back into his pocket. Her eyes widened at his words, fake apologies started, but he didn't care. He only wanted to make sure you were okay. He needed to reassure you that you had no reason to feel insecure or jealous.

You were the only girl for him.

His fast steps down the stairs got him to the lobby in no time. Whatever thankfulness he had to catch you before you left was gone the second he saw that bastard touch you.

He swore his eyes could have shot flames through that curly headed asshole. His chest pounded with a rage he didn't know he could feel when you laughed. God, that fucking laugh. His tongue wet his lips before his teeth ground together.

You touched him. Your hands ran down his chest, smoothing out his suit, like you'd done for him so many times. Your fingers lingered a second too long. The guys hands tightened into the fleshy curves of your hips a little too much, pulling you in closer to him before you eventually walked off.

Your bouncing ass caught the attention of the guy who had touched you. Shameless staring at his fucking girl while you walked out of the building. He had to repeatedly remind himself that he couldn't beat the shit out of his own employees.

His fist unclenched when you were long gone. He brought his phone out once again to send you a text.

My office. 7pm.

>>>

You stormed through the lobby, up the elevator, not paying any mind to the people around you. Ready to burst into an angry monsoon of jealousy, when the sight of his empty receptionist desk stopped you in your spot. Her things, gone. A baron desk with no sign of a girl simply gone for the evening greeted you.

He'd fired her.

Suddenly, the anger you'd had bubbling in your stomach faded. Replaced with that sinking feeling of guilt. He always seemed to know what was bothering you, even before you talked to him about it. Which was just another one of the many reasons you loved him so much.

You sighed, your shoulders slumped, as your hand laid on the doorknob, knowing he was going to be upset with you. It took everything in you to swing open the door to his office exactly at 7 on the dot. Not a minute early but not daring to be late after your little show of ignoring him earlier.

His stiff demeanor screamed you were in trouble as you shut the door behind you. You swallowed thickly, heels clicking hesitantly against his floor as you made your way to his desk. Your fingers skimming the dark oak wood as you moved around to stand in front of him. Your bottom lip tucked between your teeth as you glanced down to see he hadn't moved a muscle.

No words had been spoken through the tense air. No sound dared to come from you. You knew better, knew how upset he got when you ignored him. So you stood, perfectly still in front of where he sat, your sight hyper focused on the scratch marks on his desk instead of his intense eyes.

You'd have to be easier on this desk in the future but you had a feeling today wasn't going to be the day.

"Got somethin' to say fo' yehself?" His voice was hard, leaving no room for your shit tonight. You swallowed the nervous lump in your throat as your eyes finally met his. They were colder than you'd ever seen before.

Usually, when you acted out, he found a bit of humor in it. Teasing you about being nothing but a brat but always letting you know he wasn't going to put up with it. He always went easy on you and honestly, you were a good girl. You almost never broke the rules and when you did, it was something trivial.

You were never one to get in trouble on purpose, at least not with him.

"I'm sorry I ignored your call." You tried to say in the least shaky voice you could manage.

He hummed, acknowledging your words but not accepting your apology. Those dagger like green eyes burned through your body, directly into your soul as his thumb twisted his gold ring on his pointer finger.

"Anythin' else y'need to tell me?" He asked as he raised from his chair. His large chest mere centimeters away from your face as you stood your ground, literally.

"No?" Your eyebrows scrunched as you peered up to him. Utterly confused on why he was so pissed at you.

The sharp stone like features of his face didn't help settle the racing thoughts in your mind. That cold chill that ran down your spine as his lips pressed into a hard line. The back of his hand as it skimmed across the highs of your cheek bone was the only feeling of warmth in the otherwise frigid room.

"Know why I got y'this?" His finger ran across the pink leather of your choker collar, across the gold "H" that was embedded in the middle.

Your big doe-eyes flashed up to him. You didn't sway an inch as his fingers laced through the ring that dangled at the bottom of your choker. His grip was firm around the cool metal. His hold kept in place as he stared down at you.

"Because I'm yours." Your eyebrows furrowed together as you looked at him, not having a clue as to why he needed to remind you.

You gasped as he tugged you forward by your lead. Your feet barely stayed in their spot on the ground as your hands grasped around his arms for balance.

"And do you think I like what's mine flirting in the elevator with my employees?" His words shocked you, stuttering, spits of partial words fell from your mouth as you gaped up at him. "Think I didn't see?"

"Harry, I wasn't flirting with him." You tried to explain away the situation. It was simple, a misunderstanding. "He helped me when I-"

"Did I say y'could use my name?" He practically growled through clenched teeth. Your eyes widened as you stared up at him. Boy, were you in trouble.

"No, daddy." Your voice was soft, eyes all dewy as you stared up at him. A show, really, you loved when he got like this. That familiar ache already growing in your core as he dropped the lead on your collar. You quickly stood back up in your place, hands by your side as he stalked around you.

A hunter watching his prey.

"What's y'word?" He asked as he circled back in front of you. His suit jacket was abandoned over the back of the chair. Ringed finger hands loosening his tie around his neck.

"Peony." Your tongue wet your lips as he rolled up his sleeves in front of you. The crisp white linen of his shirt sleeves being rolled up was only a slight distraction from the nod of his head.

"And your hard no's?"

He wasn't fucking around. You considered it for a second, all the things you two had previously taken off the table.

"Still the same." You told him, knowing that this meant he was really going to push you tonight.

He studied you for a second longer. His head dipping down to catch your line of vision, eyebrows raised as if he was mentally asking you the same question again.

"Good." He said when you gave a nod of your head. "Strip."

You took a deep breath, preparing yourself. Your hands shook by your side as you clenched and unclenched your fist, once, twice, three times. Just enough to get you in your head space.

The skin on your arms raised in goosebumps as the warm fur lined jacket slid off your shoulders and onto the floor. A pile of useless fabric pulled into a puddle at your feet. Your slip of a dress followed directly after it.

A scoff of a laugh came from him, a shake of his head as he turned away from you. Long, silent, steps over to a much-needed drink from the bar cart in his office. Your eyes lowered to the floor, watching the pacing of his shoes. Ears zeroed into the sound of liquid pouring, a deep gulp, and then more pouring. That lump in your throat grew with every slap of his heel back in front of you.

Of course you had to pick today to be defiant.

"It's like y'wanna be in trouble, baby." He hummed and you swore if you looked at him right now he'd be wearing that smug little smirk.

"Pretty." He mumbled, his fingers dancing across the lacy top of the underwear you'd slipped on when you got home. "Too bad yeh not 'posed to be wearin' 'em."

"Off." He snapped his fingers in front of your heated face. At least he wasn't ripping this pair.

The stringy lace slid down your silky smooth legs. Each high heeled foot stepping out of the leg holes one at a time. Shaky hands handing over the garment you put on in a moment of anger.

Your eyes refused to meet his as he slid the panties into his back pocket. Your lips rolled into your mouth as he stared at you. The heat in your body raised with each passing second as he finished his drink.

God, you'd never been in this much trouble.

"Y'know I was gonna take it a little easy on yeh." His words and the sound of the glass being sat down snapped you out of your fixed trance on the floor. His shiny black shoes disappeared from your line of sight as he circled around you. "Figured my baby girl jus' got protective over her daddy."

His hand ran down your cheek from behind you. Your head instinctively nuzzled into the few fingers that trailed from your jawline to your lips. Chaste kisses pressed to his fingertips.

"But now, I see you need a good lesson on who makes the rules." You gasped when his hand clamped around the front of your neck, your head snapped back roughly against his shoulder. His fingers digging into the side of your neck made you whimpered, a low stirring in your stomach.

His hand released you only long enough to loosen his tie. The fabric you once gifted him for his birthday dug into the skin of your forearms and wrists behind your back. The restraint, a little tighter than usual, not enough to hurt but enough to let you know this wasn't some usual punishment.

"Bend." He said with a tight grip on the tie that held your arms in an uncomfortable position behind you. Your body maneuvered by him until your hips hit the edge of his desk. You gasped as your bare chest was pushed against the cold wood. Your nipples peaked from the sudden ice like material that you now laid halfway over. His hand finally left the intricate knots holding your arms back when your cheek rested on the table top.

"Looks like y'know how to listen when it comes to this." You could imagine his eyes rolling as he stood behind you. His hand ran down your ass, to the plug he'd placed there this morning. A quick tug on the pink silicone drew a whimper from you, your legs shifting back and forth in their spot.

Harry had to hold back a groan as he watched your hips sway. His hand gripped his twitching cock that throbbed in his pants at the sight of your pretty wet pussy already soaking for him. A smirk spread across his lips, his hand gripping the flesh of your round ass again.

His perfect little baby girl was such a whore for him.

Fuck, you were perfect.

"Thinkin' three fo' 'ry rule yeh broke today." His accent somehow thickened the more turned on he got. That heat burned in your stomach that turned in anticipation and a bit of nerves.

"Y-yes, daddy." Your voice betrayed you with shaky cracks.

The room quickly quieted again after his hum of approval. His hand left your ass, left you completely. Silence had you straining your ears for any hint of a sound when you heard it.

That familiar clink of a sound.

You buried your head into the smooth surface of the table, lips pressed against the wood to hide the moan that wanted to slip past your lips. Your core clenched around nothing but air, not sure how this was anywhere close to a punishment when you constantly had to beg him to be this rough with you.

You gasped as the cool leather of his belt ran down the strain muscles of your back. Tauntingly slow as it passed over the fabric of the tie, dancing across your fingers.

"What're in trouble fo'?" He asked from behind you, your lips that had been tightly clamped between your teeth unrolled, just enough to talk.

"Not answering your call, wearing underwear, using your name, and-" you sighed, "Touching another guy." You finally spit out, not wanting to add anymore lashings to your ever growing amount.

"Hm, think'll add three more fo' that one." His voice was hard and cold through the air around you. "Better hear yeh count, sweetheart."

He gave no warning other than that. The sound of the leather slicing through the thickened air in the office was your only clue of what was coming. The sharp snap of the hide hitting the soft flesh of your ass rang through your ears before you felt the sting.

"One." You spoke into the wood. Your nose flat against the desk, hands tightening around your restraint as the shockwaves of a dull pain ran down your spine, directly to your steadily wettening folds.

Two, three, four, more and the spark of a pleasure still burned, lingered down into a blazing river of red marks across your ass cheeks to your pulsating pussy.

"T-t-ten." Your words choked and contracted in your throat when the belt smacked across your ass, five more left and you were determined to make it through. The grunts and groans that rolled from deep in his chest as the leather dug into your flesh again and again. Whimpering sobs, face flushed with tears and mascara as he went harder on you than ever before.

And that fucking plug you decided to keep in.

You were teetering on the brink of your headspace when the final smack came. Your breast smashed against the now warmed surface with the force. You cried, pushed forward into that floating sensation of the deep part of your mind as you were lifted by your restraints. Body maneuvered until you kneeled before him, heels haphazardly kicked off in the motion downwards to the ground.

The searing skin of your ass cooled against the marble floor when your shaky legs gave out to the weight on them. You sighed from the little bit of relief you got, stuffy nose from crying so much, desperately trying to suck air into your lungs. You were too wrapped up in yourself to hear the clank of the belt hitting the floor.

Your foggy mind lifted out of the deep when you felt his hand around the back of your neck, his cold features barely broke through your vision that was clouded with tears.

"What do y'say, baby?" His hand tightened in the hairs at the back of your head. A hard jerk backwards had you gasping in surprise.

You were far from being done with your punishment.

"Thank you, daddy." Your voice cracked from the amount of tears you were holding back. The words you'd spoken did nothing to change his unimpressed facial features, his tongue slid across his front teeth as he studied your mess of mascara and eyeliner.

He stood up abruptly, his hand didn't leave the back of your neck, sufficiently holding you up from your ass resting on the cool tile.

"Yeh know, darlin', daddy doesn't punish yeh as much as he should. That's on me more than yeh. Should've put yeh in y'place more often, sweetheart."

Your eyes widened up to him. Whatever shred Harry always kept of himself while he was in this role was abandoned. No, now, he was fully in his dominant role. The waves of demand rolled through every part of him. His voice, his demeanor, his words.

"That's okay though, baby, gonna learn who yeh belong to. Isn't that right?" He practically cooed at you. A mock tone that made your face heat as blood rushed to your face.

"Yes, daddy." Your chest seemed to heave with anticipation.

"Open." He said as his hand clamped your mouth open for you. Your obedient tongue sticking out for him before you even had a chance to think twice about it.

Harry hummed as he stared down at you. The hand that was around your jaw slipped into your open mouth. His finger fucked into your open and waiting throating. Your legs tightened together as his smirk grew wider at your movement.

Sure, you weren’t supposed to move but God, you always wanted it so bad he couldn't help the turning of his lips.

He lowered himself to your level. No words were said as he loosened your restraints. The fabric that held your arms back finally, finally, was gone. Your body slacked forward as Harry backed away from you. His towering form loomed over you as your hands fell forward to hold yourself up.

The strain on your muscles in the back seemed to lift only momentarily before he guided you upwards by your upper arm. Your back on the now warmed surface of the desk, your head hanging off the side, your freed hands clutched beside you as your anticipation for what was coming grew.

"Gonna show me how sorry yeh are, darlin'." His throbbing cock was finally released from its confinement. The hard, pulsating, tip was red and aching for relief. Only millimeters from your upside-down vision.

Your legs spread wider at the sight of him. Your toes pointed against the smooth oak, your arousal felt like it could have been running in a river down your legs as you licked your lips. Your mouth opened without any demand from him as he stroked his cock in front of you.

"Good girl." He groaned, his hand guided himself into your mouth.

You always had a hard time taking him. He was just so big, so thick. Your tongue pressed against his tip as he slowly rocked into you. His hands grasped onto your breast as his cock slid further and further down your throat.

You moaned around his member that stretched open the sides of your mouth. You tried your best to relax your throat, breathe through your nose.

"Relax yeh throat." He grunted as your throat constructed around him again. The irritated tone in his voice only made your slick folds drip with your arousal.

"I said to relax." He said once your gag reflex halted his movement for a third time. A harsh slap of his hand landed on your open and waiting cunt. You would have yipped at the feeling if you could have. He ceased your moment of being off guard to finally push himself fully inside.

You moaned the best you could as your throat finally relaxed. His balls rested against your nose, the crotch of his pants and zipper rubbed against your face but you didn't care. He felt so good in your mouth.

You heard him let out a moan as you felt your nipples harden. His fingers lazily rubbed at your swollen clit as he slipped down your mouth.

"Why can't yeh be a good girl like this all the time for me, baby?" He asked as his hand held the back of your neck. His hips picking up to a pace that was almost too much for you. "So much fuckin' better for me when yeh jus' a hole for me to fuck."

He pulled out of you suddenly. A string of your spit connected from his red tip to your mouth before he bent down to your level. The look behind his eyes was intoxicating. Fuck, he was enjoying this.

"Gonna have to keep you tied up to my desk, aren't I? Only time yeh good for me if when yeh have a cock stuffed in you."

"I'll be good." You said as he stood back up. His hands gripped your thighs to turn your body around like a rag doll, your ass in the air as your face laid on the desk, again.

"Be good, huh?" He teased his tip against your opening, a deep groan left him from just how fucking wet you were. "Yeh call throwin' yehself at my employees bein' good?"

"I didn't." You pouted, your bottom lip stuck out even though he couldn't see it. His cock parting the folds of your pussy, the thick tip against your sensitive clit had your hips shifting.

You wanted him to stop being mad at you and just fuck you already.

"If I wanted someone else to touch yeh I would have told them to." He started to slip into you, the overwhelming sense of him starting to stretch you already filled you. Blood rushed to your lightheaded head as you restrained yourself from pushing backwards onto him.

"Such a tight cunt." He grunted as the thought from your earlier run in fell from his mind. Your velvet caves pulled him, his anger melted away as you clenched around him.

A hard thrust forward had him directly on your sweet spot, your eyes rolled back in your head as you held on tightly to the front of the desk.

He wasn't messing around and he wasn't holding back.

You could feel his hip bones smacking against the abused flesh of your ass. The sting sent an electric shock through your body as he wrecked you. You could feel him pounding all the way into your lower stomach as your jaw unhinged from a sea of moans.

"Think he could fuck yeh better, sweetheart?" Harry asked as he pulled on the plug in between your cheeks. His cock rammed into you as the silicone slipped out.

"No." You finally managed to get out an answer through your moans, your wrecked vocal cords cracked until he let up. You almost turned around but you knew better, the sound of his bottom draw opening gave away his next move.

You two needed to fuck at his office less. He had way too much sex shit laying around here.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the cold gel of his lube coated fingers slipping into your tighter hole. Your breath caught in your throat as he slid back inside of your pussy. Your eyebrows furrowed together from the overwhelming sense of pleasure that pulsed through your veins.

"Such a slut, know that?" He spoke as a second finger joined his first one, fucking you open enough to take him. "Lemme fuck yeh in ever hole in my office."

"Fuck." You moaned into the wood, your hands gripped around the front edge of the desk as he pulled himself out of you, a generous amount of lube slathered across your hole before he put some on himself.

He took a second just admiring your wrecked state. Your pussy opened wide for him, able to be fucked so easily now that he'd destroyed it. Your ass shined red with lash marks, your hair a complete mess.

He had to stop himself from shooting a load into his own hand. His thoughts getting the best of him as he stroked himself from behind you. His tip pressed into you slowly as he waited for your muscles to relax.

You felt like you could have bit your bottom lip off from how tightly it was tucked under your teeth. Your nails dug into the desk as he pushed further into you, his head finally getting past your tight ring. His hips laid flat against your ass, his hands pulled back each cheek to get a good look at himself stretching you out.

"Gonna ruin you for anyone else. Y'understand?" He mumbled into your ear as he pulled up to his chest by the front of your neck.

"Yes, daddy." You squeaked out as he finally moved his hips. His head rested against your shoulder as you let out a sound you never wanted to admit to making. His cock hit all the right places, the stretch wasn't painful but you were so tight there you could feel every one of his veins pushing against your walls.

You felt so full of him it was almost overwhelming. You could feel every throbbing jump of his cock as he pumped in and out of you. His grunts as his teeth dug into your shoulder, his fingers from his free hand swirled around your clit while his other one squeezed the sides of your neck.

Your arousal slicked all the way down to your shaky knees as your body bounced against his cock. You panted out moans as your body burned red hot. Your orgasm was just on the horizon, so close you could hardly keep your eyes open.

"Gonna cum with daddy's cock in yeh ass?" He asked even though you had no idea how he managed to put together words in this moment. Your own mind wasn't able to let you do anything more than nod.

"Cum for me then, pet." His finger pressed down harder on your clit, cock shoved deeper inside of you.

Your vision blacked around the edges, body shook, your high washed over your head all the way down to your toes. The sound of your moans carried through the office, down the halls of the almost emptied building. Your mind barely had time to put together the fact he'd pulled out of you.

Until he slammed back into your cunt.

A warmth filled you as you whimpered, your body slacked in his arms as his cum dripped out around himself.

"I gotcha." He mumbled as he moved you both into his office chair. Your makeup smudged face pressed into his chest as you came down from your high. His hand ran across your back in soothing circles.

"Baby, yeh did so good." He said into your hair, his lips pressed in light kisses against your scalp. "Such a good girl. Made me feel so good, baby."

"Gonna take yeh home and get yeh a bath, hm?" He asked when your body felt less limp. You hummed your agreement, head still in that floating space for a second.

"Harry, you know I didn't flirt with him, right?" You asked after a moment. Your fingers danced across his bicep absentmindedly.

"Yeah, jus' like yeh know I didn't sleep with my secretary." He let out a chuckle when you raised your head to pout at him. "Gave me a good reason to fuck yeh like that though."

"Shut up." You muttered to him. Your eyes rolled as he gave you a stern look.

"Pup, I jus' fucked yeh into next week, do not start with me again."

#Harry Styles #Harry #Harry Styles x Reader #Harry Styles x you #Harry Styles x Y/N #Harry Styles Fanfic #Harry Styles Fanfiction #Harry Styles Smut #Fanfic #Fanfiction #Writing #Mine #One Shot

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