#polaroids are one of the best cameras change my mind

[gh0stsp1d3r]

Idea for part 2 to lingerie or maybe a separate fic but luke convinces reader to let him take pictures of her in some of the lingerie so she can see how pretty she looks from his pov ☺️

ℒ𝒾𝓃𝑔ℯ𝓇𝒾ℯ 𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝓉𝓌ℴ

PART 1, PART 3

Warnings- LOSER!LUKE AGENDA!! 18+, mdni! they are so couple goals.

“Ok, this one I saw, and I had to have it.” You said as you smiled, you stood in front of him and twirled around once again. It was a lot more scandalous, showing more skin and your cleavage barely covered.

His mouth was watering at this point, he just so desperately wanted to kiss you- touch you- anything really.

“It looks.. amazing. Probably the best one.” He nodded, reminding himself to keep eye contact and not let his eyes wander. He tried to keep his responses short and quick.

“Agreed.”

He felt embarrassed thinking about it. Would you think he was weird? Would you be creeped out and never talk to him again?

Fuck it.

You smiled and went to go change before he said your name. You turned around and looked at him, confused.

“Yeah?”

“Do you think… I could, take a picture…?”

Your eyes widened at that. The air grew thick with tension, and his voice cut through the silence after a little.

“Just- so that you can see how great you look from my point of view, you- you know?” He stuttered, anxious as he looked at you.

“Oh… okay. Sure. Why not?” You gave him another grin, and he smiled back. And you knew he had other intentions with the pictures, but it was Luke Castellan. The man you’ve had a crush on since you both were kids, the guy you were best friends with.

He took out his camera quickly, it's as if he had been waiting for this moment his whole life. He had been.

You stood, with a small smile on your face for the first one. It was mostly innocent. Then, he swears he would die when the poses got less innocent.

He swallowed, shaking the polaroids as they printed. Once they did, you sat right next to him, your bare thigh touching the denim of his jeans. He handed you them and you flipped through them.

"They're great. Ugh, I'm so glad I got you to do this. You're the best," You gave him another kiss on the cheek, his cheeks were tinted pink.

"Is that it?" he asked nervously. You nodded and you picked out a pair of pajamas, which was just a baggy shirt with some pajama pants.

"Could you... turn around? I don't feel like going in the bathroom." You were teasing him at this point, you wanted him to make a move already, plus it was fun seeing him flustered.

"Yeah... Of course." It was your cabin after all, he turned around, his hands on his knees as he fought against the urge to turn around.

While he was turned around, you quickly grabbed his bag, stuffing three of the best pictures he took into it. You quickly shoved it back in place and got dressed.

You sat back on the bed with him, talking for a while before the rest of the aphrodite cabin started pouring in.

"What's he doing in here?" One of your sisters asked.

"We were just talking." You said, he nodded and gave them each a small smile as they looked at him. He grew uncomfortable soon, however.

"I should probably get going, I'll see you tomorrow." He said, standing up quickly, leaving the cabin. You furrowed an eyebrow and followed after him.

"Wait, Luke!" You called his name; he turned around and looked at you, his bag slung on his shoulder.

"Yeah?"

"Goodnight." You said, but he felt like there was more you wanted to say.

"You got out here, in the cold, to tell me goodnight?" He cocked his head to the side. You swallowed now and walked closer to him.

You both stared at each other for a moment, and he gazed into your eyes with such love, how could you resist him anymore?

As his hand reached for your face, your heart started racing. You both leaned in closer and closer until your lips met. It felt like a dream come true, but this was real. Your mind was blown away by the softness of his lips as you traced your finger over his scar. The moment was electric, and you couldn't believe this was actually happening.

"Is this real?" you asked shakily once your lips left his. He chuckled and nodded.

"Goodnight," he said, giving you one last kiss on your forehead before leaving.

As soon as you entered the Aphrodite cabin again, the girls around you looked at you, all expecting an explanation.

"I kissed him!" you squealed, screams erupt, and Luke could hear it as he was walking towards his own cabin, small smirk on his face.

And when he opened up his bag, reaching for his book, 3 polaroids were on top. He had a smile on his face as he looked through them.

#luke castellan x you #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #charlie bushnell x reader #pjo tv show #pjo disney+ #pjo fandom #pjo series

[delicatebarness]

bring him home | chapter one

Summary: It’s been three weeks since she lost almost everything. Her brothers, her best friend, her lover, her father.

Warning: MCU Spoilers. Avengers: Endgame + Captain America: Civil War. Violence. Grief. A Single Mention of Nudity.

Word Count: 1334

Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

A/N: I’m really enjoying writing this, I haven’t wrote this much so quick in years.

Tags: @crazyforbarnes | @whiminiferous | @armystay89 | @bucky-just-needs-love

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED OR PUBLISHED TO ANY THIRD PARTY SITE OR APP. IF ANYONE SEES MY WORK ANYWHERE BUT HERE, IT HAS BEEN REPOSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION.

Three Weeks.

“Dad?!” You ran towards the ship that landed in your back garden, your dad stood there with Pepper in his fragile arms. He lifted his head, a sigh of relief as he watched you getting closer. His little girl is safe. “Where’s Pete?” His expression changed within an instant, he scanned every inch of your face for a sign. Your eyes were red and puffy. Your face is slimmer than when he last saw you. Thankfully, not as slim as he had gotten. He watched your eyes flickering between the ship, himself and Nebula. He knew you’d already lost one brother, now, he’s witnessing your realisation of losing the other.

“I’m sorry, kid.” He whimpered as your eyes began to tear up as you looked into his own. Within a second, Steve had you nestled into his chest. Not another one, you didn’t think your mind or body could handle any more grief. As soon as your face hit Steves's chest and your body collapsed in his arms, for what felt like the millionth time in three weeks, you let out an uncontrollable scream. Your knees gave way, Steve did not let you fall. Instead, he lifted you and carried you back to your room in the compound.

Once in your room, Steve lay you down on your bed. He didn’t want to leave you, he had watched you grow up since you were 16, from a smart teenager with more compassion than himself at times. To, a resourceful, understanding young woman. He wanted to protect you more now than ever. Shield you away so nothing more could hurt you. Your dad felt the same, it was painful for him to watch Steve carry you to your room instead of him. His weak frame makes it difficult to keep himself up, never mind you.

Your room was like any other basic grey bedroom at the compound. However, you had Vision help you drape fairy lights and ivy all over the walls. Polaroids attached to the strings with clothing pegs, and images of you with various team members looking down at you. Over the last three weeks, if you weren’t crying, you were looking over all these photos. Remembering each loved one as they were and hoping you’ll see them again.

It broke your heart for years that you were never able to add your joyful times with Bucky to your walls. Those were kept in a locked box inside your wardrobe. Polaroids of cuddles in a hut, Bucky throwing around hay with only one arm, even a few x-rated ones which you hoped to Odin no one else ever saw. They were all of Bucky, the ones of yourself were kept with him in Wakanda. And, then there were your letters. There have been a few nights since they all vanished that you’ve fallen asleep surrounded by his handwriting. 

Steve stayed with you until your sobs had stopped and you cried yourself to sleep. You didn’t hear him leave, your dreams clouded with memories. Memories of Bucky. Even in your sleep, you could not hide your love and grief for him.

Meet Cute.

You sat in the office watching over the security cameras with Steve, not believing they were treating another human this way. He was locked within a box, strapped down. All he had was a table and a chair in front of it. And, it wasn’t even for him to use. Some interrogator was sat there, asking him questions about his home. You were listening to everything.

You rose to your feet when the power went out, following Steve and Sam to find Bucky. Ignoring your dad's yelling. You started to believe Steve’s theory regarding someone framing his friend. Yes, they say ‘Why did he run if he's innocent?’ But, wouldn’t anyone run if they had someone in a blue soldier uniform with an indestructible shield, someone in a bulletproof catsuit and a guy flying around with mechanical wings chasing them? You knew you would. And, you were someone who had an outfit fitting to that scenario. 

~

His head turns, Bucky or The Winter Soldier you weren’t sure who made direct eye contact with you. Your breath hitched as he dropped the guard currently in a chokehold and made his way towards you. You didn’t move. A hand came up to your throat, pinning you against the wall, tightening by the second. You noticed he hadn’t used his left arm, the silver metal never once touched your skin.

“James? Sorry, I-I know you like to be called B-Bucky but I don’t feel like I know y-you well enough.” You shuttered as his grip grew tighter. “I’m Y/N,” Placing your bare hand onto his wrist against his bare skin, you felt the grip slackening. “I won’t hurt you.” His grip was almost light enough for you to find your feet on the ground again, until…

“Put her down.” Both of your heads turned to where the voice came from, your dad. Palm raised, repulsor ready. You mouthed “no” over and over to him, feeling the grip tighten the longer he stood there. Your dad hits Bucky with a stun-blast which in turn causes him to drop you to the floor. Covering your ears, you sat down with your legs pulled up covering your face. You felt a weight on top of you as another blast went off. Looking up, he was staring down at you as he covered you from your dad’s blasts. Becoming your human shield.

The blasting stopped, Bucky stood up and pounded towards your dad, throwing punches. Your dad blocked almost most of them. He gave as much as he got to.

“Get out of here now!” Your dad yelled at you. You didn’t have your suit, you were no match to The Winter Soldier, it was the safest option. You stood up, legs shaking, as you watched them fight. “Now! Y/N! Go!” He continued to yell as Bucky’s eyes once again found yours. You wanted to stay, something telling you he needed someone to stay.

But, you ran.

Cheeseburgers.

When you woke up, you pulled out your burner phone. You only had three numbers saved, Vision (Baby Brother), Wanda Maximoff (BFF), and James Buchanan Barnes (Old Man). Instinctually calling the number under the name “Old Man” you hoped the ringing would stop and you’d hear his voice. “Hey, Doll.” Nothing. You started to sob as the ringing continued.

You didn’t hear him opening your door and appearing through the gap, he watched you sobbing with the phone pressed against your cheek.

“Hey Kid,” he choked after a beat, snapping out of your trance and hanging the phone up. “Who are you calling?” You shake your head in response, you can’t break the Bucky news to him just yet.

“No one you need to be concerned about, Dad,” giving him a weak smile, he wouldn’t have been concerned, he would have been angry. His little girl, his legacy, is in love with the man who killed his parents and broke his team up. Where did he go so wrong? You got up and helped him further into your room. “How are you feeling?” You lay him on your bed, getting him comfy with all your pillows and throws.

“Oh, never been better,” he joked as he tried to lift himself. “You know, had a planet thrown at me then got stranded in space for three weeks.” You helped him position himself better before getting into your bed and cuddling up to your dad. You didn’t realise until right now just how much you missed him and his humour.

“I’m glad you’re home,” you squeezed his hand while giving him another weak smile. “It’s been far too quiet around here.”

“You can’t get rid of me that easily.” He smiled at you, squeezing your hand back, and then sighed. “We should order cheeseburgers.” You let yourself have a small laugh, for the first time in three weeks.

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x you #dad!tony stark x daughter!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky x y/n #catws #falcon and the winter soldier #the avengers x reader #the avengers #bucky fic #james bucky buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #tony stark x reader #tony stark #avengers endgame #cacw #captain america civil war

[wonyui]

𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬 | 𝐘.𝐉𝐌

SUMMARY If it hadn't been for the mischievous game that you came up with, then maybe just maybe — Karina would have been able to keep her mouth shut about the crush she had on you for years. Especially since the two of you were supposed to enjoy your time, walking on the long beach at night as nothing but friends.

Pairings: Yoo!Jimin x F!Reader

Genre: wlw, fluff, 6th!member au, she fell first and she fell harder trope

A/N: STAYC GIRLS.. IT'S GOING DOWN ‼️(this is my apology for deleting the Newjeans series. Feel free to send requests if you want, so I don't feel guilty)

WORD COUNT 3.1K

Karina had been struggling, clearly — judging from the way she had been sighing nonstop the whole day with a frustrated look on her face. She was your best friend(along with your very best roommate, but you weren't gonna admit that), so you thought it'd be kind to come up with the idea of just strolling and chatting. Location? The beach just a couple walks away.

Plus, you low-key needed an excuse to get away from the rest of your chaotic members. Thank god time has been so kind to the both of us. You thought. Karina, of course, took notice of the way you had been staring at her so intently. The young leader felt more panicked than worried. Did you possibly figure out why she had been acting differently? She hoped not.

"Jimin?"

Great. She walks over to you, biting her lips out of habit due to the nervousness that she had been feeling the entire day.

"Yeah?" She asks, hoping you had a different question from what she had in mind.

"Up to filling up your storage?" You ask, smiling sheepishly, before putting the Polaroid camera up in the air whilst waving it like it was some sort of flag.

Blinking in confusion, she tilts her head. "I'm sorry? I mean, yeah— but where exactly are we going with this?" Winter enters the frame, shoving Karina while doing so as an attempt to not question your motives. It's clear you want to spend some time alone elsewhere. Everyone in the room knew that. Everyone except Karina.

"I was thinking we could stroll together since it seems our muscles are tightening," you thoughtfully said before adding on, "Are you down? You seemed to have quite a lot on your plate."

"What about our manager? Does the company know?" Karina unintentionally asked, her nervousness building up more than her worries.

An amused chuckle was all she needed to hear for her worries to disappear. Although her nervousness changed into butterflies that freely flew in her stomach. "We'll be fine, Jimin. I've been in this industry for enough years, too. Trust me."

Ningning, who had been on her phone, scrolling endlessly while laying her head on Giselle's shoulders, finally looked up to see the both of you putting on your shoes and coats. "Stay safe. Beware of the stalkers.. and what not," She jokingly warned, adding effects to her voice by deepening it, "we don't know who could be roaming around.." She continued. Winter took a seat right beside the two, slapping Ningning on the thigh for her horrible attempt on scaring the two of you, "Ghosts aren't real idiot."

"Hey now," Ningning shrugged before eyeing the lead vocalist up and down, "You're breathing. That's enough evidence."

A slap landing on her thigh harder than last time was all Ningning to immediately apologize and shut up. Winter smiled in satisfaction as Giselle ignored the two, switching the channel every now and then to find something that she'd actually enjoy.

"We'll be gone for a few." Karina stated, as if the rest of them hadn't been listening to your conversation the entire time.

"Have fun!"

"We'll try not to burn the house down."

"I'll keep an eye on the both of them."

—

"What made you suddenly have the need for fresh air?" Karina jokingly asked, finally easing up.

The two of you had been currently making your way to the beach, hand-in-hand with your masks and hoodie covering your faces very well so not a single soul could tell it was the two of you. You shivered, wanting to answer, but failing because of how cold it had gotten all of a sudden. L.A. air is seriously no joke. Karina skillfully took notice of this as if it was on the back of her mind, taking one of your hands and letting it slip into the hole of her coat. The other hand? She had been holding onto it still, hoping her own warmth would provide you with warmth.

"Thanks.." You muttered, feeling more assured knowing your hand wouldn't fall off from the numbness, "and I figured the two of us could enjoy it. Free stress life."

You're so caring. And I find that annoying.

"I'm certainly enjoying it." She mumbled. "Sorry?"

Her cheeks reddened, too embarrassed to even utter out another reply. You thought it was cute, giggling at the way she still managed to act awkward despite the two of you knowing each other ever since your predebut years. For Karina, the moment you had giggled at her awkwardness, it reminded her as to why she even caught feelings in the first place.

"Do you want to get drinks? You can pay." Are you seriously gonna make a girl pay after asking to get drinks?

You scrunched your nose, thinking of something else to say so it'd be a perfect cherry on top. "We can call it a date."

Because it's working and Karina doesn't mind.

"Okay—" Pause. "—but only because I'm feeling nice and not because you added the date part."

"You're cute, Jimin, but it's a friendly date. You have nothing to worry about." Oh. It was absolutely wrong to even have the high hopes that you were referring to something else. "I'm joking. You're literally buying us drinks, and we're about to take a whole walk on the beach at night."

She begins to tense.

"Tell me," you begin, "what friendly dates involve these things anyway? Can you believe how dense some people are?" It was certainly aimed. The way you had been staring pointedly at her with no emotion to share made her feel small. As if you were trying to hint at something.

Karina actually thought about it for a few seconds before you stopped her — huffing and puffing at the fact that she had actually thought about it. Just how dense can this girl be? You knew of the feelings she harbored for you, but a miracle would have to happen for her to actually confess her feelings.

You were sulking. Sulking hard.

"We're almost there. What drink do you want?" She had been so considerate to ask.

Though she already knew what you wanted.

"The same drink I've been getting since predebut days thank you very much." You answered, slightly raising your eyebrows. "They should have that here. It's almost everywhere."

"Right.." She chuckled, taking out her card to pay.

—

"I didn't think the beach would need a couple more miles to reach wow." You sighed in exhaustion before taking a long sip of your drink in hopes of getting energy from it.

"Eh. We're really not far away.." Karina squinted her eyes, acting as if it'll help with zooming in more. "Yeah, we're dead close."

She had been correct. The beach wasn't too far, and you could smell the salty air already. Though it kinda creeped you out, growing up at the thought of meeting some sort of siren that could possibly lure you into the ocean and drown you. Odd fear, but everyone must have had this sort of thought growing up.

"Did you seriously have to get ice cream, though?" You, for some reason, warily eyed the ice cream cone in her hand.

Karina pursed her lips into a thin line, unsure of how she should reply to that. "Um, yes? It's tasty."

"It's not that. It's the fact that you're a messy eater when it comes to ice cream." You stated, gesturing for her to wipe the bits of ice cream on her chin for her to miss it horribly.

Annoyed, you decide to do it for her yourself. "Uh.." Karina goes breathless, "thank you. But I could have done it myself?" It was more of a question than whatever she was trying to prove, showing that she could have not.

Finally reaching the sandy beach, the two of you admired the small waves that would form every now and then. You took out the Polaroid camera, feeling somewhat proud that you didn't forget it. Karina continued to admire the view, noticing how the sky painted itself onto the sea.

If anything, what she had been currently looking at couldn't compare to you. The way your hair swayed the same motion as the wind. The way you laughed at her jokes despite them all being unfunny — at least that was what she thought. Nothing could certainly beat the way you managed to come around like autumn, making her fall every time.

You were honestly captivating.

"So, what do you think?" You snapped her out of her own thoughts. Shit.

"It's pretty." She admitted.

"Really?" You tilted your head out of habit. "I think it's more than pretty."

You paused. Trying to find the right words to describe how beautiful it looked. Especially since the lights added onto the whole thing, making it the perfect cherry on top. "Ethereal?"

This time, she looked away to look at you. Hinting that the word wasn't aimed at the sea, but at you.

"Yeah.." You trailed off. "Yeah. Ethereal."

"Wow, the stars look pretty." You aimed the camera at the night sky, hoping you'd get a good shot.

Karina simply nodded, waiting for you to put the camera down to at least look her way. Because even if the sky managed to hold that amount of stars in its possession, it certainly couldn't beat the ones in your eyes that had always been on display oh so effortlessy.

"Random. But are you up for a game?" Your tone sounded mischievous, causing her to silently gulp. "List the things you like, and then list the things you don't."

She frowned, not understanding why you would even want her to do such a thing but because you said so. She will do so.

"I like uh, food. Shopping. Green tea. Animals. Mint chocolate. Pineapple pizza." She added the basics of what she liked before pausing a bit, "I dislike—"

"I don't see me on that list. I'm truly disappointed." You fake sighed.

Were you messing with her? Karina couldn't tell, but she swore she could somehow see a smirk forming under all that fake disappointed sadness.

"But.. I like you too." She found herself blushing at that statement — cursing herself mentally for not wording it correctly. "I meant I like you too, with the list of things I like. But you're not a thing! Don't get me wrong. And I mean it in a platonic way. Because that's what we are. Basically pla—" you stopped her by putting your index finger over her mouth, smiling so fondly at her, "Jimin, I know what you mean. Although it's sad because I like you too, definitely not platonically."

Silence crept up, and she couldn't find the right words to reply to that. She was happy, more than happy, actually. You obviously were waiting for any sort of reaction, but all you could find was a shocked look that could probably stay on her face forever if she could.

"Say cheese." A camera click stopped her from processing at the thought of you liking her back.

She was confused at that moment.

"Wait, do you like me or not?"

It was an obvious answer. Did she think you were playing with her? Probably. You literally took a picture of her, catching her even more off guard. She felt perplexed. Very unsure of whatever message you were trying to send her way.

You pretended to ignore her, humming whilst continuing to walk as if what you said earlier didn't affect her a big amount. She was down bad, and she wanted actual answers from you even if it meant making you repeat it. Evil. That was what she had been repeating endlessly in her mind while staring at that pretty smile of yours. Asshole. I hate that I let you get away with such things.

Karina continued to walk along too — behind you this time. She was tempted to whisk you away in order to get her questions answered. You stopped your place, waiting for the clueless latter to catch up. Karina did eventually — still questioning your motives.

"I said what I said," you grinned from ear to ear. "I like you too."

"How?" She asked, still feeling dumbfounded.

You knew she was leaning towards the question of how you even knew instead of when you harbored the same mutual feelings for her.

"It was obvious." A lie.

Truth be told, you were as clueless as her. That was until the day Ningning and her big mouth spilled the young leaders secret by asking whether you liked her back or not.

"You were just too obvious with it." Another lie.

It felt wrong to feel, but she still couldn't tell whether you were lying to her face or not. She wanted reassurance. Anything.

"You don't seem to believe me." You pointed out.

"That's right," Karina bravely admitted, "Unless you have something that could prove that you do — in fact — like me back."

The teasing tone in your voice made her wanna cave in. "How smooth. Really. If you wanted a kiss, then you could have said so."

"What? I don't—" Not even halfway through to finish her words, you cut her off by taking your mask off and kissing her right on the lips that had been attracting you the entire night. It's almost like a moth to a flame.

Karina's eyes widened, eventually melting towards the kiss afterward. It was good that nobody had been around because the two of you would have gotten in big trouble if a paparazzi or fan caught the both of you, sharing each other's first kiss under the moonlight.

Finding your hands during the kiss — Karina finds herself smiling against your lips as soon as she successfully interlocks her own hand with yours. Pulling away, you looked for any sort of reaction. She was cute. The way she had been currently covering her face, trying not to show how giddy she had felt from that single kiss, made your knees feel weak.

"Was that enough proof?" You had the audacity to ask after fulfilling her lifelong dream.

"Are you even real?"

You laughed at how serious she sounded. If anything, she should be asking herself that. Karina held such a strong aura that intimated other people around her. That was your first impression of her. Now, in your very own eyes, she looked as though she could be related to a puppy.

Deciding to call it a night, the two of you made it back to your dorm, unsure of the reaction from the other members if they had found out that the two of you were something more than just friends. Karina wasn't nervous, rather annoyed, already imagining how badly they were gonna tease her.

"We should keep it a secret for a bit. You softly muttered to her, already reading her mind. "We know we can't survive their teasing. Plus, they'll find out eventually."

"Secret? What secret is there to keep?" She grinned, expecting a smart reply from you.

"Haha. Funny." You deadpanned, realizing that the two of you didn't really make it official other than kissing each other. Did the kiss count? You sure hoped so.

Karina noticed the frown on your face, half smiling and sighing. "I get it. We're now uh.. girlfriends?" She tried not to stumble over her words, ears reddening. "You're so smooth." You giggled, which sounded like music to her ears. "I'll have you know this is my first relationship. Be supportive of that thought." "I don't think I will." "Seriously? You're already a bad girlfriend."

"And it's the first few minutes to our relationship and you're already annoying." You snorted, obviously joking.

Okay. Wow. How romantic.

Karina jokingly scoffed, "You're joking."

Not a reply after that, the wind being the only kind thing that somehow replied.

"You're joking."

Ignoring her words that were meant to convince the opposite of what you had just told her, you continued to fasten your pace, Karina following behind at an even more faster pace. Though she kept trying to convince you to answer(a proper one at that) her back. Forgetting her own words the moment she saw how perfect the moonlight illuminated your face, she had been left breathless.

"You're quiet all of a sudden." Jeez. Thanks captain obvious I certainly didn't know that.

"Yeah," She nodded, biting her lips, "yeah I guess I can see why those other male idols are always staring."

A fake frown formed. "You guess?"

"Don't start." Karina rolled her eyes, smiling uncontrollably afterward.

You mockingly did the same, "Okay, I won't."

"Just to be clear you're the annoying one."

"I am not afraid to break up what lasted a few minutes."

"I take it back."

—

"So? How did it turn out?" Winter asked, seemingly to have waited the entire time with that question in her mind.

You were the first to put down the already unnecessary items, along with your shoes so you were given no other chance but to reply. "Fine. Just two friends enjoying each other's company."

Since Karina's back had been facing all of you, she rolled her eyes, cringing at the word "friends". Ningning appeared out of nowhere with marshmallow stuffed in her mouth, resembling a chipmunk.

"How'd ittt gooaoao?" She asked, basically speaking nonsense from her already stuffed mouth.

Giselle appeared after, judging the younger latter with no remorse. "Don't speak with your mouth open."

"Daunt speek with yourr mowth open." Ningning mocked, swallowing all of it in one go. "I am officially a legend."

Karina sighed, "We'll be in our room if you need us. Which if you do, we'll be ignoring you." It was almost obvious. We? They all raised their brows at her statement, suspicious as to what she meant by that. "What she meant was that we're both TIRED from walking. My feet feels wobbly." You tried to save yourself, to which they nodded in acknowledgment to because you were a great liar.

"Giselle, you're in charge. Again. Don't let them near the stove."

Winter and Ningning frowned in annoyance, wondering why they even needed someone in charge knowing damn well that they were the reason for why the last dorm had fire almost everywhere. Giselle nodded, eyeing the two odd pair in a judgemental way.

Heading upstairs, Karina followed from behind. Winter and Ningning glanced at each other before sighing in disappointment.

"I win." Giselle proudly stated, taking her hand out for the money that they promised to give if she won the bet.

The two groaned before doing so, handing over their hard-earned money to the older latter. It was bad to place their bets on the two of you but it was the funny-entertainment kind. Nobody would pass up on that opportunity. Obviously — for the fun of it.

"I still can't believe it." Ningning was the first to speak after handing her money.

"Right I expected the both of them to at least go on like this for at least another few years."

"You think too low of them."

"When it comes to stuff like this? Yes we do."

#yoo jimin x reader #yoo jimin x fem reader #karina x reader #karina x fem reader #aespa x reader #aespa x fem reader #yoo jimin imagines #karina imagines #aespa imagines #idol x reader #gg x reader #kpop x reader #fluff #fic #fanfiction #hannxi

[neotaissong]

many thanks to @vvaterling for the tag, appreciate it

Last songs I listened to: 'the creator has a masterplan' by pharoah sanders, 'arab voice of freedom (live)' by fairuz, 'kwanzaa' by karma and 'weight of the word' by MIKE

Currently watching: mandabi by ousmane sembène (super stressful watch as unc gets taken by the triple threat of colonialism, corruption and a community of vultures) sankofa by haile gerima (one the best time travel movies of all time, with arguably the most cathartic slave uprising commited to film, another gerima masterpiece that burns all the exploitative, liberal-fascist, cash-grab, trauma porn slave narratives to dust) burning an illusion by menelik shabazz, the empire strikes back 4K80 (all these 'resistance' movies owe haiti, algeria and vietnam, a big phat cheque) love is blind (ngl after mandabi i needed thissss lol, so much mess this season) as above so below by larry clark (has some of the fiercest close ups of all the la rebellion films) little forest: winter/spring (a beautiful, seasonal series of movies, focused on cooking in a small village in Japan and the relationship between a daughter and her mother who has abandoned her, it's like a slow burn cooking show slash japanese art house movie series (it's 4 movies in total) about the poetic changing of seasons...it really makes you think about how limited western filmmaking/storytelling is and in it's own way asks the eternal question: what is cinema?) spirited away by miyazaki (i kinda hate sharp images at the mo, BUT reluctantly getting a 4k cut made from an 8k upscale, had me marvelling at every single frame and brushstroke and now im bopping thru the streets to joe hisaishi's score like a joker, but u know idgaffffffff this movie is an absolute masterpiece and it ain't up for discussion my dears lol) the muslim mindset and islam’s mission with dr sohail hanif and ig stories from: bisan, motaz, hindkhoudary, warsanshiree, saul williams, red_maat, bsonblast, amandaseales, oaklandmademe, thezaynalarbii and yasinbey...

Currently reading: ousmane sembène interviews, the quran, art on my mind by bell hooks, ming smith aperture monograph, domu: the dreams of children by katshuhiro otomo, the sound i saw by roy decarava, instant light (polaroids) by andrei tarkovsky, maafa by harmony holiday, the book of light by lucile clifton and suheir hammad's gaza suite. dipping in and out of all of the above...

Sweet/savory/spicy: all three, but right now, korean spicy chicken is what i dream of...

Relationship status: single...praying she loves god...............................and korean spicy chicken..............

Current obsession: shooting with my new camera, lenses lenses lenses, colour grading on davinci, preparing for shoots at the end of the month, inshallah...roy decarava's photography and his use of shadow, darkness and light, ming smith's photography and her use of blurrrr, darkness and focus, summerdanceforver dance-off videos (i miss paradiso) new balance 9060's and salehe bembury's designs and interviews especially his peace be the journey sneakers, hiking, harmony holiday on twitter (unmatched raps with a razor under tongue!) hiroshi yoshimura - copped the vinyl represses of green and surround, which im super grateful for, totally obsessed with green: ethereal and expansive movements through nature, basking in healing frequencies. local reggae community radio station run by elders in north london, always vibrant, shaggy and aggy. talking, arguing, listening, LEARNING, UNLEARNING, loving and meditating on how to decolonise everything, liberation and how we get free...free palestine congo sudan and stopppp cop city...steamed buns from bun house, writing and shooting (jill scott voice: slowly surely) and last and certainly notttttt least, getting closer to god...

Last search: flights to jamaica... (get me outta babylon fam)

Currently working on: beating burnout and the resulting procrastination to finish my new movie inshallah...preparing for shoots at the end of the month inshallah...

now i tag: @humbleseed @kndmind @ritasdove @ahla-tahiya @komplikacije @wrathdiwata @earthgoddessmusings @elea-mar @mosterriblewoman @thacryingame @besarelcielo @universalstudent @jamiefoxxhairline @therootednomad @0912199 @afeelingindescribable @sbtravie @artemisiasea @macaroot @textualtrancetextural @143-4u @afroladina @chaosteorema @rose1water @coyotelo @godzilla-en-mexico @esdr0 @gullyrootoranamu @guwop07 @bohemialatina @emekkka

im sure i've missed some mutuals, plssssss if i didn't tag you and you feel like you wanna put us on game and spill the beans on whats currently got you moving --------- pls join innnnn!

[mshalfemptygirl]

Karaoke Night (S.R)

Plot: Reader and Spencer are at karaoke and a song changes everything between them.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Contents: kissing, dirty talk and curse word

A/N: my 2rd fanfic here and I so happy that you guys liked the first one, 200 notes is such a big deal for me, thank you. This one is a little spicy and if you guys need a part 2, let me know. Thank you, support my work, love you all.

 Spencer and I have been friends for a short time, 3 or 4 months, he's the new professor at the college where I also teach and he's always been really nice to me. And we have a certain intimacy, we talk about everything, well... almost everything. We never talk about our sex life or relationships but he hears comments from my friend whenever we go karoke every Friday after work. It's just embarrassing for me to watch him overhear my best friend say "No drinks for you, every time you drink, your legs open", which is unfair by the way because it only happened once. Pff, she is creating to me a reputation that I don’t have and see him laughing after that comments makes me want to disappear off the face of the earth.

This time, we were at our usual table in front of the stage, talking about which song my best friend Sarah was going to sing. I never sing so I choose what she sings and I take pictures with my polaroid camera so that everyone has a souvenir of the night. "Sarah, what kind of song do you want to sing today? Sad song? Romantic song? Maybe…" I say looking at the tablet with 300 music options. "Y/N, today... don't be mad, I wanna sing a dirty song. I know that your forbid me because of Spencer, but I think he don't mind, right?" I was already mad, I banned these songs because I don't think he would like it, as much as I do. He likes classical music, he'll hate listening to that music.

"Oh, you can sing, I don't mind” he said giving us a big smile. It's very hard to understand Spencer, he wants to make us comfortable even if it makes him uncomfortable. "Please Y/N, I'll buy you lunch on Monday if you let me sing" she said, her hands clasped together like begging would do some good."I don't know…maybe I'll let you if you buy me lunch for a week…" I said, with a lopsided smile. "YEAH! DEAL! And I gonna sing your favorite dirty song", my eyes widened, because I know that my favorite dirty song can be... too much. I was about to start my protests but she took the tablet from my hand to choose the song. I looked at Spencer and he was watching me silently, as if he liked to see me blushing.

 Now, she was onstage, her favorite spot, about to sing Måneskin's song called "Baby Said" and I was next to Spencer, completely ignoring him as if he wasn’t going to think things about me after that. Of course I have a crush on him and I really wanted to kiss those lips but that would only happen in another reality because I think that of so many women in this world, I would be his last option. The moment arrived and she started to sing, the first verse is not the problem but when she sings "You can talk between my legs", I look at Spencer quickly and you swear I saw a smirk. Either he's enjoying it or he's really finding it all too vulgar. I decided to sing along because it turned out to be my favorite and there was a choreography Sarah and I did at the end of the song that is simply the best, maybe I shouldn't have banned those songs, because I have so much fun with them.

When it was over, I felt nervous, watched, as if I had been singing on stage. I was distracted when I heard a voice whispering in my ear "Can we talk outside?” It was him, I was panicking. Sarah ran to the the bar and I could stop thinking that he doesn't like it and he's going to say he's never coming here with me again. "Okay, sure" I said , a little apprehensive. We got up and walked to the front of the establishment. It was a little late at night and there was no one but us outside. I was the first to break the silence "I know, you hated the song, didn't you? Sorry, now you think I'm too vulgar and a..." Suddenly, he approaches me, puts his hands on my face and kisses me. I melted with his touch, I could only think of returning the kiss, placing my hands on his waist. First it was a slow kiss that turned into a hot and needy kiss. God, he's such a good kisser. I didn't know I needed this so much.

When we stopped to get some air, we looked at each other and I could see the passion in his eyes, and wow, he's so perfect, so hot. He intertwined his right hand in mine and with his left hand he tucked my hair behind my ear. Slowly, he brought his lips close to my ear and said "I'm not afraid of you being vulgar and you definitely are so vicious, so baby can we please go to my house? I have serious problems on my pants and I need your help" I gasped, surprised. I had to look and it really was a big problem he had. This man gonna be the death of me but I not going to miss this opportunity. "To be honest, I'm in trouble too. I'm so wet right now that I think I need you to talk between my legs. You want that, love?". I whisped, I heard him whisper "fuck" and then he kiss me again before we finally go to his home.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid fandom #spencer reid fanfiction #dirty talk #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid one shot #dr spencer reid #karaoke night #spencer reid smut #smut

[get-your-fics]

Dark!Eddie Munson x reader where they’re best friends and Eddie has a picture of her next to his bed and she thinks it’s a sweet gesture to show how important she is to him but in reality he has it to jerk off. Maybe one day she goes over and sees the white stuff on her picture and is like “wtf” and maybe she already has a boyfriend who doesn’t like Eddie because he sees the way he looks at her

You Know What They Say About Nice Guys

Summary: He couldn't deny it to himself any longer: he got off to the thought of his best friend. That was why he kept a photo of her on his bedside table.

Pairings: Dark!Eddie Munson x fem!reader (hint of Steve Harrington x reader)

Word count: 774

Warnings: Allusion to non-con, male masturbation, incel mindset, this is just like pure filth

It’s not that unusual for a guy to jerk off thinking about his best friend, right?

It’s not like Eddie did it intentionally. But every time his hand was wrapped around his cock, his mind conjured up images of her instead: down on her knees in front of him; laying on her back with her legs spread wide underneath him. It was like his brain was projecting them onto his closed eyelids, and he had no choice but to watch.

He even stole some of his uncle’s porn magazines to get his mind off her, but that only made the thoughts worse. He subconsciously pasted her face over every Playboy model playing with her tits or with her hand between her legs. It was her with the arched back and parted lips, staring him straight in the eye as he touched himself.

And he was only ever able to come when he thought about what it’d feel like to spill deep into her tight, wet heat.

Eventually, he stopped denying it to himself: he got off to the thought of his best friend. That’s why he started keeping a photo of her on his bedside table.

It was a polaroid he’d taken of her at the beach. She was in this delicious little bikini that exposed so much of her soft skin. She was sitting on a towel with her legs outstretched in front of her, leaning back on her hands with her eyes closed a she tilted her face up towards the sun. He’d taken it from over her shoulder, so she hadn’t noticed the click of the camera. She hadn’t seen him slip the polaroid into his jacket pocket, either.

He forgot to put it away when she came over, so when she asked, “What’s this?” and he turned to see the polaroid in her hands, all the blood drained from his face.

“Oh, that’s nothing… it’s just… uh…” he stumbled over his words, trying to come up with a good excuse. He could feel his face flush bright red like a cherry tomato.

He watched her eyes squint and her nose wrinkle. She was adorable when she was confused. Then, her eyes went wide, like a light bulb turned on over her head. “This was from our day at the beach.” She looked up at him, beaming from ear to ear. “That’s so sweet!” She put it down and reached for his camera. “Now, I need one too.”

He was frowning in the photo she took of him. Sweet? That made him feel like a neutered dog. Did she not think of him that way at all? Was the idea of them together so absurd that the thought of him masturbating to her didn’t even cross her mind?

Her boyfriend clearly didn't think so. He could see the way that brainless scarecrow Steve Harrington looked at him. He surveyed him like he was a threat. And he’d heard him grumbling to her about how much time she spent with Eddie.

“He’s my best friend,” she’d assured him every time. “You have nothing to worry about.”

Her words were like a slap in the face. Was that really all he was to her? How many times had he driven her somewhere, lent her money, helped babysit her little siblings, all without expecting anything in return? Hell, he treated her better than her fucking boyfriend did.

He thought about changing her mind, about pinning her down on his bed and having his way with her. He even thought about Steve being forced to watch him make his girlfriend come over and over again and how embarrassed that limp dick idiot would feel knowing he’d never made her feel anywhere close to that good.

All those twisted thoughts swirled in his head as he held her photo tight between his fingers, painting her scantily-clad body with ropes of white as a low groan fell from his lips.

He didn’t even bother hiding it when she came over at night when his uncle was away. She walked over to his bedside table with a smile on her lips, picking up the photo thoughtlessly. Her smile quickly faded when she noticed the dried substance on the photo, and she dropped it like it had stung her.

“Eddie, what the fuck?” She was furious, but he liked her even better when she was mad. “What’s wrong with you?”

He turned the lock on his bedroom door and spun to face her, grinning. Fucking his fist wasn’t enough to satisfy him anymore. He wanted the real thing, and he was willing to go to extremes to get it.

#dark!fic #dark!eddie munson x y/n #dark!eddie munson x you #dark!eddie munson x reader #dark!eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #stranger things #drabble #request

[utbcficrecs]

E D D I E M U N S O N x R E A D E R - smut one shots

one shots will be in alphabetical order by writer blog name, all of their works will be linked under their user.

these one shots all contain sexual scenes - viewer discretion is advised, please read all warnings on the links before proceeding. minors do not interact, 18+ only.

@chainsawmunson

dead lovers lane

summary: weirdos in love! you and eddie go exploring and, even though the setting is less than ideal, you can't keep your hands off each other.

the moon knows we're in love

summary: you and eddie were best friends until you weren't. years pass, but the ache of his absence never does. and then he's back in your life, like nothing ever changed.

@corrodedcorpses

i know you want to be a good boy

summary: eddie has been pissing you off all day and watching him flirt with another girl is what sends you over the edge. oh well, guess you’ll just have to remind him how to be a good boy.

@corrodedhawkins

bound

summary: eddie gets a taste of what it's like to be dominated.

@eratolasting

slasher

summary: the songbird slasher has been making his way throughout indiana and surrounding states, kidnapping victims and leaving songs next to their dead bodies.

@hellfirebabes

safe word

summary: after a long day at work you just want to relax but the night has something else in store for you.

scream for me

summary: an unknown caller leaves you scared and horny.

@indouloureux

crybaby

summary: your best-friend’s pretty. really fucking pretty. especially when he’s got his eyeliner smudged all over his eyes from crying too much, or when he’s got scratch marks over his inked skin, or when his begging moans make him hotter than hellfire

kiss of the knife

summary:  in frenzied expeditions, eddie lets his anger snap and indulges in something... new.

@loveshotzz

perv!eddie and perv!reader part one // part two

summary: eddie loses his favourite shirt, reader loses her panties. where they end up leads to smutty encounters.

love bites

summary: eddie hooks you up with an eighth after showing up at his place strapped for cash.

@munsonquinns

camera shy part one // part two

summary: eddie’s a popular camboy, along with your best friend steve. one lucky introduction manages to turn your life upside down, arguably, for the better.

dirty little secret

summary: eddie’s used to being everyone’s dirty little secret; quick hookups spur rumors spread around school that have you more than curious and eddie has to admit, he’s just as curious about you.

double trouble

summary: growing up together was hard enough, it didn’t help that you were hopelessly trapped by both of them, wondering which one would win you over in the end—because honestly, why couldn’t you have both?

get your fix

summary: adventures in your shared obsessions of each other and your bodies—and eddie was insatiable when it came to you.

scream my name

summary: summer of 96’, fresh off the anniversary of the tragedy that took place on year ago—you and your friend are ready to enjoy your last few days of freedom and fun, but someone has other plans in mind and everyone is fair game.

@msgexymunson

red handed

summary: the polaroids had started out as just a joke, until you realised how much it turned you on taking them

rumour part one // part two

summary:  you share with Eddie, your older neighbour, the rumours you've heard about him. They might not be all fictitious...

@mypoisonedvine

the pirate and the princess

summary: halloween is that special night where you can be anything you want to be... maybe more than the labels everyone else gives you. maybe even more than 'just friends'. (aka, reader has a reputation, eddie's still a virgin, filth ensues)

@nyxoz

life's no fun without a good scare

summary: ghostface / scream!eddie

@rosemaremembrance

goth girl!reader part one // part two

summary: goth reader blows eddie's mind.

@stranger-nightmare

good boy

summary: your first time pegging eddie, and you provide him with plenty of praise.

@xcatnapsx

kinktober day 16 - intercrural sex

summary: eddie wants to fuck readers thighs

[rosecoloreddesire]

Sugar Daddy Blues, 3

Summary: You’ve been told to stay away from strangers before but…this one sounded like a dream come true. Sending you money for school, clothes, and pictures. You were living on cloud nine and somehow Elvis Presley was gonna take you all the way there.

Warnings: Daddy Kink, Older!Elvis, Younger!Reader (by 10 years), Innocence Kink, P in V (wrap it up y’all!). 

Note: Thanks y’all for all the love on SDB! If you guys have any ideason how to further this series pls let me know! I was also writing a separate story and hope that I didn’t put the name in this lol. My DMs and requests are open! My finals for college start sometime this week! Love y’all! 

“Soooo, what happened when you left me at the entrance, Y/N?” Your skin flushed and you all but spit your drink out at the bar.

“Emily! I didn’t do nothin’! Jerry just asked me if I saw a girl's missin' purse! That’s it!” You fold your arms and a pout decorates your lips. She scoffs as she raised the tickets in her hands.

“Well, jokes on you! We’re going again tonight! They’ve got more songs to film!” Your heart skipped a beat as she placed the ticket in your palm. You hadn’t talked to Elvis since that night out of pure humiliation.

“Really?! Now, we’ve gotta go find some new clothes to wear!” You push your empty glass toward the bartender and he nods. How the hell were you gonna face the King of Rock N Roll?! You just sucked him off and went away! How was he gonna react to that? Why did you have to say it like that? 

“Well, I’m a good friend and wanted your suga’ daddy to go absolutely wild! This is just the bee's knees, Y/N!” Your best friend draws a leather dress out of a shopping bag and squeals. Your jaw all but dropped as you took the coarse fabric into your shaky hands.

“I am not wearin’ this, Em! You have lost your goddamn mind! I’d much rather ask them to dress me!” Your cheeks burned at the thought of how Elvis would react to you trying to match his all-leather get-up. Your mind ran rampant as you thought of him bending you over and proving then and there that you were his and his only. You shook your head as Emily giggled.

“C’mon! At least let me help you model it for a few pics! My aunt designed this dress and she said she needed it for a model!” You sighed but heavily agreed. You begrudgingly walk into the bathroom and pull the leather trap on. You huff as it hugs at your curves and you smile at yourself in the mirror. You look good….no! No, you can’t wear it to his special. Lord knows what he’d do or that damn manager would do!

“A lot tighter than expected but I got it on.” Emily clapped as she brought out her Polaroid camera. You pose the best you can while people in the bar are staring at you. You’re aware of the eyes but they don’t put you off but spur you on to keep posing.

“These are perfect! Now you don’t have to wear it tonight we can change real quick and call for a taxi to get there in time!” Emily grabs your arm and pulls you back into the bathroom. As you both change she helps you with her makeup. You feel an unnerving guilt bubble in your chest as Emily pats down your eyeshadow.

“I almost slept with Elvis Presley.” You freeze as Em drops the eye shadow brush in her hand. She scrambles to push her makeup away. Her hands grasp yours harshly.

“ALMOST?! Why didn’t you?! The Elvis Presley wants you,” you wince as you see the cogs turning in her head,” HE’S THAT GUY! Your suga’ daddy is Elvis?!” You shush her and place your finger on her lips. Her vision is ablaze with excitement.

“Could you scream any louder? Damn, Em! You know I’ve never done nothin’ with no one! How am I supposed to do that with Elvis?!” She continues your makeup and shakes her head. Your head swam in thoughts of every position you could think of Elvis putting you in. God, your daddy would kill you for these thoughts.

“Did you ever think of talking it out with your man? He knows you're younger than him so why wouldn’t he think you're a virgin? Maybe he’s into that?” She shrugs as she finishes your makeup and you sigh. You should’ve talked to him about it but you couldn’t get past your own pity. You brushed your clammy hands across your skirt and let your shoulders sag as she finished her hair.

“M-Maybe if I get the chance tonight I’ll talk with him. Though I doubt he’s gonna wanna talk to me after what happened.” Em took your hand and she placed a comforting hand across your cheek.

“You are burnin’ up, chick! We really gotta get him to notice you! And I know just how!” Before you can ask why she’s grinning so devilishly she pulls you along once more. You soon find yourself face to face with Jerry once again and he beams softly down at you. You nod and Emily tells you to hold her seat. You locate your seat and realize you are directly next to the stage…again. Great. 

————————-

“Where were you,” it was more of an injunction than a question,”He just started so hopefully they don’t catch us on film…What-“ Your scolding is interrupted by a further entire set. He looks magnificent as he strides in a black satin shirt and red scarf.

“Wow, he looks hot, Y/N.” She nudged your side with her elbow as you can’t tear yourself away from his stature. The filming seems to go by fast with him changing multiple times. Lights behind him glow red in the dimly lit space in his name. Chills run down your spine as you acknowledge this wasn’t a Christmas song. He went against his manager again. Though instead of being worried for him…you wanted him to keep doing this kind of thing. It made him seem more…alive. More him. His voice was blaring and controlling in the resonant space. Extras and staff stared on in awe as his emotion grew and the room filled with a sense of perseverance. A gospel scene is next and you feel awful as you feel the searing desire fill your veins. And who are you kidding? A whorehouse? He knew what he was doing at that point!

The filming ends as soon as it starts and claps erupt in the studio as he stands in absolute disarray of emotions. His life was hanging in the balance of this but you could see how much he tended to the melody of this special. Individuals are being placed back by the stage as Elvis grins. He waves you over and your skin is alight with craving at the short action.

“Did ya like it, baby? I still feel like I’m shakin’.” He allowed you to wander aside from him to his dressing room. You peek around to make sure no one was tracking you both or just observing. Your eyes dart up to where Elvis was gaping earlier and make eye contact with Elvis’ manager. His eyes bore voids through you as Elvis clutches your hand.

“I-It was great, E. Um, are you still filming today or was this just a trick by Emily and your friend?” Elvis lowers your hand and chuckles.

“I do have a little filmin’ yet to do. Though mostly it was to trick you back into my life. I was worried you weren’t ever gonna talk to me, princess.” He began to unbutton his pants as you stood there frozen.

“I-I didn’t think you’d want me. I mean we met once! I just wanted to give you an out-“ His lips are fierce against yours as his hand sifted through your H/C hair. You sigh as he jerks his fingers scarcely. His desire spills into your mouth, your fingers grip the collar of his shirt severely.

“I want you so bad that it hurts, princess. I need you to want me just as badly. God, darlin’.” His gaze never leaves your lips as his statement dangles in the air. Your fingers shake as you help unbutton his shirt. What the hell were you doing? Your fingers curled around the red scarf wrapped around his throat. 

“I want you, Elvis. Please, just- I’ll come to wherever your stayin’ after your filmin’ is done, alright?” Elvis’ face lights up and a brief kiss is laid upon your cheek.

“I’m gonna film this so quick, darlin’!”

“Don’t ruin your filmin’, Elvis!”

“C’mon!”

———————

“Soooo, bar time? Or suga’ daddy time, Y/N?” Emily fixes her pant leg as the two of you begin to walk out of the venue. Jerry is standing next to an expensive black car and waves at you fondly.

“Um, screw it! I’m gonna sleep with Elvis Presley.” You state confidently as Emily hoots and hollers.

“Well, you go have fun, chick! Call me and tell me everythin’!” You nod as you step into the car and thank Jerry. The ride is quiet but comfortable as you drive to Elvis. Jerry keeps small talk at a minimum as you feel your nerves rise within your body. Your skin feels hot as your body shakes.

“We’re here, Y/N.” Jerry helps you to the door of Elvis’ room and then excuses himself as he hears his friend’s footsteps beyond the door. Elvis is all smiles as he opens it. You follow him inside and he stops by a vanity in the corner. He takes a swig of whiskey and looks at you from the mirror.

“Look at you, princess. I think you should’ve come in this.” Your skin heated as he turned to you. He was wearing a robe once again but he had pajama pants on. Sadly. Stop it, Y/N. Polaroids fall out of his hands and scatter to the floor. You knew Emily was going to utilize those against you.

“My best friend told me her aunt needed a model. That’s all. How did you even get those?”

“Mm, I need one too. How about you model to me what you’ve got under that cute little piece you’ve got on.” He leans against the wall with a smirk as your eyes widened. You were going to kill Emily once this was over. How the hell did she even get those to Elvis?

“I-I’m not um. Wearin’ nothin' cute.”

“I think anythin' on your pretty body is cute, darlin’,” he walks towards you as you try to collect your thoughts. His large hands are warm as they gather at your waist. His skin burning through your clothes,” I want you so bad, lil' mama. Please, let me have you.” You nod as his body presses against you. Your conscience flying out the window.

“Fuck me, Elvis.”

“Who?”

“Please, daddy.”

“That’s my girl.” His hands are calloused and rough as they lay against your throat. Leading you to lie against the bed in his room. It’s adorned in silk sheets and velvety pillows. You smile up at him as your arms wrap around the nape of his neck.

“You bring these fancy things with you everywhere?” He laughs and places a chaste kiss on your lips. A playful smirk glistens on his face.

“Only when I know I’ve got a pretty lil’ thing in my sight. Now I need to have you, princess.” His lips are soft and wet as he ravages your neck. You grasp a tuft of his hair as you let out a loud cry. His teeth scrape at the sensitive spot on your neck, shivers of desire running down your spine.

“E-Elvis, I’ve never-“ he interrupts you as he slips your shirt off your body. You stutter as he bites his lip, taking you all in.

“I know, lil’ mama. I’ll be gentle. God, you look divine.” You nod and grab his shoulders holding him close.

“I-I got myself r-ready before seeing you, daddy.” Elvis’ eyes roll into the back of his head as a broken whine etches from his mouth. He lifts your skirt and rips your tights apart. His finger circled around your clit. Your thighs shake as his eyes blacken observing you plunge into lust within moments. His lips are urging against your throat, lapping at the newly made marks.

“God, with that mouth. I gotta have you right now, baby.” You nod as you writhe around the pillows. The sensation of his finger alone has you begging for him.

“Please, I need your cock, daddy. Please. I’ll be good.” His hand finds solace around your throat and he bites his lip. He finally strips down and runs his cock between your folds.

“You gotta be kiddin’! I really wanted to be nice, darlin’! Fuck-“ Elvis plunged inside of you and your breath hitched. Your heart races as you get used to being filled up all at once.

“Elvis-“

“Breathe baby. You’re doin’ so good. That’s my good girl.” His hands rest on your waist as he continues to push inside of you. Your nails take down his back and he hisses in pain. He pants as you squeeze him tighter. His cock throbs within you.

“I-I,” you take a deep breath as you try to get used to the feeling of being split open,” you’re too big, daddy.” Your legs shook against his waist as his hips bucked forward. His resolve was dissolving as your bare skin rubbed against his. Your innocence was fleeting as your stripped body drew him in.

“You’re gonna kill me, doll,” his lip tight between his teeth as he stares down at you,” Fuck, can I move, darlin’?” He huffs out a shaky soft moan as you try to adjust yourself to his size.

“Please, I wanna feel you.” A deep growl thunders deep in his chest as he desperately clutches at your waist.

“I gotta have you now, princess.” His eyes are dark and commanding as he thrusts forward harshly. Your back arches and he compels you back down onto the delicate sheets. Your skin is burning against his as he lays his body against yours. His hips are furious among yours as he pumps his cock in and out of you. Watching as your pussy swallows his whole cock, your name drips off his lips as he cries out.

“Fuck! Elvis, you feel so good,” you grasp at his back, your manicured nails raking down his back. Hissing, Elvis bites your shoulder as his pace picks up,” please, more, daddy-“ his voice is deep, layered in need as he howls into your collarbone. His intoxicating need is being smudged in purple across your chest. His eyes never leave your body as he commits every single curve and every dip. You were made to be his sugar baby. Made to be his everything.

“You are gorgeous, Y/N. You’re mine. My baby. My baby to spoil, right?” He accented his words with deep, harsh thrusts. You yelp as he flips the two of you over. Your body is on full display over the top of him now. His hands gripping your ass as you whine at the new angle of his cock. Your walls flutter around his cock as the desire in your core tightens.

“Yes, yours. All yours, daddy. Please, I wanna cum.” He nods as he slips his thumb to rub your clit. His eyes never leave your bouncing tits as you chase your neverending high on his dick. You roll your hips hungrily wanting to be marked as his as deep as possible. His thumb circled your desperate clit rapidly.

“Oh, baby. That’s it. My pretty little pussy. Such a good girl for daddy.” That’s it. Your body quivers with warmth and pleasure as you throw your head back. His hands wrap around your waist trying to keep you grounded. Your body convulsed as your orgasm seeps through you. A cry rips from your throat as he arranges his legs beneath you to pound into your dripping cunt. His legs shuddered underneath you as if he didn’t want this moment to end. His hand envelops your throat, you hold his arm as you try to anchor yourself. Another orgasm rips through you as quickly as it came. Your body shakes above his, grabbing you he brings you closer to his chest. Your bodies rubbing against each other.

“Please. Please. Cum inside me. I want it!” Continuous babbling falls from your lips as drool begins to pool on your skin. Elvis groans and his hips begin to stutter as his release begins. He’s grasping at your body like you’ll leave the minute he comes to. His teeth gnashing and gnawing on any expanse of your body that isn’t bruised and red. His hips continue to pump slowly in and out of you as his clarity slowly returns.

“That was not the way I planned our first time together, darlin’. God, you're still so wet. I’m sorry-“ you cut him off with a quick kiss on his nose.

“Well, you can show me for our second time together, Elvis.” You wink as you let his length slip out of you. He winces at the overstimulation and grabs a towel on the bedside table. He cleans you off softly, as he bites his lip. His seed poured out of you onto his sheets. You cover your face as he tickles you. Your giggles filling the space.

“Mm, I’m gonna stay your sugar daddy?”

“Have you found a reason not to spoil me?”

“I can’t say I have.”

“Then no! Thank you, Mister Presley.”

“Mm, Round 2?”

“I thought you’d never ask, Elvis.”

Sugar Daddy Blues Taglist: @austinbutlersgirlfriend @marriedtoeddie @el-velvis @kaitaesupremacy @eliseinmemphis @suspiciousmidge @godlypresley

#elvis presley #elvis smut #austin butler elvis #elvis fluff #elvis blurb #elvis x reader #elvis 2022 #elvis #elvis presley x reader #sugar daddy elvis #rosecoloreddesire #elvis presley fic

[bigkingxl0]

NEW FIC: BODYBUILDING

The creaking highlighted his waddling steps into the kitchen. The same path he took every hour or so, hands cradling the warm bulge of his gut, hungry for more. All those years ago, he'd had no soft dough to hold. But that was years ago. He fished two beers out of the fridge and emptied them into his belly, feeling it expand under his pudgy fingertips. He returned with an armful of snacks, but by the time he managed to start his stream, they were gone.

He flexed for his fans, but his arms grew tired from holding up the thick ring of fat sagging where his bicep hid. He smacked his gut and let loose a rolling belch for the camera. He could barely move under the weight of his food, and the more he moved, the gassier he got. Not that he cared. 

"It all started in that gym!" Chet slurred, head spinning from the combo of weed, pounds of food, and alcohol. He laughed at the photo.

The Chet in the photo flexed in front of the squat rack. It had been shot on a polaroid in a gym that no longer stood, not far from the CUNY campus where he'd studied Personal Training.

His life had been going perfectly. Right out of college he made a name for himself. Although the gym he worked for was fresh, it showed potential -- and so didn't Chet. He too was fresh, his mind was sharp and he was damn good at his job. By design his only hobby was training hard. Obsessively tracking macros and calories. He ate right, never cheated, and cranked away day and night, exercising his body. Lifting heavy, then heavier. He’d won his fair share of "natural" competitions, his name had value in the right circles. He loved that his body put him in the spotlight: Exactly why he needed the self-gratuitous photo taken.

"Chet's happy place!" His gym rat buddies had joked.

He ended up with his pictures in magazines and on websites. He racked up a social media following. He trained a dozen and one Hollywood stars, and catapulted into fitness fame. Chet found his new happy place -- alongside a well-paying spot as the face of the best new fitness brand.

Now, he looked like a slob, half naked body surrounded by a pile of plates and filth. Lifting weights had become lifting the remote. He tweaked his swollen nipples and flexed again, the effort making him fart. He breathed it in, getting worked up and squeezing another out for good measure.

Embiggn had come to him with an offer he couldn't refuse. He had been getting bored of the rat race. He won often, and made money, but it was dull. For a long time he toyed with the idea of starting his own guru brand, and for no good intentions. The company knew he was perfect for their brand: he was a vain, egocentric meathead that needed to get bigger by any means necessary. He took their sponsorship and ran with it, shilling out Embiggn programs and equipment and gym memberships and sponsored nutritionists. He was the biggest face in fitness, and Embiggn grew to become the best selling fitness brand in the US. Sex sells, but sex appeal sells better. Chet and his brand had millions of fans worldwide, and he was plastered all over their merch.

"And now the new life-changing product from... from my one and only sponsor... Embiggn!" he said, like he didn't know what the words meant.

It was the ultimate fitness device, according to Embiggn. It looked like a large crate-like box, marked with the trendy logo and fitted with a touch screen. All you had to do was open the lid and punch in the serial code. After many brain dead tries, Chet managed to enter the short code, and the device sprang to life. It wasn't terribly loud, but very flashy and overdesigned. It moved mechanically at first, then seamlessly slid under him for his "workout", then dispensed several electrodes and simple instructions.

With a clearer head he would have felt ridiculous, but not then. He'd been the perfect beta tester, watching hours and hours of videos training him to be a mindless pig without even knowing. Hours spent gorging, lounging, and growing while he was convinced nothing had changed.

He leaned back into the couch, feeling the prods of the self-assembling parts. Two cold cups suctioned onto his swollen nipples, six electrodes adhered to his stomach, and two to his temple.

"Ready?" A soft voice asked him.

"Hell yea-mmmmph!” The machine had hardly waited for his confirmation. A tube snaked down his throat and pumped his gut full of lard. He moaned around the tube, feeling his already swollen body swell more with every pump. Chet didn't feel bloated; he just felt hungrier and hungrier. Eagerly he sucked the mix down, and as he sucked, his mind withered more and more. 

It had specifically been programmed for his brain — decades of user profiles in their database. They knew more about him than he did. It knew his need to get bigger, and it would help him acquire the level of fitness he wanted. Embiggn hadn't lied. They had formulated each machine to reach into the depths and create perfection. The seat cradled him no matter how much his ballooning body shifted. The machine tugged at his sensitive chest, and milked his cock, all the while pouring pure fat down his throat. Chet realized, dimly, that he'd never felt better in his whole life. And like that, his life was reduced to the machine.

After years of eating up the material on the Embiggn apps, in his mind, he was just as buff as he'd always been. He didn't need an Embiggn brand VR headset to see his body getting stronger instead of fatter, but it had certainly helped. That paired with the spent years eating up the fattening "health supplements" and food around him. 

Desperately he sucked at the tube. He needed more. His wide ass blew right through his tarp like shorts. His tight skin glistened with sweat, his breathing quick and shallow. Between his elephantine thighs, the machine quickened its pace. He thought that his overfilling might end at orgasm, but when he finished three containers to no mercy, he truly gave up. Helplessly he sucked down the fattening cocktail--not that he had much choice--and the last shred of humanity he'd had was lost. A bubbling fart slipped from his ass, and he shot his load. The machine deemed this to be enough pleasure, and relinquished him. The machinery repackaged itself to charge, leaving Chet propped on a couch too fragile to support his weight. It splintered beneath him in pieces, but he was too dazed to notice. 

It was quite a feat of engineering they had managed. As long as he streamed on an Embiggn platform, his image would be one of yesteryear. The Embiggn AI generated a perfect likeness of him, only with his beefy tanned body, and not his hoggish form. When he flexed his cellulite, his digital muscles bulged. Instead of his gut hanging out of his custom Embiggn Personal Trainer tee, his shredded muscles filled it out. Any dopamine spike detected by the program would beef up his digital self even bigger, and bigger they had grown.

It was a new age. The program had changed his life for sure. If he hadn't glossed over his contracts, he'd have known what he signed up for. But no one ever read the contract, the suits at Embiggn knew that. They marketed their ultra fattening, brain melting products as uber-healthy supplements decorated with fitness gods, while the fitness gods that took it became uncontrollably obese, and Chet was no different. Then they provided them with the ultimate distraction, a fantasy world of fame that kept the pigs docile, distracted, and addicted. 

And like sheep, the masses would follow. More people would pick up Embiggn -- through word of mouth, through flashy advertisement, through the millions of bots pumping out positive info. Then it wouldn't just be gym bros made to be massive hogs. In fact, according to the spreadsheets, nearly 45% of all traditional gym goers had given up a physical location for an Embiggn package. That number climbed exponentially every single quarter, and with the release of their New Year's Resolution package, the future looked even fatter.

Chet ended his stream in which his viewers had watched a massively strong man reach his new personal best. In some way, he really had. Three tubs of Embiggn Gainer pumped into his ruined body, three pounds of pure fat gained in one session. He sighed, content with his crippling obesity. After all, he could see he was still the shredded muscle God of his dreams. He smiled for the camera, sluggishly flexing and farting.

His cock ached from overstimulation, but he teased his nipples anyway, drool spilling out of his mouth. He liked being dumb and fat, even if he had no idea that he was. It made his tiny cock hard, and made him cum. And he liked that a lot. Too bad he was too wide to reach the little chub hidden under his massive fat pad. And even if he were to try, all that lard wobbling would tire him right out. Chet needed the Embiggn machine. 

Dependency. That was the future too.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Like my work? Want to support it? Head on over to my link.tree and drop a donation! https://linktr.ee/bigkingxl

#wg fic #my writing #sara2444 #gainer fiction #bhm #slob #gas #linktree

[zoe-and-quinn]

Whumptober Day 9

Polaroid / Mistaken Identity / “You’re a liar.”

TW: Restraints, partial nudity (non-sexual), knife, creepy whumper

The morning had gone by like usual. Alexei had come in to hand out food, water, and meds. Casey took a few minutes to go through Georgia’s paper cup and point out each supplement, antidepressant, and vitaman, to ease her mind. There was only one he didn’t recognise, but she quickly explained that it was her estrogen supplement.

“I don’t know how he knew my brand or dosage, though.”

“He has his ways,” Casey sighed.

Alexei came by to collect dishes, and the three started a game of go fish using Felix’s cards, asking questions with each play to get to know each other. Felix insisted on starting with simple questions, which Casey quickly agreed to. Felix tended to avoid talking about deep subjects, when at all possible. Besides, Casey didn’t know all that much about either Felix and Georgia, and favorite colors and animals seemed like a good place to start.

They only had a few minutes of playing before the door opened and Alexei walked in again. “Come on, Casey, let’s get moving,” he ordered, holding the door open and looking impatient.

Casey’s stomach dropped. “Where are we-”

“You’ve got a client,” Alexei interrupted, annoyed, “and they’ll be here any minute, so let’s move.”

Casey stayed motionless, rooted to the floor as the surprise and terror set in. He had only had a few clients since Alexei deemed him ‘trained’ enough to be on the market. He hadn’t gotten used to the paralyzing, horrible sensation of looming pain, hadn’t figured out how to push back the what-ifs and reluctance.

Alexei rolled his eyes and stepped into the room, grabbing Casey and yanking him up to his feet. He put a firm hand on his shoulder, pulling him out of his room and down the dreaded hallway. He stopped to grab something out of a cupboard, but Casey hardly noticed. He couldn’t stop staring at the steel door.

When Alexei pushed him towards it once more, the panic surged and filled his body. “Sir, don’t make me, please don’t-”

Alexei didn’t stop, sliding the bolt and pulling the door open. Casey was pushed inside. His eyes moved on their own accord, and he could not take responsibility for their sweep over the many weapons on the wall in front of him.

Something hit Casey’s back, and he flinched and turned to see a small heap of clothing on the floor. “Get changed quickly,” Alexei ordered, turning to unwrap a thick rope from an anchor on the wall.

Casey did as he was told, pulling off his old clothes and putting on a fresh white tee and a pair of black athletic shorts. He balled the dirty clothes up and held onto them nervously.

Alexei had untied the rope and added more slack. The rope was threaded through a loop on the ceiling, and the end now hung at about eye level. Tied onto it was a large, metal hook.

Alexei pulled a sturdy pair of handcuffs off a shelf, and Casey realized what was happening.

He backed away a step, shaking his head as tears started to well up in his eyes. This was all too much, he didn’t want this, he couldn’t handle this.

Alexei didn’t care. He grabbed his wrists and forced the handcuffs on, letting the bundle of clothes drop to the floor. He placed them on the hook and pulled the rope, and suddenly Casey was on his toes, hands above his head, caught like a worm on a hook.

“They’ll be here in a minute,” Alexei said, grabbing the dirty clothes and moving towards the door. “On your best behavior, understand?”

Casey said nothing, eyes screwed tightly shut.

“I said, do you understand?” The darkened tone made Casey flinch, and he nodded immediately.

“Yes, sir,” he whispered. Alexei left without another word.

The client opened the door a few minutes later, and before Casey knew it, they were momentarily blinded by the flash of a camera. Once their vision came back, blurry and littered with spots, they got a look at the client.

She looked to be in her mid 30s, with blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail. She smiled at Casey, holding the polaroid camera up again. This time, Casey had the foresight to close his eyes before the flash.

“Don’t mind me,” the woman said, bending down and pointing the camera up at him. “I’m just getting some ‘before’ pictures. We can get started in a minute.”

Casey found himself not minding the wait, as she lined up a few more shots. Anything to delay ‘getting started’.

Eventually, she put the camera down on a table, laying the developing photos out in a row. She turned to the wall of weapons and started looking. Casey didn’t know whether he wanted to watch or not, whether he wanted to know what would happen to him in a minute or two. In the end, it didn’t matter. He couldn’t bring himself to look away.

“So many interesting toys to play with,” the woman mused, tapping her chin in indecision. “In the end, though, I think I’ll stick to the classics.”

She pulled a knife off a magnetic strip, a small, curved weapon with a wicked shard point and a much duller blade. Casey couldn’t help the pathetic little whimper that escaped from his lips.

He wasn’t strong like Felix, not yet at least. He didn’t know how to bite back the screams, how to stay witty and brave through the pain.

When that knife bit into his chest as she slit his new clean shirt, when it carved patterns into his skin like he was a block of wood, he wasn’t able to hold back the sobs.

The client stepped back after what felt like hours, circling his shaking form like an artist around a sculpture. She picked up the camera and snapped picture after picture as Casey hung, barely supporting his weight, letting the cuffs rub his wrists raw.

She watched as they developed, smiling at each new addition to the collection of Casey’s pain. At one point, she picked one up and walked over to him.

“Look,” She said, grabbing his chin and forcing him to stare at the polaroid, showing off the blood dripping down his chest. “Don’t you think you look just beautiful like this?”

She was gripping him so hard, and his body hurt so much, and he wanted her to be happy, to leave him alone. “Y-yes,” he muttered, closing his eyes once more.

“Aww, you’re lying, aren’t you.” He felt a jolt of fear at these words. Would she punish him for the lie? Should he have told the truth, that he thought he looked like a cut of meat, barely human and hardly pleasing to the eye?

“No matter,” she continued, and he breathed a sigh of relief. “I can see enough beauty for the both of us.”

#whumptober 2023 #whumptober2023 #no.9 #fic #you're a liar #polaroid #whump #whump writing #whump fic #whumpee #whumptober #writing #knife tw #violence tw #restraints tw #partial nudity tw #creepy whumper #intimate whumper

[valiantlyjollynightmare]

five times they didn’t take a polaroid (and one time someone else took one)

my contributions to @lovesquarefanbook :D Rating: G Ao3 Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Realtionships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir / Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug Tags: five time, polaroids, getting together, aged up, prom, wedding, future kids, fluff, FLUFF ALL AROUND, inspired by music, marriage proposal, slow dancing, pre-reveal, post-reveal, prpr Number of Words: 4635 Summary: Snapshots of Adrien and Marinette's love story as they grow up - and always, always more in love Read on ao3

Author Notes: This was written for the Happily Ever After Zine, and I have some amazing memories tied to it. More than half of it was written on a bench in the park in front of my dorm building and like. The vibe alone still gives me life.

For maximum enjoyment, check out these songs: The Good Old Days - Macklemore (ft. Kesha) Hymn for the Weekend - Coldplay Queen of Hearts - We The Kings Best Day of My Life - The American Authors Let's Get Married - Bleachers Praf de stele - Vița de vie Fireflies - Owl City Which you can also find in this Spotify Playlist

1. The Good Old Days

When Adrien gives her his present, he’s positively beaming, and his excitement is contagious. His joy translates into curiosity for Marinette, and as she asks if it’s okay to open his present on the spot, he gets even more excited.

It’s not a big box, and the packaging is clumsily done. She loves it all the more. But however much she tries, she still has to tear it to get to what’s inside.

“A couple months back I heard you say that you hate taking pictures because you always drop your phone,” he says at the same time as she finally looks inside.

A camera. And boxes upon boxes of film.

“Now you have something you can’t drop as easily,” he continues.

Marinette can only raise her eyes and gape at him.

He’s positively glowing.

Somehow, she musters some words, looking at the camera one second and him the next. “But this is a Polaroid,” she says in lieu of a proper response. It’s expensive, it’s too much, it’s perfect. “With tons of film!”

He chuckles. And winks. “Go wild!”

“But this must’ve cost you a fortune!”

“Not really,” he says, but he must see the doubt in her eyes.

He leans forward and puts his hands on her shoulders, hitting her with a proud grin. He’s not even trying to hide how pleased with himself he is.

“You deserve so much more! This is just a small present and I hope you like it.”

The last thing she’d want is to make him feel like she doesn’t like his present, but it’s a weird feeling. He might be saying it’s not much, but it doesn’t feel like it.

“I love it!” she sputters her response, mind almost as blank as all the film in the box. “But wow, it feels like a lot.”

Adrien takes his hands off her shoulders, clasping them behind his back and rocking back on his heels.

She misses the warmth of his closeness but at least she can breathe a bit more normally.

“How about this,” he starts again, changing tactics. His expression is thoughtful but there’s still that note of excitement that hasn’t left his eyes. “Since I got yours, I’ve been thinking about getting one for myself too. How about I do that and we become Polaroid buddies?”

On the one hand, she doesn’t want him to spend even more money on her. Can it even be considered spending money on her?

But on the other, she likes the idea of sharing this little thing with him. She imagines them going on photo-taking dates. Being silly, and serious, and artistically invested in the littlest of things—together. And it’s her birthday. She’s allowed to be selfish. Especially when he seems so happy at the idea.

So she gives a tentative nod—and his face lights up again.

“I hope you’ll have so much fun with it!” he says, beaming at her.

It’s her turn to wink at him. “We’ll have fun together.”

“You don’t have to wait until I get mine to start taking photos with yours, though!”

She hums, bringing the camera out of the box to inspect it. She has no idea what to do with it, but she still points it at him.

“I can do this, then?” she asks, smirking as she mimics snapping a photo.

His face takes on the most precious expression—so betrayed, that she can’t help a laugh.

Still chuckling, she puts the camera back in the box not noticing Adrien taking out his phone. The snap of a photo brings her back to reality, and he grins at her, quickly switching off his phone again.

“You won’t even show me?” she asks, raising an eyebrow at him, while trying to sneak a glance at the dark screen.

“Nope, mine now.”

“Then I’ll just have to surprise you with a picture too.”

He lifts a shoulder in a careless half-shrug, but his eyes twinkle and his smile is wide. “I guess it’s on, then.”

Two days later, his chat bubble pops up with three new messages, fired all at once.

He bought his own Polaroid—the exact same model as hers. And Marinette has a photo-date to overthink, scheduled for the next day.

2. Hymn for the Weekend

The déjà vu hits her like thunder and lightning: just a quick flash, but strong—and echoing.

It’s nothing unusual. Just her and Chat Noir at the end of their patrol. The sun is casting him in bronze and gold while the slight summer breeze is turning the moment into something ethereal.

After months of photo-dates, it’s muscle memory, really.

She takes her yoyo, turns it to him, and snaps a picture of his profile in all its glory.

He looks like a snippet of a dream that leaves Ladybug still watching the picture of him even after he turns curious eyes to her.

An eyebrow raised, a corner of his lips quirked up in the beginning of a smile.

She snaps another quick photo.

“You reminded me of a friend right there,” she says, fighting the pull of the picture and reluctantly taking her eyes off of it. Did he remind her of Adrien only after she took the picture? Did she take the picture because he reminded her of Adrien in the first place?

“How so?” he asks, raising his second eyebrow as he turns to her properly.

He makes an exaggerated sound, groaning like an old man as he pulls his legs under him and settles into a more comfortable position.

“I have this friend…” she starts, not quite knowing how to continue.

They take photos together, but it’s more than that. They go on dates, but they’re not quite dates. They spend too much time in front of Adrien’s car talking about the school day and their future plans, and it’s nothing and everything all at once.

She settles on, “We’ve been going around the city to snap pictures for a couple of months now.”

Chat Noir’s face brightens with every word, somehow.

“I didn’t know you were into photography, M’lady!”

“Yeah, I never expected to like it so much,” she admits, opening the gallery on her yoyo. The two pictures of Chat Noir greet her right at the top of her list, innocent and condemning all at once.

She’d been resisting the shy urge to take pictures with her yoyo. It’s no fun if she can’t show them to anyone. But every now and then, every time she sees a building covered in green, or an old couple holding hands, or kids being kids—every time she sees a special moment, she feels the urge to immortalize it in shiny paper and pin it in the album she’d been building.

But the most special of moments are the ones she and Adrien had been competing over—the ones only they are privy to. Sweet little smiles, sunbeams, leaves dusting their shoulders with light; a secret they’re not even aware of and which the other somehow manages to capture.

She still has pictures she hasn’t shown him, all arranged carefully in an album of their own, decorated with washi tape, and fancy markers, and little illustrations she hopes will make Adrien’s day when she finally gives the completed album to him.

And in those two pictures—in those two pictures Chat Noir is Adrien. Lost in thought and ethereally beautiful.

“I’ve been taking a lot of photos recently too,” he says, leaning forward to take a peek at her gallery.

She resists the urge to shy away and reluctantly hands him the yoyo.

“Promising profile pictures, right here,” she says, trying to change the subject. She wants to share every detail with him, yet she wants to hide away those two pictures and put them in a special frame fitting for how precious they feel.

She doesn’t really understand why they feel precious.

“And replace the masterpiece I already have?”

She shakes her head, hoping he thinks it’s a response to the meme he’s had as a profile picture ever since he’d made a Twitter account, but she’s just trying to shake off the feeling that there’s something she’s missing.

The habit seeps into their hero lives, tens of new pictures appearing on her yoyo and his baton.

Two months later she finally finds out what she was missing.

She prints out those two first photos.

One, she adds to Adrien’s album with a smile and a mischievous glint in her eyes. The other, she keeps to herself, to pin in a corner of her corkboard.

3. Best Day of My Life

Chloé could not conceive the idea that they wouldn't have a movie-worthy prom at the end of high school.

Sometimes her stubbornness truly did wonders.

She wanted a prom, so she had a prom—held in her father’s hotel, barely any different than her last birthday party.

But the photo booth is new—set up nicely in a corner, a sparkly curtain as background and a table full of props right beside.

It’s the first thing Marinette notices when she enters the room with Alya, Nino and Adrien, eyes going back to it even as Alya leads them to their table.

Chloé is impatiently tapping her foot when they get there. Her shoes make the sound carry even over the music. It’s just background noise for the moment, only loud enough to cover up the emptiness.

“Took you long enough,” she says, slightly annoyed.

Marinette turns right in time to catch her rolling her eyes, so she quirks an eyebrow as she sets down her purse on the table. She meant to say something, but her mind chose to focus entirely on the way Adrien pulled a chair for her, instead.

She sits down and hopes her makeup hides the blush she feels rising to her face as Adrien pushes her chair and takes the seat next to her.

“We aren’t even late, no one else is here yet,” Nino says, taking off his blazer and rolling his sleeves.

“Well, you’re the organizers, you’re supposed to be here early.”

Marinette is quick to respond. “You hired an entire team to make sure this runs smoothly. You didn’t let us lift a finger for this.”

Not that it affects Chloé in the slightest. “You’re the organizer’s friends, you’re supposed to be here early.”

“You got bored and told me to hurry up,” Adrien finally speaks up, snorting, but Marinette has seen his excitement.

He could barely contain it.

If Chloé hadn’t called him, he would’ve showed up early anyway. Chloé only called an hour early. He’d shown up on Marinette’s balcony even earlier, catsuit dissolving into slacks and a navy button-up, sleeves rolled up his forearms and a tie hanging undone around his neck.

He made Marinette do the knot. Then started pestering her to dress up too.

Then Chloé called and she actually did start to dress up

“My point exactly.”

“Well, we hurried up,” Alya said, pouring herself a glass of water and watching Chloé over the brim. “What now?”

“Now you wonder at my competence and then we go take pictures.”

They laugh. Because it’s their prom, and it’s like in the movies, and it’s surreal. And it’s funny, it’s so funny, how they’re here and living a moment that’s supposed to be big, and important, and big.

It’s their moment.

And, well, isn’t it? They’re alone in an enormous ballroom, and their excitement charges the air like electricity before a storm.

Marinette takes a hold of the camera hanging from her neck and takes it off with a sigh, glancing at the photo booth. “This is useless isn’t it?”

It wasn’t a burden per se. But it was still bulky enough to be slightly inconvenient. And it was one more thing to keep an eye on all night.

“Of course not,”Adrien jumps in, taking it from her hands fast enough that she doesn’t have time to react.

They’ve been doing it long enough to know what’s going to happen next.

Marinette closes her eyes, but she’s smiling.

The camera shutters and a photo comes out with a whoosh that she’s all too familiar with.

Before the first people start showing up, they’ve already hit the photo booth three times. They have complete reign over the machine, and they can pick whatever props they want.

Marinette especially loves the set of photos where all of them are wearing wigs and laughing at each other instead of paying attention to the screen.

The night is less magical than she imagined, yet somehow more. Just in a different way. There’s laughter—a lot more than she’d expected. And dancing—a lot of jumping around rather than the slow dances she’d been hoping for. And there’s their group stuffing their faces with the Dupain-Chengs’ fantastic pastries that Chloé made sure wouldn’t be missing.

Then, there’s the waltz. It’s the epitome of what she’d dreamed of—and it’s not. It’s her, and Adrien, with absolutely no space between them, laughing the whole time, as Adrien looks at her like she’s the stars and the moon, and—is it really something new? Is it not how she looks at him as well?

She dares a spark of hope, but she’s too busy enjoying the moment—being content—to really think about it or be disappointed that nothing really happens. There’s no dip and kiss at the end, there’s no dramatic confession following their clumsy attempt at being dramatic dancers.

The night is young until it isn’t, and when they go for a final round of photos after most students have already left it’s just their group again. Marinette’s feet hurt, and her cheeks hurt, but she’s happy.

She picks up a headband with antennae on top and hands Adrien one with cat ears—a subtle nod at everything they’re hiding, just for them to see and remember.

He’s holding a thin stick with a message to his chest, so close to him, she can’t see what it’s written on it, but she smiles. He returns the smile as he takes the prop from her and puts it on his head with a mischievous excitedness she simply loves.

She sets up the machine, and takes a quick look at Adrien on the screen. The countdown has already started, but he’s not looking at her, he’s looking at the message with a thoughtful expression.

She doesn't think much of it, until she’s next to him, eyes still glued to the screen, and the message is turned around for her to finally see.

It’s reversed, on the screen. Seen in the mirror. But she could read those words upside down and in a hundred languages and still know what they mean.

The count is down to one. She hears the snap of the photo, but everything is already lost to her. It’s only Adrien and the Comic Sans “I love you” he holds with a nervous expression, and his eyes—on her, only ever on her.

That first photo catches her with an open mouth and wide eyes. The second, has Adrien handing her the message—clumsily, somehow still unsure, as if she hasn’t been dreaming of that for the past too many years. The third—the third shows her with her hands on his cheeks and their eyes locked together carrying a conversation only they can understand.

And the last, gloriously big, bigger than all other three, with a fancy generic message at the bottom to remind them it’s from their prom and nowhere else—the last shows them finally, finally kissing.

4. Let’s Get Married

There are icy webs covering the locks on Pont des Arts, and stray snowflakes lingering on them when the wind doesn’t blow.

Adrien catches a picture of her looking at one before she even has the time to register what he’s doing.

His laughter fills the air with warmth when she raises her polaroid to take one of him as well.

He puts the photos safely in a bag he always carries for these dates and goes to give her a quick peck on the cheek.

The kiss was only half an excuse to get close enough to ask quietly, “Is he still there?”

A quick glance over his shoulder gives her the answer. He is. He’s barely trying to be sneaky anymore.

The man has been following them for the better part of their date—clumsily, probably a beginner, still eager for the easy money that came with intruding in a celebrity’s personal life.

After they first noticed him, they tried ignoring him.They’re not doing anything interesting, just taking photos the same way they do every month on photo-dates which have long since become tradition. But the man is persistent.

So Marinette nods and Adrien catches her hand in his with a resigned sigh. “I’m starting to doubt he’ll get bored of us.”

“You’d think he would after watching two people walk around and take pictures of random things for an hour.”

He pouts at her. “I only took pictures of you! Please, give me some credit.”

“Always, Chaton. But you should really slow down or we’ll need to buy another album before spring is even here.”

“Can’t help it when you’re the most beautiful person to walk the earth,” he says, squeezing her hand and going for a quick peck.

Eyes half lidded, she doesn’t give up. “You see me everyday.”

“And every day I thank God for that.”

The kiss they share is a proper one this time, sweet and warm, though still much too quick. For a second, they’re silent after.

“I can't wait until you’re the first thing I see in the morning,” Adrien finally says.

She can’t either, but she can’t help teasing him either way. “Bleary eyes, and morning breath, and all?”

“And messy hair and the most gorgeous eyes, yes,” he responds, giving her a wink.

She sees the moment he gets the idea. He squints the slightest bit as his eyes gleam with more mischievousness rather than love and blissfulness.

“I think I know how to deal with our stalker.”

“He does not need to know we’re moving in together.”

He laughs, because it’s absurd but because it’s still a bit surreal too. They’re doing it. They’re moving in together.

“I mean, that would work too,” he says, still chuckling. “But that’s not what I had in mind.”

She quirks an eyebrow. There’s an extremely simple solution to this, and she still feels obligated to say it—just for the sake of it, really.

“We could just continue our walk, get into the bakery like we planned and get it over with quietly.”

But.

“But where’s the fun in that, princess.”

After all, birds of a feather flock together.

So she moves her head with a curious little shake and waits for him to voice his idea. He doesn’t disappoint.

“We could give them the real big news.”

She squints her eyes. “Not even all of our friends know yet.”

“We better get around to telling everyone faster, then. The photos would take at least until tomorrow to come out though.”

And then, with his most Chat Noir smirk, he lands the killing blow. “I can make it look like an accident.”

It’s her turn to laugh.

“I’m not even wearing gloves, he might have already seen the ring.”

“I think he needs to be hand-held into taking his precious picture,” he says, raising her left hand ever so slightly and asking for permission with his eyes.

She can’t help the giddy smile on her face—she’s been wearing it almost constantly for the entire two days they’ve been engaged.

Marinette briefly entertains the idea of being responsible, but she’s too happy to think rationally. She wants to shout her happiness to the whole world, she wants to talk about his love for hours on end, she wants everyone to know, and even though they’d discussed keeping their engagement a secret, they knew they couldn’t escape it getting out with how much people still fawned over Adrien.

So she lets him raise her hand further, bringing it to his lips in a cheeky kiss that still fills her with all the warmth in the world.

Maybe the paparazzo misses that too, but they stop paying attention to him, and in the twenty minutes left until they’re back to her house, they change the subject altogether. Talking about their future wedding is much better after all.

And when, properly zoomed in and dramatically showcased, the picture of Adrien kissing her hand—her ring—makes the front page of a gossip rag the very next day, their wedding becomes the talk of a lot more people.

5. Stardust

As the confetti explodes in the air around them and the fireworks in the cake light up their faces, Marinette feels so overwhelmed with happiness she could cry.

After a year of talking, and planning, and preparing, she and Adrien are married.

Adrien’s eyes are already on her when she turns her head to him, his gaze already soft and even more loving than usual. The fireworks bring to life a spark that was always there but which now everyone can see, not just him, not just her.

Their glasses clink as they toast, and the people cheer.

They’re on top of the world.

She’s having the time of her life.

Though her feet ache, Marinette is still reluctant to take a break and just sit down.

She goes outside instead, and even though she’s not exactly inconspicuous, she’s still able to steal a moment for herself on the furthest edge of the pool outside of their venue.

She watches the fairy lights hanging above, glimmering in the still water below.

The summer night is still warm, but there are few people enjoying it. Most of the guests that haven’t left for the night yet are inside, taking advantage of the remaining moments of music and fun.

The night is beautiful, but the end of the party is looming in the calmer atmosphere and the music that only faintly reaches outside anymore.

Arms crossed lightly to her chest and eyes focused on the lights, she doesn’t notice Adrien until he gives himself away.

The telltale click of his old Polaroid going off startles her—and has her smiling.

“You’re a sight to behold, My Lady,” he says, catching the photo coming out of the camera with practiced ease and slipping it into his vest’s pocket before it even starts showing.

His sleeves are rolled up his forearms and his tie has long since been abandoned on the back of his chair. He’s glorious.

“That’s the pot calling the kettle back, Chaton.”

She lifts up the camera hanging from his neck and turns to put it away on a lounge chair nearby.

They gravitate towards each other like they always do, her arms around his neck and his around her waist the second she’s back, all the space between them lost as they embrace.

The music inside is a boppy tune from before they were even born, but it’s music, and that’s all Adrien needs to start swaying gently, with small movements of his feet that Marinette has no trouble following despite her tiredness.

They’re in their own little bubble, and Marinette wouldn’t change it for the world.

“Tired, Bugaboo?” he asks after a minute or two of rocking away in silence.

Her only response is a neutral ‘mm’, but she tears herself away from him to see him better.

The proximity makes her catch a stray sparkle in his hair and whatever she wants to say is forgotten as she focuses on that instead.

“There’s confetti in your hair,” she realizes with a chuckle.

“There is?”

She hums a confirmation, but doesn’t make any move to take it away, and neither does he. “Stardust,” she says, eyes drifting back to his.

So the confetti stays, and they keep swaying, gentle smile brightening his face more than the fairy lights.

“Maybe we should go back in,” he says after a while.

She only gets back closer and grumbles, “Too tired.”

But he picks her up with years of practice in sweeping her off her feet, and startles a squeak out of her—and a giggle.

“People will think we’ve left.”

“People can see to their dances and leave us alone for a second,” she mumbles, arms tightening around his neck, but as he starts walking back towards the venue, she gets a better idea.

Tearing herself away from his warmth for the slightest bit, she finds the confetti and takes it away. “Stardust privileges revoked,” she says, trying to tease him.

She could never beat the master.

“Only if you left me,” he whispers, the corner of his mouth going up. And rubbing his nose to hers, he puts her back down.

Later that week, Alya sends Marinette a picture with no context and no caption. It shows her beside the pool, but in the background, Adrien is carrying Marinette, faces close together and noses touching.

+1. Fireflies

Marinette looks at the muffins on the cupboard with a frown and a hand on her hip.

She’d overestimated how much vanilla they had in their kitchen.

She calls for Adrien, hoping he’d go on a shopping trip as impromptu as her baking, but there’s no response.

It doesn’t take her long to find him, but the sight she’s met with stuns her.

There are pictures everywhere, scattered on the floor and in open albums thrown carelessly around Hugo’s room, with Adrien, Hugo and Emma in the middle of their mess, completely absorbed by the stories in front of them.

Their old cameras are there too—on Hugo’s desk, proud, but dusty. It’s been so long since she’s seen them—since they’d touched them.

She couldn't even remember when they’d put them in the attic—she couldn’t even imagine what prompted Adrien to bring them down.

Her family beckon her to them when they notice her, and she decides her muffins can wait.

The realization that they let go of this hobby is bitter. They used to go out regularly for photo dates, they have so many photos they don’t even know what to do with all of them, the memories are sweet.

There are even still unopened boxes of film beside them—all expired.

As she goes back to the kitchen with Adrien in tow, she gives voice to her thoughts; the idea of buying more film and picking their polaroids up again is thrown around, although more as an abstract thing.

But soon enough, as she’s covering the muffins in whipped cream instead of the vanilla neither of them felt like buying, and Adrien stealing muffins like there’s no tomorrow, the telltale shutter of a polaroid makes them realize how much they’ve truly missed it.

Hugo, ever the spitting image of his mother, stands there with the camera in hand and his father’s grin on his face, his sister just a step behind him with the other Polaroid in tow.

“I wanted to see if they’re still working,” he says, and they’re curious too.

They fill the time needed until the photo finally shows with muffin tasting and banter, but Marinette can’t help stealing glances at the film far too often.

The final picture is tinted yellow and has black stains around the upper edges. But there they are, her and Adrien in all their glory, being as in love as they’d been as kids.

Over her shoulder, Adrien lets out a chuckle.

The next day he’s home with a bunch of new boxes of film and an excited grin on his lips.

#five time #polaroids #getting together #aged up #prom #wedding #future kids #fluff #FLUFF ALL AROUND #inspired by music #marriage proposal #slow dancing #pre-reveal #post-reveal #prpr #“my fics” #“fanfic” #miraculous ladybug

[slaasherslut]

Items Ava has saved in a shoe box that Lester has given her and other items that remind her of him

Avana Walker x Lester Sinclair

Lester is the literal embodiment of a raccoon. Hes always scampering around and shoving things he finds cool in his pockets. Some he keeps for himself for his truck or to scatter them around his home. Other times though he picks them up with the intention on giving it to Ava. Hes always on the lookout for things that remind him of her or things he thinks she would like. Ava started collecting all of his little gifts in a shoe box she keeps under their bed on her side. Some of these things include:

Various small skulls.

Lester is always coming home with little skulls for her to clean up. He always tells her exactly where he found them and what animal it was. The first time he brought Ava to his cabin she gushed about the giant deer skull hanging on a wall. He showed her some more of his smaller ones. Like a few cats, birds, mice, even a fox or two. The way her eyes lit up at the macabre collection made him feel all fuzzy inside. He wanted her to get that look again and again, so he kept bringing her skulls he finds on the forest floor and in ditches.

Rocks.

This man always has at least one rock is his pocket at all times, you cant change my mind about that. He always collects them for both Ava and Ellie. Some nights when Les has to work late and Ava goes to bed before he gets home, she'll wake up to him sleeping peacefully next to her and a new rock on her night stand. He will hand them to her and say things like, "Baby, I found this real pretty rock! Reminds me of yer eyes, doncha think?"

The first bullet she ever fired.

Not long after deciding to stay in Ambrose, Ava found Lester's rifle in the back of the closet. She figured it was mostly used for hunting but at this point Lester had yet to tell her that he used it more often on people than animals. She asked Les a few times to teach her how to shoot but he was very hesitant. Partly at the fact that his overwhelming need to protect her wanted to keep her away from such a deadly weapon. The other part was that he would be handing her one of his murder weapons. When he finally caved he took her out behind his cabin and had her aim for a tree Ellie had previously hung a bird feeder on. Lester stood behind her, hands ghosting her body as he taught her the proper posture and hand placements. He made sure she was paying attention and was very serious when he explained how the rifle worked. Her first shot landed in the trunk of the tree. Lester whistled. "Yeah baby! Look atcha! Right on target!" He made a mental note of where the bullet hit and Ava fired off a few more rounds. Before they packed up and went inside, he used his hunting knife to dig the ruined bullet out from the bark and shoved it in the breast pocket of his shirt before heading back inside.

Photographs

Some were taken with Bo's DSLR and some were taken with Ava's Polaroid camera. A few of Ava's favourites include: - The photo Ava took with Percy and Ellie on their lake trip with the boys. The photo is of soaking wet Ava mid shoving the other two girls behind her into the lake. - Her favourite photos of her and Lester are at a bonfire that the group got together to do. Vincent had taken them, there was three. In the first photo, Lester is leaning his back against a stump they used as a makeshift seat and Ava is all cuddled up with a blanket in between his legs. Shes laughing at one of Bo's old stories and hes just looking down at her with a love struck smile. The second photo is much of the same but shes looking up at him. The third has the two of them sharing a sweet kiss. - A photo Bo took of Ava and Percy cuddling together in Bo's guest room. Lester was working late that night and Ava's anxiety got the best of her. The house just kept making strange sounds and it was so dark outside. On top of that the house felt so lonely without Les being around. She walked over the the Sinclair home and Percy pulled her inside, leading her up to their guest room that used to be Lester's old bedroom and snuggled with her until they both fell asleep. - Another one is of Lester and Ellie. The two best friends were in the pond behind the cabin looking for frogs. Ava was making them lunch as they goofed off and laughed together. Once she finished up making lunch she looked out the window to see if she could spot them and she could. Ellie and Les were both crouched next to each other at the ponds edge. Ava grabbed her camera and snuck outside to let them know that food was ready, but not before snapping a photo of the two.

☾ tag list: @rottent33th @cries-in-latino @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better @the-pinstriped-hood @allthingsblood @25bohemianmoons

message me if you want to be added to my tag list!

#ava walker oc #angels of ambrose au

[paigelts05]

FNAF Renegade AU: Tea-Guy Epilogue designs [Redo]

https://www.deviantart.com/paigelts05/art/FNAF-Renegade-AU-Tea-Guy-Epilogue-designs-Redo-884630760

Published: Jul 4, 2021

You know how I made designs for what some of my FNAF AU characters looked like after FNAF 3 (or in the case of Julian, the year 2020)? I remade these designs that I dubbed the 'Epilouge' designs. I really didn't like the original designs I made as the epilogue designs of these guys, so I've remade them and they fit a hell of a lot better now. Don't get me wrong: they still wear the old outfits (PTs photo is of the old one), but these ones are what they actually primarily wear. I also am fleshing out what happened to them. 📹 Krasnyy: Dealing with everything Fazbear Entertainment was never an easy task and never came without risk. He would put his life on the line for the smallest amount of information, but each new discovery allowed him to write more and more articles, exposing the dark underbelly of the franchise to more than just the paranormal investigators and conspiracy theorists. This way of life also came with its rewards: he got to know many strange folk, such as a wiccan cafe owner who had survived a full decapitation and hid his scars under a choker, a catholic game developer with interest in the occult, an atheist woman covered head to toe in scars who hopped from office job to office job, and the list went on. However with new friends came the resurgence of old enemies, and the more connections Krasnyy made, the more threatened his enemies felt. He must have left quite a negative impact on Fazbear Entertainment's reputation if William himself was the one who had come to kill him. However, Williams main mistake was trying to make Krasnyy suffer; he flayed the skin from his arm and left him to bleed out. As Krasnyy was posessed, all that did was turn Krasnyy into what is known as a 'half spirit': someone who is very much alive but is also half dead, and as a result has all the 'skills' of a ghost. He managed to escape, but since that day, that arm had been covered by a giant porcelain scab. Sometimes, it heals back as flesh, but most of the time, any wound in that area heal as porcelain. Whilst some may claim this has made Shadow Freddy dormant, that is only if your definition of dormant is that he is still there with the exact same presence as before, still talking, but won't interact with objects without having been given direct instruction. 👾 PT: Work at Smith&Tea robotics had always been steady. For a while, they were the only competitors to Afton Robotics in the local area, and thier less advanced but safer designs made them quite popular amongst clients who valued transparency and customisation, but that changed when other small firms set up, and to say she got along with the newcomers was an understatement: they got along like a house on fire. What one company lacked, another made up for, and there was a friendly rivalry between themselves and R&D robotics, and they had a mutual friend in CK maintenance. She enjoys her work, even though it had taken a toll on her eyesight, and her hair is always full of motor oil and soot, but she doesn't mind: glasses suit her and whilst the motor oil was hard to wash out she could always braid it to conceal the dirt. And whilst she worries about her kids, she knows that they have all the best traits of her and her husband, so they had nothing to worry about. 📸 Julian: Working as a crime scene photographer and freelance photographer were two jobs that whilst time consuming, he balanced well. He'd keep CSP work to the digital cameras provided, but the photos he'd take, weather it be for others or himself, were done on his trusty Polaroid camera. He would also sometimes bring his Polaroid camera to work if it meant being able to snap a photo of a ghost. Yes, it was this obsession with those who had since passed on that not only drove him onwards, but also brought him to harm many times. Collections of new wounds were taken as trophies, but he did understand how closely in his dad's footsteps he was following and how much more danger this could put him in. But Julian was born into danger; it was what he wanted. 🔫 Verity: She worked with her mum for about a month and a half before she realised that working with machines was the equivalent of going to med school only to find out you can't stand the sight of blood. She could state uncaringly at human remains all day, somewhat thanks to her original purpose and her crime scene photographer of a brother, but the insides of machines was another story. The endo was supposed to go inside the suit, wires were veins to her, and after comparing her work to a mourge more than a few times, PT was the first to suggest that Verity should probably find another job, and that she'd do her best to help. Luckily, work found her as her hunting skills caught the attention of a private investigator who was also a friend of the family. Now, as PI Fitzgerald's apprentice, she finds work a lot less morbid and came to her much more naturally.

#2021 #fnaf #fnaf au #fnaf oc #fnaf original character #phone guy #fnaf phone guy #phoneguy #Renegade AU #FNAF Renegade AU #art #artwork #fnaf fanart #Renegade AU Guards

[ratdoeswriting]

camera

summary: Martin’s written poetry for as long as he can remember - he thinks the first poem he wrote was in year one, probably with some questionable rhyming and no actual link to whatever the task even was, but he had enjoyed it, a lot, and had entered every poetry competition (under a pseudonym) right up until sixth form.

Then, in year twelve, one of his teachers had lent him a photography guide and Martin became obsessed with the idea of taking pictures to go with his poetry.

prompt:  ‘camera’ from creativepromptsforwriting  

pairings: jonmartin

warnings: the lonely (entity), hurt/comfort, but otherwise i think it’s just fluff

word count: 1.4K

a/n: this is cross posted on ao3 and my main blog,,  I thin this is rly ooc - its defo outside my comfort zone and im pretty sure i hate it bUt… i also have tpp on the brain and some of jons lines sounded a bit like juno??  

~~~

Martin’s written poetry for as long as he can remember - he thinks the first poem he wrote was in year one, probably with some questionable rhyming and no actual link to whatever the task even was, but he had enjoyed it, a lot, and had entered every poetry competition (under a pseudonym) right up until sixth form.

Then, in year twelve, one of his teachers had lent him a photography guide and Martin became obsessed with the idea of taking pictures to go with his poetry. He would have liked to stay and learn photography, but his life was flipped on its head and he had to drop out. So he did the next best thing: he got a disposable camera and took pictures in his neighbourhood.

It was an… adequate solution - he could take the pictures when he had to walk to the shops or had to wait for his mother somewhere, and he could nip into Boots to get them developed when he was in town. In the few years between dropping out of sixth form and joining the Institute, though, he didn't have much chance to write, let alone have time for photography.

By some miracle, having a stable, full time job changed that because just after he got his first payslip, Martin found a vintage polaroid camera in a heart foundation shop not far from his house - it was quite dear, especially considering that he had to find the right parts, but it gave him the kick he needed to start taking more photographs (trying to get his money’s worth and all that).

He started off taking pictures on his way to and from work. He kept a small notebook with him all the time and tucked the polaroids in between the pages (to stick in at a later date) and would write his poems on the corresponding pages. He had briefly entertained the idea of taking a few pictures inside the institute, though he quickly decided against it - Jon would no doubt have been angry, and Elias seemed to have eyes in the back of his head.

His next venture was more nature based and he took to spending most of his time in various national trust parks and gardens with his camera and notebook, though it was at this point that most of his poetry was touched with elements of his feelings for Jon. And various horrors he read about in the archives. It was a weird time.

It had become such a habit, carrying the camera everywhere he went, that it was no surprise that he ended up with more than a few pictures of him, Tim and Sasha together, though these went in a little photo album rather than his notebook.

Sasha and Tim would tease him about his hobby - not in a malicious way, mind you, and, in fact, it turned out alright for Martin in the end because Sasha had nicked his camera once, when they were all at Tim's and took one of Martin's favourite pictures.

He and Jon had been in a not-so-heated debate about something - he can't remember what anymore - and they had completely forgotten that Tim and Sasha were even there until the camera flashed from over the coffee table and the pair of them had started cackling at the absolute horror on Jon’s face. He had tried to tell them off, but their laughter was infectious and he hadn’t been able to keep a straight face for long enough.

Sasha had given the picture to Martin and told him to put it in his photo album, and Tim had joked he should mark this momentous occasion - “the first and only time a picture of the elusive archivist has ever been taken.”

It was a lovely picture. Jon wasn't scowling at him, which was a nice change, and it was clear as day how utterly besotted Martin was - all soft smiles and heart eyes. He had intended to stick it in his photo album, really, but he decided against it - something about it capturing his feelings so plainly made him want to hide it away.

So he put it in his wallet. Maybe it was a bit weird, but it's not like anyone knew he had it or anything, and likely no one would ever need to know it was there. It wasn’t until a week later he decided to get some double-sided tape and paper to stick a poem to the back.

Wish

I wish that you didn't have to know, I wish that my thoughts would slow, I wish that you would see, How much you mean to me.

~~~

It wasn't until he and Jon were safely tucked away in Scotland that Martin was reminded of the polaroid in his wallet.

“Martin, I’m going to the shop. Do you have any cash?”

“Should do - have a look in my wallet. I think it’s on the coffee table.” Martin called back from the kitchen.

There was silence for a moment and Martin went back to the washing up.

“Martin?” Jon said, the vaguest hint of laughter in his voice. “What’s this?”

Martin lifted soapy hands out the sink and used the back of his hand to push his glasses up before turning around. Jon was standing in the doorway holding up a polaroid. The polaroid. Fuck.

“Uhh…”

They both stood there for a moment. Martin was convinced he was actually about to die of embarrassment.

“Sorry? I didn’t- I wasn’t trying to be weird or anything, I just-”

“Martin, it’s alright. It’s… actually kind of sweet.”

“You think? I mean, I thought it was weird when it was taken. I never thought it would be sweet, I mean, who keeps pictures in their wallet anyway? I don’t-”

“Yes, Martin, I think it’s sweet. Now, do you need anything from the shop?”

~~~

A few nights later, Martin couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t sleep most nights, but this was a bad one, one that found him sitting on the little bench outside in his thin pajamas for most of the night. He stared blankly into the horizon, barely registering the sun rising in muted orange through the thick fog that had wrapped around him.

Martin had never been one to indulge, but since his time with Peter he allowed himself this one luxury. Being here, alone… there was cold comfort in it, a tender stiffness settling in his bones, keeping him firmly in this place - he wasn’t sure if he wanted to be here, but it was familiar; it was safe insofar as he could navigate it.

He startled when he felt a hand on his shoulder, which was soon replaced with a blanket.

“It’s cold, Martin. Come inside?”

Martin hummed noncommittally, slowly becoming aware of how the stiffness was actually near painful, the cold comfort was not comfortable, just deceptive, and he couldn't completely tell where the empty landscape ended and he began. Except it wasn’t empty. It wasn’t empty because Jon was there, perched sideways on his lap and half wrapped in the ratty old blanket that had been on Daisy’s sofa when they arrived. Because it was freezing and Jon’s fingertips and lips were already turning a funny grey shade.

He swallowed, throat dry, “Sometimes I think that I'll wake up and you won't be here. Not… not because you don't want to be, more because I still don't know what I did to deserve this. I can’t tell if this is real.”

“You don’t have to earn this, Martin,” Jon frowned, brushing dew-soaked curls from Martin’s forehead, “You’re allowed to be happy,

Martin didn’t seem to hear him, eyes drifting in and out of focus on something neither of them could quite see, “I- We don’t even really know each other, Jon.”

“We have time, Martin, we can learn. For example, I know how to make your tea properly now - it’s very complicated but I know it’s important to you.”

Martin laughed shakily at how proud Jon sounded of himself, and absently started rubbing Jon’s hands between his own to try and warm them up.

“I wish that you would see, how much you mean to me, Martin.” It was Jon’s turn to laugh now, Martin’s cold-kissed cheeks burning up with an embarrassed blush.

“You’re shivering, come on, I’ll make tea.”

#jonmartin #jon sims #martin blackwood #the magnus archives #tma #tma spoilers #a bit #scottish safe house period #the lonely #a smidge #canon typical tea? #hurt/comfort #fluff??? #lmk if i need to tag anything else #ratwrites

[silverstonesainz-archive]

𝟏 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐩 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝, 𝟑 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 || 𝐜.𝐡.

❝ i'm the love of your life, until i make you mad ❞

summary: how many chances does she have left to give? word count: 2.5k warnings: cussing (?), alludes to sexual themes, no proofreading note: i keep trying to rework this over and over and i think i finally got it. i hope you like this, this one is a little more personal to me <3. (also, i'm changing the layout of the fics bc i am too lazy to edit photos so i hope you like this)

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 –––

𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞. 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎.

The grey text bubble stares you in the face, and you nearly type a response. But you know better, you know there was an impending drop after the high, the screaming, the tears. Truthfully, your heart can’t handle another rollercoaster ride with Carter.

𝚛𝚘𝚜𝚢 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛

That stupid nickname, one he coined for you when he saw your red cheeks after your first hockey game, unaware of how cold it actually was indoors. You remember the goofy smile on his face, how proud he was at the new name he had for you. You can almost hear his voice, the raspiness of it as he calls you that stupid nickname. Your index finger presses down on the power button of your phone, locking it, before placing it screen down on your nightstand. You turn your back to it, eyes shutting in hopes that sleep will keep you from giving in to temptation with green eyes.

But then your mind races, worry and anxiety settling in your bones at the possibilities of why he’d want you over at one-fucking-thirty in the morning. You aren’t dumb, you know exactly what will happen when you walk through his front door, the chaste kisses before you’re naked in his bed, trying to catch your breath before you roll out of it and return home like it never happened. It’s the question of what triggered him to even text you after approximately three weeks of radio silence. What changed?

Curiosity gets the best of you, so you turn over to grab your phone on the nightstand. You ignore the new texts from him, instead going straight for snapchat. You go through the stories of your shared friends, and it isn’t until you get to Beez’s story do you find your answer. You watch in awe as he and Carter slam three shots in a row, in one video. Then the next video, the one of friends dancing, you spot Carter chugging his beer in the background as Trav cheers him on. It isn’t until the end of his story, the one with Carter speaking gibberish into the camera, do you realize how drunk he was tonight.

There’s a loud knock on your door, shaking you from your nosy daze. You roll out of bed, wrapping your robe around your barely clothed body before opening the front door. The universe must be playing a sick joke on you, the stars laughing at your current situation as you stare at a very sheepish Joel holding onto a very drunk Carter.

“I’m sorry. He wouldn’t shut up, and he threatened to drive here himself. I had to.”

You rub your face in exasperation, a grunt of frustration escaping you. “It’s fine. Just… couch.”

You point to the piece of furniture, stepping aside to allow Bee to drag his friend through the door. You shut the door just as he plops Carter down, and you make a beeline for your kitchen. You can hear your heart in your head, the beating obnoxious as it races to calm you down before your mind sends you into a spiral.

“Y/n…” You turn at the sound of Joel’s voice, leaning on the counter as you look over at him, “I’m sorry. I know things… things aren’t great between the both of you. I can come back before morning skate to grab him. He’s asleep too, so you don’t even have to worry about talking to him.”

You nod, smiling wearily. “Alright Beez.” You sigh softly, “I think Carter has one of my spares in his wallet.”

You walk past the boy and towards the limp figure on the couch. His brown wallet sits on the coffee table, and you are quick to snatch it up. Your heart clenches as you open it, the polaroid photo of the both of you sitting nicely in his wallet. Your vision is blurred with tears for a split second before you blink them away, forcing yourself to look away from the picture. You squeeze the leather between your fingers, feeling for the small key. You peel back the empty card pocket, slipping your finger into it to pull out the silver spare.

“Here.” You hand Joel the key, “Let yourself in in the morning.”

“For sure. Thank’s y/n, and I’m sorry.”

You let Beez out and lock your door. It’s already two when he walks out, and exhaustion is finally beginning to wash over you. You quickly grab a fleece blanket for Carter, as well as aspirin and a water bottle for him to take in the morning. It isn’t until you are tucking him in did he begin to stir from his drunken slumber. His brows furrow, and his hand absentmindedly finds your arm.

“Rosy…” He mumbles.

“Yeah Carter?”

His eyes peel open, swollen with sleep. “I’m Hartsy.”

Your eyes dart away from him, a sigh escaping you. “Yeah, you are.”

“You never call me Carter. Only Hartsy.” He blinks rapidly, reaching out to cup your cheek. Against better judgment, you let him. “Are you mad at me?”

The alcohol made him forget, you assume. And you know better than to argue with him, so you smile softly. You take his hand on your cheek into your own, squeezing lightly. “Just tired. Go to sleep Hartsy. You need rest, you have a morning skate in four hours.”

His eyes droop tiredly, a small smile splayed on his lips. “Good night Rosy. I love you.”

You choke on air, those three words raising goosebumps on your skin. There is no time for a response, Carter’s soft snores filling the empty space before you can even react. You slowly retreat, letting go of his hand and turning off the lights.

In the six months and how many days you were “with” Carter, not once has he ever hinted that he ever felt that way about you. You were walking a fine line between dating and casual. It was a modern day situationship. You’ve spent the better part of your time together pushing and pulling him to and from your life. It’s always a rollercoaster of I need yous and I can’t do this anymores. Always one step forward, then three steps back.

But then three weeks ago, things changed. There was a shift in your dynamic, a change in your relationship in the form of a blonde puck bunny pressing her tits onto Carter’s chest and him simply allowing it. And as if that didn’t burn enough, he added fuel to the flame by walking out of the club with her in tow, leaving you in the dust and in shambles. You left him a text, a simple i’m done playing your game. And then it was radio silence. There was no attempt from either of you to reconcile like you’ve done before, no attempt to fix it with a late night hook up or breakfast at your favorite cafe. It was quiet.

You lay in bed, Carter’s voice repeating those three words over and over in your head until sleep washes over you. It’s a dreamless sleep, and you wake up to the sound of dishes clattering in your kitchen. For a split moment, you forget that you had a guest who was residing on your couch. Your ignorant bliss is immediately replaced by confusion. The sun is far too high for it to be six in the morning, so really who is in your apartment? Carter had to have left hours ago at this point.

You open your door carefully, peeking out into the general vicinity of your home. The green throw blanket is thrown over the back of the couch, and the TV is on playing at a very low volume. Carefully, you step out and walk towards the sound of movement. Carter moves comfortably in your kitchen, his back muscles moving beneath his skin as he spreads butter on his toast.

“Carter?”

He spins around quickly, relief flooding his features when he sees you. “Jeez you’re quiet. Didn’t even hear you come.”

“You’re still here… what happened to the morning skate?”

“Canceled. It’s an afternoon one now. Toast?” He offers. You shake your head, arms crossing over your chest.

“Beezer picking you up?”

Carter chuckles as he takes a bite into his toast. “In a rush to get rid of me?”

“Yeah, actually.” You mumble, walking into your kitchen to make yourself a bowl of cereal.

“Ouch.” He smirks, putting his toast down, “Still bitter?”

Your jaw drops at his crassness, the lack of sensitivity. Your blood boils, and you know very well that your skin is turning red. “You have some nerve Carter, some fucking nerve.”

You abandon the empty bowl and the box of cereal on the counter, walking away from the brunette. To no surprise, you hear his footsteps pad behind you and he is quick to pull you back from moving any further.

“Hey. It was a joke.”

You scoff, “Not a good one.” You yank your arm from his grip, “You need to leave.”

“Well since I’m here, why can’t we just talk?”

“What is there to talk about?” You challenge, “What is there possibly left to say at this point Carter?”

“You don’t think there isn’t anything worth talking about?” He raises a brow, “Considering the last time we saw each other?”

“I said all I needed to. I’m done with the games, I’m done playing it. Go play with your new blonde bunny.”

“Wow, nice.” He scoffs, “Thought you valued communication, valued a conversation, valued talking things out. Where’s all that y/n?”

“I already communicated with you Carter!” You snap, “I told you what I wanted, told you that I didn’t want you to sleep with other people, to do shit like that while you’re with me! Why should I have to repeat myself? Why should I have to remind you?” Your breathing is jagged and hot tears stream down your face as your frustration fills you to the brim. Images of that night three weeks ago flooded your mind. “You don’t respect me enough, don’t value me enough. You begged me to come out, kept me close until your blondey came around and suddenly I was nothing. You made me look like a fool in front of our friends, your teammates.”

Carter is quiet, studying your features with furrowed brows. You can see the guilt in his eyes, in the way his lips curve down, and his ears turning red. He was ashamed.

“You didn’t even try to apologize either. You avoided me, didn’t try to call, or text, or something half-assed like tell Joel or T.K. to invite me to something. Nothing.”

“Oh fucks sake Y/n,” He retorts, “I’m always apologizing, always the first one to initiate a talk, always-”

“Because you always fuck up!”

A thick blanket of quiet covers the room, only the sound of angry breathing heard. You weren’t wrong, and he knew that. But, fuck, you didn’t need to say it. Now it’s out there, the universe listening closely to the exchange. The first time Carter came knocking on your door with flowers in hand, it was a petty problem. It was small, something he may or may not have said while he was drunk that made you drop him home early. The second time, he ignored you at a party hosted by the WAGs, one you helped plan. He was frustrated with how his season was going at the time. He was too consumed with a conversation with Claude to even give you a second of his time to tell you what a great job you had done. You had become a fly on the wall, watching everyone weave their way through the party and find their places, leaving no room for you to fit.

Carter knows his sporadic moods and his need to tug you along has worn you down. He’s always feared the day you would have enough of him and his baggage would come, and now he believes it’s finally here. Your face only reads anger, disappointment, rather than the tear stained cheeks he’s become so used to. Tears that showed him you cared. There’s a sense of tiredness in your eyes, a plea for him to just walk out of your home and your life for good.

But he wasn’t ready.

“You’re right. I’ve fucked up so many times, too many times. Hurt you, embarrass you…. and there’s no excuse, no reason other than I’m a dick.” You chuckle humorlessly, pushing your hair out of your face and shaking your head. “I’m so sorry y/n, I’m trying to be better for you, I am. I don’t want to lose you.”

“I’m not going to wait around for you to fucking figure it out Carter,” You mumble, walking towards the front door, heart heavy with each step. Hurt rises to your throat as your fingers wrap around the cold door knob.

“Y/n, please no.” Carter takes long strides to fall to his knees as his arms find their way around your waist, head buried in your side. Your heart clenched at the firm grip he had on you, tears welling in your eyes and blurring your vision. “Don’t let go now.”

“Then when?” You whisper, “You might want me now, but what about tomorrow? Or next week? What do I do when you don’t want me, when I’m no longer the one you want?”

“I always want you… I… I love you.”

Your eyes meet his bloodshot ones, the rosy tinge in his nose and cheeks. His words shoot through you like arrows soaked in acid, burning your flesh and breaking you down. Words meant to sound so sweet, tasted bitter in your mouth.

“No you don’t.”

“Yes I do, Rosy.”

“No you don’t, Carter.”

His calloused fingers move to clasp your hand, tugging you down to his level. You give in, knees buckling to meet the floor beneath you. You are putty in his hands, body molding into his touch as soft cries and whimpers escape you. A gentle shhh moves past Carter’s lips as he rubs your back, his chin resting atop your head as he pulls you as close as he possibly can.

“I love you. I really do, I swear.”

“Carter please.” You shake your head, only moving enough so that you can crane your neck to look at him. “Please stop.”

His confession drowns you, squeezes your lungs tight. You dreamed of drowning in such words and affections. But here you are, begging for him to take it right back.

“You love me now, you say that you really do. But what about when you’re bored, or mad, or find another pretty little penny when we go out? Hm? Where’s the love then?”

Carter shifts between your sad eyes. “Don’t be done, just give me one more chance. One more, please.”

A sob forces its way up your throat, sounding strangled as the sound pushes past your lips. Your cries burn Carter’s ears, clenches his heart tight. With your palms flat against his chest, you push him away. You force yourself to your feet, glancing down at him one last time. You see the plea in his eyes, the hurt in his tear stained cheeks. He mirrored who you used to be. This was it, a culmination of your heartache and pain manifesting in this very moment as you stand over Carter.

“I’m all out of chances to give.”

––

instagram edit

taglist: @fallinallincurls @anonymous0writer @generation2k @cherrylita @sydnikov @sebbyaho @hugheswhore @hockeypuckedmeup @joeljuice

if u wanna be put on/taken off the taglist, pls send me a message!

#carter hart #carter hart imagine #carter hart x reader #carter hart fic #carter hart imagines #carter hart x you #carter hart fanfiction #carter hart angst #philadelphia flyers #philadelphia imagine #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl smut #nhl imagines #hockey imagines #hockey works #hartsy #1 step forward 3 steps back: hartsy

[free-pool-trash]

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