aurel1awrites

[aurel1awrites]

no offence but i can tell by your smut fics if you’re a virgin

[aurel1awrites]

Snow on the Beach

A/N: This is one of my favorite scenes from my fanfic so far :)

{Harry Potter x Y/N}

⋆｡°✩

Leaning over the wooden railing, I take in the view. The beach below is blanketed in untouched snow, shimmering under the pale glow of the moon. The tide rolls in gently, waves crashing and retreating, a rhythmic lull against the hush of the winter night.

“Where is this?” Harry asks as we step out from behind the booth, to join the stream of Muggles wandering the pier.

“Southport Pier,” I answer, looping my arm through his. “Merseyside. About a four-hour drive away.”

“There are only Muggles here, so we won’t get recognised,” I explain. “My parents used to take Jere and me here often. I thought you might want to see a bit of the outside world. A piece of normality. A place where you’re not ‘The Chosen One’ or someone to be whispered about.”

“The Dursleys took me to the beach once,” Harry shakes his head with a light chuckle. “They were trying to get Dudley to go out more often and get in some physical activity since he had spent the entire summer cooped up in his room with his new video game.”

“And how’d that go?” I grin.

“About as well as you’d expect,” he laughs. “He threw a fit about the feeling of wet sand in between his toes. Meanwhile, I barely got to experience the water before Vernon made me sit on the towel the whole time so I ‘wouldn’t cause trouble.’”

My smile falters. “So you never actually got to experience the beach?”

“I guess not,” he shakes his head, and my heart sinks. 

“We’ll change that,” I tilt my head slightly, looking at him. “I wish the water wasn’t freezing tonight, or else I’d be dragging you in right now.”

He just smiles, and I tug him forward, weaving us through the light crowd. The boardwalk glows gold under the pier lights, the scent of salt and frying oil filling the air, mingling with the occasional burst of laughter from passing Muggle families.

“Oh! I just remembered–” I say suddenly, tugging Harry toward one of the booths. “These kinds of places always have the best chips– greasy, salty, absolutely horrible for you. Perfect.” 

Harry lets me pull him forward without protest, his expression fond as I start rambling.

“When we were kids, Jeremy and I would pool our money together and get the biggest portion we could afford. If we had extra, we’d get those little battered sausages too– absolutely terrible for us, but Merlin, they were heaven.” I glance up at him with a grin. “Mum used to pretend not to notice, even though we always came back with grease stains on our shirts.”

“Good, right?” I beam up at him as he tries a little battered sausage as we continue down the pier. 

“Really good,” Harry grins. 

We continue walking, the salty breeze tugging at my scarf as I keep talking, telling him about how Jeremy and I used to collect seashells down at the beach.

“We’d come home afterward and trade them,” I say. “I remember once, I found this massive mussel shell– all deep purples and blues. Cleaned it out and turned it into a jacuzzi for my dolls.”

Harry’s watching me, listening intently as though he’s memorising every word.

“Am I that interesting to look at?” I frown.

“No, just beautiful.”

My breath catches for a second before I shake my head with a smile and look away, feeling my cheeks warm despite the cold.

“Oh!” I stop suddenly, spotting a small claw machine near the railing. “Look at this! It’s ancient. These things are rigged, you know. Jeremy and I used to try and beat them all the time. I once spent seven pounds trying to get a stuffed dragon.”

“Did you win?” Harry asks, a smile tugging on the corner of his lips. 

“Absolutely not,” I shake my head. “But we came here so often that I ended up becoming friends with the guy running the stall, and he just gave me one out of pity.” I pat the side of the machine. “Come on, let’s see if your Chosen One luck is any good.”

“I’ve never used a claw machine before,” he frowns as I take his food to free his hands.

“There’s a first for everything,” I grin, sliding in two coins.

Ten minutes later, we’re continuing down the boardwalk as I hug a new purple stuffed dragon to my chest.

“That ice cream shop is still here,” I say in amazement, pointing a few feet ahead of us. “I think it’s the best I’ve had– better than Florean’s.”

“Nothing is better than Florean’s,” Harry frowns, looking slightly insulted at the dig to his favourite ice cream parlour. 

“This’ll change your mind,” I tug on his hand. “Come on, there’s no line–”

“It’s freezing out, love.”

“Never too cold for ice cream,” I grin, and Harry lets out a breathy grin before obliging. 

The shop’s warm glow spills onto the pavement, the inside just as I remember– small, cozy, lined with mismatched chairs and tables. A garland of twinkling lights frames the counter, where an older man stands, wiping his hands on his apron. His face lights up when he sees me.

“Y/N?” Bernard exclaims, peering at me in astonishment. “Oh, my– how you’ve grown!”

“Hi, Bernard,” I grin. “Place looks great!”

“And still standing,” he chuckles. “That’s a miracle in itself.” 

“And who’s this?” his gaze shifts to Harry.

“Harry Potter,” Harry takes a step forward, and for the first time he doesn’t shy away from meeting a stranger. Because he knows they won’t immediately gasp and freak out at his name or the lightning bolt scar on his forehead. 

“Ah. Well then, Harry, I do hope Y/N isn’t overselling me. The girl always did have a flair for dramatics.”

“Hey!” I protest, and he chuckles, turning to the display case.

“Go on, pick your poison,” he says, waving us toward the glass. “On the house. Consider it a Christmas treat.”

“Two scoops of the usual,” I grin.

As Bernard gets to work, I turn back to Harry, leaning against the counter. 

“Jere and I used to sit right there–” I nod toward a small table by the window. “We’d make up stories about the people walking by. We were convinced the guy who sold newspapers across the gift shop was secretly a retired pirate.”

“Two scoops of salted caramel crunch,” Bernard hands me the cone with a warm smile.

“Thank you, Bernard,” I attempt paying him, but he shoos me away.

“No, no, on the house,” he shakes his head. “I insist. Just promise me you’ll come back soon. Don’t wait till you have kids before seeing me again.”

“Promise,” I grin. 

“So… better than Florean’s?” I glance at Harry as we begin heading back to the booth we Apparated behind.

“I’m a loyal customer to Florean’s,” he replies. “Can’t break that loyalty now.”

“You wound me,” I shake my head. 

The pier is quieter now, the late hour thinning the crowd. A few couples stroll leisurely, their hands tucked in each other’s coats. A man walks his dog along the edge, the golden retriever’s tail wagging as it sniffs the crisp air.

“You know… you scare me often,” Harry says suddenly, and I frown, turning to look at him. 

“It’s just– I’ve never done this before… this relationship stuff. I don’t know if I’m doing any of it right, and I’m always scared of being a bad boyfriend. You deserve the best, Y/N, and I’m always scared that I’m not doing it for you–” 

“You’ll always do it for me,” I cut him off. “I don’t think you realise this, but you saved me last year, when I couldn’t be saved. When there was nothing left to fight for, there was always still you. If there was ever something to live for– something to not be angry about, it’s you.”

“I think you are the universe’s apology for every bad thing that has happened to me.”

Harry gives me a meek smile, reaching out a gloved hand and brushing a stray snowflake away from my pink, frost-bitten nose, before leaning in to kiss me.

The big clock at the end of the pier chimes twelve times, indicating midnight.

“Merry Christmas, Loverboy,” I whisper.

[aurel1awrites]

r patz era revived god is real

[aurel1awrites]

WHERE ARE ALL THE GOOD EDWARD CULLEN X READER FICS

[aurel1awrites]

me when I reach the angst part of the angsty fic that I specifically chose for the angst

[aurel1awrites]

how it feels to power through a fic because it’s the exact scenario you like but the writing is absolute ass/ you can tell the author doesn’t know wtf they’re talking about

[aurel1awrites]

me, seeing a fic writer I like in the comments of an random fic

[aurel1awrites]

i wish i had zero responsibilities so my days could consist of just bed rotting and writing

*writes two paragraphs after months of literally nothing and it took three hours*

[aurel1awrites]

𝙈𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙮 𝘽𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙨

A/N: Oh my god I know I haven't posted on here in a FAT minute !! There was a good few months where I never used this app, but now I'm back to being pretty active, so here is a short little scene from my fanfic on wattpad :) {Harry Potter x Y/N (still an OC tho if that makes sense)} ⋆｡°✩

(Harry’s POV)

My eyes open wearily to find the sky pitch black, and littered with gleaming stars. I feel a heavy weight on my arm, tilting my head slightly to find Y/N’s head resting on my arm, her eyes shut peacefully as her chest rises and falls evenly.

Shifting my arm slightly, and moving her head down to the pillow, attempting my best to ensure she stays asleep, I squint at the small numbers on my watch to find it reading 3:41 a.m. 

I begin climbing out of bed carefully, and Cinnamon, who has been curled up in his dog bed in the corner of the room wakes up and hops atop the bed, and begins trotting all over Y/N’s relaxed body.

“No– no–,” I whisper, attempting to grab the puppy, but he stubbornly dodges my advances.

Y/N begins to stir slightly, her eyebrows furrowing together as she reaches out an arm in an attempt to swat away the peeve. Eventually, her eyes flutter open, and Cinnamon lets out a bark of satisfaction, snuggling himself closer to her body.

“Hi, baby,” she laughs lightly, her voice slightly rough from tiredness. “Never going to let me get any rest, are you?”

She hugs the puppy closer to her body, her eyes slowly trailing to me, a small smile forming on her lips that brightens up her dark brown eyes, making my pulse increase rapidly.

“Goodmorning, Bambi,” she sits up, running a hand through her tousled curls. “Oh maybe I should say goodnight– god, how long were we out for?”

“I think Ron came in to call us for dinner at one point,” I shrug, digging through my trunk to find a new pair of clean clothes. 

“Well, it’s much too late for dinner now,” she places Cinnamon on the floor, scooping him some dog food. “Are you hungry?”

“Not much,” I say. “You?”

“Famished,” she replies. “C’mon, I’ll make us something.”

“Make something?” I whisper, following her out of the bedroom and tiptoeing down the stairs to the kitchen as quietly as possible.

“I grew up with one of the best cooks,” she grins brightly. “You enjoyed all the food we sent over during the summer before fourth year, right?”

I remember back to that particular summer holiday where the Dursleys had begun a diet for Dudley due to his increasing weight, and I had been forced to participate, only consuming a grapefruit per meal.

I had reached out to my three friends, and Mrs. Adair had been all too eager to send over full course meals, along with a delicious chocolate cake for my birthday.

“Mum’s always been the best,” Y/N continues, tying her hair up hastily and throwing on an apron. “But I’ve gotten some of her skill… although I can’t say it’s as good…”

“Now, what are you craving tonight, Bambs?” she turns to look at me, a broad grin on her face that makes her eyes twinkle brighter than usual. 

“I’ll leave it up to the chef,” I reply, leaning against the counter and watching her.

“I doubt Sirius has many ingredients for me to work with…” she says absentmindedly, looking through the creaky pantry. “Oh! He has a pumpkin…”

I watch her begin cutting up other herbs, moving on to an onion, squinting slightly in an attempt to stop crying. 

“Fuck–” she hisses with a light laugh. “I dunno how mum does this.”

“Here…” I offer, gently taking the knife from her hand, my fingers slightly brushing against her knuckles.

I hear her turn on the sink, rinsing her hand quickly, along with her eyes. She begins drying her hands and returns to find me becoming teary-eyed, trying to clear my vision as I continue cutting.

“Oh god,” she chuckles. “Come here.” 

She reaches out a hand and tilts my face in her direction. Her other hand gently removes my glasses and sets it down on the counter before drying my eyes gently. 

I feel my heart begin to stutter, missing several beats at her touch. Her hand softly dabs away at my watery eyes with a tissue whilst the other is cupping my jaw. 

She pulls the tissue away and gazes imploringly at my face, her lips slightly parted. My eyes begin tracing every feature of hers as if I haven’t already memorised them by heart. Her dark, wavy hair is now pulled into a messy updo with small strands framing her face…those deep brown eyes that have the ability to lure me into anything… her dark lashes that are now bound together from her damp tears.

Her eyes lower themselves and look at my lips for a brief moment, before looking at me again, her deep brown eyes boring into my green ones. She begins leaning in closer, and without a second thought, I meet her halfway, grasping one side of her face and closing the space between us, capturing her lips with my own.

It’s as though a river of pent up feelings and thoughts have spilled out, not a single word exchanged, but just our lips. My pulse no longer feels like it’s remained in my heart, but has filled every part of my body. 

And right at this moment, I could die happy. I could die and be happy because I got to kiss Y/N Adair, and nothing else in the world matters.

[aurel1awrites]

tiktok just got banned so i think i gotta hop back on here and use this app to promote my shit again 😔

[aurel1awrites]

[aurel1awrites]

lolll wattpad is so dead so i think that's my sign to hop back on here and be active !! maybe i'll post again soon...

[aurel1awrites]

nothing pisses me off more then when i look for fluff/angst and SMUT shows up.

[aurel1awrites]

18 and i still fucking do this

I feel bad for all the straight men who never got to experience the feeling of being 13 staying up till 3am reading fan fiction

[aurel1awrites]

There's something about RPF that really irks me. I know that people get attached to real people and all, but a lot of the time it goes too far. These are not characters for you to play around with. These are real, living people with lives of their own. They are not toys for you to play with just because they seem so far from where you stand.

I get it. People have fantasies. People have celebrity crushes. But you cannot headcanon REAL PEOPLE. These ideas will bleed into the public perception of them.

This happened with Septiplier. This happened with Dan/Phil. THIS HAPPENS TO SERIAL KILLERS. And my particular point of interest today is Luigi Mangione. Yes, I know, I've made a post or two about him before, but the way that the internet has treated him is atrocious.

This is a real-ass person who is on trial and facing the death sentence. And people are writing smutty self-insert fanfiction about him. They are sexualizing a man that they have never met and really don't know much about. We are so focused on how attractive he looks that we are COMPLETELY missing the bigger picture. This is a man who is being charged with crimes against one man. And the murder of this one man is being called an act of terrorism and Mangione is potentially going to die for this.

We are missing the fact that one rich, powerful man's death is worth more than countless students, teachers, queer people, trans people, and many other communities because of the way that they have shaped this system. Cruelty is allowed, but not when it's one of them.

Remember that Luigi Mangione is a person. He is a living human being who is facing consequences for a crime that he may have not committed. And yet he is facing death for it. Don't let that fade away.

[aurel1awrites]

me logging onto tumblr after consuming a new piece of media

[aurel1awrites]

As much as I love Luigi Mangione, writing smut about him is disgusting. Please stick to editing, this is a real person. Writing any fic about him is frankly weird and obsessive.