#it feels good to finally give something back to THE birthday gift set maker we have here!

[kimtaegis]

blue joon ♡ for @rkivedfiles

cr. namuspromised

[patrickswhore]

Karl Heisenberg X male reader

A/n: i couldn’t find any gifs of my daddy so I made one 😂 also sorry for not updating for a while, schools been tough but I’m in self isolation so I have plenty of time to write 😂 also light smut towards the end.

I stood at the back of my house, chopping wood for the burner. The snow fell heavy, making the wood crunch as it hit the cold ground.

I could see my breath as I breathed out in exhaustion. This winter was gonna be tough for me and my family. As the only man in my household and newly turned 21, I was just waiting for my sisters to play match makers and find me a young lady... hopefully that would be a while. In my village, being attracted to the same gender isn’t really a thing. So I’ll just have to suck it up, marry and have kids... you know, conform to society.

I walked inside with the lumber, shaking to get the snow off me like a wet dog. I placed it by the fireplace and threw a few blocks on the fire.

I hung my jacket on the coat rack and walked to the living room where my sister was sitting, chatting with a friend and drinking tea.

“Where’ve you been, (Y/N)? Fooling around with a lady?” My sister asked sarcastically, making fun of my lack of luck with women.

“Very funny, Paula” I rolled my eyes and walked into my moms bedroom, knocking softly on the door before entering.

Mother was laying in bed, looking at the ceiling. I knelt by her side, taking her hand. Ever since father passed away she hasn’t been the same, she lays in bed all day, not talking nor eating much.

“How are you feeling, mother?”

“....”

“I haven’t found a job yet.. but I promise I’ll find the money for your medicine, mother.... I promise”

She didn’t answer, she just kept on staring. I sighed and walked out the room, closing the door softly behind me.

“(Y/N), one of the neighbours came with this letter for you when you were out”

My sister handed me a letter, my name on the front in a crude handwriting. I opened the letter, it had a beautiful wax seal, decorated with a horse. The letter read:

Dear (Y/N)

Congratulations on your 21th birthday. You’ve been selected to come work for Karl Heisenberg at the factory on the outskirts of town. You’ve been selected because of your high grades and physical attributes. Please report to the factory as quickly as possible.

Kind regards, Karl Heisenberg.

My heart skipped a beat, Karl Heisenberg was asking me to come work for him. I couldn’t believe it, I rushed to me and my sisters room, quickly putting on some clean clothes and my prayer shoes. I ran into my mothers room, kneeling besides her once again.

“Mother, great news! I’m gonna go work for Lord Heisenberg...”

“.....”

“I love you mother, I’ll be back soon”

I rushed out, giving my sister a peak on the forehead and storming out the front door and into the freezing weather.

I walked up the hill to the metal doors, the factory was up and running, making a hell of a lot of noise. I banged on the heavy doors before it slowly opened on its own, revealing a room filled with scrap metal.

I heard the cracking sound of an intercom before hearing a low voice speaking.

“Ah! (Y/N) great you’re here so quickly. Please make your way to my office, all you have to do is make a left where you are and walk straight. It’s as easy as that, I’ll be waiting”

That must be lord Heisenberg speaking. I straighten up and walked as I had been instructed to. The condors were cramped and dimly lit by red lamps. I felt like the further into the factory I got, the more a putrid smell started to emerge. I finally reached the door, knocking two times.

“Yeah come on in!”

I slowly pushed open the metal door and was pleased that the wretched smell was now being overpowered by the scent of cigar smoke. There he sat, his back turned to me as I slowly shut the door. His hair was long and rugged, and he was toying with a small knife between his fingers.

“It’s great to finally meet you, (Y/N) (L/N). My men has had their eyes on you for a while, but you’re more impressive in person” the man stood up, he was taller then me to start with, but also physically more pumped. I was kinda scrawny, but the winter without my farther had put some meat on my bones.

“It’s an honor to be able to work for you, lord” I bowed my head slightly before looking up and finding him much closer then before. He put a finger under my chin, inspecting my face from different angels.

“My men were right, you surely are a very beautiful man”

My breath hitched in my throat.

“I beg you pardon?”

“Oh don’t play dumb with me, boy... we both know what you are”

“So that’s why you brought me here... not for work”

“Well a special kind of work, if you catch my drift”

“....”

He let go of my chin, moving a step back. I couldn’t deny it, he was extremely hot, but the thought of not being able to sustain my family drove me mad.

“Don’t worry, you’re getting a job at the factory too, and I’ll pay you handsomely for your services.. I know how much your family needs the money”

A stone lifted from my heart. What had I done for mother Miranda to gift me with such fortune? A well paying job and a handsome boss, who could ask for more?

“When do I start?”

“Well, immediately. But first, I have a question” he asked walking closer to me, slowly pushing me against the wall behind us. One hand on the wall besides my head and the other on my waist.

“Do you find me attractive?” His head was inching closer to my neck. His smell was intoxicating, a mix of sweat, cologne and rusty metal. I couldn’t get enough of him.

“Yes, very much”

“Good, because I need you to fix something for me” he grabbed my wrist with the hand from my waist and guided it to his crotch. I cupped his growing bugle as he made a low growling noise, almost like a dog. I started to softly stroke it as he removed his head from my neck, setting his hat on a nearby table before going back to my neck, kissing and biting along the side. I softly grabbed his dick, sending a shockwave through his body. He pulled back, looking at me through his sunglasses, I could slightly see his eyes which were full of lust. He put both his hands on my waist before moving me to the table, turning me around and bending me over it.

“You like that? You dirty man” he huffed, grinding against my ass, a hand on the back of my neck and another under my shirt on the small of my back.

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard, you hear me?” He gave my ass a hard slap, I cried out in pleasure and surprise, gripping the edge of the table.

I could hear his belt buckle being undone as I waited. Suddenly a voice over the loud speakers outside.

“All four lords, report to the castle immediately. Glory be to mother Miranda”

“You have to be fucking kidding me, what does that super sized bitch want now?” He huffed in annoyance buckling his belt again. I stood up, sitting on the table which I had just been bent over.

“I’ll be back very soon” he placed himself between my legs and gave me a passionate kiss, I of course, kissed back.

He put on his hat before storming out the door. I sighed and hung my head. Fuck...

Bonus:

“You’re late, Heisenberg” Alcina snapped as Karl stomped inside.

“I was in the middle of something”

“In the middle of what? You’re such a-“ she stopped dead in her tracks as Karl sat down, completely forgetting about his huge bulge.

“Oh.. I see, you’ve gotten a bit too happy for one of your experiments again”

Karls eyes widened as he swung his jacket over his lap, covering his crotch.

“Shut up bitch, and stop looking at my dick”

“ watch your mouth, child. Moreau, wanna bet on how long this one is gonna last until he kills him?”

Moreau giggled before getting hit in the back with a sheet of metal.

“Not this one, freak!.... this one is different”

“Mhmm, let’s see about that”

“I’ll rip your fucking over sized head off, you stupid bitch!” The hammer flew into Karls hand before Miranda interrupted.

“I’ll fucking show you... he’s the one”

[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.”

[mitts2002]

JJK pottery dates

Hii I've already made a separate inumaki fic on this so he won't be included. I was originally meant to do this for one character but I've decided to do multiple cause I can😌 Also I've never done pottery so I'm just winging this!

Itadori Yuuji

Yuuji would assume that he's gonna be a natural at pottery despite being both your first time

But yuuji would definitely not care about the end result of it

As long as he has a good time with (Y/N) that's all that matters

He'll accidentally use too much strength when handling the clay. Instructor tells him he's too heavy handed

(Y/N) on the other hand is doing pretty well. Shes almost done shaping and is ready to add some decorations

This is when Yuuji realises he does care about the end result because his looks like a complete mess

To cheer him up (Y/N) engraves Yuujis name into her pot and gives it to him as a gift.

You also offer to take yuujis piece in return

(Y/N) uses yuujis clay thing as a place for small trinkets and earrings

Yuuji uses (Y/N)s pot to plant a cactus

The couple had decided to go on a cute little pottery date for their first date, so why was Yuuji pouting in the corner?

Well at first (Y/N) and Yuuji were having a great time together. Messing around and quoting stupid memes and movie references was just their thing so when it was actually their turn to make something Yuuji had no idea what he was doing.

(Y/N) despite messing around with him had actually paid attention to the instructor and was doing just fine which made matters even worse for Yuuji. He assumed this would be a piece of cake when in reality it wasn't.

"Yuuji stop sobbing in the corner babe, it doesn't even look that bad!" You clearly lied to him but you knew it was for his own good.

"NO ITS TRASH look at yours (Y/N) so nice and pretty no one would ever want mine! Now I'll never be the world's best pottery maker" Yuuji babbled on just being his overdramatic self.

"Well I'd love love yours! I could put my jewellery in it, I needed a new trinket box anyways" you quickly thought on the spot and sighed in relief when Yuujis head perked up

"Really?" Yuuji sniffled and grabbed onto your waist. "Yeah and ill carve your name into mine! Then give it to you as a gift. Equivalent exchange" you winked at Yuuji knowing its an offer he couldn't refuse.

"Okay deal" Yuuji sat back next to you working on your trinket box while your worked on carving his name into his plant pot.

Choso

Choso was trying to learn more about the 21st century

How did he do this? By binge watching old rom coms on netflix.

In the middle of one of the movies a pottery scene comes up and chosos eyes couldn't shine more bright.

He loved the idea. It was a great way to spend your time with your loved one.

Choso immediately rang (Y/N) and demanded she arrange a date, which she did

You and Choso couldn't find any classes near you but looking at Chosos pout and puppy dog eyes begging to find a way you had no choice.

(Y/N) did the next best thing and decided to buy a beginners home kit. Now you both sat in the living room with newspapers littering the table and large aprons on yourselves.

"Okay so let's read the instructions first" you picked up the small booklet and looked over to Chosos who couldn't contain his excitement.

His buns were a little messier than usual as he rushed them the moment the package arrived but he still looked cute nonetheless. "Let me set it up then I guess we can try make a bowl? That seems to be the easiest option" you suggested while flicking through the pages and setting things up.

"Can we make a plant pot? I wanna give yuuji a plant for his birthday" Choso proposed. "Aww that's actually a great idea yuuji would love it!" You exclaimed in return and motioned him to come closer as you were ready to begin.

Choso had sat you in between his legs and leaned his head on your shoulder. His hairs tickled you and butterflys fluttered in your stomach when Choso began to kiss your cheeks slowly inching down to you neck.

"Oi behave" you ordered trying to sound intimidating but just burst out in laughter instead. "Fine sorry sorry let's focus on the pot" Choso apologised giving one last kiss to your head.

The pot was forming nicely but was a bit wonkey due to the hand size difference between you both.

Neither of you could care though, the intimacy of his hands on yours, music playing in the background and laughter filling the room from your stupid stories and Chosos dad jokes he recently learnt was just what Choso wanted.

The plant pot had turned out to be very cute and Yuuji ended up loving it.

Kamo Noritoshi

Kamo noritoshi was brought up in a strict household

During his childhood he was expected to be talented in many areas

Archery, studying, drawing, poetry, crochet, painting and even pottery were part of the many skills kamo noritoshi had devloped

The moment (Y/N) had learnt that the vase and other ornaments in noritoshis room were hand crafted by him she wanted to learn too

Now Noritoshi is sitting here behind his girlfriend teaching her how to make a vase because she wouldn't stop pestering him

"Noriii STOP being so perfect!" (Y/N) had yelled at her confused boyfriend who was simply decorating his clay piece.

"You wanted to do pottery with me and now your doing it. What's the problem?" Norotoshi sighed and turned to look at your vase. If he could even call it that.

"If you were struggling you could've asked me for help" Noritoshi scolded while your cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

"Yeah well I wanted to do it myself" you whined and crossed your arms in defeat.

"FINE help me please it's way harder than it looks" you admitted as nori made his way over to you.

"Firstly you need to be more gentle, it's wet clay not a damn rock (Y/N)" he corrected you and put his hands upon yours.

"Your hands are cold" you whispered to him feeling his slightly calloused hands touch yours.

"Focus (Y/N)" he responded equally as quiet as you. The room fell into a comfortable silence as your and nori moulded your vase together.

When it was finally finished you kissed noritoshi on the cheek. His cheeks turned slightly red but he kept his composure.

"It's fine (Y/N) just don't break it okay" the black haired male reminded you since you were quite clumsy.

"I promise I won't! But next time you have to do this call me and I'll join"

After this date, pottery became a common occurance for (Y/N) and Noritoshi. (Y/N) kept her promise and still fills her vase with flowers nori buys her to this day.

Okkotsu Yuta

Yuta okkotsu was a nervous wreck

You were given free tickets to a pottery event and asked Yuuta if he would accompany you

Of course he agreed without realising what he was actually getting himself into

The couple were currently at the event extremely close to make a bowl together

Yuuta could feel your hair on his skin and wanted to lean closer to bask in your presence

The moment he finally mustered the courage to lean onto your shoulder a little interruption had scared you both

'Okay Yuuta you got this. My wonderful (Y/N) is focused on the bowl so just slowly lean onto her' Yuuta thought to himself before looking towards his hands that were on yours. 'I GOT THIS' Yuuta had slowly inched closer while you continuously spoke so close to achieving his goal.

"IS THAT YOUR GIRLFRIEND!' a young girl with pigtails and pink bobbles yelled at Yuuta. The pair had jumped and practically ruined their bowl but yuuta couldn't care less. His chance was ruined.

"Yuuta she asked you a question" you reminded him and causing the black haired male to turn back to the small girl

"Ah yes this is my girlfriend" He responded with a small blush. "Well she's very pretty!" The cute child exclaimed.

"Thank you sweetie you're very cute too" (Y/N) cooed at the small girl and patted yutas arm telling him to compliment her aswell. Before yuuta could speak the young girl had beat him to it.

"OH YOU MUST BE ON A DATE! Sorry I ruined your bowl" she apologised looking down in guilt for interrupting you both.

"No no it's okay don't worry about it" Yuuta reasured and patted her head giving her a soft smile. (Y/N) blushed at the sight of her loving boyfriend with a child and gave the girl a quick high five before she scurried off to her parents.

"Wasn't she the sweetest little girl yuuta?" You asked and got a small 'hm' in response. "Our bowls a bit messy but I think we can salvage it right? Come closer so we can fix it properly" you grabbed his arms pulling him closer to you. Maybe that little interruption helped him after all.

[cotccotc]

genre/s: felix x barista!reader (gender neutral), fluff, angst, coworkers to lovers au, bakery / barista au (feat. baker / bff!minho, (strict) manager!chan, barista!jeongin, and baker!seungmin)

wc: 6.9k 😎

warnings: many mentions of food (specifically sweets such as cupcakes, brownies, cookies, etc.), some swearing, arguing, probably very poor editing oops <3

a/n: this is part of the @districtninewriters​​ “dear skz, with love” event :D THIS IS ALSO THE LONGEST FIC I’VE EVER WRITTEN AHHH i’m really really proud of it !!! i hope u love it besties !!!!!!!!

it was a frostbitten february evening when you met the boy at the bakery.

you were seated upon the counter, back turned to the deep brown door through which you’d first entered months ago, eager to apply for a barista position. minho sat across from you on the cashier stool. he was always better with the baked goods. you were a great team. the two of you were bored; a familiar feeling that accompanied weeknights at the bakery-cafe. people tended to arrive either in the morning time or late in the afternoon, and very seldom later. plus, your manager trusted the two of you enough to lock up on your own. and so, the two of you would be left to your own devices for a few measly hours a night per week.

“i bet you couldn’t make a batch of sugar biscuits without instructions,” he teased with a snarky grin. he was right. that was more his thing than yours.

so, you retaliated. “i bet you can’t do the same with a mocha frappe. or even simpler: an iced americano.”

“please!”

“oh yeah? step right up, biscuit boy,” you retorted with a giggle, gesturing to the coffee maker that sat beside him. there were multiple in the shop, and truth be told, he had no idea which was used for what types of beverages.

confidently, he grabbed a cup from the stack on the table behind him, striding over to one of the machines. he then took a look at all the knobs and buttons, clearing his throat. you chuckled. with his finger ghosting over one of the buttons, he turned back toward you to check for your reaction. “not even close,” you remarked. he clicked his tongue, turning back toward the coffee maker. “just a hint,” you added, “the first step isn’t coffee.”

he simply looked up, bewildered. he turned back toward you, dropping his hands to his sides and parting his lips into a circular expression of disbelief.

suddenly, the sparkling tone of the door chime behind you caught both of your attention. peculiar. nobody was usually around at that hour. as minho put his cup back on the table, you hopped off the counter, turning toward the front of the store.

in walked one of the most strikingly handsome boys you think you’ve ever seen. if not the most handsome. an angular face; fair, slightly pink-tinted skin decorated with the most endearing assortment of freckles. they were almost reminiscent of the chocolate sprinkles minho used to top off the cupcakes situated inside the glass counter case. his hair was a vanilla blond and long enough to delicately cascade over the side edges of his face. cherry red lips that parted upon his arrival, chocolatey brown eyes staring right back at yours. he was astonishing.

“how can we help you?” minho asked him, stepping forward. he couldn’t help but notice the way your eyes seemed to be bugging out of your head. he had to stifle a chuckle or two.

the boy’s eyes lingered on yours for a moment. or maybe you dreamed it that way. regardless, he walked up to the counter, inquisitively placing his hands behind his back and bent over to glance at the contents of the case. “hi! uh…” he seemed sweet, though his voice was much deeper than you’d expected. it was unique. he was unique. and in quite a rush, as well. “...shit,” he cursed under his breath. he seemed to have startled himself with his expression. he looked back up at you, then at minho, a tight-lipped smile and strawberry-pink blush appearing on his face. “sorry,” he said.

minho finally let out a chuckle. “no worries. what’re you looking for?” he was always so good with the customers. smooth yet considerate, witty, yet firm. you always aspired to be a little more like minho when it came to customer service.

“do you have any of the salted caramel cupcakes left? they seem to be gone.”

“ah, we seem to have run out of those. could i interest you in a peanut butter cupcake instead?”

the boy shook his head. “no… she likes caramel.”

she. there was a she.

“may i ask what the occasion is?” minho asked.

“it’s my mom’s birthday, and she’ll be home from work soon... hopefully. i would’ve made my own gift to her but i didn’t have the time…”

“enough said,” your coworker assured him. “does she like chocolate? we have a few salted caramel brownies in the back.”

he almost gasped. “that’s perfect!” he paused. “um… how much is that? i-is it more than the cupcake, or…?”

minho glanced through the glass at the tag beside the brownie tray. “nope. less, actually.”

the boy let out a short sigh of relief. “great. thanks so much.”

“ah, it’s nothing. one sec,” minho said before walking into the kitchen to grab the brownie from the fridge. an awkward silence ensued between you and the boy.

“a name for the order?” you blurted. dumbass, you thought to yourself.

“i’m… the only one in the store…” he replied.

heat rose to your cheeks. “i… um… it’s protocol-”

“felix.” he cut you off before you could embarrass yourself further. he could tell you were nervous.

a unique name as well. of course.

“coming right up, felix,” you murmured, a hint of sarcasm in your voice. both of you chuckled.

minho came back out to the counter holding a small blue box with the cafe logo on top. “you’re all set! that’ll be…” he pressed few buttons into the cash register before continuing. “ten thousand won.”

“perfect.” felix grabbed his wallet out of his coat pocket. he pulled out a few bills from the black leather case, handing them to minho with a small smile. he was excited to surprise his mother, and happy that it wouldn’t cost as much as he’d thought it would. and you found it adorable.

minho took the money, ringing felix up and inserting the bills into the register. he handed felix the box, which made the boy’s face light up even more. it was hard for you to suppress a similar countenance. “i hope she likes it. have a good night!” minho said, closing the register. he crossed his arms and leaned on the counter as felix waved to the both of you and began walking back toward the door.

“thanks so much. you too,” he said, giving minho a small bow.

with his hand on the door, he glanced back at you once more. you smiled. he returned the expression. and just like that, with a brief gust of cold air sweeping through the shop, the boy was gone.

“you, uh… you know we only take names when there’s a line, right?” minho teased as the door shut, the chime letting out what seemed to be a pitied laugh. 

you held your hands up to your forehead. “ugh, i know! i’m such an idiot,” you replied, letting your nerves go with a chuckle. he patted you on the shoulder, laughing with you.

in between laughs, he remarked, “he really made you that nervous, huh?”

“you could tell?! oh, great… wonderful!” 

the two of you carried on for a moment, making light of the otherwise mortifying exchange. but finally, minho glanced at the clock and asked, “would you mind locking up tonight? i’ve got a date.”

“ooh!” you cooed, taunting him. “a date... who’s the not-so-lucky lady?”

“what joke book did you get that one from, hm? i had no idea you even knew how to read!” you gave him a playful punch in the arm for his sarcastic dig, causing him to giggle. yet, he answered your question, saying, “it’s a girl i met on the train home from school the other night. chaeyoung.” he looked off to the side, seemingly entranced. “she’s really witty and smart… and gorgeous. like... gorgeous.”

“ah, yes… so gorgeous that it causes men to leave their posts… and friends…”

“if i bring you back some takeout, will you quit being an ass?”

you pondered the question for a moment. and, while you’d be bored as hell in his absence, closing up the shop wasn’t much of a hassle on weeknights… and, well, you could always go for a free meal. “...pleasure doing business with you, lee minho.”

“thank you. as with you,” he commented in return. he took off the periwinkle blue, involuntarily worn apron which you’ve both been made to wear, revealing what you hadn’t even noticed was a dressy outfit. well, dressier than usual. he’d opted for a pale blue button-up shirt, tucked into black skinny jeans, all tied together by a chic black belt and a pair of black loafers. not to mention the small silver hoop earrings and matching necklace. you had to admit, he did look dapper.

he quickly strode to the back of the kitchen at which there resided a small storage room where you and the other employees usually dropped off your belongings. he grabbed his backpack and put on his long black coat, quickly making his way back up to the counter and walking around to the front of the store. “catch you tomorrow! thanks again.”

“takeout! don’t forget!”

“i couldn’t even if i tried,” he retorted, opening the door. the two of you waved to each other before he took his leave. 

moments later, the door opened once again. you figured minho must’ve forgotten something. looking up, you began to ask, “what’d you forget this ti-”

it wasn’t minho.

it was felix.

he paused in his footing, little blue box still in hand. you jumped just a little. he noticed. “s-sorry… i just, um…” he looked off to the side. “i guess this is a bit of a long shot... considering the two of you seem to be more than enough staff… but…” he paused again, taking a moment to straighten his posture and scratch the back of his head. “is there any chance you might be hiring… any time soon?”

the answer was no. undoubtedly. he was right in thinking that you, minho, and the other employees were perfectly capable of handling the cafe. though some mornings and weekends were a bit tight, the team made it work. if this was anybody else, you could’ve easily said no.

yet, he persisted. “i can bake! i like to think i’ve been getting better at it… and i can clean as well.”

you couldn’t turn him down. you simply couldn’t. not with those kind eyes locking themselves with yours, the enthusiasm in his deep voice, or the hastening beat of your heart. “i’ll talk to my manager!” you affirmed. you smiled, causing a similar reaction out of him. an idea popped into your mind. if only for a moment, you thought it was the best you’d ever had. your eyes averted themselves to the pale yellow note pad and ballpoint pen on the counter, used to take orders from seated customers. “here,” you said, reaching for the pen and paper and handing it to felix. “if you’ll give me your number, i can text you with any updates.”

he walked back up to the counter for the second time that night, taking his number down on the pad. as you watched him intently, eyes fixated on his concentrated face, you silently praised yourself for being so brave. especially after the whole name debacle. your heart was at its wits’ end. “there,” he said, placing the pen down on the counter and sliding the notepad back to you. “i really appreciate it.” he sounded so genuine. he flashed you another smile. he had such a grand, bright, toothy smile. it would stay in your memory for days, weeks, even months to come. you can still recall it now.

“it’s no problem,” you responded. “...i really hope your mom likes the brownie.”

“thanks. i’m sure she will.” he turned to walk toward the door. you almost turned away as well, excited to examine the style with which he’d written on the pad, until he spun back around once more. “oh! one more thing… can i get your name as well?”

the question came as a bit of a surprise. you nodded to him, letting out a short giggle. “y/n.”

he grinned again. it was smaller that time; a bit more subdued. effortfully so. “ah. well…” he began walking backward, eyes connected with yours as he headed toward the door. “goodnight, y/n.”

“goodnight, felix.”

and thus, your pursuit for a job offering began.

your manager, chan, was reluctant to accept your proposal for him to give felix an interview. however, you made note of how eager he’d seemed that night and the skills he’d mentioned having. you also mentioned how he’d been so enthused to find out the price of his order. and so, after a couple days’ worth of mulling it over, chan finally gave in.

you weren’t supposed to be at the cafe when felix was being interviewed. however, your saturday afternoon shift had just ended, and the place was essentially empty. well… apart from you, chan, felix, and then jeongin, who wandered in from the storage room to find you eavesdropping from behind the wall separating the kitchen and the dining area. 

“y/n?” he asked. “what are you-”

you inaudibly shushed him, motioning for him to come closer and hide with you. he did so.

“chan’s interviewing someone,” you whispered to the boy.

“ah…” he responded, his tone hushed. “so why are we hiding?”

“because we’re not supposed to be listening.”

“so why are we doing it?”

“because i want to know how it’s going.”

“so why can’t you just-”

you shushed him again. he obliged, covering his mouth with his hand.

from the other side of the wall, chan asked, “so felix, do you have a resume?”

“uh…” felix stammered. you could hear the nerves in his voice.

“let me put it this way,” chan offered instead. “do you have any prior working experience? at another cafe, another store, a completely different place...?”

“oh! yes. i’ve bagged groceries at the supermarket on third street for the last few months. that’s where my mom works. but i’d much rather work here, if i’m honest...”

“ah. okay.” chan nodded, jotting down some notes in his notebook. “so y/n told me you could clean...”

before chan could finish, felix proudly exclaimed, “i can! i do a lot of cleaning at home.”

“perfect.”

the interview went on for a few more minutes. jeongin let out a few silent chuckles every once in a while, mocking your state of concentration. but who could blame you? you just wanted to make sure felix got the position. he seemed to need it.

you totally weren’t in it for his smile… the freckles… the adorable creases that formed at the edges of his eyes when he grinned with that sweet, genuine, toothy grin of his… no, not at all…

nevertheless, he got the job.

“i love this apron,” felix had said to you on his first day. he was quite fond of your uniform. everyone else in the shop hated them; what, with the pale blue color, white pinstripe pattern, and the ‘one-size-fits-all’ design. yet, in every sense of the phrase, it fit felix perfectly.

“i’m glad someone does,” you replied. he laughed.

“when i got the cleaning job, i wasn’t sure i’d get to wear one. but i’m happy i do.” he smiled at you, his pearlescent teeth on full display and face aglow with joy. 

after about a week of training, felix became a natural at his job. though it wasn’t much, he took great pride in his work and enjoyed taking any opportunity he saw to do a little extra sweeping, some more dish washing, and even some dusting here and there.

he also fit right into the employee dynamic. every once in a while, you’d find him playing hand games with jeongin. or, sometimes, minho would discuss baking with him, as he often noted his affinity for it.

“have you ever tried using oats in your chocolate chip cookies?” felix asked. it was monday night. and, as per usual, the shop was devoid of customers.

minho looked puzzled. “oats?”

“yeah. it adds a little nuttiness. it’s really, really good.”

“huh… i’ll have to try it out sometime. i like to add a bit of coffee grounds to the flour when i make mine.” then, he leaned in to whisper, “don’t tell chan, though.” felix let out a nervous giggle.

“don’t worry,” you said to him. “minho’s only kidding. i’d never let him touch my coffee grounds.” this made all three of you laugh.

after the laughter died down, felix looked at the clock. it was four in the afternoon. “well, my shift is over,” he said. you were disappointed. hanging out with felix had become a bit of a highlight for you. he always carried himself so kindly. he had a bubbly soul, and a pure twinkle took residence in his eye whenever he smiled. you couldn’t help but feel light and airy while around him.

“hey, i’ve been meaning to ask,” minho started to felix. “do you bike here?”

the other boy was confused. “no. why?”

“oh… then, do you walk?”

“yeah. it’s only a few blocks,” felix responded, shrugging.

“do you need a ride?”

felix paused to think. “don’t you need to stay here? to lock up and everything…”

“i’ll come right back.”

you chimed in, suggesting, “i can close tonight.”

“you sure?” minho asked you. “i don’t have any food to bribe you with this time.” you both chuckled.

“it’s fine by me,” you said.

minho thanked you, stating once again that he owed you. the amount of times you’d done this for him was countless. but you never seemed to mind. and so, off they went. you were glad felix had integrated into the friend group so well. you supposed that he was just that loveable.

when it finally came time for you to close up shop having not received any other customers for the night, you waltzed into the storage room to grab your things. however, you noticed something strange sitting atop one of the shelves that hadn’t been there that morning.

an envelope. with your name on it. and a tupperware container filled with a single slice of what looked like chocolate cake.

your heart flinched. you were shocked. flustered, flushed. confused… but endeared. you hesitated. shakily, you tore open the cream-colored envelope’s seal, careful not to rip too much. you wanted to preserve its crisp smoothness.

“y/n,” the note said...

“a gift to you,

a chocolatey treat,

a token of thanks

for being so sweet.

~ me”

your heart fluttered. you ran to the kitchen, opening the container and grabbing a freshly-cleaned fork from the metal sink. you dried it off on your apron before excitedly digging into the dessert. it was more of a brownie than a cake, you realized, with melted chocolate chunks stuffed inside. it tasted amazing.

you began wondering who this mystery gifter could’ve been. it couldn’t have been minho… it simply couldn’t have. the two of you were much too close. and he was always more confident than anybody you’d met. if he liked you, you would have already known. besides, things seemed to be going well with him and chaeyoung. no… this had to be someone else. jeongin, perhaps. he did always made such high praises about your cappuccino-crafting abilities. you looked to your left and right, peering around the kitchen for signs of life. but alas, you were all alone in the cafe. 

then it hit you.

of course...

felix.

you recalled the first time you met. when you had him jot his number down on the piece of paper. you remembered his handwriting; the way some characters curled on the ends, the rounded shape of his letter e, the squiggly line he used before he signed his name… it was felix. it had to be.

and you were ecstatic.

the next day, you entered the shop to find a full house. it was a saturday morning, after all. you enjoyed the breakfast rush, mainly because you got the chance to show off your coffee-making skills. you made your way to the kitchen, greeting jeongin at the counter on your way in. you said hello to minho and seungmin as well, who were busy stand-mixing and hand-folding various types of batter. they were a great team, especially on mornings like those. though they tended to bicker about ingredients and proportions, the sweet treats they’d concoct always turned out excellently.

finally, felix emerged from the storage area, duster in hand. when he saw you, however, he froze. with his eyes wide and cheeks beginning to flush, he greeted you. “h-hi, y/n… good morning!”

you let out a bit of a giggle. does he know that i know? you asked yourself. granted, the mysterious gift giver signed off as ‘me,’ so you couldn’t say you were positive… but this reaction told you otherwise. “morning!”

he nodded, smiling nervously. he gestured to the storage room. “the shelves in there are all dusted now.”

“great! i think i’ll… um…” you pointed to the room, slipping past him to stash away your belongings and put on your apron.

“yep! you… do that…” he muttered as you walked away.

however, when you walked in, you found something peculiar displayed upon the shelf.

another envelope. and another container.

you turned back toward the door to find felix peeking in. you chuckled. “so it was you!”

he stepped to the side, coming into full view. “how’d you know?” he asked.

“i just… had a feeling.” you grinned.

he paused, a tight-lipped smile spread across his face. “well, open it.”

you placed your coat and bag on one of the shelves below. you then opened up the envelope just like you had the previous night: meticulously, yet enthralled. it read,

“another dessert

for a person so sweet

will you honor me kindly,

and go out with me?

YES / NO

~ me”

once you looked back up at him, felix commented, “you were supposed to circle one…” he then began rambling. “i thought you didn’t come in until later. you don’t have to say anything right now, or at all, and-”

though you thought it adorable, you cut off his nervous prattle, stating, “yes.”

his eyes grew even wider, his strawberry tinted lips forming a circular shape. “you mean…”

“i’ll go out with you, felix,” you confirmed.

his face lit up. and yours did, too.

thus, one date became two, two became four…

by the end of february, you were officially a couple.

you were a perfect match. each of you complimented each other so well, rivaling the bittersweetness of a good cappuccino when paired with a light and fluffy slice of cake. like minho, felix’s baking abilities and knowledge never ceased to amaze you. you explained the ins and outs of coffee brewing while he told you all about how he bakes his tasty treats. he even showed you some of the recipes his mom handed down to him from generations past.

his mom sounded so wonderful… yet, a part of you felt so sorry for her. felix’s dad left when he was young, and she’s always had to fend for herself and her son all on her own. however, when she was let go from her office position the previous year, things began to spiral. she took up two jobs: one at the local grocery store and another waitressing at a restaurant in the next town. she was always so busy. but felix understood. he tried helping out, especially by working at the supermarket with her that fall. nothing seemed to get any better. 

that is, until he landed his job at the cafe.

felix constantly thanked you for helping him out. chan paid him a considerable amount more than what he’d received at the supermarket, which helped him and his mother out greatly. anything would. aside from telling how lovely, smart, witty, and gorgeous you were, felix’s mission in life was to remind you how you’d saved it.

one monday, you entered the storage room on your break to find a sight all too familiar. a handwritten note and small sliver of baked loveliness, all wrapped up in a metaphorical bow of allure and intrigue. nevertheless, however, you were still just as giddy as the first time you’d received one of felix’s treats. suddenly, you felt a finger graze along your shoulder, moving your hair to the side as an arm wrapped itself around your waist. two warm, pillowy lips made contact with your cheek, gently pecking the skin. felix.

you let out a giggle. “is this for me?” you asked, facetiously.

“of course,” he muttered beside your ear, his tone low, entrancing, and chill-inducing. he kissed your cheek again, holding you close and swaying you from side to side. “it’s another brownie. try it,” he suggested as his chin settled upon your shoulder.

you did as he said, biting into the small slice of fudgy goodness. to your surprise, chunks of melted caramel oozed out of the dessert, cutting through the rich chocolatiness of the brownie with a tangy edge. you hummed in satisfaction. “a salted caramel brownie,” you noted, swallowing your bite.

he chuckled. “i figured i’d finally try it out, maybe give some to my mom… do you like it?”

you placed the sweet back into its container and turned around in his arms, wrapping yours around his neck. you smiled. “i love it, lix. thank you.”

he grinned back at you. pulling you closer by the waist, he sealed the space between his lips and yours with a kiss. his lips were always even softer and more captivating than the texture of his confections. sweeter, too.

after his lips left yours, he gazed into your eyes, holding you close. “open the note, love.”

you excitedly spun back around, doing as instructed. opening the crisp white envelope seal and pulling out the folded sheet of paper, you read its contents.

“a caramel kiss

for you, my love.

i can’t give you the world.

but i hope i’m enough.

~ felix”

you paused. you were puzzled. visibly so, you figured, since when you turned around the look on felix’s face shifted.

he took your hand in his, rubbing small circles into the skin with his thumb. he kept his head down as he spoke. “i wish i could do more. i wish i could take you out to nice places, bake you batches of your favorite sweets, get you real gifts…”

a sharp pain struck your heart. “lix…” you murmured. “i don’t need any of those things. and as far as i’m concerned, these are ‘real gifts.’ they come from your heart. that’s as real as it gets.”

“i know, love, but…”

you placed a hand on his cheek, guiding him to look back up at you. “you don’t even have to do this stuff for me. i know that you care.”

he gave you a forced, shy smile. “okay. i’m glad.” he placed his own hand on top of yours, warm fingertips pressing gently against your skin.

“felix! y/n!” chan called from the kitchen. it was saturday night, and the last of the day’s customers were taking their leave. you were standing by the coffee-makers, in the middle of telling felix about the time you’d bested jeongin in a macchiato-making contest during a breakfast rush. 

both of you turned toward the kitchen door, concerned. chan poked his head out. “can you come here a minute?” he looked serious. something was wrong.

nevertheless, the two of you obliged. holding hands, you made your way to the kitchen, led by chan to the cooling racks. “what’s up?” you asked.

chan cleared his throat before shoving his hands into his pockets. “i have reason to believe that one of you, or both, has violated protocol.”

you quickly grew confused. felix’s hand tightened around yours. you glanced at him, noticing how his face flushed pale. “uh…” he stammered. 

“early this morning, seungmin pointed out that we’re low on cocoa powder. now, that’s odd, especially considering we had three cans of it yesterday. now we only have two.” you both nodded at him, following along. “...so i took a look at the camera footage.”

felix let go of your hand. “c-cameras?” he stuttered. you were even more confused.

“yeah. the cameras,” chan confirmed, looking felix dead in the eye. “i watched the footage from yesterday. and the day before.”

felix gulped. “you… you did….”

“what the hell is going on?” you asked.

chan let out a bit of a sigh. “y/n. were you aware that felix has been taking ingredients from the kitchen?”

your heart dropped.

you glanced at your boyfriend. he glanced back at you. he then bit his bottom lip, averting his eyes down to the floor. you looked back at chan, calmly answering, “no… i had no idea.”

“is that true?” chan asked.

“yes.” you then turned to felix, face ablaze. “it’s true.”

“then in that case, you can go for the night. i’d like to talk to felix. alone.”

after one last unreciprocated look at your boyfriend, you quickly rummaged through the storage room, collected your things, and left. you stood outside of the cafe, waiting for whatever might happen next. your stomach was doing flips. you couldn’t possibly believe what you’d heard.

minutes elapsed. it felt more like hours. all you could think to do was lean up against a lamp post and watch the gloomy clouds shift overhead. the sun was close to being fully set, casting a deep purple tint over the whole street landscape. and it looked as though it was about to rain.

after what felt like an exorbitantly long time, felix emerged from the shop. the door closed behind him as he bolted down the steps and onto the pavement, that familiar chime sending a chill through you. it sounded almost eerie that night. out of place. taunting.

“lix,” you called. you walked behind him, despite his quickening pace. but he wouldn’t stop or slow down. “lix,” you exclaimed again. no answer. finally, you grabbed his arm, realizing his apron was gone, and shouted, “felix! slow down.”

he scoffed, stopping dead in his tracks. “he fired me.”

you stared at him, blankly. once again, you couldn’t believe it.

“i tried to do something nice, and he fired me.”

“do you think it makes me feel any better?” you asked. “you getting yourself fired so you could make me little brownie experiments?” you paused, taking a deep breath. you were outraged. more so with yourself. you should’ve asked how he was finding the time or the resources to be doing what he was doing. you should’ve known. “i thought you needed this job. when were you gonna tell me you were a thief?”

“a thief?!” felix’s eyes seemed to be bulging out of his head. he was surprised at your verbiage. he’d never seen you upset like this. “y/n, i’m not a thief.” you rolled your eyes. his cheeks flushed crimson. a prickling sensation began around his eyes. a stinging, almost. tears. he looked down at his sneakers. tattered white converse. the same ones he wore every day to work. the same ones on which he’d splattered a few droplets of brownie batter during his latest attempt at making you a gift. now, it just looked like a stain of mud. “i didn’t just take cocoa powder. i took eggs… some milk… a couple cups of flour here and there… my mom got demoted at the restaurant. she works the bar now. she thinks i asked for the stuff. so yeah, i did need this job! i do need it. i just fucked up...” under his breath, trying not to give into the tears that prodded at his eyes, he remarked, “‘little brownie experiments’... that’s all they ever were to you? little brownie experiments...”

you realized what you’d said. of course that’s not all they were to you. they were everything to you. but that isn’t what you’d said. “lix… i-”

“you know what, you’re right,” he muttered, shifting his weight back and forth on his feet, hands clasped behind his back, and eyes rapidly blinking to avoid the inevitable. “they probably weren’t even all that good.”

you took a step closer to him. a drop of water fell onto your shoulder from above. “no.. no, that’s not what i-”

but, as quickly as you approached him, he stepped back. he locked eyes with you once again. his eyes were glossy; tainted with the aftereffects of a broken heart. suddenly, a steady stream of drizzling rain began to fall from the night sky above you. felix’s lip quivered. yet, with a furrowing brow, he continued. “you know what, maybe this was all a mistake.” his voice cracked a bit; frayed at the edges. “maybe i should’ve gotten a different job. at a place that would pay me enough to be able to buy my own shit and pay my mom’s bills.” the rain fell harder now, coating his hair and dragging it down over his face. you didn’t even feel it as it completely drenched you as well.

seeing him like this affected you just as much as your words did him. guilt. the panging, crushing weight of guilt laid heavily upon your heart. “felix…” you whimpered, tears of your own beginning to cloud your line of sight. though, you could still see clear enough to watch him shake his head, turning around and beginning his ascent up the avenue. clear as ever. even despite the pitter-patter of evening gloom.

sopping wet, you marched back into the shop. you ripped off your apron, throwing it down upon the counter. you then walked back behind it to start preparing to close up for the night. all you wanted was to go home.

that is, until you spotted an envelope tucked beside the cappuccino maker.

a creamy white envelope, with your name and a heart inscribed on the back. and a tupperware container. a single teardrop descended from the corner of your eye, resembling the droplets of rain that covered your form. you carefully took hold of the envelope. you gently tore it open, making sure not to rip it, just like you’d done the very first and subsequent times.

“another present

for my love;

my dear y/n,

sent from above.

~ felix”

a drop of rain fell from your hair onto the page, dampening his name. the black ink began to run, the letters seeping into each other.

you could no longer control your tears. you took a seat on the floor, back resting against a leg of the table upon which the coffee makers stood. the metal was cold. but you paid it no mind. with your head on your knees, legs bent and arms wrapped around them, you cried. audibly. you couldn’t believe how you’d spoken to him. you should’ve known that he didn’t have the money to bake you these little presents on his own. you should’ve realized from the moment he confirmed it was him. at least, that’s what you thought to yourself as the tears expelled themselves from your system. 

he just wanted to make you something special. yes, he broke the rules. yes, he stole from the cafe. and yes, he knew it was wrong. but he just wanted to make you something special. it was the only way he believed he could. and you wish you’d seen that. not just so you could’ve prevented it, but also so you could’ve appreciated it even more. so you could’ve seen that not only was he working overtime to make you something you might enjoy, but that he was risking his job for you and his mother. it wasn’t a perfect gesture - not by a long shot. but he meant well. he always did. and you didn’t even give him the chance to explain.

you loved him.

after a few moments of solitude, you regained your breath. you sniffled, looking down at the note. you then stood back up, taking hold of the container. its contents looked delicious. but you couldn’t consume it. not even if you’d been hungry. so, you dumped it into the trashcan beside the table. and, with a deep, shaky breath, you ripped up the letter and envelope into tiny pieces. it was a bittersweet feeling, letting go. but you had to do it. and so, home you went.

a week passed. things never really changed at the cafe once felix left. weeknights were still as slow as ever. maybe even slower. you missed him.

minho emerged from the kitchen one evening to find you wiping down the cappuccino maker with a coffee-stained rag. it was the third time you’d done it that day. twice more than you were getting paid for. and of course he noticed. “how’re you holding up?” he asked.

you barely glanced up at him, busy rubbing the same spot on the metal machine over and over. this stupid stain just wouldn’t budge. each time you’d gone over it that day, you couldn’t seem to make it go away. it plagued your mind, infiltrating your subconscious when you least expected it until you finally decided to go back to it for the second time, then the third. it was a real mood killer. though your mood hadn’t been very lively when the day began, either. “‘m fine,” you replied through gritted teeth, brows angled inward as your focus remained on the task at hand.

“are you?” he questioned, playfully. he leaned on the counter behind you, crossing his arms and watching you scrub. “you’ve been going at it with that thing for hours now. what’d it ever do to y-”

“i’m fine!” you interjected. you then paused, both in speech and action. suddenly, you were aware of how fast you’d been rubbing the machine. as well as how loud your voice had raised itself. you turned around. “...sorry.”

he gave a pitied smile, crossing his arms. “it’s ok. i’m fine,” he replied, mimicking you. it made you chuckle. he was glad it did. “is, uh… is this a bad time to ask you to lock up? i’ve got a.. uh…”

“a date?” you supposed, unfeeling.

he cleared his throat, glancing between you, the clock above you, and his shoes. “yeah,” he confirmed. “with chaeyoung. would you mind?”

“not at all.”

“you sure?” you nodded. “alright… i owe you one… or ten...” he joked, untying his apron.

“no you don’t,” you murmured, eyes drifting to the side. you almost turned back around, heart set on getting to that stain, until you felt his hand on your arm. you glanced at each other for a moment. he looked sad. sorry. he pitied you. and you hated it. yet, as he took you in his arms, wrapping you into a tight, benevolent hug, you became a little less tense. a little less angry. you hugged him back, burying your face into his shoulder. this was the first time you’d ever engaged in such a gesture with your coworker. sure, you were friends. and sure, you’d talked about some deep stuff on nights like these with nothing better to do. but this was different. meaningful. sweet.

after a moment, minho remarked, “you know i miss him too, right?” he sounded mockingly peeved. “he was your boyfriend but he was my friend.”

you looked up at him, confused. “you’re not still friends?”

he chuckled. “no! he’s avoiding me the same way he’s avoiding you.”

laughing with him, you responded, “shit… i’m sorry, minho.”

“you have nothing to apologize for.” he let go of you, hands remaining on your sides for a moment. “you both messed up. it’s not all your fault.” you nodded to him, a reluctant, close-lipped smile upon your face. he glanced up at the clock again before pulling his apron off. “i’ve gotta go. thanks again for locking up, y/n.” he walked past the counter to the front of the store. “i’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” he added, pointing at you while striding backwards toward the door.

“see you tomorrow,” you replied, waving to him. “have fun.” you still sounded a bit bitter. you couldn’t help it.

“thanks,” he said. the chimes twinkled as the door closed. it haunted you.

and with that, he was gone. nothing but you, your rag, and that unnerving coffee stain for another half-hour’s time.

you heard the opening and closing of the door behind you once again. with a sigh, not even bothering to turn around, you blurted, “we’re about to lock up for the night.”

no response. odd. maybe they didn’t hear you. you tried again, raising your voice a bit but continuing your attempts to clear up the stain all the while. “i apologize, but we’re closed for the night-”

“one salted caramel brownie, please.”

a familiar voice. a familiar, low-toned, nostalgia-inducing voice. the voice that, at one time, softened for you… close enough to your ear to make your stomach tie itself in knots. the voice that made you giggle, the voice that called you “love”... the voice that cracked when faced with the realization that it was never to be heard by you again. you spun around.

a familiar face, too.

felix.

his eyes gazed into yours. somber, silent.

“y-you...”

“hey.”

tags: @magglesx, @crscendoforsung, @stayndays, @hanniiesuckle17, @leggomylino, @freckledberries, @pixielix, @skzctnightnight, @serenityswords-main​, @childofthecosmos, @changbinniee​, @kpopscape​, @skzwriternet, @hyunsins, @sleepylixie, @ncityluvvs, @vera-liscious (send a 🍓 in my ask box to be added for skz !)

©️ cotccotc 2021 ~ all rights reserved. do not repost my work on tumblr or other platforms.

[all-the-names-are-taken-aaaaa]

Saving Paris Final Straw

"We head back to Paris tomorrow" Tikki said sadly.

"Yeah we do" Marinette putting the last letter in the last envelope. "China is nice but we have a job." Sliding the envelopes into her bag Marinette moves to hug her dear friend. "We will come back when we defeat howkmoth."

"Hey Claude!" Marinette yells to get the boys attention. She inwardly flinches at how loud her voice got. "Yo Mari what's up" the boy says exactly. "Well it's your birthday today. Allegra said these are your favorite." Marinette does her best to act like her normal self as she hands the box to him. Claude takes the box and pauses for a moment "thanks Mari. Didn't know you did this for the whole school" Marinette laughs "we have a small school and you are kinda new so why not?" Claude made a mental note to ask Allen if Marinette always does these sort of things. Something seems off...

"We should head to class" Marionette points in the direction of her class. "Oh yeah we should thanks again Mari" He says rushing to his class. "Sweet you got a Marinette special!"Allan says almost as soon as Claude enters the room. "Of course he did Nette never forgets a birthday." Allegra states as if it was normal "Happy birthday by the way"

"Wait this is normal? Like I'm not in her class and we aren't friends. How does she even know it's my birthday" Claude asks setting the box on his desk. "Well she is part of the student council so she has basic information on everyone. Like birthdays and allergys. And I asked her one time why she did it. I believe her exact words were "it hurts to be forgotten and a single act of kindness can change everything." Allegra reveals.

"It's not just birthdays dude. If she knows something big has happened good or bad you will find yourself receiving some sort of amazing gift." Allan states and Aurora joins "Yeah when I lost the competition last year she made me a whole outfit to wear to the next competition. I tried to pay her but she refused. When Marc got sick she gave his mom some special soup from her uncle. It made him feel better almost eminently."

"Danm she's amazing." Claude says sitting down. Everyone in the school must have some sort of gratitude or respect for her going so far to help. "Too bad her class does not seem to realize that." Kagami stated with a broken pin in her hand. The entire room goes quiet. Kagami rarely enters conversations before class. The fact she was talking and the angry tone her voice held was not something anyone expected.

Allegra holds a sad look on her face "it is true. At this point I'm scared she will go back to..." Another pin broke. Allan gasped. Aurora made a chocking sound "No way. No way it could get that bad again" Allan then screeched "Hawkmoth that son of-" Kagami throws an eraser at him. "She would do anything for her friends. I have seen her fight off an akuma and manage to keep a butterfly away. I was not able to catch her befor she left as I saw it threw the window." Kagami states looking down. Claude felt even more respect for this girl.

"Look eather way she wouldn't want us having this conversation right now. She would want us to calibrate with Claude." And so they forgot for a while.

An akuma alert rang out around lunch. "My lady may I say you look perrrrfect today" chat says completely ignoring the akuma. "Chat we need to talk once this battle is ove" her voice is so plain no teasing on nothing. Chat nods and the akuma is taken care of quickly.

"Chat... My civilian self has been hurt a lot recently. I nearly became acumatized multiple times. I believe Hawkmoth is targeting me so I-" chat rushes forward to hug her "please don't leave"

Ladybug pushes him away "Chat I can not feel anything. No emotions No pain. It is because of a type of medicine. It only does this to a few but I am one of the few. I have to protect Paris so it had to be done" she swings off befor. Chat can respond.

Marinette sighed as she finishes up some of her commissions. "It is so hard to act it out Tikki. I could not do it as ladybug it would only destact me." Tikki sits on her shoulder nodding sadly. The other kwamis did not take the knees well eather but it was their only choice at this point. Even Plag was considering a new chosen if his did no learn to take things more seriously quickly.

A ring went through the room. "Time for another one." Marinette mumbles picking up the bottle of anxiety meds she used to take so long ago. Marinette has a unique reaction to the meds in that she feels nothing. It's rare and can be fixed by changing meds but Marinette lives in Paris and Paris is under attack by a magical supervillem.

One by one people in the school had special days and were greeted by presents from Marionette. The thing that was different was each presents was accompanied by a letter stating how she felt about the person. Several people were moved to tears by these letters.

"Marc what is wrong?" Aurora notices the look of completely shock and horror. He turns the phone to his classmate who lets out a scream quickly everyone rushes over including Ms. Mendeleiev. As soon as she sees the picture "were is she?" Marc drops his phone "Chloe and Nathaniel bought her to the nurse. She's how you described it Allegra..." Horror spreads through the classroom Kagami leaves not long after. It's silent for a long while... "This is their fault." Allan finely speaks. "Those letters were written befor she started the meds. When did she start the meds again" Aurora whispers. "Befor my birthday she went on that trip" Chaude states.

Allegra moves to the front of the classroom and stands beside Ms. Mendeleiev. "Look we do not know everything but we know Marinette. She would never have gone back on those meds unless she absolutely had too. All we can do is support her. Try to avoid her class we are all too angry. It would only cause problems if we acted right now. Everyone try to stay calm last thing we want is an akuma from this." Allegra takes out some chocolate from the teachers desk and hands it out. One of the ways to avoid akumas is to eat chocolate since it is scientificly proven to make people happy.

Later that day however Aurora overheard a conversation between Mylene and a new girl named who likes to be called Mix.

"Wait if all of the stuff Marinette makes is free then were does the costume money go?" Mix asks while looking over the budgeting from former plays and the current one. "Oh I donate it to charity" Mylene is so excited over explaining the charity that she does not notice the concerned look on Mix face. "I already donated this year's amount-" Mylene is cut of by Mix "but we do not have the costumes yet"

"It will be fine. Marinette can handle it" Mylene responds "Mix could you come help me fix some props" Aurora yells from were she is messing with tangled up Christmas lights. "Yeah no problem" Mix rushes over happy to be out of that situation. "Go along with what I say. We need out of hear quick." Auroror whispers. Mix nods. "Dang these lights are busted let's look for Mr. Bernard." Auroror says loud enough for most of the group to hear. "Yeah let's go" Mix says and they leave quickly.

"Fred Haprèle, my apologies about the abrupt meeting" Mr. Bernard sits down across from the father and daughter.

"It's no problem at all to come assist with anything my daughter may need." The man says.

"Yes well as you know Mylene has taken most of the response ability for costumes. We have a budget so there is always a good few hundred dollars. I have always wondered how she got designer cloths for that price though. I figured she worked out a dill with the maker since is a school event. It appears I was mistaken" Mr. Bernard pauses. How exactly do you tell someone their daughter stole to move up in a charity organizations? Of course Mylene winds up proudly explaining everything was free so she donated the money and moved up so many levels.

"You what?" The man stares at his daughter flabbergasted. "It appears she has also already done so this year as well." Mr Bernard states feeling bad for the mad.

"What the hell Mylene that is not your money to give away! Do not tell me your friend refused the money I have seen your plays. They trusted you with a huge responsibly and you do this" Fred Haprèle yells standing up. Only then does his daughter have the understanding to look ashamed. "But it went to charit-" "no it went were you thought you could gain the most from. We are leaving. Mr. Bernard please call me when it is figured out how much is owed and apologize to Marinette for me. She is the one that makes the costumes she is in the same class as Mylene."

Aurora and Mix later found out Mylene was pulled from Drama club until she could pay everything back. The next day they started planing extra fundraisers so they could afford costumes. Marinette at some point popped by and said she would design them for free but the club refused and eventually settled for whatever they could raise would go to Marinette.

Once the school found out about the drama more than Ms. Mendeleiev class started to distance themselves from the akuma class. Only exceptions being Marinette, Chloe, and, Nathaniel. When Marinette was not in class she was accompanied by people from other classes. They respect Marinette and her class was down right toxic. They tried to trip her regularly and said things under their breath a lot. After so many students expressed their concern for the girl in pink it was a matter of time before she transferred classes. It sucked the other teachers how Caline Bustier tried to fight it saying she was the class representative so she had to stay. Going as far as to try to guilt trip the girl. Too bad she couldn't feel guilt and Lila was all to glad to take the position from her. Some reports were made that day.

Though each class wanted the bluenette in their class it was decided she would transfer into Ms. Mendeleiev class.

"I got back on the meds because Hawkmoth is targeting me because of my strong sympathy." Marinette had long since figured out that they knew and just decided to answer their unasked question. The chalk in Ms. Mendeleiev hand shaped. Kagami created a crack in her desk. Allan popped the bouncy ball he was playing with. Auroror and Alegra stood up to get chocolate quicker then they ever had befor. Claude held his hands together to keep from lashing out. Marinette has been through enough they all thought as she lead them through breathing exsersizes.

That is how an entire school minus the akuma class and Marinette stormed the Agrest mansion after a month of tracking every akuma and documenting Lila working with Hawkmoth. They happily hand over the jewelry and footage to Queen Bee and (Nathaniel) Foxi.

The school watches in amusement as the akuma class falls apart. Marinette does no extra favors for them. Only birthday gifts. Her new friends show her her worth.

"Adrain she was never your everyday ladybug. She is everyone's everyday ladybug. She is the reason Hawkmoth is gone. You are lucky she pulled those favors to make sure people don't think you are like your dad" Chloe snaps. "She what-" Adrian starts. "Oh you idiot do you really think the media would not destroy you if given the chance? MDC is Marinette. A lot of people respect her and owe her a lot. Her word alone could end someone's career yet she chose to protect you and your stupid class. Wish Alya good luck with the lawsuits by the way. The warning ends soon. She she really listen to her lawyer when told to remove posts within 24 hours."

[naiatabris]

ZevWarden Week Day 2's theme is "Gifts." We all know the Warden is an expert gift-giver (an idea I'm playing with here)--so what happens when it's Zev's turn? This is set in the modern AU of my "Charity Case" fic, shortly after the events of the story.

______________

“Hey, are you doing anything Friday after work?”

Zevran glanced over from the pan of eggs he was frying. Naia was making coffee at his side, carefully pushing the top of the press into the vessel to sweep the grounds to the bottom. Naia herself was not picky about her coffee, since she took it with a great deal of sugar and milk; she’d learned this more elaborate method for him, a fact he still did not quite know how to process.

“No firm plans, no. Do you have suggestions?” He winked at her. “Are they naughty ones?”

She laughed as she began to pour the coffee into mugs. “Not exactly. It’s my birthday. I always invite some people for dinner at that diner near the DFRC to celebrate. It’s very casual, but I’d love for you to come.”

“Then I will be there.” He slid the eggs from the pan with practiced ease before pulling out his phone to mark the appointment in his calendar.

*********

Later that day, as Zevran was headed out of Cousland Enterprises to find lunch, a familiar voice interrupted his train of thought. “Hi, Zev!”

Zevran turned to see Beth Cousland walking through the CE door, a bright smile on her face. “Beth! A pleasant surprise. Lunch with a family member?”

She nodded. “I haven’t seen Fergus in ages, and I need ideas for Oren’s birthday. Hey, speaking of birthdays, what are you getting Naia for Friday?”

The question caught Zevran utterly off-guard. He immediately felt foolish. Presents. Of course. As customary in Ferelden as they are in Antiva.

“I … am still struggling with an idea,” he said, not quite lying. “And you?”

“Same here.” Beth’s face lit up. “Here, I’ve got a few minutes before Fergus and I are supposed to leave. Let’s call the expert.”

Barely a minute later, Beth had Alistair Griffin on speakerphone.

“Oooooh. I should have warned you.” Zevran heard Alistair take a deep breath. “Here’s the thing about Naia. She is absurdly, impossibly good at gift-giving. Those action figures on my bookshelf? They were my favorites when I was a kid. I lost them in a move after college but Naia somehow found me new ones. Another year, she sewed me my own Denerim Crashers jersey--that’s the old minor league baseball team that I used to follow before they moved to Highever. She put my name on it and everything.”

Zevran felt a nervous sensation beginning to spread through his stomach.

“So what are you getting her?” Beth asked, a little worried wrinkle between her brows.

“Soccer ball autographed by her favorite Denerim Lightning players,” Alistair said promptly. “Took me a while to find one with the goalie’s signature on it, but I finally had a good idea and I wasn’t going to screw it up.” He cleared his throat. “It was also more than I probably should have spent. Want to split the cost and put your name on the card?”

“Deal,” Beth said immediately. “Any other ideas Zev could use?”

“Unfortunately I spent months coming up with just that one idea,” Alistair said dryly. “Sorry, Zevran. But I wouldn’t worry about it. Gifts are her thing, I think she kind of likes that she’s so much better at it than we are. And most people at the party don’t bring a present. You’ve only been dating a month. She probably doesn’t expect you to get her anything.”

Zevran frowned. “I appreciate the insight,” he told Alistair sincerely. “But I would not wish to arrive empty-handed. I will think of something.”

After exchanging goodbyes with her boyfriend, Beth hung up the phone and gave Zevran a reassuring smile. “I’m sure he’s right, you know. Whatever you get her, she’ll appreciate the thought.”

Zevran was sure Beth had the right of it. But the knowledge that Naia valued gifts, that she spent so much time and effort on presents for those she cared about, felt like a challenge he wanted to meet. ‘Appreciate the thought’ would not do.

He wanted to find something she would love.

*********

Over the next few days, Zevran began jotting down a list of things he knew Naia liked, trying to come up with a potential gift. He listened to her remarks, paid attention to what she watched on TV, looked at her wall of family photos depicting graduations and cookouts and summer days swimming at a beach on the Amaranthine Ocean.

Coming up with a present was more difficult than he’d anticipated. Since Alistair had already secured the soccer ball, anything related to Naia’s favorite sport or team was out. She’d just bought new running shoes a few weeks ago. He considered something more intimate, but between them they had an impressive collection of toys, and lingerie felt like a gift for him as much as for her.

Perhaps a physical present was the wrong direction. He thought back to the birthdays he’d planned for Taliesin and Rinna. During their first year as Crows he’d taken Taliesin club-hopping, laying out his credit card for some absurdly expensive table service before the two of them headed back to Taliesin’s apartment with an enthusiastic third party. For the last birthday he’d celebrated with Rinna, he’d booked a table at the city’s most exclusive restaurant, followed by a night in a penthouse hotel suite with a spectacular view.

Neither of those ideas were right for Naia, though. He’d learned that she was instinctively frugal, that the prospect of a twenty-dollar cocktail made her wrinkle her forehead and order soda instead. A high-end Denerim restaurant or hotel with mostly shemlen patrons would feel like an ordeal rather than a celebration.

He wanted something special yet comfortable, nice enough to be a treat and yet not so expensive it made her uneasy. A difficult balance to strike, especially since he was still getting to know his new city.

But finally, on Thursday morning, it came to him.

*********

Naia had somewhat undersold her birthday celebration. When Zevran arrived at the diner, it was filled with balloons and packed with her friends--old high school and college classmates, teachers from Vanedrin High, and other rec center employees. He was trying to figure out how to insert himself into this clearly tight-knit and friendly group--but before he could puzzle over it too much, Naia seized him by the sleeve and began to introduce him around.

More than once, Zevran touched the pocket of his jacket to make sure the envelope he’d brought was tucked safely inside.

Alistair began handing her presents as the diner’s wait staff brought out buckets of fries and pitchers of beer. She squealed in glee over the soccer ball, turning it around and around until she’d examined every signature; a new backpack, a gift card to a movie theater, and a Denerim Lightning ball cap were all greeted with hugs and enthusiastic thanks.

And finally, as the wrapping paper was cleared away and the guests resumed their party, Zevran slid an envelope in front of Naia. “Happy birthday.”

“Zev! I should have told you, presents are always optional. But thank you.” She grinned at him and opened it.

Her eyebrows rose as she pulled out the photograph inside. “It’s--a little house? Next to the ocean.” Then her eyes widened in recognition. “Zev. This isn’t …?”

He nodded. “The beach where your family used to go in the summer. Places near the water do book up early, but I was fortunate--there was a cancellation next month. It is just a weekend, but …”

Naia leaned over and kissed him, cutting off his almost-apology. When she pulled back, her eyes were sparkling. “I can’t believe this! It’s amazing! My parents had to cut back on the trips when we started saving for college …” she trailed off wistfully, then looked down at the picture and beamed. “I don’t think I’ve been to the beach in years. I can’t wait.”

“I fear there is a small addendum,” he admitted. “I had to call your parents to learn more about your favorite spots. We will be attending the Tabris family cookout next weekend. Adaia and Cyrion were quite clear that ‘no’ is not an option.”

Naia leaned her head back and groaned. “Oh, Maker. I’m sorry in advance, Zev.”

Oddly enough, Zevran was not. He had never met the parents of anyone he slept with, and he could not deny that the idea was strange. But there had been something very pleasant about hearing the elder Tabrises insist on meeting Naia’s boyfriend.

He raised his hand to tuck her hair behind her ear. “A cookout is an acceptable price for the chance to see you in a bikini,” he murmured, too low for the rest of the party to hear.

“This place looks pretty private, Zev,” Naia murmured back. “If we’re lucky, we can skip the bathing suits.”

[enasallavellan]

Chapter 108

Donate to my ko-fi here to help me keep the lights on!

Read the full fic at my A03 here!

Another dose of everyone’s favorite side-character, I’m sure.

*all the sarcasm*

Feel free to click on the link below to listen to the music I jammed out to while writing this section. 

.

Remix  of Chaos  Temple "Final Fantasy 1"

“Enasal of Clan Lavellan!”

Anxiety plunged her heart into ice at the sound of the voice, sending her into a startled jump.  Hoping Retter hadn't noticed, Enasal plastered a smile on her face and bowed to him, keeping the exchange as formal as possible. 

“Retter of Clan Sabre, how can I help you?”

He flashed a grin, “Actually, since you weren’t interested in… as you put it a ‘frivolous’ birthday gift, I thought I’d give you something a bit more functional.”  He set a box on a nearby table, smirking and glancing around at the nearby diners in the tavern.

Enasal kept her smile by sheer force of will, “Retter, you’ve already given me the most beautiful mount, I couldn’t possibly-”

“Enasal, I must insist.”

“I’m not sure-”

He leaned on the table,mere inches from her face. “Just. Open. It.”

She was quick to comply.

There, laid in a bed of silk was a pair of blades.  Beautiful blades, with gilded hilts and a subtle curve, each blade serrated in the slightest. It would surely cause major damage, but would not take away from the blade’s silhouette.

They were gorgeous.

Unable to help herself, Enasal laughed and lifted one out of the box, examining it more closely.  The pommel tapered, capped in a sphere of some shining, silverish stone.  The same mineral was inlaid into the curved guard, polished so bright it might as well have been a gemstone.  She switched her grip - the balance was nothing short of perfect and the blade gleamed with a precise and wicked edge.

“Those are stormstones - they’re quite rare.”  The smile back on his face, Retter took a piece of parchment from the box and held it up to her.  “Try it.”

Half the tavern had turned to watch.  Suddenly nervous, she settled the edge onto the parchment.  Barely an ounce of pressure slit the paper clear in half.  Nearby watchers explained their approval.

At first, satisfied laughter bubbled up.  Such a beautiful blade! Such dangerous perfection!

And then she remembered its maker.

His grin loomed large.

“You were my muse, of course - I put all my heart into crafting a weapon as beautiful and skillfully dangerous as you, ma’blarterala.”

She wanted to tell him not to call her that, but it seemed a rude thing to say after being given such a grand gift.  The materials themselves were sure to be a hefty sum - between the sharp and shining blade, the gold inlay, and the shining stormstone, she didn’t want to think how much gold it would cost. And the skill of it was staggering, he truly was a master bladesmith, even at his young age.

“The blades are wonderful.”  She chose her words carefully, “I’ll put them to good use.  You have my thanks, Retter.”

He grinned, shrugging and waving her away, “I’m in need of no thanks.”  He said, leaning in again, “The light in your eyes is enough.”

She took a step back to perform a bow, “My eyes are hardly a proper expression of gratitude.  Thank you, Retter.”

He was frowning when she first rose from her bow, but the instant their eyes locked the grin returned. “I can’t wait to see you put them to use.”

She put on a regretful face, “I doubt you’ll see me use them at home.  I don’t typically use my actual weapons unless I’m going into a real fight.”

“Surely you’ll need some time to get used to them, test them out.”  He tilted his head to the side and his smile widened, “I’ve been told when you fight it’s like watching a dance - a very dangerous dance.” 

Another step closer.

“Perhaps I could help you.  We could meet in the fields and spar - there’s a full moon tonight and I’m sure it will be a sight, flashing off the blades as you fight.”

She quickly put the blade away and closed the box.  “You should definitely start showing your blades to the nobles, I’m sure many would want to purchase one.  They’re very beautiful.”

“I’d rather have a few hours of your time.”

Her heart pounded, but it certainly wasn’t with excitement.

“Again, you have my sincerest thanks. May I find you if they need to be sharpened?”  She laughed, “I’m really not good at it.  Iron Bull says it hurts him to watch me try to do it on my own.”

He bowed, low and with flair, “Of course ma’blarterala.  I’m at your beck and call.”

It still seemed like it would be a rude time to ask him not to call her that.

She wasn’t his ‘mountain flower’.

.

Donate to my ko-fi here to help me keep the lights on!

Read the full fic at my A03 here!

[ortizobsessed]

The Best Gift

This one was requested by @xx--day-dreamer--xx​!

Reader x Juice where you throw a surprise party for Juice with the help of the club.

Warnings: None!

Word Count: 1911

Masterlist

Today was the day! It was Juice’s birthday, and everything you’d been planning the last couple weeks was finally going to happen. Though you two weren’t “official” your relationship was definitely flirty, and you wanted to do something special for him to show how much you care.

Many ideas had been tossed around during your discussions with Gemma about just how much Juice should know. “If I pretend to forget his birthday, he’s going to know something is up,” you admitted. “He knows I’m good with dates. I’ve had to remind him to wish some of the other guys a happy birthday before.”

Gemma laughed and shook her head, “Oh that boy...why does that not surprise me?”

Smiling along with her, you two agreed that at least you should acknowledge it was his birthday. That way you would be able to keep him busy during the day while everyone else set things up at the clubhouse.

“It’s really sweet what you’re doing for him. He’s going to love it- and you.” Her words calmed you, while simultaneously making you more nervous.

“Oh gosh, I hope so.” You felt your cheeks flush, and Gemma winked at you knowingly.

When you woke up that morning, the first thing you did was call Juice. You couldn’t wait to start the day! You had planned quite a few things that you knew he would love. Dialing his number, it felt like the phone rang for ages. He answered the call, and it was impossible to miss the excitement in his voice, “Hey! How are you sweetheart?”

Your stomach was full of butterflies at this point, you loved it when he called you that. “It’ll be better once I get to see you, birthday boy!”

You could practically hear his smile through the phone. “Back at you! And thank you!”

You smiled to yourself, and suggested, “I’ll come pick you up in a half hour?”

“I’ll be ready.” You heard him pause, as if he was going to say more, but he stopped himself. You made a mental note to ask him about it later.

“Great, I’ll see you soon!”

Pulling up in front of Juice’s house, he was already waiting for you on the front step. You put your car in park, turned it off, and hopped out. Walking across the lawn, you met him halfway, and reached your arms out to him. Wrapping his arms around your shoulders, he pulled you close and you mumbled against his chest, “Happy Birthday, Juan.”

He hugged you tighter and replied, “Thank you so much, Y/N.”

“Well, we should get going! We’ve got a full day ahead of us!”

The smile on his face made your heart melt.

You two spent the day going from place to place, doing anything you could think of that Juice would love. Everything from breakfast at his favourite café, to a matinee at the movie theatre, and a trip to his favourite electronics store. You knew he had been eyeing up the newest first-person shooter game that was set to come out in a couple days. You had pre-ordered one and gift wrapped it, then convinced the store manage to keep it at the store for Juice. He was more excited than you had expected, thanking you profusely for it.

Watching the time almost religiously, it was getting close to 6:00 and Chibs would be calling any minute. Just then, Juice’s phone rang.

Back at the clubhouse, Jax whistled to get everyone’s attention. “Okay, okay, everyone quiet down! Chibs is going to call Juice now!” The room went silent. It was actually rather impressive just how quiet a room full of people, all with very large personalities, could be.

You could hear Chibs’ accent through the phone. “Hey Juicy Boy, look uh- Clay wants us all in chapel in 30. Needs to discuss something important that came up today. Has to be dealt with soon as possible.”

When Juice hung up the phone, it took everything in you not to give away the fact that you were in on it. “Chibs?” Juice nodded. “What did he want?”

“Looks like we’ll have to push our supper plans back a little bit. Clay called a meeting so I have to head to the clubhouse for a bit.”

“Aww man, I’m sorry. It has to be today?” You hoped he couldn’t hear the slight tremble in your voice.

“It sounded pretty urgent. You know how it is, the club comes first.” His words tugged at your heartstrings, but you knew it was all going to be worth it, so you stuck to your plan.

“I get it. Shouldn’t take too long right? I could just come with you, hang out there for a bit, then we can head for supper as soon as you’re done?”

“Yeah it shouldn’t take more than a few minutes, and I would like that!”

Trying to play it cool you added, “Perfect! Besides, I’d like to visit with everyone for a bit. I haven’t seen them in a while!”

“Sounds like a plan,” he said as he reached his hand out to you.

You noticed the strangled smile on his face, so as you walked hand in hand towards your car, you asked gently, “Everything okay?”

Hesitating momentarily, he answered honestly, “Yeah- yeah, I’m good. Just a bit of a bummer, I think they forgot about my birthday. But hey, I’m not that great with dates either, huh?”

You laughed softly, and looked up at him, “It’s not your strong suit, no,” making him laugh along with you.

Pulling into the parking lot of the clubhouse, you were pleased to see the parking lot no more busy than usual. You knew Gemma would have made sure everyone understood that they needed to park on the street, or better yet a couple blocks away, so Juice wasn’t tipped off that something was going on.

As you walked towards the clubhouse, you found your hand in his once again. “Sorry this had to interrupt our day, I was having a good time! But thanks for tagging along, I’m glad you’re here.”

You couldn’t hide the smile on your face, but you and Juice had a playful relationship, so you replied slyly, “Actually, I’m really only here to see the other guys.” You shrugged your shoulders and tried your best to suppress a laugh.

Juice gave you a knowing look, but decided to play along. “You know, I had a feeling you were only using me to get close to Tig.”

Unable to hold it in anymore, that full laugh of yours came out. You hated your laugh, but Juice loved it, and he was always so good at bringing it out of you.

“Come on,” you sighed, “Let’s get you into that meeting so we can go for supper sooner.”

Juice held the door open for you, and once inside he looked around curiously. “Where is everyone?”

The excitement was really starting to get to you, and all you could do was hope that he didn’t look you in the eyes, cause you knew that would be the end of it.

“I don’t know-“ you paused for a second to gather yourself, “maybe they’re already at the table waiting for you?”

Juice hummed, “Yeah, maybe.”

He looked over at you, and you were convinced the look on your face had given it all away, but he continued, “Okay well I’ll head in. Be out in a bit!”

Either you were a better actor than you thought, or this boy was totally oblivious; your money was on the latter. Whatever the reason, you were glad you hadn’t spoiled the surprise this close to the payoff.

You didn’t think it was possible for so many people to pile into that tiny room, but somehow they made it work. As Juice opened the big doors, you made sure to be within a few steps. In no time at all, the lights were being flipped on and everyone yelled, “SURPRISE!!”

The look on Juice’s face took your breath away. It was a better reaction than you ever could have hoped for. All you wanted was for this loyal, self-less and caring man to know that people needed him, too. You were more than confident you had accomplished that.

Lyla and Opie’s kids were right at the front, noise makers in hand. Tig and Happy has insisted on confetti, so they were standing on either side of the door, throwing the tiny pieces of paper they hand-cut themselves, at Juice.

As Juice did his best to take it all in, you could see tears welling in his eyes. He looked over at you and asked lovingly, “Did you do all this?” Words escaped you, so you simply nodded, and tried your best to fight back tears of your own.

Juice motioned for you to come closer, so you took a few steps towards him and he reached out to you. Placing his arm around your shoulder, you leaned into his side and slid your hand around his back.

Everyone started filtering out bit by bit, each stopping to wish Juice a Happy Birthday. Jax and Tara were the last ones to leave the room, giving each of you a hug on their way out.

Juice breathed in deep and stared at the floor for a second, before looking up at you. “Wow,” was all he found himself able to say.

“So...I hope you like surprises,” you teased, making him laugh.

Moving his arm from around your shoulder, he kicked the doorstop out from under one of the doors that someone had propped open. You took the hint and stepped into the meeting room.

You two were alone once again.

“You know, I was pretty excited to go out for supper with you,” he confessed, a hint of humour in his voice. “Lying to me about food is a tough one to recover from.”

You laughed and asked, “How ever will I be able to repay you?”

Staring up at Juice, you could tell the gears in his mind were turning. As if ignoring everything inside him that said it might be a bad idea, he placed his hands on either side of your face and gazed into your eyes lovingly. “I think I have an idea.”

Your hands found their way to his waist, pulling him closer, and the soft smile you gave him was all he needed.

He leaned in, kissing you tenderly.

The kiss didn’t last long, but it was full of passion, desire, and relief; finally.

Your eyes fluttered open, and you two looked at each other for a short period of time before you broke the silence. “So- this morning- on the phone-” Juice gave you a puzzled look. “As we were saying goodbye- I don’t know- maybe it’s all in my head... I just- I thought maybe you were going to say something else. Were you?”

He hesitated, then smiled. “Honestly?” Laughing softly, he confessed, “I was- uhh- I was going to say- I love you.” Your eyes grew wide, and a huge smile spread across your face. He added, “I want you to be my Old Lady.”

You responded playfully with the somewhat cliché, “I thought you’d never ask.”

Kissing him once more, you whispered, “I love you too,” against his lips, and you felt him smile.

“I’m pretty sure this is the best birthday gift anyone has ever given me.”

[jq37]

The Royal Report– A Crown of Candy Ep 1

There Is Strength in Sweetness 

Much like the years, the seasons of D20 start coming and they don’t stop coming. Fantasy High: Sophomore Year is barely in the record books and we’re already jumping into our new season--the Game of Thrones/Candyland mashup: A Crown of Candy!

If y’all have been with me since Sophomore Year then you know that I did very in depth recaps of every episode with a very specific format but I’m gonna try something new for this season.

The format might change a little between episodes as I figure out what works best so bear with me but the plan is to do more highlights and opinions than a blow by blow. But, like, we’ll see what happens.

So, anyway, saddle up your Meep and let’s visit Candia--one of the six kingdoms of the land of Calorum (aka: a fridge. We see you Brennan, it’s a fridge). Twenty years ago, the Ravening Wars wreaked havoc but they’re currently in a time of peace which (mostly) everybody is psyched about.

Meet the Family

This is not a new observation but, while most seasons of Fantasy High focus on found family, this season is all about family-family, specifically, the royal family of Candia and their associates. 

We’re first introduced to Murph’s character--Sir Theobald Gumbar (Level 3 Eldritch Knight)--who is the a huge, golden-armored, gummy bear, leader of the Tartguard, protector of the royal family, and the logical endpoint of Murph’s lawful good predilections. Sir Theo is, of course, on time with bells on for the big Saint’s Day/Coming of Age birthday party for the twin princesses of House Rocks. Unfortunately, he’s clearly never seen The Little Mermaid because when the heralds announce the princesses, they don’t show up. Frustrated, he goes to try and find them.

The first place he checks is with Zac’s character, Chancellor Lapin Cadbury (Level 3 Celestial Warlock). He is (in no particular order) the royal tutor, a chocolate bunny, an official of the main state sanctioned church of Calorum (the Bulbian Church), and a pompous ass. Oh, one more thing? He and Theobald can’t stand each other. There is nothing funnier than two very proper grown men who hate each other's guts. Sir Theo shows up to his classroom where the princesses are having a lesson--or at least they’re supposed to be. Further inspection shows that they’ve just left two straw dummies in their place. Classic.

So, we pan out to the city to meet my favorite characters so far (I absolutely play favorites but I also disclose when I’m doing it so I think I’m in the clear) the twin princesses/chaos gremlins--Jet and Ruby Rocks (both level 1 Rogues) played by Emily and Siobhan. Theo may not have seen The Little Mermaid but the twins have def seen Aladdin, because their number one pastime seems to be escaping the palace to roam the city--hilariously illustrated when they chuck a gem into a peasant's bag and his reaction is a super nonplussed, “Guess the princesses escaped again.” They’re got the Disney Princess-itis really bad because both of them feel stifled by palace life and want more--specifically, Jet wants to be a warrior and resents having been born in peacetime (especially since she’s slightly older and in line for the throne) and Ruby wants to run off and join the circus as an acrobat. They are total twin BFFs to the point that their Thieves Cant has been reskinned to Twinspeak which is a detail I love so much (and that will become unspeakably tragic if something happens to one of them Brennan). 

Jet gets a letter from her secret crush Thad, an Avocado from Fructera (these are the sentences I am being forced to write this season folks) and schemes with Ruby about how they can get to Comida (the capital city) to meet him--possibly by sweet talking Theobald which is easy because he’s so thirsty for respect. Sure enough, Theobald and Lapin soon find them, following their path of destruction and the princesses are brought back to the castle.

Back at the castle, we’re introduced to Lou’s character--King Amethar Rocks (Level 3 Storm Herald Barbarian)--who is having a somber moment, surrounded by the statues of his four older sisters who died in the Ravening Wars, leading his reluctant taking of the throne. He’s interrupted by Lord Calroy (his right hand guy and a full ass talking slice of cake because Brennan is trying to break me this season but I refuse to give him the satisfaction) who lets him know that his daughters have escaped and his delighted reaction immediately lets us know which side of the family they take after.

Finally (at least wrt PCs), we meet Ally’s character--Liam Wilhelmina of House Jawbreaker (Level 2 Ranger) who is a political prisoner/ward of House Rocks and a soft, outdoorsy, mountain kid who is perpetually followed around by his pet pig--Peppermint Preston whose death will absolutely force to me to Google “Best Denny’s Parking Lots for Fistfights.” He misses his dad but not his dick brothers because Ally isn’t allowed to have a fully happy family in any season. Liam is from the disgraced House Jawbreaker and his brothers seem to expect him to try and off the King while he’s in their orbit. While he’s in the woods, looking for seeds (as one does) he finds and accidentally breaks an important looking teacup, which we’ll get back to.

The other important character we meet this episode is an NPC--Queen Caramelinda, mother of the princesses, wife of Amethar, and keeper of 100% of the impulse control of House Rocks. She’s the main disciplinarian to Jet and Ruby, the clear decision-maker in the kingdom, and the only literate one out of her and her husband. She also seems to be the only character that respects Lapin’s authority. 

An Inciting Incident

So, with all our characters assembled, all that’s left is the plot hook which Caramelinda provides in the form of a personal letter from Emperor Gustavo--the head honcho of the entire realm and his old friend--to Amethar. He’s not doing well health-wise and he needs to name an heir that’s not related to him at a big tourney that he’s personally inviting Amethar to. Amethar is a little slow on the uptake but Caramelinda eventually connects to dots for him that it seems very likely that Gustavo is going to name him emperor.

Amethar is not vibing with that information at all but Caramelinda basically holds him by the ear until he reluctantly agrees to go--though he insists that Ruby and Jet also come along to keep him company. Caramelinda only agrees on the condition that Lapin goes with. She also invites Liam (who is caught off guard but game) and Sir Theo is basically going by default. Caramelinda is staying home to hold down the fort but the talking slice of cake is going because Brennan hates me and doesn’t want me to be happy. 

The traveling party is chosen, the twins have been gifted with sick, inherited weapons from their aunts: Flickorice--the Twizzing Blade (Jet) and Sourscratch--the Puckering Bow (Ruby). It’s almost time to be off, but there’s still one last thing to get to before we leave the twins’ party. 

Lapin, feeling the pull of something broken (told you we’d get back to it) subtly makes his way outside, but is followed by Jet and Liam. Now, if you remember, I said earlier that Lapin is an official of the Bulbian church. Which is why it’s so surprising for Jet and Liam to see him talking to the Sugarplum Fairy, a deity of the Sweetening Path--a non-sanctioned more animistic religion that really only has sway in Candia. He fixes the teacup and then she appears, telling him that he’ll need to be wary once he leaves her sphere of influence and that boldness will be required in the days to come. Lapin, who seems to be having this conversation very begrudgingly, asks if she’s asking him to do anything in an official capacity and she smiles and says that she’s not asking for her third wish(!). Then what does she want? She wants him to know that there is great risk in what he is doing, but not acting is the greater risk. The coming challenges will be great, but he must protect the royal family or all is lost. She wouldn't have used her second wish to bring him to them if that weren’t the case. They hustle back and spill this to Ruby, obvs.

Anyway, onward! The next day, the caravan is set up and--with a warning about a sugar free chocolate warlock (ominous, as sugar free chocolate always is) they’re on their way to meet their escort out of Candia. Ruby decides to do her acrobat thing and is hanging out on top of the carriage instead of inside it as she and Jet “subtly” (read:not at all) bring up the Sugarplum Fairy to Lapin to see if he cracks.

Suddenly, the caravan stops. There’s a tree felled in the path, which really only means one thing in this kind of story. 

Ambush.

Ruby, outside of the carriage and unprotected, takes 16 points of damage and is fully down with a failed death save due to some unknown effect. The carriage is riddled with arrows. 

Everyone rolls for initiative and that takes us into a new (sure to be recurring) segment I’m calling:

Things I’m Concerned About

I’m concerned about Jet and Ruby (and not just because I’ve been worried about Ruby for a while due to things the cast has said and because she fully *died* this episode). They have their genres so wrong. They think they’re Disney movie protagonists but they’re in Game of Thrones and they don’t know it. Being Wrong Genre Savvy is a BAD position to find yourself in. Carriage surfing shenanigans don’t fly in a world that wants you dead.

OK, Carameinda. I’m inclined to be pro-Caramelinda. Like, she’s the hardass but she needs to be because Amethar isn’t helping run the kingdom. If this was a different story, she wouldn’t give me any pause but I read Macbeth and feel some light Lady Macbeth vibes. Gonna be keeping an eye on her.  

Calroy and Sir Toby (didn’t mention him, he’s a slightly lower ranked Gummi Bear guard and friends with Theo). In a story like this, I’m looking for the possible betrayals before I get blindsided and the only people who can really betray you are people who are supposedly loyal to you. Calroy had a little aside with Amethar about how he shouldn’t be the Emperor if he doesn’t want to be--which isn’t wrong but is also something someone angling to keep him off the throne for other reasons would say--and Sir Toby decided to stay behind to help hold down the fort--again, either an innocuous decision, or angling to be left alone and to his own devices. 

Whatever is going on with the Sugarplum Fairy and Lapin? Do not care for that one bit. I understand that a Warlock pact is mechanically very similar to a Paladin oath and a Celestial Warlock pact is even moreso but guess what? Still don’t trust it. I know Ruby’s Arcana check said that she’s generally a chill spirit but I still don’t trust it. And getting Wishes from your follower? Weird and suspicious. What’s your game, lady?

Emperor Gustavo apparently has a daughter who is barred by law from taking the throne when he dies. That sounds like a very strong motive for *something* at some point down the line. 

I’m a little concerned Jet is being catfished by this Avocado. First of all, not a sentence I thought I’d ever write. Second of all, I’m probably just being paranoid. But that feels like a great way to get a princess alone for kidnapping or shanking or something. 

Update: Brennan did an AMA and, regarding the previous bullet point he said, and I quote, “You are right to be concerned!” so now I’m concerned about that too! Fun!

I’m concerned about the mechanics of how a slice of cake person works. Slice implies a full cake. Where is the rest of the cake Brennan? Where is it? And, like, Brennan said on the post-show stream that we’re making the “what do they eat?” question weirder than it actually is because we’re made of some of the stuff we eat but hey Brennan? If I could pick a flesh toned and textured apple off a tree? That would be weird, OK? And I’m sorry for everyone else who had to picture that but it had to be said since Brennan is insisting on walking us down this garden path.

I’m concerned about whatever the hell is happening with Liam. Disgraced dad, mom is a shaman of the local fringe religion (Sweetening Path, like Lapin), and his brothers want him to shank the king or something? No way this ends in smiles for everyone. 

Brennan said Pyramid of Food so I’m concerned about fruit rollup mummies. 

OK but more than anything, I’m concerned about the death rules of this game. Death in D&D is cheap but, in a campaign like this, it can’t be. I’m not super well versed in GoT but it’s my understanding that resurrection in that series is possible but rare. Brennan said he specifically didn’t let Ally stock certain healing spells and that’s very telling about how things are gonna be handled. I guess we’ll see in the upcoming battle episode how that works but my general thought is, I hope everyone made interesting backup characters.  

Five More Things

So, my thoughts on the new characters. I love Ruby and Jet with my entire heart. Watching Emily and Siobhan roleplay sisters and enable each other and hype each other up is so fun--or it would be if I wasn’t low key bracing to lose one of them sooner rather than later. Zac playing against type and Murph playing to type are both fantastic. I want nothing more than for Theobald and Lapin to continue sniping at each other. I hope that’s the first PvP fight of D20. Amethar is a lot of fun but clearly in over his head and I’m interested to see where he’s pushed. Liam is literally just vibing. Hope he doesn’t have to commit regicide!     

God, the House Rocks PCs are such a disaster family. I love it. The moment when Calroy comes in and is like, “The princesses have escaped,” and Amethar breaks into a grin and is like, “Dude, that’s so dope!” I was like OH, so it’s *all* of them, huh. But, honestly, this should have been on the “Things I’m Concerned About” list because come on. They’ve not all gonna make it. And then we’re gonna have to watch the remaining family members react to that? Oh no. 

Love Ruby’s bow. I have a player in my game who also has a magic bow that produces energy arrows because, truly, who has the time to deal with the logistics of how many arrows you had left after last fight? Magic arrows. Boom, done. Next. 

Getting bagged on by your Patron for not having a spell when she’s the one who gives you your spells is so funny. Also, Mending isn’t a Warlock spell which makes it even funnier. 

**I’ve given myself a 3k word limit on all of these to try to put some boundaries on myself but, Lol, prize to the first who guesses closest to the first episode I break that rule.**

[e-of-west-glendia]

Happy birthday to the wonderful @imliterallyvirgilandlogan!! You are an absolutely amazing person and I love you to death.

(Apparently I’m incapable of writing fluff without angst so um enjoy this fluffy angsty mess. To be fair Sirius Black on Mother’s Day is basically a recipe for an inevitably angsty disaster.)

Something About Mother’s Day

(I can’t come up with creative titles)

Sirius sat on the edge of his bed watching Peter, James, and Remus finalize cards and wrap up gifts. It was Mother’s Day. His absolute least favorite day of the year.

Sirius had had bad experiences with Mother’s Day in the past. At the Black residence it was never a time of sweet celebration and kindness, it was always some dull party that was really just an excuse to showcase their wealth. Alternatively it was a meeting with all the Sacred 28 members. Sirius has found that those were the worst Mother’s Days. Sitting at a table, back straight, giving small, perfunctory nods to everyone he encountered and answering awkward questions about being in Gryffindor and producing heirs (he was 16 for god sake).

It had to be around noon when he finally decided that he should leave. There was no use in bringing everyone down with his feelings about this holiday.

Hopping off the bed, Sirius made his way to the door.

“Honestly, my mum is too nice for her own good. Last Mother’s Day she sent me a gift— Sirius where are you going?” James had stopped halfway through his sentence, glasses slipping down his nose as he peered over the top of them at his friend.

Sirius shrugged. “Nowhere in particular.”

Peter cocked his head to the side curiously, while James and Remus narrowed their eyes in suspicion.

“Sirius is something—“ but Sirius was gone before Remus had even finished his question.

Peter turned to the other two boys. “Do you think it’s because…” he started.

“Probably,” James and Remus said in unison.

~~~~~~~

Sirius found himself sitting by the lake. If he was being quite honest with himself he couldn’t even remember how he’d gotten out there in the first place. His mind had been swimming with images of that past winter.

Drunken screams and broken glass. Flashes of light of every color. And pain. Excruciating pain. The faint crack of broken bones— it had taken him a while to realize that they’d been his bones broken — and the sharp metallic scent of blood. Everything had been hazy after that. Regulus’ hands on him, silently cursing and muttering about something that Sirius had been too pain weary to try and listen to. Two flashes of green light— one that smelt sickly sweet and poisonous, death laced in every syllable. The other, light and warm and smelling slightly of ash and burnt wood. Then he passed out in the Potters living room to the sounds of James screaming for his parents.

A light tap on his shoulder almost made him jump. He looked behind him and almost jumped again when he saw who it was. He quickly schooled his features into something befitting the infamous Sirius Black — Marauder and mischief maker extraordinaire.

“Ms Evans, to what do I owe the pleasure?” He asked.

Lily rolled her eyes at him. “Shut up, Black.”

Sirius laughed. Since becoming a prefect Lily and Remus had begun to hang out more. Which meant that Sirius saw more of her than he had in previous years and it also meant that she seemed to hate him significantly less. By significantly less he meant he would say hello to her in the halls and she wouldn’t completely ignore him. Unless of course James was around. Then she’d just leave.

Sirius raised an eyebrow at her. “What’s up? This has to be the longest conversation we’ve had all year.” A grin lit up his face. “What, have I finally started to grow on you?”

Lily turned slightly red and scowled at him. “No.” She said firmly. Then, “I just saw you sitting outside alone and I thought I’d make sure you didn’t get eaten by the giant squid. Actually, on second thought, I wouldn’t mind if the giant squid ate you.”

Sirius laughed again. “Isaura wouldn’t hurt me. We’re best friends.”

Lily snorted. “I’m sure that’s exactly what she thought when she threw you out of the lake last summer.”

Sirius shrugged. “Our relationship might have its ups and downs but I promise you we’ll withstand the test of time.”

“You’re an idiot,” Lily sighed. Then she peered down at Sirius. Sirius got the odd sense that she was analyzing him with that piercing green gaze.

“Something’s wrong, isn’t it?” she asked. He’d been correct.

Out of instinct he said. “Nope. Everything’s all good.”

Lily didn’t buy it for a second. “Uh huh sure. You’re sitting outside, by yourself, skipping stones across the lake while staring forlornly at the horizon. Not to mention it’s fucking freezing outside and you’re not even wearing a jacket. Meanwhile I just came from the common room where your friends are being idiots as usual.”

Sirius winced. She had a point.

“You don’t hide your emotions nearly as well as you think,” Lily finished.

Sirius grumbled something about meddling redheads that made Lily smile.

Lily chewed her bottom lip for a second before sighing and plopping down next to Sirius. Sirius glanced at her in confusion.

“Not going to run away screaming this time, Evans?”

“Har har.”

It was another few seconds of silence before Lily turned to Sirius.

“I heard about what...happened...over winter break,” she said cautiously.

The small smile that had been creeping onto Sirius’ face died immediately.

“I suppose Snivellous told you then.”

Lily bit her lip, fighting a retort against the nickname.

“Doesn’t matter where I heard it from. I just— what I’m trying to say is...I get it.”

Sirius snapped his head to her so quickly he almost gave himself whiplash.

“You get it,” he asked, voice nothing shot of venomous. “Oh I’m sure you ‘get it’. Because everyone understands what it’s like to be—“ he stopped short at the silencing hand the girl held up.

Sometimes the power Lily Evans commanded over people amazed him.

“Easy, Black. That’s not what I meant.”

Sirius gave her a look that clearly said well then what did you mean?

Lily sighed again, it sounded sad this time. Sirius almost felt bad for snapping at her. Almost.

“What I meant was...I know what it’s like to not have the best relationship with family members. And my situation is definitely nothing on yours,” she said quickly when she heard Sirius’ scoff. “But I know what it’s like to be the hated one— the outcast. And it sucks. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone, least of all you.”

Sirius stared at her but Lily kept speaking. “You’re a good person, Sirius. Annoying? Yes. Arrogant? Totally. A bit self absorbed? Definitely. But you’re a good person. You care about your friends and they care about you. Nothing your bitch of a mother says or does will ever change that.”

Sirius snorted at that last part. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

Sirius was silent again, debating on whether or not he should ask Lily the question that was now swimming in his mind.

“Hey Lil—“

“My sister,” Lily cut him off. “You were going to ask who in my family it was, right? It’s my sister Petunia. She’s hated me since I got my letter.”

Sirius winced slightly. He definitely knew a thing or two about difficult sibling relationships.

He didn’t apologize though. She wouldn’t want to hear that. Instead he said, “Yikes.”

“Much yikes,” Lily agreed.

“I meant what I said, y’know. About your friends. They really love you, Sirius. I mean you and James are basically brothers — practically joined at the hip. You and Peter are always laughing about something. And Remus,” she paused for a moment, as if debating on what her next words were going to be. “Remus, especially. He cares.”

For the millionth time that morning Sirius gaped still Lily. “What do you mean especially Re—“

“Speak of the devils,” Lily said, interrupting him and climbing to her feet. “I think I’d best be off now.”

Sirius squinted into the distance. He could vaguely make out his three friends picking their way across the wet grass towards them.

“Well Black it’s been fun. I swear I’ll kill you if you let it slip we ‘hung out’,” Lily said, framing her words in air quotes. Despite her menacing tone she was smiling.

“I don’t doubt it,” Sirius laughed.

Lily sent him one last smile before quickly setting off across the grass.

She was halfway to the greenhouses when the other three arrived at Sirius’ side.

James, in typical James fashion called out, “Hey Evans! How about you come with me to Hogsmeade this weekend?”

Sirius snorted at James as he watched Lily flip him the finger and shout something that sounded like “In your dreams, Potter,” over her shoulder before she disappeared around a corner, red hair flying around her face.

“Trying to steal James’ girlfriend?” Peter teased.

“Yeah!” James said, rounding on him. “What was that about.”

Sirius barked out a laugh. “You wound me Jamie. You really think I’d steal the future Mrs Potter from you?”

James spluttered incoherently at him. “Besides,” Sirius continued. “I’m not really into girls that psychoanalyze me.”

Remus snorted. “Yeah, she does that.”

Sirius looked up at Remus, reveling in the way the early morning sun turned his brown hair gold. He couldn't help staring at him, but could you blame him? Remus Lupin was beautiful in just about every way you could be. Inside and out. His mind flashed to what Lily had said about Remus. She couldn’t know that he was in love with Remus...could she? And she certainly hadn’t meant...had she? No, he thought firmly. She definitely hadn’t meant that. The odds of Remus liking him back were about 1 in a million and Sirius had never been high on good luck.

It seemed as though James had just remembered how far off the straight spectrum Sirius Black was because he said, “Oh...right...yeah…”

Sirius laughed at him. James’ face suddenly turned serious. “Right. Back to what we’re here for,” He said. “It’s Mother’s Day and Mumis fully expecting a card from both of her sons.”

Sirius gave him a confused look. “What do you mean both...?”

“Oh please,” James scoffed. “You heard what Mum said to Walburga on the platform back in January.”

Sirius very clearly remembered. Euphemia had looked down right murderous when she’d said, “And if you ever touch my sons again, Walburga, I won’t hesitate to kill you.” Even his mother, the unshakable Walburga Black, had taken a step back. Sirius had no doubts that Euphemia would make good on her threat. He smiled to himself. She kinda reminded him of Lily.

“And anyways you’ve been a Potter since the moment I met you.”

“He’s right,” Remus said, nudging Sirius with his foot. “You were a Potter long before you were formally adopted by them.”

“Exactly,” James said, nodding at Remus. “Now hurry up and sign the damn card. There’s going to be hell to pay if she doesn’t get a gift from both of us.”

James extended a hand to Sirius, which he accepted and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet.

“Best get started on that card then,” he said.

The four of them headed back across the lawn. Remus leaned down close to Sirius, his hair tickling the side of his face.

“What’d Lily say,” he asked softly in his ear.

Sirius repressed a shudder, mentally chiding himself at his reaction. Just friends. Just friends, he thought to himself. He sent a glance in Remus direction. Curious green eyes met grey and Sirius sighed. Taking what Lily had said to heart would really just be wishful thinking.

“Nothing,” he said.

“Hmm,” Remus said, unconvinced, but he didn’t press it.

Sirius grinned at him.

Despite the answer that Sirius had given Remus, something definitely had changed between Lily and Sirius. And though neither of them would ever admit it at the time, from that day forth Lily Evans and Sirius Black were most definitely friends.

[peachyteabuck]

old school (make me drool)

summary: bunny is sweet, well-behaved. something about princess, though, makes her want to act out for the first time in her life. 

pairing: natasha romanoff x ofc

words: 2,663

trigger warnings: heavy md/lg, spanking, forced age regression, manipulation, there’s a vague allusion to starker, breaking of rules, 

notes/other: ANYONE WHO USES THIS AS AN EXCUSE TO BRING RAPE FANTASIES INTO MY INBOX WILL BE BLOCKED IMMEDIATELY. this was inspired by @orphiclittleone & i highly reccomend you check out their blog!

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

It started when Princess had to go with Steve to a meeting with Natasha. For whatever reason Steve decided she couldn’t be alone, and Natasha said it would be fine. Princess wasn’t too mad, unhappy she could only bring one of her prizes stuffed animals, but nearly-willingly went with her Daddy to Aunty Nat’s. Still, it wasn’t until she met Bunny that the pointed frown left her face.

Steve put her down onto the thick comforter next to Bunny, whose lips were wrapped tightly around a paci, hands clutched around a large stuffed animal of her namesake, eyes trained on the TV in front of her. Her long, thick hair was tied from her face with a pink scrunchie with a bow on it, her knit sweater a matching shade of pink. Her socks were stark white, ankle devoid of the tracker Princess had to wear.

Bunny said nothing at her guest, head only turning when Natasha caressed her face.

“Uncle Steve and I are going to do some work in my office, okay Bunny?” She placed a kiss to the girl’s head where her hair parted, careful not to remove any from her perfect ponytail. “I’ll be down soon to give you your bottle. Until then, play nice with Princess, alright?”

Bunny, still not dislodging the paci, nods and leans into her Mommy.

“Good girl,” Natasha praises, leaving one final kiss to her girl’s forehead before leading Steve into her office, a room adjacent to the playroom the girls resided in. In a moment of good faith, she had her coworker close the door behind them.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Steve chuckled as he sat in the fine leather chair near the fireplace. “I put that track on Princess for a reason, you know.”

Natasha sighed, grabbing the file from her desk. “If we weren’t discussing how someone was disemboweled by a small terrorist organization outside Orlando, I’d keep it open.”

Steve, already worried about what Bucky had exposed Princess to in order to watch her squirm, acquiesced.

Back in the playroom, Bunny made a disgruntled noise as Princess poked her chubby cheek.

“Do you ever speak?” Princess asked, nose wrinkled at her supposed playmate’s poor playful reciprocation. “Daddy said you were quiet, really quiet. He said you almost never talk. I’m not quiet.”

Bunny, much to Princess’ dismay, remains mute. Not a squeak, not a huff, not an eyeroll. Even Bucky’s Doll was better than this, and she was often too exhausted to give Princess enough attention for the girl’s liking.

Princess, though, is anything but a quitter. She pulls back for a few minutes, allowing her counterpart to relax. Just as Bunny seemed the happiest, Princess yanked the paci out of her mouth and pinned her to the floor.

Bunny tried to yell, but Princess placed her hand over the girl’s mouth before she could do anything. As Princess leans close to her ear, she whispers low, giggling as Bunny clutches her stuffed animal’s ears in her tiny hand. “Daddy says we can be playmates, do you want that, Bunny?”

Suddenly, in the span of less than a second, Princess hears her Daddy’s footsteps, hears the knob turning, and jumps off Bunny to the other side of the blanket. Bunny laid, there, stunned, as Nat and Steve picked up their respective littles.

As Steve bid his goodbye, and Nat turned around to close the door, Bunny perched her chin on her Mommy’s shoulder and locked eyes with Princess, who wears a smile fit for the evil penguins from the movie Bunny was watching before Princess showed up.

Somehow, Bunny knew their game wasn’t over.

The next time they met, Bunny is playing on a blanket in Natasha’s expansive backyard, dressed in a plain-pink one-piece bathing suit with her hair in two braids down her back and the bracelet Doll made her on her left wrist. Peter’s in the pool, sunbathing on a unicorn floatie. Doll’s curled into Bucky’s side, shoulders covered with one of her Daddy’s worn t-shirts – one large enough to cover her sensitive, bruised thighs. Natasha, Stark, Strange, and Rogers are all inside, making drinks for themselves as the sun swelters high in the sky.

Princess is the only other conscious person who remains outside, an easily forgettable body as Bunny colors under the sweet shade of the big tree in the back of the expansive yard, quiet enough that the occasional squirrel or bird will hop across her blanket and sniff at her forgotten snack.

She’s unable to ignore her counterpart, though, when Princess plops herself down onto the thick, cotton blanket specifically designated for outdoor use.

Bunny, despite her annoyance, says nothing.

Princess says nothing in turn, watching the girl in front of her meticulously color in the lines of a complicated flower.

“Daddy never lets me color anything like that,” she finally says, staring at the set of sixty-four crayons Princess had wanted for two Christmases and three birthdays but still never received. “Daddy says they’re too complicated for me.”

Bunny stops coloring for a moment, whole body stilling. Princess thinks she’ll say something, thinks she’ll show a break in her shell that’ll give her some in. But no, the sound of crayon gliding against thick paper fills whatever silence Bunny intended to proliferate with words.

It’s then that Princess takes out one of the most-loved crayons – a soft blue that’s had the wrapped long since pulled off.

“Do you like this crayon?” she asks Bunny.

Bunny stops coloring – bright orange crayon inert as she tries to swallow the dryness in her mouth. Fear paints her face as she gazes upon her favorite coloring tool. Out of all her markers, her colored pencils, her watercolor paints. None of those hold a candle to that one crayon. It’s the only crayon she doesn’t like Natasha using, the only one she saves for the special coloring book pages – the ones she gifts her Mommy for Christmas and for her birthday and when Natasha picks her up from spending time at Uncle Bucky’s place because she’s been on a business trip.

Which is why Bunny nearly cries when Princess snaps it in half, then crushes the pieces into something resembling dust. She does whimper, though, does drop the crayon she’s holding and curl her legs up to her chest and stares at Princess with these wide eyes that beg for her to stop whatever it is she thinks she’s doing.

“What’d’ya gonna do about it?” Princess questions. When Bunny doesn’t answer, Princess quirks her eyebrow then moves to grab another one.

Bunny gasps, tears beginning to well up in the corner of her eyes. “Please don’t,” she whispers.

Princess pretends not to hear her, and selects another well-used crayon. “Really, you’re just gonna be a baby and let me do this?”

Bunny looks around the lawn, begging Natasha to come outside or Peter to feel how frightened she is or even Bucky, a man who rarely pays attention to her but seems to like her more than Princess, to look over and wonder why there’s such tension between his best friends’ best little girls. Unfortunately (for you, at least), none of them pay you any mind. Somehow this is worse than when Natasha has to leave you alone for work or whatever it is she does when she’s away. At least then you don’t have to do deal with Princess.

“Please, Princess,” Bunny says a little louder. “Please don’t break my crayons.”

Princess smiles wide and sinister, like that Cheshire Cat from that movie you don’t like very much. “Alright then,” is all she says before standing up and skipping off to lay on the Aurora towel that was in the shade of a different tree. Even though she’s alone, Bunny remains upright, curling around her precious box of crayons.

The third time they meet is Bunny’s birthday party about a month later. The main festivities are over, all the adults drinking from Natasha’s expensive liquor cabinet. Doll’s curled up on Bucky’s lap, playing with a My Little Pony toy (Applejack, of course) and occasionally being fed bits of cake from Bucky’s fork; Peter’s enthralled with the latest installment of their classic movie marathon that’s playing just too loud for Bunny’s liking.

On any other day, Bunny would be elated to watch her favorite movies with her favorite friend. She’s allowed to eat ice cream cake (vanilla, from her favorite pastry shop down the street) and wear her favorite pink dress.

Her hair is in two low buns with a pretty pink bow. Natasha spent the whole morning with Bunny in her lap, telling her how cute she is and how much she loves her. Everything was great, perfect.

That was, until Steve and Princess showed up. Natasha was preoccupied with catching up in her friend to notice Bunny clutching her favorite stuffie or Princess’ sly smile.

Like the first time they met, she and Princess are placed on the blanket that sits in the middle of the playroom. This time it’s fleece, thick, one Bunny made with Doll one of the rare times they’ve had playdates together. It’s full of mint green and soft pink flowers around a bunch of sea animals. Bucky said he found the blanket kit at a craft store and thought the two of them could make it when he and Natasha were working in his office.

There were a few moments of silence as Steve pet Princess’ hair and explained how much Princess had been looking forward to today. Princess just smiles big and wide and teasing, waiting for the adults to leave before she finally speaks.

“Ya know, Daddy and I love teasing each other…” Princess says as if she’s the most innocent conversation maker to ever fail to meet her counterpart’s eyes. “You and your Mommy should try it sometime.”

Bunny gulps, fidgeting with her hands. “Mommy doesn’t…Mommy doesn’t let me do that without her permission.”

Princess scoffs. “Oh, you ask your Mommy for everything. Daddy hasn’t made me do that in forever.” She lowers her voice to a whisper. “Daddy likes it when I act out.”

“Mommy doesn’t,” Bunny doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how to stave off what she now understands is inevitable. “Mommy doesn’t like it when I act out. She likes it when I’m good. I get candy, cuddles, stuffies when I’m good.”

Princess almost rolls her eyes, frustrated. “Maybe you should just try it sometime, just to see what happens.”

Bunny doesn’t say anything back, too scared of what would happen. Natasha always told her curiosity killed the cat, but could curiosity kill her as well?

Hours pass without incident, without Princess nagging Bunny or Bunny snapping at Princess or, really, anything happening. Princess merely leaves her to brew for hours, eating cake with her fingers and eyeing Bunny to see how she’s doing. Bunny’s lost in her own thoughts, the only indication of time passing being Steve coming in take Princess home.

As Steve picks her up once more, a smirk spreads across her frosting-stained face. Her eyes are knowing, full of mischief. In the background, the forest fire scene from Bambi plays on the large TV. Bunny wishes she could be one of the forest creatures running for their life, able to get away from the natural disaster that had descended upon her home.

Despite her fear of Princess, her words stick in Bunny’s brain like gum in her hair. It’s all Bunny can think about for days, maybe even weeks after her birthday party.  It gets worse when she’s alone, when all she has are her thoughts and her hands and…and…

Bunny decides to do something, do the unimaginable the day Natasha says she’s going to have lunch with Stark and Strange. That she’ll be back in a few hours.

Just enough time, Bunny thinks as she hears the front door shut and the deadbolt lock. Just enough time for her to do the unthinkable.

◦ ◦ ◦

“Bunny!” Natasha calls into the house. There’s the usual pause, one where she’s used to allowing Bunny to find her voice. But for whatever reason, she doesn’t hear the usual yes, mommy? followed by the pit-pat of her feet across the house. “Bunny?” she calls again, but the only thing she can hear is resounding silence.

Natasha’s heartrate picks up tenfold, not even throwing her shoes off as she runs to the room she kept Bunny in when she had a long work day. As she types in the code to open the door, Natasha is met with a sight she’d never thought she’d see:

Bunny, with one hand down her pullup, and the other clutched over her mouth. Her pale yellow pajama shirt is hiked up to her ribs, threatening to fall over where her hand meets her center.

For a moment Natasha does not know what to do, body frozen and chest heaving and heart racing. Bunny hadn’t so much as blinked without permission, let alone touched herself sans asking Natasha beforehand.

Squeaky, breathy moans slip past her fingers, eyes rolling to the back of her head as her body shakes with the desperation that comes just before an orgasm.

That’s what snaps Natasha out of her trance, what makes her fly across the room and grab Bunny’s face with her perfectly manicured hand.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Natasha hisses through her teeth.

Bunny bites her lips, eyes wide with fear. “P-princ-“

Natasha almost growls. “What, Steve’s little?”

Bunny nods slowly, meekly, lip quivering in fear as Natasha hand remains firmly grasped over her jaw. “P-princess s-said that it woul-d be f-un to-“ Natasha, a woman who has not had a hair out of place since the Reagon administration, nearly knocks over Bunny’s designated stuffed animal bookshelf. Wordlessly, she places Bunny over her knee and exposes the soft skin of her ass.

Bunny hadn’t been spanked in years. Ever since Natasha had gotten her, broken her, she’d been the perfect little – so obedient and eager to please, smart and quiet, happy to play by herself while Natasha worked with the others. She was everything Natasha could’ve asked for and somehow more…

But this? This was inexcusable. She was a big believer in second chances, but those must always come after an appropriate punishment.

“You think just because Steve’s Princess can whine and act however she wants, that means you can, too?” she hisses, hitting each cheek twice. “You think that girl’s behavior excuses your own?”

Bunny yelps, trying to find the strength to speak without sobbing. “N…no…” she mumbles, digging her face into her and trying to curl against the woman whose lap she has found herself in.

“What was that?” Natasha snaps, hitting the backs of her thighs this time. The slaps of skin on skin echos throughout the room and stabs at Bunny’s ears.

“No, Mommy, I am not allowed to misbehave! I am not allowed to break the rules”

“Good,” Natasha says through grit teeth. She takes a moment to grope her heated ass cheeks, and you savor the sweet moments away from the sharp pain. “If you didn’t know your place, I would’ve had to call Steve up to see how he keeps Princess in line. Maybe Bucky, too. He once kept Doll in a basement for two weeks because she wouldn’t eat her vegetables. Do you want that?”

Violent shivers shoot through you. Uncle Bucky and Steve are nice enough to you, especially when Natasha’s around. But with her permission to discipline you in their preferred way? You shrink away at the thought. “N-no Mommy. No, Mommy I’ll promise I’ll be good.”

“Good girl,” Natasha coos, another few smacks landing on her bottom. “Now, for the rest of your punishment…” Bunny gulps, trying to relax her muscles so it doesn’t hurt as bad.

“Now, should I put you on meal replacement shakes or keep you in chastity?”

[wordynerdygurl]

All Wrapped Up

Author’s Note:  Happy Holidays everyone!  I decided to do a sexy little story for Christmas.  I know that’s not everyone’s holiday tradition, but aside from the idea of giving gifts, it’s fairly secular!  I’d also like to say Happy Birthday to my friend Samantha!  She’s a true champion of my “art” on here, and this is a belated, but loving gift for her!  Happy Birthday, Lady!  Enjoy! As always, I’m an attention whore, so comments, notes and love are always accepted!   Summary:  What do you get a God for Christmas?  How do you keep him from finding out about it?  Keeping it under wraps is really all you can do! Pairing:  Loki x Female Reader Warnings:  Fluffy, holiday SMUT!  Honestly, just good old fashioned sexy times!

Tony had been promising a holiday party like no other and he was delivering in a major way this Christmas Eve.  Too much food, piles of sweets, and oh the liquor!  By the time Clint started singing karaoke, “Hit Me with Your Best Shot”, you had already downed three eggnog martinis with no plans on stopping.  

Feeling loose as a goose, you half listened to the chatter around you, nodding along with the shouting singer.  Swinging your hand in time with the music, your cocktail glass swirling,  you and Wanda were sitting with Natasha.  She was talking about her gift to Bucky, silky rope and a knife, and it was those words caught your undivided attention.  

"He's gonna look so cute all tied up!"  She gushed to her girlfriends, “And he’s going to beg me to cut him loose!  I can’t wait!”  

"Oh, Nat!  Really?"  Wanda snorted a laugh before turning to you, “So, what did you get Loki?”  “Urm… well…”  Biting your lip, you debated how best to respond to your friends interest.  There was a gift, a bow, all the trimmings.  But how to describe it?   Looking away, which Wanda read as guilt, had her frantic.  “You did get him something, right?”   Natasha, shaming you, “It’s Christmas!  You have to give him a gift!” “Shh!  Yes!  Of course… that is, I do have something special for Loki.”  Your eyes darted around the room, making sure your Mischief Maker wasn’t lurking close enough to hear.  So far you had been able to keep your private plans from reaching him and now that you were so close to giving him his prize, you didn’t want to spoil it.  Leaning tighter to the girls, confirming that Loki was too far away to hear your chat, you whispered your plan. Loki was watching you.  How could he not?  You were adorably tipsy, laughing in that sexy sweet way that make him swallow hard.  You couldn’t stop talking with your hands, barely keeping your cocktail in its glass with every gesture, almost splashing the creamy concoction onto Natasha more than once.  Loki found it all endlessly charming.  When you clustered closer to the girls in a conspiratorial way he just knew that you were talking about him.   Curiosity wasn’t a strong enough word for his interest in your conversation.  All of your whispering and sneaking around was adding another layer of intrigue to this whole holiday season.  One that Loki's trickster persona found particularly challenging. 

Usually the one scheming, Loki was more than impressed by your secret squirrel skills, but he really hated not knowing what you were planning.  There were so many mysteries this time of year and you were particularly good at keeping gifts, hiding places, and recipients to yourself.  It was maddening!  Pushing aside the itchy need to learn what was so important that you needed to keep it from him, Loki found himself drawing closer to you, navigating the Avenger filled crowd.  Ignoring his brother's bellow, he kept you in his sights.  Each step bringing him near enough to learn what you might be hiding.  

Struck by your face in profile, Loki saw that in the glow of twinkling lights, you were luminous.  Lit from within by the love of everyone around you and the vodka in your martinis, you were gorgeous.  When he was close enough Loki gently brushed a warm hand over your arm drawing your attention where it belonged… on him. “Darling…” Turning your wide eyes his way, “Loki!  Hello!”  Your murmur is quiet, soft, playful.  Loki is decidedly less soft.  Not with the way you’re looking at him, as if he is the only thing in the room that you need, the only thing you want.  Wanda and Natasha chirp mockingly, “Loki!  Hello!”, teasing you.  You wave them off as you rise, just a bit wobbly, reaching for Loki to steady you.  Laughing, “Ignore them… please. They're drunk!" "Gah!  We are not!"  Natasha slurred.

Wanda, hiccuping, "Maybe a little!"

Smiling down at your friends he acknowledged their presence but Loki only had eyes for you.  His arm wrapped around your middle, hugging you to him gently, letting you lean into his solid strength.  Rising on your toes, giving him a little peck in passing, you whisper, “I’m ready when you are…” “Shall we say goodnight then?” Nodding yes, you turn toward your girls.  “Alright ladies!  Merry Christmas!  I hope Santa is good to you guys!” There are hugs.  So many hugs.  And as Natasha grips you in a final, painfully tight one, “I hope Loki LOVES his gift!” You giggle, “Me too!” --- “Tonight was nice, little dove.”  Loki has you snuggled into him as you head toward the street, the tower elevator slipping smoothly downward. “I think so too… Tony went all out!”

"Hmm… you were chatting with Natasha and Wanda for a while… anything you'd care to share?"

Giggling, "I know what Bucky's getting tomorrow… and… he won't be able to return it!"

Laughing with you, lifting a quizzical eyebrow,  "Do I want to know?"

"Probably not!  But I'm sure one of them will talk about it too loudly next time we're all together!"

Realization hit Loki like a ton of bricks.  Groaning, "Oh god… we have to do this again next week.  New Year's Eve?"

"Why, Loki… it's almost as if you don't like associating with other people!"  You couldn’t help teasing him a little.  He was too easy to mess with at times like this.

"Christmas is one thing, my dear.  That's a large holiday.  I understand that but we are always with the team.  It's a never ending cycle of birthdays, events, parties and…"

Lifting a hand to his mouth, you silence him, "Yup… it's why I always enjoy our time together.  When it's just the two of us, those moments are… extra special."

Loki, taking your slender hand in his with a resigned sigh, kisses each fingertip.  It's one of his old fashioned, high court, moves that makes you melt.  "Yes, dove.  I love spending time with you.  Just you." Smooshing closer to him, your head tucked under his chin, “Speaking of that… I was hoping that we could exchange our gifts tonight.  Would that… would you be alright with that?”

Before Loki could answer, the elevator dinged its arrival at ground level.  Stepping into the lobby, Loki grabs your hand, twining it with his.  "But tomorrow is Christmas, shouldn't we wait until then?"

Shaking your head, "Well, we always opened up one gift on Christmas Eve as kids.  And, if I give it to you now…" You push against the revolving door before looking back at Loki, "you'll have more time to enjoy it." ---

Shagging out of your jacket, you hang it quickly, spinning around to Loki with a wide smile.  Excitement is an understatement.  You’re bouncing on your heels, already a little Christmas Crazy, wondering whether Loki will truly like his present or not.

"So, I want to give you your gift but I have to… set it up first.  Can you keep yourself busy… and out of the bedroom for say… fifteen minutes?"

Slightly dazed by the request but beyond intrigued, Loki agrees, "Yes… fine.  Should I open a bottle?"

You pause at the bedroom door.  "Yes!  There's Prosecco in the fridge!"

Once you've shut the door behind you, and, on second thought, locked it, preparations start in earnest.  From your drawer you grab the over sized Christmas tag that reads:  To Loki with all my Love!  Next comes the ribbon.

How Loki spent his fifteen minutes is a mystery to you.  Mostly, he sat and drank wine.  His mind ran through as many different scenarios as he could think of, starting with a train set and ending with a telescope.  What else could require so much groundwork?

He could hear some shuffling around, heard you bang into something… the wall maybe?  But he knew better than to rush in while you were working so hard.  Hard.  There was a word that didn't do his current condition justice.

Tonight you had some special energy that Loki couldn't shake off.  It was as if you were walking on clouds, graceful but giddy.  You were sparkling, like the bubbles rising in his glass, and Loki was intoxicated by it.  He adjusted himself through his trousers, growing frustratingly firm and missing you.

"Ahem… Merry Christmas, Loki…"

Whatever Loki had been expecting, the sight of you surpassed it at warp speed.  You were his gift.  A black satin bow wrapped over your naked, heavy breasts.  It's long tails dangling to your hips, a thin strap over your shoulder ran between your legs, keeping the shiny fabric in place.  You were a completely wrapped package, hiding all the good bits, although Loki couldn’t help noticing that your ribbon barely covered your dampened core.  

Heels, ebony and higher than anything you'd ever attempt in real life, gave you an extra four inches of height.  You'd fluffed your short hair, exaggerated your eyeliner, glossed over your crimson lipstick.  The only other thing you wore was a pair of silver chain earrings, thin, shiny and light.

Standing swiftly with a gut punch groan, Loki's knees almost gave out with the force of his body's reaction.  You watched him wobble before catching himself, his wine glass almost missing the table, that disinterested facade faded.  For the smallest of seconds, he had to look away, afraid to trust what his eyes were seeing as real.  Loki used that moment to regain his slipping composure before raising his desire filled stare to yours.

Silent seconds ticked by.  You fidgeted, suddenly nervous, your fingers lifting to fluff your bow.  "Don't."  Something dark in Loki's tone froze you solid.  "Don't move."

You watched his Adam's Apple drop with a hard swallow.  He licked his lips slowly.  Adjusting his tie with those long fingers, Loki exhaled quietly, his shoulders dropping just a fraction.

"Can you walk in that… outfit?"  Loki's voice was a wrecked whisper of wanting.  Running a shaky hand through his dark locks, he was coming undone, all because of you.

"Uh huh… a little."  

With a raised eyebrow, Loki husked, "Gifts belong under the tree, do they not?"

You nod.  "That's true."  Stepping boldly out of your boudoir, swinging your hips, you stride past Loki staying just out of his grasp.  In front of your Christmas tree, white lights shining, you lowered yourself onto the plush carpet.  

On your knees, exposing your nearly nude backside to Loki, you stretched.  It was showing off, but hey, this was his gift and you wanted him to enjoy every minute of it.  Mission Accomplished, you thought when you heard him exhale loudly.  Rolling to your left hip, left arm bearing your weight, you bit your bottom lip and risked a glance at Loki.

His eyes were as dark as his voice, sinful and smoky, but also playful.  "Shall I open my present now?  Or must I wait until Christmas morning?"

"Have you been a good boy?"  It tumbled out of you making you sound like a vintage vixen.

"Oh yes… but I have to tell you darling, I don't plan on remaining a good boy.  In fact, I think I'm going to be naughty.  Very, very naughty."

It was your turn to swallow dryly.  The hot, hungry, look Loki was sporting made your breath catch.  Excitement made your body flush, heat rising, and there was no way to hide any of it from Loki.

Making his way to your side, moving in that slow, slinking way of his, Loki knelt next to you.  Leaning past you to look at gift tags, ignoring your for the moment, "Now, let's see… which one should I open first?"

Brushing his arm across your back as he snatches a small parcel, shaking it gently, humming, "A tie…?" before returning it to the pile.

Snaking a hand over your thighs, the faintest wisp of a touch, he picked up a box testing its weight.  "Sweater… definitely a sweater."

"This one says 'To mom'... not for me… but what is this?"

As a gag you had pinned the large gift tag to the band of your bow.  Lifting it gently Loki read aloud, "To Loki, with all my love… Well… this one does have my name on it."

Tipping your head back with a frustrated sigh, eager to feel him release you, you couldn't help the small sound.  Part of you wanted him to rip the ribbon to shreds, tear into you, take you fiercely and fast.  But another side was loving the slow paced game Loki was playing.  Even if it drove you half mad.

When his broad hand slid along your calf you jumped.  Not out of fear, but electricity.  The reaction wasn't lost on Loki, "Hmm… what could be in this package?  It seems very sensitive."

A sugary sigh slipped out as his knuckles grazed your exposed hip.  Loki's fingertips fluttered along the underside of your breasts, skirting the satin that bound you, making you moan with need.  He was so close to you now but still not touching you where you craved him most.

Loki wrapped his arms around your open back, toying with the strap there, pulling it up firmly.  Sliding it between your bottom cheeks and your tender lower lips.  He was near enough to kiss, yet his focus was on the rise and fall of your clothed chest, your nipples straining against the silky material.  You leaned into the strength of his right arm as his left hand stroked your full bow.

Tracing the tails downward, over the rise of your mound, Loki snapped his gaze your way.  "Open your eyes."

You watched as Loki pressed the pretty ribbon tighter to your soaked skin.  The satin, rubbing over your bundled nerves, made you shiver.  Loki, still only touching the fabric, traced over your parted center.  Urging a finger inside of you made the bow string grind along your backside deliciously, what little slack there was now saturated with your own slick.  The texture of the smooth material gliding into your opening blocked the warmth of Loki's finger but made you shudder just the same.

"Is this also part of my gift?  Because you are so wet, darling..."  It was a statement of fact.  All of this was meant to be for Loki, but damn, you were really enjoying yourself.

"Yes…"

"Tell me, dove, do you enjoy being all wrapped up for me?"

"I do… but…"  

His hand slipped under the thin band, resting on your belly, warm and waiting.  "But?"  Pausing his gentle attentions made you whimper with want.

Searching his sensual stare you answered swiftly, "But I want you to open me up, Loki."

That's when his mouth found yours.  Driven to a frenzied passion, Loki's tongue swept into you, taking your breath.  Slowly lowering you down, lying you out on the rug, Loki toyed with your shiny wrapper.  

Skimming up your sides, his hands are rough compared to the silky satin, but your skin craves the friction.  Arching into his touch your body begs for more.  Soon your words follow, "Loki… please…"

"Oh, kitten…"  Loki husks at you, pressing hot kisses along your jaw, his fingers tickling along the ribbon between your legs.  You cross them, hoping to ease the increasing exquisite ache at your core, squeezing your thighs tightly together.  A sight that makes Loki salivate.

Without being told, you had kept your hands off of Loki, and to yourself.  As a gift to be unwrapped, you assumed a role of inanimate play thing, Loki's to do with as he saw fit.  But when his shirt and tie were removed in a magical golden haze your frisky fingers danced across the definition of his chest unbidden.  

Gripping your wrist, Loki stalled your southward progression, "Touch yourself, little one."  Setting your hand down along the shiny fabric, watching you caress the edges, those places where your smooth skin met the black film covering made Loki harder than before.  

"You have no idea what you're doing to me, dearest."

Lightning quick, he stood to drop his trousers and toss them into a chair.  A wanton wail at the sight of Loki, long and lean, painfully hard in his own hand, echoed in the stillness of your shared space.  Stroking himself, standing over you, Loki wore an expression of elation.

You purred at his obvious pleasure.  "Do you like your gift, then?"

Smirking now, "Dunno.  Haven't open the thing yet!"

Crouching at your side, Loki took the trailing ties in each hand and slowly, so slowly, dragged them apart.  Your breath caught in your throat.  Pulse beating wildly, it felt as though Loki would be seeing you for the first time, as if you were a precious and rare gift for him to enjoy.

With one hard yank your bow was fully untied, baring your tightened nipples to Loki's hungry gaze, spreading goosebumps down your limbs.  His warm mouth licked across one peak lavishly as his fingers flicked and twisted the other.  Burying your hands in his black tresses, you cradle him to your chest, suddenly starved for his affection.

On every inch of freshly exposed skin Loki left a love token.  A sweet kiss, a blissful bite, a naughty nibble.  From your collarbone to your waist, Loki samples you in nips and sips, stopping only to hover over your fluid folds.  Without hesitation he licks your straining bud roughly, curling his lips around it, sucking it into his mouth.

"God!  Loki!"  It's a shriek torn from you in unbridled pleasure.  Reaching for him, wanting more, you both groaned when two of Loki's long digits entered you.  He was bathed in your overflowing ardor, your elixir pooling for him, welcoming his invasion.

The slippery stroking of your velveteen walls had you panting in moments.  Internally, your body wanted nothing more than Loki's fingers locked inside of you, nudging you closer to your release.  "Loki… I'm so close, babe!"

Whipping his face towards yours, grinning foolishly, "I know, darling!  You’ve given me all of yourself.  Give me your pleasure too."

With a driving thrust his fingertips scraped along that secret spot only he could find, sending you skyward.  Loki trapped your mouth in a thrashing kiss, tangling your tongues, taking your satisfied sob as his own.  You clung to Loki as your body was reduced to sensuous spasms.  

Loki hadn't stopped kissing your spicy skin.  Cinnamon, that was it, your flavor.  Tangy and almost heated, the aroma filled his senses, making him hungry for more of your delectable body.

Centering himself between your spread legs, Loki lifted your parted knees, your already aroused slit sopping.  Pressing his lips along your calf, across the thickness of your thigh, he spread your yielding body wider.  Coaxing your hips off the rug, raising them so that your pelvis rested on his lap, Loki took half a second to squeeze your bottom.  His fingers brushed against your tight hole sparking a fresh wave of vulgar thoughts to burst through your sex drunk mind.

"Another time, love.  Right now I want to delight in this gracious gift of yours."  Hands roamed all over your body, "After opening your… packaging, I want to play with my lovely toy.  Make all the other children jealous.  Think you can keep up?"

Managing a nod, your head tips back in happiness when Loki palms both of your breasts roughly.  Loki's solid steel length bumped pleasantly against your pearl.  He did it on purpose, just to see your body buzz with bliss, hopeful that you'd come undone again.

Taking himself in hand, Loki focused on your engaging entrance, piercing you deliberately.  Slowly.  "Gods!  You are snug!"  It was his surprised whisper that made you giggle. 

"Is that funny?  How your tight body is surrounding mine?  Ah!"  He had met the resistance of your cervix, crowding your canal with all of his unwavering manliness, making you stutter.

"No… not funny!  Just cute…"

Narrowing his brooding stare, "Cute?  Oh, now you're in trouble."

Accelerating his attention, Loki bore down on you with each punishing plunge, urgently seeking your climax.  Naturally your legs locked around Loki's hips.  You lost a stiletto when he snapped into you suddenly, the shoe dropping with a thump beside you, Loki never breaking his stride.

Around his intrusion your body flooded.  The delectable friction Loki created had you humming and too soon the telltale signs of your delight were coiling inside of you.  "Loki… Ah… Hmm… Loki…"

"You. Want. To. Cum. Again?  Already?"  Each word was punctuated with a piston like punch pulsing through your overly aroused person.

"Yes!  God, yes!"

"Go on then.  Cum for me."  And his words pushed you into a pulsating pleasure filled paradise.  

Your body, grappling with the gorgeous God grinding into you hard, and the aftershocks of your grand euphoria, was in flux.  Barely recovered from the last, you could tell another release was nearing, so could Loki.

He was relentless, pursuing his own passion now, caging you between his muscled arms.  Dipping low for a fervent kiss, "Wait for me, darling…"

Biting your lip with a bob of your head, you steel yourself, fighting your body's organic impulses.  It's just that Loki fills you so completely.  He is the center of your world, the person you love most, and he loves you right back.

You grab for him then, gripping his shoulders, twisting his long hair in your fists.  He drops lower, his chest on yours as he rocks into your trembling tunnel, "Angel… please!"

You know exactly what he's asking for and your body, past the point of stopping, obliges.  Loki comes apart inside of you just as you reach your own pinnacle.  The world shatters into twinkle lights and shag rugs, kaleidoscoping colors and sounds, but in the end there's Loki.  Grounding you, guiding you, holding onto you.  Losing yourself in his hot flood, muscles melding him to you, your form unwilling and unable to be parted from his.  

Stroking through his mussed mop of raven hair absently, breathing hard, Loki's cheek is pillowed on your breast.  His eyes flutter closed, just for a beat, as post coital drowsiness wraps around him.  A small tremor from your overworked sex squeezes him.  It's enough to rouse him and he rises to his forearms.

Nosing along your jawline, "I like my present very much.  I don't think I'll need to return it."

A hoarse laugh leaves you, "Good, because I lost the receipt!"

Caressing your bottom lip with his thumb, Loki catches your eye and holds it.  "This is the best gift I have ever received.  Ever, little one.  And… I find myself more in love with you than I was before."

"I love you, too." 

This kiss is sugar cookie soft, sweet and simple.  Loki, pressing his forehead to yours with a smile, "Merry Christmas, dove." ---

"So?"

"So?"  Your innocent act isn't fooling Natasha or Wanda.  Since Tony's holiday party no one had seen or heard from you or Loki.

Rolling her eyes, Nat grumbled, "Did Loki like his present or what?"

"Umm…"  You stirred your gin and tonic, a smirk tugging at your lips.

"Of course he did, Nat.  She's the only person here with a high collar and long sleeves on.  I bet there's bite marks and hickeys all over her!"

A laugh did bubble out of you then, "Well… let's just say that Loki had a good Christmas.  Can we leave it at that?"

In unison, "NO!"

Sliding to your side, Loki intervened, "Ladies, perhaps I can help here.  I was given the most exquisite, precious and perhaps thoughtful gift a man could receive."  Loki paused here to bring your hand to his lips in a chivalrous kiss.  

"And as anyone would do after getting such a present, I have hardly put it down since.  It is a constant source of delight… and yes, Wanda, she's marked as mine from her collarbone to her core.  Now, kitten, let's ring in this New Year!"

With a shrug to the girls and a smile, you let Loki drag you towards the crowd already starting the midnight countdown.  Another year with your God of Mischief all wrapped up, a new one starting now... What could be better than that?

Tags for love:  @archy3001​ @iamverity​ @jamielea81​ @jessiejunebug​ @brokenthelovely​ @nonsensicalobsessions​ @thefallenbibliophilequote​ @mizfit2 @alexakeyloveloki​ @rorybutnotgilmore​

[anotheronechicagobog]

Volomag and Vodka

Part 1

A/N: Volomag is a painkiller similar to aspirin, please do not take them both at the same time, your liver may not be able to process them at the same time resulting in death.

This story is also posted on Wattpad under the username chantalis

Written by @anotheronechicagobog

The title comes from what I think Voight would say once he realized how all his subordinates were looking at each other :D

Living with one of your coworkers was... Interesting to say the least. Hailey was just happy that Rojas wasn’t also her partner otherwise they would see way too much of each other and wouldn’t have the sister bond they’re working so hard on forming. When Hailey left earlier, to go have breakfast with Jay, Vanessa didn’t think anything of it. It was becoming more and more common for her to wake up to a note on the fridge saying that Hailey was somewhere doing something with Jay. They were partners, had survived a lot together,were totally in love with each other, and they refused to acknowledge their own feelings. So Vanessa found it odd in no way at all. It was one fateful Friday morning that something was different. A short but precise note was left on the fridge in Hailey’s swirly writing, but something was, not out of place, somewhere it was not supposed to be. In direct sight line from the coffee maker, in the little nook that herald the washer and dryer, was a basket that held Hailey’s dry load from last night that hadn’t been folded yet on top of said dryer. Even with the distance between Vanessa and the article of clothing, the fact that it still slightly crumpled up, and only pieces of it were visible from the voids between the white plastic, she could clearly recognize the shirt. The faded dark green cotton t-shirt with grey lettering stood out like a sore thumb amongst Hailey’s red, blue, and black clothes. The same t-shirt Halstead wore the first time Vanessa went to watch the blackhawks game at Ruzek’s place for the first team game night. His army rangers t-shirt.

It happened more and more over the next couple of months, Jay staying over and sleeping with Hailey, in her bed, and at least him but usually both being gone by the time Vanessa got up. She’d woken up or come back late and peeked in Hailey’s room enough times to see them dead asleep, wrapped in each other, and fully clothed. She started listening out for them, to see if they were doing anything... Eventful. But nope. She heard them, but they never had sex. Or did anything even remotely steamy. There was only a thin wall between Vanessa and Hailey’s rooms, she could hear everything but the specifics. She could hear talking, murmuring, laughing, and oddly enough, singing. From both of them. She didn’t know what was going on, but she had never seen either of them so well rested. And apparently, she wasn’t the only one. Kim was asking her if she had a boyfriend, “no, no boyfriend. Just a new pillow.” Jay, who’d been pretending not to listen raised and amused eyebrow at Hailey, and action that was only noticed by Hailey and Vanessa. And the guys ribbed Jay about finally getting laid. “She must be real special if she’s making you smile.”

“Huh?”

“Ruz is right, you’ve been smiling more, you’re definitely seeing someone.”

“And getting laid.”

“RUZ.”

“Guys,” Jay interrupted the beginning of an argument, “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I’m not seeing someone. Or getting any.”

“What? No way man, I don’t buy it. You definitely have a ‘I just had mind-blowing sex’ vibe about you.”

“You know I don’t get the chance to say this often, but Ruzek is right.”

“HEY!”

“Seriously guys. I’m not hooking up with anybody, haven’t for a while actually, I’m just sleeping better.”

“Really?”

“How?”

“I got a different bed.” That last line made Hailey inhale her coffee.

Around New Years, Jay went to spend his vacation time with the other Halstead in New York. Leaving Hailey without her bedtime companion. This resulted in the blonde woman falling asleep everywhere that wasn’t her bed. Seriously, she fell asleep in Vanessa’s bed once. This time Vanessa found her asleep on the couch, the TV still playing Wonder Woman. There had been a new addition to Hailey’s regular wardrobe. A chain, the pendant or whatever was on it, was tucked underneath her shirt. The chain wasn’t one you’d usually find with a necklace, one of those bumpy ones that were usually reserved for dog tags. When Vanessa found Hailey sleeping on the couch on January second, she found that she was right. The metal had fallen out from under her shirt due to her position, and when Vanessa pulled a blanket around her she got a good look at them.

Halstead, Jay

1234567890

AB NEG

CATHOLIC

Hailey Upton was wearing a set of Jay’s dog tags. She was shocked, so shocked it left her trembling. She was shaking as she took out her phone to snap a picture. She quickly retreated, to move the photo into a locked folder. If whatever they were got out, it wasn’t going to be through her. Once she calmed herself down fury started to cocoon her. Hailey was fucking awesome, had a fucking terrible childhood, and Vanessa was going to be damned if that fucker didn’t know what he had. So she called him. “Listen up you adicto al gel para el cabelo-“

“Rojas?”

“Don’t you dare interrupt me Halstead o juro por Dios que volare a Nuevo York y te amenazare en persona.”

“I’m sure that you have a very good reason to be threatening me- are you threatening me? It feels like you’re threatening me- in Spanish but it’s three am.”

“I don’t know what you and Hailey are doing but if you hurt her I’ll rip of your balls and turn them into a pair of earrings and give the to Hailey on her birthday. Are we clear?”

“... Yes.”

“Bueno.”

“We- we’re not...”

“Hm?”

“We’re not sleeping together- well, okay, we’re sleeping together- but it’s JUST sleep. Not sex. Just sleep. Cuddling. And eating together... and stuff. Just, uh, not sex. I’m telling the truth. Promise.”

“I know.”

“How did you find out?”

“Lot’s of little hints. What really solidified it was seeing you dog tags around her neck.”

“Oh. Yeah. Those were part of her Christmas gift. Just... I wanted her to know that she’s important to me.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t hurt her, she doesn’t deserve that.”

“I know. I won’t.” Then she hung up, he got the message, and Vanessa really didn’t want to hear him stutter in her ear anymore.

[halla-hunts-the-wolf]

- Love Languages -

Ship: Dorian Pavus × Inquisitior Lavellan.

Mentioned Cullen x Companion Lavellan belonging to @ruinvevo.

Warnings: None

"Ellana seeks advice involving the Commander's birthday, and is surprised to find it in form of Dorian's sentimentality."

⚔⚔⚔

It was well past noon and the Inquisitior had not once gotten out of bed. Sunlight filtered in from the doors of the balcony, as shades of green and gold splashed across the floor due to the stain glass in the windows.

A winter chill was also present, a bit of cold air due to the mountains that the Inquisition called home.

All and all, the day had been dull and uneventful. This was something that Dorian wouldn't complain about, however, as they hadn't taken a moment to properly rest since returning from the Temple of Mythal.

The elf was sprawled out across the bed, back up, as he used the mage's chest as a pillow. Dorian didn't have the heart to move him and instead resigned to holding a book within one hand, while the other glided across the bare skin of the Inquisitor's back. Tracing out maps from freckle to freckle and scar to scar with nimble fingers.

He kept his touch warm with a bit of magic in order to weave the heat into his lover's stiff muscles; a natural relaxant.

Mahvir was a mess of long hair and exhaustion but he had barely stirred all morning. This was something rare, Dorian would note, but it was bound to happen eventually. You could only go so long before your body gives up on you- he didn't think the the old warrior would have been able to stay awake even if he'd wanted too.

Only Josephine had came to seek him out but upon being told of his current state, practically comatose where he lay, she had dismissed his need for duty until further notice. Something she had been promptly thanked for by his Tevinter paramour, before she departed. Not another soul had dared to disturb them since.

Until now.

A sharp knocking resonated from the base of the staircase and it shocked Dorian away from his thoughts. His grey eyes, cool as ice, rose from his book and turned instead to the man nestled within the crook of his arm. He didn't want to wake Mahvir, but he couldn't ignore whoever had come to see the Inquisitior.

He coughed to clear his throat, it was hoarse from having not spoken in hours. "Friend or foe?"

"Family!" A voice called back and he relaxes, closing his book and setting it aside before continuing to glide his other hand around the grooves of Mahvir's shoulder blades. The elf makes a small noise in his sleep, it sounds almost like a purr, and Dorian is fighting a fond smile as he watches Ellana turn the corner at the top of the stairs.

"He's still asleep?" The woman asks, her voice a thoughtful whisper.

Dorian inclines to the couch with a tilt of his head, waiting for her to take a seat before responding, "He wasn't feeling well last night and you know how he is. He won't listen to anyone, not even his own body." An annoyed sigh escapes him, "this is what he gets."

Ellana arches an eyebrow at him. "You didn't spell him?"

He lays his free hand upon his collarbone, unable to reach his heart in an otherwise dramatic display of mock hurt. "Dearest Ellana, such accusations wound me- but no, he's just gone and gotten himself tuckered out."

"Ah." The light dulls in her violet eyes for a moment. "I was hoping to ask him for advice."

"Perhaps I can help?" Dorian offers. The maker knew that he spent an unsavory amount of time with Mahvir, surely some of his sage like wisdom had rubbed off.

Ellana hesitates, undoubtedly because she had come to speak with her father figure and not his boyfriend, who she knew to be a lot more spontaneous.

"It's nothing serious." She finally says, biting her bottom lip in concentrating thought. "Cullen's birthday is coming up and he is refusing to talk about it."

"The Commander, stubborn? I never would have guessed."

"I want to get him something anyway, something that will mean a lot even in the years to come but he isn't a materialistic person."

Dorian considers this for a moment, his touch now linging at the curve of Mahvir's hip, tracing along the sharp bone- his lover was scrawnier by the day- he thinks, but then he remembers a conversation he's had with Josephine about the upcoming birthday.

"Believe it or not, you're not the only one struggling, our darling Ambassador has tried all sorts of ideas but finally settled on some tasteless Fereldan desert. Leliana has gotten him a gold chess set and I have a copy of his favorite book from childhood tucked away in here somewhere. I believe Mahvir has sought out something to alleviate his headaches and is sending a care package to his sister and her children. "

The woman on the couch seems to take this in for a moment, disappointment dancing across her expression. "You all seem to know exactly what he wants."

"Not at all but we do know things that will make his day easier."

Ellana groans and leans her head against the back of the couch. "You've all taken the best ideas." She complains, before tipping her head to the side to meet the mage's gaze. "What about you and Mahvir? What kind of gifts do you two give?"

Dorian considers this silently for a moment. "Without getting unsavory; my gifts usually include giving him refuge. He is an anxious person by nature and lives with a lot of physical pain as well. I order potions for him, make sure he has a bath drawn each night and I force him to see a healer at least once a month."

"Those seem more like chores than gifts."

"One would think so, but the greatest gift I could give him right now is being there to help him up when he falls. Like Cullen, he isn't materialistic. Sometimes actions speak louder than words."

Ellana furrows a brow, "So should I do something for Cullen? A gesture for how much I love him?"

"But with me," Dorian continues, "I find notes written in the margins of my books, or roses left by my desk in the library. My favorite brand of wine is always stocked in the cellar and I always have someone who listens to me just for the sake of listening."

"So actual gifts?" The poor girl seemed more at a loss than she was when she first arrived.

The mage can't help but chuckle. He was sure that he and Ellana shared the same amount of experience when it came to relationships, nothing serious prior to who they were currently with, and a few months ago he would have been just as put off as she. "The moral of this is, it all depends on the bond you two share. You are the only one who knows how Cullen gives his love and how you give yours. It's all very precious, if you think about it."

"He gave me his good luck charm." She slowly says after a moment as if the beginning of an idea was finally forming within her mind. "He used to keep it with him everywhere he went but then he chose to give it to me."

"The Dalish make each other tokens, do they not? You signify engagements with betrothal necklaces rather than rings?"

"Yes!" She sits up in excitement, eyes wide and ears perked. "I can make him something similar, so he can have a charm from me."

"A perfect choice." Dorian congratulates, offering the elf a smile as she springs off the piece of furniture and moves back to her feet.

"Thank you Dorian." She says, "You're really good at this."

"What is this?"

"Being a friend."

The man in bed, curled up among another body, blankets, and books, is at a loss for words. Straightforward sentiment had never been his strong suit. "Yes, well, don't go telling the others." He says. "I have a reputation to maintain."

"I wouldn't dream of it." She responds, with plenty of her own mirth.

"Go on would you, why wait around here all day when you have a Commander to charm?"

Ellana took his dismissal as her cue to leave, she'd hit one of his nerves, but neither of them seemed to actually mind it.

Her bit of farewell was a small wave, before she turns to the stairs and is gone a moment later.

"She's right you know." A gruff voice breaks through the renewed silence and Dorian turns his gaze away from the staircase to the elf at his side.

Dorian sushes his lover softly, turning on his side just enough to run his other hand through the length of his chestnut hair. "Go back to sleep, Amatus."

"You go back to sleep." The inquisitior retorts, almost grumpily, but a moment later his breathing had slowed once again.

Dorian sighs fondly, bends his head to leave a kiss on the other man's temple, and then returns to his book.

[teacupfulofstarshine]

every star a multitude

happy birthday, logan sanders!! this fic takes place in my little and broken but still good au! no content warnings for this fic, just pure fluffy goodness! thomas is thirteen, roman is ten, and logan is eight (it’s his eighth birthday!) 

read it on ao3! 

“Little astronaut! Little astronaut, are you awake?” 

Logan rolls over, sleepily blinking and looking up at the person waking him up. “Mmmmngh . . . Dad? What’s happ’nin’?” 

“Happy birthday, little astronaut!” Dad says, grinning wide and leaning down to kiss Logan’s head. “You’re eight years old today!” 

Logan’s eyes shift to the calendar hanging on his wall, displaying a photo from the Hubble Telescope of a nebula three galaxies over. The day is neatly circled in bright red marker, with the words “BIRTHDAY” printed inside the circle. “It’s my birthday?!” he gasps, sitting up. Dad pats his lap, and Logan crawls into it even though he’s probably juuuust a little too big for that now. 

“That’s right, little astronaut! It’s your birthday!” Dad cheers. “That means you can have aaaaaanything you want for breakfast!” 

“Crofter’s!” 

“Anything that’s an actual breakfast food, Lo.” 

Logan pouts. “But I want Crofter’s . . .”

Dad hums, tilting his head to the side. “I’ve been working on a new recipe for muffins filled with jam. Do you think if I baked you some Crofter’s-filled muffins you would eat those for breakfast?”

“Yeah! That sounds amazing!” 

“Good, because I already made them! Let’s go get them, okay? Do you want me to carry you?” 

Logan considers. “I’m too big to be carried, Dad. I’m eight years old today.” 

“You are eight years old today. But I’m super strong, strong enough to lift Thomas! I think I can carry you downstairs to the kitchen for breakfast. It’s your birthday, kiddo. Let us spoil you, yeah?” 

Logan wants to argue, to prove that he’s a big boy now, but he also really wants to be carried downstairs, so he lifts his arms up. Dad carefully squeezes tightly under his armpits, lifting him up and settling him onto his hip. Logan carefully wraps his legs around Dad’s waist, looping his arms around his neck so that he doesn’t fall. Dad hums what Logan thinks might be the birthday song as they head downstairs. 

Roman comes running up to them as they enter the kitchen. “Logan! Happy birthday!” 

Dad carefully puts Logan down, and Roman almost tackles him in a hug. “Happy birthday happy birthday happy birthday happy birthday!” Logan squirms underneath his older brother. 

“Ro, squishin’ me!” 

“Roman, don’t crush your brother on his birthday,” Dad chastises. Roman sits up, grinning and fidgeting apologetically. Logan sits up, putting a hand on his chest and taking a few deep breaths just like Papa taught him to when the noises are too loud and the lights are too bright. 

“Sorry, Lo! I just get so excited! It’s your birthday!” Roman stands up and pulls Logan to his feet, hugging him loosely and patting at his head. Logan smiles, letting his brother show him affection. “And Dad made muffins with Crofter’s - oh, was that s’posed to be a birthday secret?” 

“No, Ro, he already knew about those.”

Logan settles into the kitchen chair next to Roman, who’s quietly chanting fragments of the “Happy Birthday” song and kicking his legs eagerly. The oven timer beeps after a few minutes, and Dad pulls on the cat-paw oven mitts Logan had gotten him for Christmas. “Muffins are done!” 

Something else beeps as Dad sets the muffins on the stovetop and refills the muffin cups. “Is that the coffee maker? Can one of you turn that off for me?” 

“I’ve got it, Dad,” Roman says. 

Someone else shuffles into the kitchen, rubbing sleepily at their eyes. “Papa!” 

“I got th’coffee maker,” he says, pushing the button and pouring himself a cup. He takes a long, slow drag from the mug before turning to kiss Logan’s head. “Happy birthday, buddy.” 

“Thank you, Papa!” 

“Is Thomas coming to breakfast?” 

“Yeah,” his oldest brother says, yawning and pushing his sleep-ruffled curls from his eyes. “I’m here, Lo . . . happy birthday, bud.” Logan grins when Thomas messes up his hair, even though he normally hates that. 

“Who wants a muffin?” Dad says, setting a plate on the table. “I think we should give the birthday boy first pick, right? Then presents and surprise trip!” 

“Surprise trip?” Logan gasps. He knows the birthday tradition of the family, of course he does, but he still loves the idea of trying to guess where they’re going for his birthday. “Where are we going, Dad?” 

“Sorry, kiddo! I can’t tell you anything, it’s supposed to be a surprise!” Dad hands him a muffin, and Logan frowns but shoves it into his mouth anyway. “What do you think?” 

“Yummy!” Logan says, eyes wide as he shoves more muffin into his mouth. 

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, honey, but I’m glad you enjoy them!” 

Logan washes down three more Crofter’s muffins with a glass of milk before he’s finally done. “Lo, don’t rush your breakfast!” Dad scolds. 

“But I’m done now, Dad! Is it presents time yet?” 

“Don’t be greedy, Lo,” Dad says, ruffling his hair. “But yes, it’s time for presents. Go and sit on the sofa with your brothers, okay?” Logan nods, springing up out of his chair so fast that he almost knocks it over. 

There’s a stack of presents sitting on the coffee table, all neatly wrapped in dark blue wrapping paper patterned with gold and silver stars. Logan’s fingers twitch to grab one and tear open the wrapping paper, but he knows that Dad and Papa like to be there when he opens his presents. He sits on the couch, tucking his hands under his thighs so that he’s not tempted to grab a package. 

Roman and Thomas join him before Papa and Dad do, sitting on either side of their younger brother. “Are you excited?” Thomas asks. “Papa and Dad have a really good surprise planned for you this time!” 

“You know what it is?” Logan whines. “No fair!” 

“You always know what our birthday surprises are!” Roman says. “Besides, we had to plan our gifts for you! You’re not really mad, are you?” 

“Not really, I guess . . .” 

Papa and Dad come in from the kitchen, settling onto the loveseat across from their sons. “Okay, Lo. You can open presents now. One at a time, okay?” 

Logan eagerly snatches the box off the top of the little pile, carefully sliding his finger under the taped edge of the wrapping. He tears it open to reveal a brand new pair of knitting needles and several balls of soft, dark-blue yarn with glittering silver threads intertwined. “Do you like it?” Dad asks. “The yarn reminded me of the stars in the night sky, so I thought you would like it.” 

“I love it!” Logan squeals, kicking his legs eagerly since his hands are full. “Thank you, Dad!” 

“Mine next, little astronaut,” Papa says, handing him the box. Logan grunts when it lands in his lap. 

“Heavy, Papa!”

“Go ahead and open it, then!” 

Logan tears into the box and gasps when he sees the galaxy-patterned blanket. “Is this a weighted blanket?!” 

“Yeah,” Virgil says. “I know that you like to be covered in heavy stuff when you’re having a sensory overload, so when I found this space-patterned weighted one I knew you would like it. “Do you? Like it, I mean?” 

“I love it! I love it, Papa, thank you so much!” 

Logan carefully pushes the blanket off his lap and springs to his feet, running over to hug both of his parents tightly. He feels Papa kiss his forehead and Dad laughs. “We love you, little astronaut.” 

“I love you too!”  

“You still have presents from your brothers, little astronaut, so why don’t you open them?” 

Logan turns back to the table, picking up the package with Roman’s handwriting on it. Inside is a folded piece of paper with multiple drawings of the moon on it. “It’s a chart of the phases of the moon! I made it myself! I know how much you love space . . . do you like it?” 

“I do! I’m gonna hang it on my door! Thanks so much, Roman!” 

Thomas places his package into Logan’s lap, and he carefully sets the poster down on the table before opening it. Inside is a stuffed sea turtle with a galaxy-patterned shell. The name tag attached to the front flipper reads Celeste. “It had space on it, so I thought of you,” Thomas says. “And it feels like the soft material that you like to rub on your face when you’re having a really bad day, so I thought that you would like it . . .” 

“I do!” Logan squeals, eagerly pressing the turtle to his cheek and rubbing against it softly. “It’s so great, Tommy!” He sets the turtle down on the coffee table and throws himself at his brothers, hugging them tightly. “Thank you so much, Tommy, Ro!” 

“Happy birthday, Lo!” 

“Alright, boys, go and get dressed, okay?” Dad says. “We don’t wanna be late for our special outing, do we?” 

“Nope!” Logan squeals. 

*~*~*~*~*

“Can I take it off now, Papa?” 

Logan scratches at the blindfold tied over his eyes. “No, little astronaut. You can’t do that yet, you’ll spoil the surprise!” 

“You’re gonna love it!” Roman says. Logan fiddles with the fidget cube in his hands, eagerly awaiting the reveal of his surprise. The car slows down, slowly rocking backwards and forwards, and Logan begins to bounce. “We’re parking, aren’t we? We’re parking, we’re here, we’re here!” 

“That’s right, little astronaut,” Dad coos. “Don’t take off your blindfold yet, okay? We’re gonna walk you to the entrance.” 

Logan hears the car door open, feels someone gently take his hand and help him out of the car (probably Papa). They walk through the parking lot, periodically stopping and starting as they avoid the cars. “Step up here, Lo, there’s a curb.” 

Finally, finally, they stop. “Close your eyes so we can take off the blindfold, okay Logan?” 

“Okay!” Logan squeezes his eyes tightly shut and feels the blindfold slide off his face. “Are you ready, Logan?” 

“Ready!” 

“Okay! Three, two, one, open your eyes!” 

Logan’s eyes fly open, and he gasps as he stares up at the dome-shaped building in front of him. “Is - is this - are we at the planetarium?!” 

“Yep!” Dad grins. “We have tickets to the showing at noon, and then we’re gonna spend the day exploring the museum! Are you excited, Lo?” 

“It’s perfect, Dad! It’s perfect, it’s perfect, I love it so much!” 

Logan can’t stop himself from rocking back and forth eagerly, flapping his hands a little as he stares up at the planetarium. “This is the best present! Thank you so much, thank you thank you thank you!” 

Dad ruffles his hair, smiling. “Of course, little astronaut. It’s your special day.” 

*~*~*~*~*

They end up seeing the planetarium show about three times in a row before Logan is finally satisfied. When they finally make it to the gift shop at the end of the museum, Papa and Dad buy Logan a spherical lamp that projects the constellations onto his ceiling. That evening, after setting up the lamp and eating Logan’s favorite dinner, they all gather in the living room for a movie. Logan is wearing his unicorn onesie and snuggling underneath his weighted blanket with Celeste. 

“What do you want to watch, Logan?” Dad asks, wearing his cat onesie. 

“I wanna watch the star documentary!” 

“Do we have to?” Roman groans, pulling the hood of his lion onesie up over his head. “I don’t wanna watch more space stuff!” 

“It’s Logan’s birthday, Ro,”  Papa says, zipping up his bat onesie. “That means that he gets to pick the movie that we watch tonight, and if he wants to watch the star documentary then we’re all going to watch the star documentary.” 

“I’m making popcorn!” Thomas calls. Logan smiles as he settles into the couch, surrounded by his family as the documentary starts up and Neil DeGrasse Tyson’s voice fills their living room.

taglist below! 

@bunny222 @phlying-squirrel @scorching-scotch @accio-hufflepuff-power1 @ironwoman359 @ab-artist @a-lexicon-of-words @samathekittycat @confinesofpersonalknowledge @backatthebein @princeanxious @serious-ppl-wear-neckties @ascreamingstrawberry @thekeytohappiness-is-you @smartestowlgirl @silverrhayn @221b-quote @generalfandomfabulousness @deverick-racoma @dkg-racoma @starryfirefliesbloggo @justanotherpurplebutterfly @minshinxx @hpjkfgw @pearls-of-patton @couch-potato-1890 @isdisorigionalenoughforyou @notveryglittery @imantisocialgetoverit @deamondisciple @purplepatton @iris-sanders-athena @magicalmayhems @fightingswedes @chaosgaminggirl @book-of-charlie @anuninspiredpoet @wicked-delights @bleaktuber @purpleshipper @c4t1l1n4 @illiani @maxiswriting @cutie-whore @magnificentme513 @no-life-no-problem @sockpansy @ocotopushugs @mauvelavender @hahanoiwont @ravenclawunicorn1 @terriblietired @nightmareelmst @bread-potato @drawyoursword @thebeautyofthomas @anxiousangelvirgil @greeneggsandham1998 @shesavampirequeen @phangirlandkilljoy @sortablue @allycat31415 @fangirltothefullest @ashrain5 @white-spirit-of-darkness @rejectedathena @hedgehoghumor @gay-and-exhausted @vir-gull @romanthroughthestars @savingshae @daughterofsomnus @unikornavenger @awesomelissawho @ultimate-queen-of-fandoms2 @radioactivehelena @ethospathoslogan @anxietyisthebestme @pinkeasteregg @entpscarleharrrr @a-snoway-afternoon @it-is-i-music-note-anon @tera-91 @thisismedamit @indanegalaxy @so-many-ships-i-have-a-fleet @maybekatie @forsakethegodsbeforetheydoyou @areyousirius-noheisdead @curlycutiekinz @arandompasserby @youllnevertaketheskyfromme @shadowsoul357 @pandagirl0730 @bibbidi-bobbity-booyah @kittycake574 @uh-r00d @fall-chemically-atthedisco @wolfiegamer2007 @phander-trash @faithfulcat111 @fangsandrainbows @redundant-statements-for-400 @adka2333 @theresneverenoughfandoms @regen-cecilos @pinkpandapancakes @the-better-bard @a-little-bit-of-ace @bisexualellaphants  @pokeeevee100 @light-it-on-fire @kaileah-kat @thatonetuesdaywhensam @savemefrompainfulagony @flamingfawkes @browniebri @romanssippycup @soft-transboy @somehowsnakesblog @lunareclipse-524 @wattysthebrokenangel @saphael-malec102 @rieka-onyx @booksgamesnetflix @dragonheart905 @starrynightaurora @dedaartist @pattons-cardigans @emilyinhernaturalhabitat @dontbugmeimantisocial @icantbeme71097 @derpiest-unicorn @sirasanders @tinkslittlebelle @joyful-milkshake-observation @redhoneysugarorange @lunacatzuniverse @itsausernamenotafobsong @virgilcrofters @cdragontogacotar @wildheart49 @welp-im-undertale-trash @randomrainbowslushy @logical-but-anxious @ebony-wolf @morality-is-anxious-too @angered-turtle @shadowjag @ihateitwhenyourejustvague @punsterterry @royallyroman @rainfilledskies @fandomsofrandom @trust-me-i-just-get-weirder @anxie-teaa @moonfang03 @didnt-murder-anyone-yet @hungry-red-panda @holdyourbreathfornow @forrestwyrm @thefluffypuppyishere @oh-star-how-the-mighty-fall @statsvitenskap @wit-is-wisdom @siren-art @anxietyisthebestme @randomfanderfriend @kittengiggles-puppysnuffles @a-saltine-in-trying-times @queer-human-being @thatpinkpony59 @i-have-n0-idea-what-im-d0ing @breloomings @noneed4thistbh @kikirwheeler @the-gayest-one-of-them-all @thegoofyseadragon @fantasyandfairfolk @trashysugarbaby @bassacaglia @justanormalfoot @alkimara @apologetically-anxious @punkassplonker @wicked-universe @maya-tl @magicalmayhems @lockolocka @whyme-tho @starbuckssippinson @imnotcrazy-i-swaer @jemthebookworm @witchybitchylesbean @blocksavage1776 @luckybanana948 @why-should-i-tell-youu @wouldthehill @pheasantjj @themainhome @cats-vetal-miking-vomit @merlybird500 @error-i-dunno-what-went-wrong @bangthekobrakid @absoluteturnip @dragonwitch20 @goofypersona @anyay666 @teethietoothies @smokeyrutilequartz @i-really-dig-the-purple @thinniewhinnie @cieltheanon @alotofstupidstuff @impossiblepentagon @sandersidestrash1 @suspicious-sweaters @asymmetricalgarbage8888 @lollife @insanegoldie2 @daring-elm @why-should-i-tell-youu2 @paperghastly @theunoriginaldaisy @emocatholic @the5thcoy @apologetically-anxious @radioactivehelena @llamaly @cloudedskies29 @riley-castillo @nonbinarybullshit @aleicim @asymmetricalgarbage8888 @analogical-mess @smolbeanchildofdeath @sherlock-lives-on-bakerstreet @opaque-puppet @shootingace @thegeekwiththewaffles @georganabanana @starry-sides @innerduet @siesieknows @eli--davey @croftersphoenix @theitalianalchemist @fanfictionforme2 @aimlesslyfloatingintheuniverse @random-fandom-dragon @that-random-book-nerd @wowimsogoddamnoriginal @sos-fandoms @eternalmoonlight19 @bluebellflames @pattonpending @humorlover1233 @unofficialweatherguru @demidork84 @munmattie @thegaypasta @youre-not-alive @bluebear04 @tacohippy56900 @enby-phoenix @wildhorsewolf @thomasfandersunite2 @ninja-wizard101 @immortal-turtle @sunflowerss0 @trash-ratatoiulle @yty-is-a-gfeat @mining-pup @cataclysm-al @lesbianturtle @singularthoughtofstatic @ninja-wizard101 @k9cat @dall-off-weekes @mylovelyladdyhumps @omg-rainbowgalxy-things @opaque-puppet @agentblackkat @morgantoast @rainysharkfreaklover @tapdancingdalek @brutarax808 @masonjarfullofsunflowers @lovelylogans @thatcacidork @antisocialdragonkid @nic-is-here @thiaholimon @whatschooldoesntteachyou @dysfunctional-goblin @lostchoirchild @acompletemusicalnerd @monroig @coliebugs @aro-ace-fangirl @lord-of-the-wicked @sanderstalker @bootsinthesun @anonfromcanada @7-circles-of-dissonance @wowimsogoddamnoriginal @psychixx @alittlebitofeveryoneandthing @toostressedforthisbs @an-absolute-failure @faycanyons @meglooy @skruffy901 @drawingdaydreamsuniverse @rosiepupper @winterrs-child @godspeed31-26 @mariita-2006 @meglooy @matthindavick @dragonindigo245 @lovingcreatorstrawberry @dreamingintodust @soakinforsif @theloneliestplaytapus