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cultleaderyoongi · 3 years ago

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Opposites Attract – pt.1 | myg

☆ pairing: Yoongi x f. reader, (Namjoon x f. reader)

☆ genre: s2f2l, hints of e2f2l at first if you squint (one-sided sentiment though), love triangle • angst, fluff, eventual smut

☆ word count: 12.7k

☆ warnings: bro-code violations (it's up for debate if reader is fair game); mature language; mentions of alcohol; virgin shaming to some extent; the word wh*re being mentioned

☆ synopsis: You're Namjoon's girl – kind of. So why does Yoongi, who has never been too fond of people in the first place, get that weird feeling in the pit of his stomach around you? And most importantly, why can't he seem to stop himself from falling for you when you're supposed to be off-limits anyway?

☆ navigation: pt.1 | pt.2

☆ a/n: Hi there! I'm back after an almost 6-month hiatus, and this was supposed to be out for Yoongi's birthday, but I guess this is my gift to you in celebration of my birthday now as well lol though also a week too late to that lmao And since it's gotten kinda long, I spontaneously decided to divide it into two parts which also gives me more time to finish up the last few lines oops As always, I hope you enjoy reading. If you do – thank you! Lmk how you like it, I love feedback ♡

(P.S. special shout-out to whoever can guess which album they're talking about in the record shop scene!)

(also P.S. I'm part of a fun, little Discord server created by the dearest @kooala where we share our favorite fics, simp over our biases, etc. and we'd love for it to grow. If you're looking for a cool place to connect with people and discuss anything K-pop, feel free to join here ♡)

☆ taglist: @bangtansjonas

There aren't a lot of things in the world that catch Yoongi's attention. He's most interested in music, creating his own little world as the beat becomes one with that of his heart. Basketball is another interest of his, the satisfying swish of the rubber globe falling through the hoop like music to his ears.

One thing is for sure though, and that is people aren't at the top of his list – meeting new people, that is. There's only a handful of people he actively cares about in his own aloof kind of way. Human interaction isn't his forté, so he's more than thankful that the people he does hold dear to his heart understand his weird antics. He would have a hard time admitting it, but losing even one of them would tear him apart. Breaking his hand-signed vinyl copy of Kendrick Lamar's DAMN. in half would hurt less, he concludes.

Having his set group of friends also means that the idea of adding another person fills him with frustration. For as long as he can remember, it has always been him, Namjoon, Hoseok, and Seokjin. No one else but him and his three best friends since childhood days. He convinces himself it's already too late to add another person into the mix anyway, almost two decades of friendship making it impossible for anyone to feel remotely comfortable among the four of them. But not everyone shares the same belief from the looks of it.

"I hope that's okay," Namjoon probes, hands buried in the front pockets of his chino pants as he leans against the red-brick façade of the faculty building behind him.

"More than fine by me," Hoseok drawls while running a hand through his chestnut hair. "Maybe you should worry about Grumpy Cat over here." His lips pull into a half-smirk.

At the mention of the all-too-familiar nickname, Yoongi peels his gaze from the concrete steps he's sitting on, turning towards his friends. "Why? Think I'm gonna rip someone's head off with my sharp fangs?"

"The risk is minimal, but never zero," Seokjin states in amusement, the hand curled around his iced coffee lifting into the air in emphasis.

The eldest's comment draws a scoff out of the man in question. Yoongi has grown used to the light punches at his reserved persona and granted, he would feel weird if the teasing stopped at some point. No matter how old the jokes have gotten.

"What am I? The mom in the group that tells you no all the time and grounds you for no good reason?" he grumbles, fixing the snapback covering his platinum-blond tresses.

"No," Hoseok retorts, "you're more like the uncle with the shotgun that everyone's secretly afraid of."

The group exchanges words in agreement leaving Yoongi with nothing but an annoyed glare. As the commotion dies down, he sighs in defeat. "It's fine or whatever. You already invited them anyway."

Namjoon nods, his face lighting up ever so slightly. "Okay, cool. You won't even notice she's there."

"She? You invited a girl?" Yoongi exclaims in confusion, loud enough to catch the attention of other students lingering around.

"Ah, Yoongi... You weren't paying attention again, were you?" Seokjin playfully nudges his friend in the elbow with the tip of his suede shoe. "Namjoon invited this girl to hang out tonight because he has a thing for her but is too afraid to ask her out on a proper date."

"Hey! That's not what it is," Namjoon grumbles, adjusting the black-rimmed glasses sliding down the slope of his nose.

"But you think she's hot?" Hoseok probes with a raised eyebrow.

The youngest barely responds, a breathy chuckle and a hand scratching at the nape of his neck enough of an indicator.

"That answers that."

Yoongi absentmindedly toys with a pebble, creating white marks as he scrapes it across the concrete surface. Who in the world invites a random girl to hang out with a bunch of strange dudes? he thinks to himself, the scratches becoming harsher until there's nothing but wild scribbles.

"Can you stop fussing around already?"

Namjoon mumbles out a quick apology to Hoseok beside him, immediately halting the shaky movement of his leg.

It hasn't even been five minutes since the quartet arrived at the movie theater, awaiting the arrival of the youngest's secret date.

"It's not a date," he fends when Seokjin teases him again, a hand running through his short – notably freshly cut – hair. "She's a friend, and I invited her out because– Oh! She's here." As he practically jumps up from his seat on the black leather couch, Namjoon storms towards the entrance.

"Not a date my ass," Hoseok comments, earning an affirmative chuckle from the eldest.

With the rest of the group rising from their seats, Yoongi reluctantly follows lead, hands immediately finding harbor in the pockets of his jeans.

"Oh, she's pretty," Seokjin muses to which Hoseok hums out in confirmation.

As Yoongi's focus finally shifts from the dark blue carpeted floor to his friend and the stranger standing next to him, he raises a brow. Yeah, she's pretty, he thinks to himself. At first glance. Yoongi isn't one to be easily swayed by looks though, so he mindlessly trails behind the other two.

"Guys," Namjoon turns towards the others, "this is _____. _____, these are my friends."

You beam a friendly smile at Seokjin who is the first one to extend his hand out to you, shaking it lightly before letting you move on to Hoseok.

Yoongi is slightly taken aback when your eyes land on him, nothing but warmth emitting from them. Usually, no one ever even dares any attempts at approaching his cold exterior. When he gives you his name, he swears your grin grows impossibly wider. Who in the world has the energy to be this friendly?

"Alright," Hoseok starts, "why don't you guys"–he nods towards you and Namjoon–"go get some snacks while we buy the tickets?"

The group separates as suggested with you and Namjoon heading towards the snack bar while Yoongi follows Hoseok and Seokjin to the ticket booth. Stealing a glance at his friend, he silently scoffs at the sight. You're deep in conversation, head lolling back in laughter at something Namjoon says. He finds your reaction so over the top. Sure, Namjoon can crack some jokes from time to time, but it almost looks like you're losing it. It's such a weird sight, and your clashing outfits underline that. You stand out in your yellow, ruffled top and cherry-red Vans against the beige and white hues of Namjoon's ensemble, the same shade of red showing up on your nail beds and the tint on your lips. This is definitely a date, he concludes. And now we have to play wingman. Great.

When the group gathers again to exchange tickets and snacks, Yoongi slightly flinches in surprise as someone thrusts a bag of popcorn in his face.

"Another salty popcorn enthusiast, I heard?" You smile up at him, the telltale rustling noise of popped kernels sounding as you lightly shake the bag.

Taking it with hesitant hands, Yoongi manages to muster up a nod, murmuring out a quick Thank you.

"Salty popcorn is barbaric," Hoseok's voice blares, breaking the unknown tension. "All it does is make you thirsty."

"Oh, allow me to prove you wrong," you counter with a wicked grin, eliciting a laugh from the man.

Throughout your discussion on why salty popcorn is superior, Yoongi doesn't realize he's been behind you this entire time until the five of you are looking for your respective seats in your assigned row. Now he has no other choice but to sit in the middle with you to his right. Fantastic.

Once the movie commences, the entire room falls silent lest the occasional rustling and crunching noises surrounding Yoongi. Absentmindedly taking a big gulp from his blueberry slushy, he proceeds to put it into the cup holder compartment of his chair when suddenly his hand comes into contact with another one.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!"

As he retracts his hand in a flash, he turns his head towards the source of the voice, the outlines of your facial features becoming visible via the blue flashes reflecting off of the screen. "Ah, you're fine," he manages out, the hold on his plastic cup tightening.

His focus is back on the opening sequence when someone invades his space once again.

"Do you want some?"

With furrowed brows, Yoongi's vision steers to the side, your hand holding a package of strawberry flavored Pockys coming into sight. "Uh..." Hesitantly, his eyes flicker from your hand to your face, then back to your hand. "Y-yeah, sure." He takes two of the chocolate sticks, mumbling out a stunned Thank you while he munches on them.

It's an unusual scene – not once has Yoongi come across someone this unhinged and outgoing without inhibition towards him as a stranger with what people call a resting bitch face. Usually, people don't even dare an attempt at building some sort of a connection with him. This leaves him wondering about you: are you always like this or is this all an act in order to stay in Namjoon's good books?

The setting sun outside serves enough light to guide the group through town, yet not enough to cause any discomfort after having spent the last two hours in complete darkness. Namjoon with his sensitive eyes in particular is thankful for that.

"Anybody else hungry?" Seokjin inquires, craning his neck as he takes a look at everyone individually.

"How can you be hungry again?" Hoseok blurts. "You had part of my half of the popcorn after annihilating yours – and then an entire pack of...what was it? Skittles? M&Ms?"

"Both," Seokjin announces proudly. "These were to tend to my sweet tooth though. Now it's time to satiate my savory needs."

Hoseok rolls his eyes at the eldest's response. "Can you believe this guy?" He turns to the rest before a sigh passes his lips. "Alright, I could go for something."

As everyone else hums out affirmative answers, the group settles on their go-to diner for classic burgers and fries.

"So, _____," Hoseok starts, a hefty sandwich haphazardly lodged in between his hands, "how come you know this guy over here?" With a tilt of his head, he gestures towards Namjoon.

You hum as you take a bite of your portion of fries. "Oh, we have the same major. We're also tutoring a class together this semester."

"Someone who matches his intellect, I see," Hoseok answers, a hint of a smirk hidden behind the large patty.

You don't get a chance to chime in when Seokjin continues, "Do you have a boyfriend?"

How subtle. It comes like second nature to Yoongi, a roll of his eyes a common reaction in a situation like this. It's when your eyes meet for a second, the corners of your lips curling upwards in an amused manner that he realizes his rather obvious slip-up.

"No," you chuckle with a shake of your head.

"Girlfriend?" the eldest follows up shortly, several expressions going around the table ranging from awkward laughter to annoyed sighs, the latter most notably sounding from Namjoon and Yoongi.

"Also no," you simply reply.

Seokjin shrugs his shoulders. "Can't hurt to ask."

"Why? Are you interested?"

Yoongi can't help but cackle at how the words leave your lips in such a deadpan yet entertained way, and for a second he's worried the others notice his change in demeanor. Your counter has the eldest choking on his drink though as he erupts into his characteristic windshield-wiper laugh, catching everyone's attention as Seokjin furiously wipes the bottom of his chin covered in soda.

"What happened to the standard ice breakers like What do you like to do in your free time or What's your take on mint chocolate ice cream?" you probe further, lips curling around the straw of your drink.

"Mint choco? Not a fan," Hoseok retorts, his face contorting into a disgusted grimace.

"Also hate it," Seokjin chimes in now with Namjoon following suit, the youngest going as far as mimicking puking noises.

As Yoongi makes no move of joining in on the conversation, you carry on, "Am I the odd one out here again? Guys, this could determine the future of our entire friendship if there's ever gonna be one."

The group erupts into laughter at that until Yoongi decides to come to the rescue. "I like it," he mumbles out nonchalantly with his arms crossed in front of him on the table.

"Thank you!" You turn to him, eyes sparkling in surprise at his sudden contribution. "At least someone with taste."

For the rest of the night, Yoongi can't help but steal glances at you and his best friend across the table, studying your interactions. They look cute together, he thinks to himself. As far as I can tell. And from what he can see it's easy for you to engage in conversation with the other guys as well, effortlessly exchanging quips and revealing facts about yourself. Yet, Yoongi can't seem to figure you out. Namjoon invited you out to hang out with his friends. Of course, you're going to be nice to everyone including him. Nothing to worry about, and as far as he's concerned if you happen to fake it he doesn't care. He never cared.

When you catch sight of him inspecting you, your lips curl into a small smile causing him to avert his eyes as fast as humanly possible. Awkward.

After everyone finishes their meal, you step back outside to say your goodbyes, the cold breeze of the night air brushing past.

"You sure you don't want me to walk you home?" Namjoon inquires, his stare set on you.

"Nah, it's fine," you decline, shaking your head as a shiver runs through you. "My friends are around in the area. They said they can pick me up."

He solemnly nods at your words, pulling you into a half-hug before stepping aside.

"It was really nice meeting you, _____. And hopefully, we'll get to see you again soon," Seokjin notes.

You send the eldest a pleasant smile, waving him off before doing the same to the other two.

When your eyes land on Yoongi, the man in question musters up a meek smirk and when you practically outshine him with a bright beam, he catches himself almost cursing. How are you so fucking friendly?

"So," Namjoon turns to the group once your silhouette disappears into the backseat of a black car pulling up at the curb, uncertainty clear in his features, "what do you think?"

"I like her," Hoseok is the first one to answer.

"Yeah, me too," Seokjin joins in.

It's quiet for an instance before everyone's eyes turn to Yoongi in anticipation.

"What?" the man grumbles, hands burying into his front pockets. "You need my blessing or something? She's alright, I guess."

Hoseok huffs, patting the youngest on the shoulder. "That's the most you're gonna get."

The mellow sounds of some lo-fi hip-hop song paint the perfect atmosphere while Yoongi scours around the store. It's like a safe haven for him, a place where he can replenish his power after a straining week of classes and assignments, unbothered and undisturbed. With swift fingers, he browses through the plethora of record sleeves in search for –

"Oh, hey!"

A somewhat familiar but also not-so-familiar voice startles him. Lifting his eyes from the rows of vinyls before him, you come into sight, cheeks risen into globes as you send him a bright smile. "H-hi," he croaks out, slightly confused. For some reason, the record shop is the spot he least expects to run into you. He's not sure why, but you don't strike him as a person to enjoy these things – though he knows little to nothing about you.

"Any good finds?" you inquire, head tilted to the side as you roam through the selection on your side.

"Uh..." he trails, "yeah, actually." Eyeing you for an instance, he ponders whether to elaborate or not. But why would you ask if you weren't interested? "I was looking for"–pulling out the record in question, he holds it up for you to see–"this one."

"Oh my God!" you exclaim as your eyes land on the colorful cover, splotches of pink and orange mingling with blue and purple hues. "It's such a good album. I waited ten years for this, but it's so worth it."

Stunned, Yoongi sends you a look he's sure he's never given anyone before. "You know it?"

"Yeah," you answer nonchalantly, "track number seven and eight are my favorites. Oh, and also–"

Yoongi flinches slightly when you lean forward until he catches onto your action, flipping the record around to let you check the tracklist on the back of the sleeve.

"–track number four. I'm a sucker for movie sound clips." You beam him a bright smile before continuing, "I'm a fan of Act I and II especially, and the features are expertly chosen." Retreating to your initial position, you finish, "Overall, one hour of excellence I can only recommend."

Yoongi regards you as if you just found the solution for world peace. He didn't expect you to be so enthusiastic about music – let alone hip-hop. You don't strike him as a person to enjoy this type of genre, but who is he to judge a book by its cover? "More of a reason to check it out then," he finally replies with a light chuckle after listening to your rambles. When you grant him another smile of yours just to return to your own business, he continues, "What have you got there?" A little small talk shouldn't hurt, right? After all, you're being exceptionally nice to him, so he should reciprocate.

Your eyes dart down to the vinyls lodged in between your folded arm. "Oh, just a random mix. Some rock, some pop, some R&B." Pulling your shoulders up into a shrug, you finish, "All kinds of things."

He nods in understanding. It's such a superficial thought, but he never imagined you to be so enthusiastic and versatile with your music taste. Not that he ever wondered in the first place, but he knows essentially nothing about you. Hearing about your interest in music piques his interest in you in turn though – on a friendly level, of course.

It comes naturally, falling into conversation about your favorite artists and albums, giving each other recommendations, and it's not long before you step out of the store together after paying for your purchases.

"Which way are you going?" you ask with a hand shielding your eyes from the midday sun, the light adorning your face in a yellow glow.

Yoongi hums out in thought. "I gotta stop by Namjoon's and Hoseok's, so this way." With an outstretched thumb, he points to his right.

"Oh, okay," you answer, cracking a small smile. "Is it fine if I walk with you part of the way? I'm supposed to meet up with Namjoon for a project tomorrow, and I need some books from the library."

"Uh..." The male studies your features, your eyes set on him expectantly, lips slightly pursed yet not losing their curved shape. Despite your outgoing and to him somewhat outlandish nature, you seem to make sure not to overstep any boundaries. He grows fond of the thought, letting out a light chuckle at that. "Yeah, sure."

Throughout the entire way to the library, the two of you converse mostly about music. Yoongi is specifically interested in the fact that you own vinyls as well.

"My brother got me into them," you explain, fingers carding through some strands of your hair being swayed by the breeze. "He has this huge collection he's been accumulating since he was like sixteen."

He listens attentively to your words, soaking them up like a sponge. It doesn't dawn on him at first, but there isn't a single moment of silence – and he doesn't hate it. Usually, it takes him a great amount of effort to stay energized during social interaction, to not feel like he's either faking or half-assing it, or even the need to take flight. As soon as you arrive at the library though, he figures the contrary is the case here, a huge power drain suddenly coursing through every crevice of Yoongi's body.

"I guess I'll see you around?" You turn to him, hand curled around the iron door handle of the entrance.

Yoongi nods leisurely, a small smile forming on his face.

You mirror his mimic though tenfold in vivacity, offering him a wave of your hand in addition. "Tell them hi for me."

Lifting his own hand into the air, he answers, "I will."

And with that, you're gone and an indescribable feeling follows Yoongi to his friends he can't seem to shake off.

"Dude, that was whack!" Hoseok's shrill voice blares across the court, harvesting the attention of several onlookers.

"Yeah, okay. I know," Namjoon fends, watching the basketball bounce off the backboard onto the ground. "Everyone and their dog knows. Fuck!"

The group grows silent as they watch the youngest strut over to the bleachers, rummaging in his backpack.

Seokjin scoops up the ball from the gravel, shuffling over to the remaining boys gathered in the middle of the court. "What's up with him?"

Hoseok sends the eldest a simple shrug of his shoulders.

"What's up with you?" Seokjin shouts across the place but receives no response from Namjoon as he plops down on the bench, swallowing his water in big gulps.

"Okay, water break," Hoseok huffs out, trudging over to his friend followed by Yoongi and Seokjin.

As they reach Namjoon, said man simply shoves his water bottle back into his backpack before springing back into a standing position.

"So, are you gonna tell us what your problem is?" Seokjin tries again, locking eyes with the taller man.

Namjoon sighs in defeat, running a hand through his sweaty strands. "I'm a little on edge, I guess."

"You don't say," the eldest retorts, taking a swig of his water bottle. "But what's the reason?"

It's quiet for an instance before Namjoon continues, "I'm not sure how to go about things with _____."

"What do you mean?" Hoseok takes over this time, drying off the droplets of sweat on his forehead with a towel.

"We've been meeting up here and there. Sometimes for school, sometimes to hang out. But..." He stalls, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"It's not going anywhere?"

The youngest nods, his jaw set and tongue pushed into the inside of his cheek.

Yoongi zones out halfway through the conversation. Over the course of time, get-togethers with you and either Namjoon or the whole group have become a frequent occurrence. Whether that be in between classes to have lunch or hang out later that day for a drink or two – Namjoon has been making an effort of incorporating you into the clique. And from the looks of it, you and the guys are getting along well.

In addition to that, Yoongi ran into you at the record shop again once or twice. He wouldn't necessarily deem it a notable fact as you parted ways to go on with your days every time, but the moments spent in there remain valuable nonetheless as both of you walked out with new discoveries each visit.

"Have you made any moves on her?" Seokjin questions now, leaning back onto the row of benches behind him.

The man in question tilts his head to the side. "Not per se, but I give her signals."

"What kinda signals?"

This entire time Yoongi remains silent, watching the scene unfold in front of him like an outsider. It's somewhat of a familiar sight, a memory of Namjoon trying to confess to his high school crush coming to the forefront of Yoongi's mind. The boys practically had to push the poor guy into her arms before he could chicken out for the umpteenth time. And though the course of their relationship neared its end sooner or later, Namjoon has at least gained the experience instead of giving in to his doubts. What a shitshow that was, Yoongi thinks to himself.

"I compliment her whenever she's wearing something nice or did her hair and make-up differently, and I bring her coffee and snacks." Namjoon's voice pulls Yoongi out of his daydream.

Hoseok musters his friend with furrowed brows. "You're doing the bare minimum, man."

Seokjin agrees with the former, adding, "You could spare all the second-guessing and straight-up tell her."

At that, Namjoon exhales loudly through his nose. "But she's not showing any signs, you know? At first she did, but now not so much."

Yoongi can see the disappointment in his friend's eyes, and if he could help him he would. But the others are only right – Namjoon has to stop playing around and come clean about his feelings. Yoongi knows he would if he were in Namjoon's shoes. Even with the nearly non-existent experience and abysmal enthusiasm for romantic relationships he has.

"We're not sixteen, seventeen anymore," the eldest blurts out. "If you wanna get the girl, you gotta tell her."

"I know, I know. But..." Namjoon trails, his hooded eyes darting towards the distance. "I dunno. It's obvious something's off. Maybe I came on too strong? Just gimme some time to figure it out, and – oh shit! She's coming."

All heads follow Namjoon's line of sight, a familiar figure coming into vision.

"Hey!" You greet them with a wave of your hand and your signature bright smile. "Heard you guys were here, so I thought I'd come with refreshments." As you pull out a cup carrier from behind your back, the boys let out sounds of surprise. You hand out the drinks to each individually. "I hope I did okay. I got the usual for Joonie,–"

The man in question accepts the beverage from you, a wide grin splayed across his face at the gesture – and most likely the nickname as well – as if the conversation from mere minutes ago is already forgotten.

"–watermelon for Hoseok, pink lemonade for Seokjin, and–"

As your hand curls around the last cup, Yoongi blinks up at you with wondrous eyes.

"–I remember you mentioned Iced Americanos once, so here you go."

Yoongi's lips part, closing and opening again before he mutters out a small Thank you. His hands shake slightly as he takes the cold drink from you. He remembers pointing out his go-to order about a week ago when you joined the clique for a quick coffee break after morning class. You wore your hair up in a bun, minimal make-up yet your face looked as bright as ever, and an oversized–

Hold up. Why does he remember all of this and why does it matter? What the fuck? Yoongi mentally slaps himself on the back of the head.

"So, who's winning?" You plop down onto the bench in between Yoongi and Seokjin, the former going rigid when your arm shortly comes into contact with his.

Everyone's eyes go around the group before landing on Namjoon.

"Last time I checked, we were on a losing streak," he sighs, nodding towards himself and Hoseok.

The remaining boys raise their eyebrows in confusion, not expecting the youngest to paint himself in a bad light in front of his crush.

"I'm the problem though," his teammate follows up quickly, defusing the situation. "I pull him down like a rock. Today's just not my day."

Your lips pull into a pout before curling upwards again, giving him an understanding nod.

"But hey," Hoseok continues, snapping his fingers as if he came up with the perfect idea, "how about you two play together? I could use a break, to be honest."

You lean in further at the proposition, your elbows propped up on your knees with a mischievous smile creeping up on your face. "I'll tell you what – you two go 1v1 and I'll play with whoever wins against these two." With outstretched thumbs, you point to Yoongi on your left and Seokjin on your right.

Hoseok's eyes widen ever so slightly and his lips curl into the shape of a circle.

"Please? I just wanna see you play, Joonie," you add with a slight lilt to your voice, gaze lingering on the tall man.

Yoongi almost spits out his drink, splurting a little as he sucks the caffeinated liquid through the straw. That's not showing any signs? My ass.

"Okay then," Namjoon states cooly though a hint of a smile can be spotted on his features. Retrieving the abandoned ball from the floor, he tosses it into Hoseok's hands. "First one to score ten points."

The two exchange looks with each other before jumping into action, jogging back to the court.

"Oh, thank God," Seokjin sighs loudly from beside you, head slumping sideways onto his shoulder. "I needed to catch a breath. My legs are killing me." He stretches out his limbs as a means of demonstrating his fatigue.

"How can you be tired? I did almost all the work, old man," Yoongi suddenly chimes in, a hint of annoyance yet amusement laced in his tone.

"Yah! I'm only three months older than you," the older male retorts, hoisting himself into an upright position. "I'm exhausted because you're hopping around the place like a rabbit on steroids. You always play like your life depends on it." Seokjin lets out several other humorous remarks that have Yoongi chuckling when a muffled vibrating sound interrupts him. Reaching into one of the pockets of his backpack, he pulls out his phone. "I gotta answer that real fast. It's my mom."

"Tell her I said hi," the blonde comments nonchalantly, adjusting the headband holding back his bangs.

Seokjin gives him a confirming nod before standing up with a groan, finger hovering above the screen ready to accept the call.

It's silent for a few seconds once Seokjin disappears down the line when suddenly a low cackle leaves you.

"What?" Yoongi asks, eyes shifting from Namjoon dribbling past Hoseok and landing a lay-up to you.

You shake your head slowly. "Your friendship dynamic is kinda weird but cute."

"Cute?" he blurts out in disbelief, repeating the word in his thoughts like an echo. Cute... Not in a million years would Yoongi have thought anything remotely in regards to him could be described as cute. "Care to elaborate?"

A shrug of your shoulders serves as part of your answer. "I dunno. I just find it interesting how different you are around each other, but all fuse so well." You rest your head in the palm of your hand. "You and Seokjin, for example, are the bickering type yet you treat each other with so much respect."

Yoongi laughs at your analysis. "Yeah, I guess so."

"It's kinda endearing to see," you add with a small smile.

He reciprocates it with an equally shy smirk. Wow. No one has ever made the effort to look beyond his quote-unquote stone-cold persona. People usually write him off as rude and aloof, and most of the time it doesn't bother him – but hearing someone point out the opposite fuels him with pride.

"Hoseok matches your coolness, but he's more of a happy-go-lucky type compared to you which is a good balance."

Yoongi just smiles to himself at this point, listening to your ramblings. Cool. You called him cool.

"And then you and Namjoon–"

He clears his throat, unsure of what to expect next.

"–are more on the same wavelength intellectually. Like you talk about this and that on an equal level, but he looks up to you like an older brother."

The man regards you with utmost attention, rendered speechless. He's unsure what it is about you as he would usually brush it off, pass the words off as bullshit, but looking into your eyes he can see the honesty, the truth behind them. A mix of emotions comes crashing in like a storm, settling in the core of his stomach, nestling there and leaving him nauseous. What is this feeling?

Before Yoongi can make sense of things, you speak up again. "I can't give you a full breakdown of our friendship yet."

His eyes widen as he lets your words sink in. "Our f-friendship?"

"Yeah." You lean back on the bench behind you. "I'd like to think we're friends." When he doesn't answer, you probe further, "Don't you?"

It doesn't go unnoticed, the barely significant change in volume and pitch of your voice, and it has Yoongi in silent panic. "Yeah n-no, of course we're friends," he stammers, his hand shooting up to brush through some damp strands of his hair.

At that, your signature smile returns, serving as a stark opponent to the orange light of the late afternoon sun. "Okay," you simply reply, licking your lips as you drop your gaze to a patch of grass on the ground. Yoongi does the same when your voice grabs his attention again. "How'd you like that Bryson Tiller I recommended, by the way?"

Swallowing down the lump in his throat, he muses, "It was really good. R&B isn't usually on my radar, but I really liked it."

You beam him a grin that grows wider by the second. "For real?"

Yoongi hums out in confirmation, accompanied by a nod of his head. "I can see why he's one of your favorites."

It's apparent you're trying to form words to speak when a loud roar sounds from across the place, followed by Namjoon sprinting towards the two of you. Hoseok trudges behind him defeatedly, seemingly out of breath.

"I did it," Namjoon announces proudly, pectorals on full display through his sweat-soaked shirt.

You spring up from your seat, cheering and clapping for the male before you engulf him in a tight hug.

The sensation in the pit of Yoongi's stomach intensifies, growing into unbearable stages when he watches Namjoon wrap his strong arms around you. This is unfamiliar territory for him, the force of this inidentifiable feeling brewing inside of him, the unexplicable longing for an answer to something he has never experienced before. Is it possible that he's... No, he can't be. This can't be, Yoongi tells himself. No.

Then he realizes that he hasn't spared one single glance at the game – and neither have you.

"Why the fuck would you do that?" Seokjin utters, his torso pressing further into the backrest of the sofa with each passing second, tightly clutching a pillow in comfort. "Don't look back! Run for your fucking life!"

Everyone's attention is on the lead actress of the movie, her struggle to escape the creature chasing her leaving the group on the edge of their seats.

For tonight, the boys decided on drinks and movies at Yoongi's and Seokjin's place, and despite a democratic vote against a horror movie, you managed to convince the opposition – most notably Seokjin and Hoseok – otherwise.

In his peripheral view, Yoongi can spot the latter grabbing onto his hair in tension the longer the chase continues, mouth falling agape when the main character barely dodges falling into the hands of death.

"_____, why would you make us watch this?" Hoseok whimpers, leaning closer to Seokjin beside him, the elder clawing onto the other as they both cower in fear.

With a lifted pointer finger to your lips, you signal him to shut up when suddenly a loud screech sounds from the speakers, causing you and everyone else to flinch.

Yoongi's hands clench around the armrests of his recliner in shock, a low chuckle leaving his lips once the aftereffect of the jumpscare subsides. When he turns his head to the side though, his expression falls just as fast as it came.

Your hands are clutched around Namjoon's biceps, your forehead resting on his shoulder before you look back up, sharing a laugh with the man seemingly embarrassed at the frightening scene.

Throughout the remainder of the movie, Yoongi's mind wanders elsewhere, the horrifying acts happening on screen serving as mere background noise for his thoughts. Why does he feel so hollow witnessing you together with his friend? He shouldn't care about any sort of physical touch between the two of you. He should be cheering for him now that he's becoming closer with his crush instead. So why is Yoongi internally conjuring up an image where he's the one sitting beside you in Namjoon's place? Why does he wish it was him that you're looking at so sweetly with that sparkle in your eyes? Why– No, stop, he mentally slaps himself. Stop it – now.

The ending credits roll when Seokjin springs up from his seat, a slight wobble apparent in his legs. "That was...something. I'm gonna need another beer. Anyone else?"

Hoseok is the first to give an affirmative answer, followed by you and Namjoon which forces Yoongi to opt for one as well.

"Let's watch something more lighthearted next?" Hoseok pleads as he scrolls through the plethora of movies, and once everyone is equipped with another cold beer, you agree on a comedic drama this time.

Yoongi has a gradually harder time trying to ignore the soft whispers and the glances stolen at each other, so he accepts sleep with open arms once he senses his eyelids growing heavy – the last thing he sees being your eyes facing him.

About an hour passes when Yoongi wakes up from the flickering lights of the TV screen as it shows recommendations after being inactive for so long.

Rubbing his eyes, he looks around the room. Everyone is dead asleep with Seokjin having settled for a makeshift bed on the floor, leaving an entire couch spare for Hoseok. Namjoon occupies one half of the other couch, legs resting on the coffee table – and then there's you next to him, hugging a pillow almost as big as your body in your curled-up state. Yoongi can make out the folded fashion of your legs covered under the throw blanket. You can't possibly be comfortable in this position, he concludes, but yet you look so peaceful, so tranquil – so beautiful.

He barely registers your eyelids fluttering open, deep in thought yet no thoughts at all, so he finds himself flinching once your focus sets on him.

Confusion seeps through every crevice of his being when all you do is stare at him, eyelids still heavy from sleep, wispy eyelashes brushing your skin with every blink. Yoongi should feel uncomfortable locking eyes with you so intently, so intensely, but all he feels is a meaning behind it.

Neither of you break eye contact, the tension growing palpable in the silence of this room, only the ticking of the clock on the wall and the light breathing of your sleeping friends to be heard. It's like only you and him matter at this moment, and when your lips curl into a small smile, he reciprocates the same, watching your eyelids fall shut again.

Yoongi wakes up once more to the now black mirror of the TV screen an hour later – and a light fabric draped atop of him. Running his fingers across the knitted pattern, he realizes it's the blanket you were wrapped up in from before. As his head whips around to the spot to his right, you're nowhere to be seen.

She might've gone to the bathroom, he tells himself, running a hand through his tousled hair. As his throat feels somewhat dry, he rises from his seat in the recliner, trudging over to the kitchen to find the lights on.

You're sitting facing the door, so when Yoongi enters, you're quick to greet him, surprise evident in your features. "Oh, hey."

"Hey," he replies, voice still thick from slumber. "You're up?"

"Mhm," you mumble. "Couldn't fall back asleep."

With shaky hands, he pours himself some water before settling down onto the chair adjacent to you. It's quiet for a while – not the same kind of quiet as back in the living room though. This time, the buzzing sound from the ceiling light and the droplets of water from the tap render Yoongi queasy, the scene transpiring just an hour ago playing on a loop in the forefront of his mind. To break some of the tension, he says the first best thing he can think of at the moment. "Thanks, by the way." When you look at him in confusion, he clarifies, "For the blanket."

"Oh." A light chuckle escapes your lips. "Yeah, I figured you might need it." Fiddling with the cup you're cradling in your hands, you continue, "I don't get why you always walk around in short sleeves."

Yoongi lets out a low hum. "It's not like I'm immune to the cold, but I'm less prone to it."

"Really?" you question him with interest. "I feel like I'm freezing all the time. Here, look."

"Ah–" Yoongi winces in surprise when one of your hands curls around his, the surface of your palm frigid against his skin. Like hypnotized, his eyes are fixated on your fingers laying loosely atop of his, the delicate flesh of your digits brushing against his calloused ones, your meticulously manicured nails a shocking juxtaposition to the rough edges of his. He's taking in the soft pink of your nail polish, a similar shade to the tint on your lips and a stark contrast to the prominent purple veins raking across his knuckles like vines.

Despite the clear collision of different worlds, all Yoongi can think about is how this looks right and how this feels right. Your hand might be freezing cold, yet he's fighting the urge to intertwine fingers with you until the temperature of your limb matches his – but then he remembers who you are. "Yeah..." Slowly retracting his hand from yours, Yoongi's vision steers to a cracked tile on the floor, the memory of a clumsy Namjoon in drunken stupor coming to the forefront of his mind. "You're really cold," he murmurs.

As if some sort of spell was lifted, you empty the remnants of your water in one go before slowly rising from your seat. "I should probably get going."

"W-what?" Yoongi stammers with a slight delay, processing your words. "It's like"–he squints at the clock on the wall–"two in the morning."

"Yeah, well..." Placing your used cup in the sink, you turn back around to face him. "I have some things to do tomorrow, so I should probably get some good rest in my own bed instead of breaking my neck sleeping on your couch." You finish your explanation with a hint of a smile.

Yoongi watches you with caution, searching for any sign that might give away your innermost thoughts. He doesn't remember you talking about any plans earlier today. "Let me walk you home then."

"Oh no, it's fine. You don't have to." Vigorously waving your hands in front of you, you politely deny his proposal. Why are you so adamant about it?

"I think I do." He's unsure where his assertiveness is coming from, but the thought of you returning home in the dark all alone renders him with discomfort.

"Really, it's not the first time. I'll be fine."

The male scoffs at that. Even more of a reason now, he thinks to himself. Who in their right mind ever made you walk home by yourself? "I don't think so."

"It's really not that far and I have–"

"_____, I'm not letting you walk home alone at this hour. Over my dead body." Pushing his tongue into his cheek, Yoongi declares, "It's either that or I'm waking up one of the guys to take you instead."

When you look up at him with wide eyes, he's concerned he might have overstepped a boundary – but he's merely being sensible. What if something happened to you? The thought alone sends shivers down his spine. He would never be able to forgive himself.

Your small voice softly rings in his ears, barely noticeable but enough for him to be able to finally breathe again. "Okay."

The walk to your apartment is dead-silent most of the way except for when you mumble out directions. Once you arrive at your apartment complex, you send him a small smile, thanking him before turning on your heel without wasting another breath.

"_____!" Yoongi calls after you.

You halt in your steps, facing him again.

"Did I do something wrong?" He knows he didn't, but something must have happened that caused your change in attitude. There's no way you can be angry with him for wanting you to arrive home safe and sound.

When you walk back towards him, a weak smirk stretches across your face before you shake your head. "It's nothing," you reassure him. "It's not you."

The space in between his eyebrows furrows at your words. What do you mean by that? He's trying to study your face under the dim streetlight though all he can see is the faint outlines of your features.

"Thank you for walking me home."

The action catches Yoongi off-guard, but when you wrap your arms around his waist, cheek coming to a rest on his collarbone, he acts as if on autopilot, leisurely draping his limbs across your back. Man, despite you laying it down on him so strongly that you're cold all the time the hug feels pretty damn warm and cozy. He can sense your heartbeat through the layers of fabric, the swell of your breasts pressed against his chest –

Oh God.

Unfurling his arms, he releases you from his hold, stumbling a step backward before things can escalate any further. He's not supposed to have these thoughts – not about you.

You take the hint, your own limbs dropping to your sides as you send him one last look, the corners of your lips tugging upwards ever so slightly. And then you turn on your heel, leaving for good.

He waits until you've entered your apartment, a light igniting on the fifth floor an indicator that you have, but even then he can't seem to set foot until several minutes have passed.

It's still pitch-dark inside when Yoongi returns, the slivers of moonlight shining through the windows serving as his sole guide. Silently hanging his set of keys onto the keychain holder, he shuffles his way back into the living room.

In the meantime, Seokjin must have moved to his bedroom as no traces of him or the pillows and blankets on the floor are to be seen. He usually does that when the boys are over and they end up falling asleep with not enough space for everyone.

Steering his gaze to the left, he witnesses Namjoon's tall stature splayed out on the now entirely vacant couch, back turned towards him.

Realizing there's no need for him to retreat to the recliner, Yoongi stealthily moves past the sleeping bodies of his friends in search of his bedroom.

"Thank you, hyung," the deep timbre of Namjoon's voice suddenly sounds, just above a whisper but enough to startle him.

"What for?" he inquires, confused at his friend's words and the fact that he's still awake.

"For taking care of _____."

Clubs aren't Yoongi's terrain. He avoids them like a disease, the sole thought of being surrounded by sweaty strangers grinding on each other to shitty, repetitive music so loud it almost bursts your eardrums forcing him to gag. Yet here he is, sulky though dressed to impress – in his eyes – as he patiently waits for the rest of the group to finish up. He's well aware that he could have declined, but at the same time he didn't want to. She's gonna be there.

It's minutes later when the front door finally opens, revealing Hoseok first, followed closely by Namjoon – and then there's you.

This has to be some sort of fever dream. He's at high risk of being caught, but Yoongi can't take his eyes off of you. Your pearl-white dress paired with the matching heels sends his head reeling, the hemline of your skirt stopping about mid-thigh causing a blush to creep up on his cheeks. But he can't lose his cool in front of everyone. That would be stupid and weird – and not to mention outright treacherous.

"Ready to go?" Seokjin questions, clutching his car keys as the designated driver of the night.

Everyone quickly assembles at the front door except for Yoongi who takes a second to gather his thoughts.

"Are you coming?"

Yoongi lifts his head at the inquiry. When he realizes it's you who posed the question with your frame turned towards him, his heart starts pounding in his chest like a pump gun. If only you understood the insinuation behind those words... "Y-yeah, sure," he chokes out before clambering off the couch, and so the group steps outside to Seokjin's car.

"Hyung." Hoseok puts a hand on Yoongi's shoulder. "We already pre-gamed a little. You gotta sit in the back, or I get car sick."

Yoongi peers behind Hoseok's form, eyes landing on you. They're gonna make you sit in the middle because Namjoon would block the view through the rear window. He's fucked.

Without posing any further questions, he climbs into the right backseat. When you settle down next to him not even a second after, it's like all signs of lifeform leave him – his breathing becomes shallow, his heartbeat flatlines. Not even a single muscle moves.

Your bare thigh comes into contact with his when you squirm around in search of the buckle. "Oops, sorry." A small smile flashes across your face when you notice. "I think it's on your side."

Yoongi tries his hardest to avoid eye contact with you. He wouldn't survive it in this close proximity. "A-ah, yeah..." he mumbles, maneuvering his legs closer to the door, giving you enough space to fumble.

The entire ride to the club he remains silent, his racing thoughts drowning out the chatter in the background. He's so unbelievably fucked.

The majority of the time Yoongi spends at the bar, downing beer after beer to wash away the chaos inside his mind – though what he deemed his remedy at first turns out to be his poison instead. After the third beer, it's impossible to ignore the way your hair sways along with your movements, how well your snug dress hugs your silhouette, and how smooth your bare arms and legs look.

"Alright," you pipe over the loud music after swallowing your shot of tequila, "I'll be back on the dancefloor again." Sliding down the bar stool, you shoot a look at the boys, both Hoseok and Namjoon tagging along with you.

Seokjin sends an affirmative nod your way before turning back to the bartender, engaging in their current conversation.

Even among the crowd it's easy to spot you, the satin fabric of your garment causing you to stand out like a sore thumb. In Yoongi's eyes you easily lighten up this sleazy place though, this pit of hell where everyone devours each other with indecent looks. You're like an angel among demons, wearing that sweet smile of yours like a halo, glowing with understanding and genuine interest – only it isn't directed at him but Namjoon in this scenario instead.

He watches your face turn into something darker though when his friend leans in closer towards you, whispering something in your ear.

Oh... Fuck.

He can't do this right now. Not now, not like this.

Without giving it much thought, Yoongi gets up from his seat. "I'm gonna step out for a second," he informs Seokjin before trudging towards the backdoor.

Once he sets foot onto the asphalt of the back alley and the door shuts behind him with a loud thud, an exasperated sigh escapes him. The air is cold and crisp with a hint of humidity from a prior rain shower. "Fuck..." The curse comes out audibly this time. Walking around in circles, his hands come up multiple times to run through his tousled locks. Why does he feel so strongly about this situation? You're just a girl, some random girl, that one of his closest friends since childhood happens to have a crush on. Yeah, you're kind and you're smart, beautiful and funny... But why does all of that matter to him? Why does it bother him so much seeing you with him that his insides churn at the sole thought of it?

He fell for you. He actually fell for you.

The realization has Yoongi forcing out a laugh in disbelief.

"There you are."

A familiar voice brings him back from his manic trip.

"I found you."

Looking over to the side, he almost regrets his decision. Even underneath the dim streetlights and the red hue of the neon sign plastered on the concrete wall you look stunning. Pull your fucking shit together, he tells himself. So he musters up the faintest of smiles at the source of the voice.

Your heels click on the asphalt as you make your way over to him, the surface still wet from the rain as it emits a splashing sound with each step. When you lean next to him against the wall, you let out a soft whine along with a chuckle before retracting from the surface in lightning speed. "Ah, it's cold."

Yoongi can't help but react with a soft chortle. "And wet," he adds, shrugging off his leather jacket in an attempt to throw it over your shoulders though you don't comply.

"Oh no," you fend. "I'll just go back inside where it's warm. I only wanted to cool off for a bit."

For some reason, your words render him even more eager in his proposition. "Don't be ridiculous. Put it on, please."

"Really, I came out for a breather, and that's what I got. Besides," you gesture towards him, "you're wearing short sleeves again–"

"And you're practically half-naked, so don't try to argue with me." It takes him a second to register what came out of his mouth, so when you look up at him with a dumbfounded expression, he immediately backtracks from his statement. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that. I'm just–"

"You're just trying to be nice. I know," you finish for him.

Even though he would usually word it this way, there's more to it that he refrains from revealing. The alcohol coursing through his veins serves as a strong opponent though, clouding his senses.

With outstretched arms and pouty lips, you let him drape the heavy clothing over your torso, carefully looping your limbs through the sleeves. The sight of you standing there like a sulky child has him suppressing laughter.

"What?" You eye him, a glint evident in your glare before it softens again.

A small smile stretches across the man's lips, hinting at a confusing blend of endearment and disappointment. "Nothing," he simply states. He's in it – deep in it – with no way out. God, he wants to tell you that you're the most beautiful thing he's ever laid eyes on even though it would be wrong to admit.

"Can I ask you a question?" you finally break the palpable silence.

He gulps, unsure of your possible inquiry, but ultimately nods his head yes.

"It's two questions actually." Licking your lips, you shift your focus to a nearby puddle, the reflection of the light coming from the neon sign gifting it with more depth than it probably possesses. "Does Namjoon happen to have a crush on me?"

You come in straight with the facts, so Yoongi is taken aback, confused over how to go about it. "Uh..." he stammers, hand shooting up to scratch at the nape of his neck.

There are so many possible outcomes to this conversation. If he tells you the truth, things end right here, right now. Do not pass Go, do not collect 200 dollars. Does he think Namjoon should've confessed a long time ago? Yes, absolutely. Does he have it in his heart to shorten the process and do it himself instead? Absolutely not. First of all, it's Namjoon's wish to keep it a secret until he musters up enough courage to do so (which Yoongi can only so much as scoff at but still respect), and second and most important of all, there's this lingering fear of you reciprocating his friend's feelings – which isn't too far off of reality from the looks of it.

Realizing he hasn't given you a proper reply yet, Yoongi continues, "Well–"

"So it's true then." You cross your arms in front of your chest, your eyes finding his again boring into them with intent.

"I didn't say that," Yoongi counters, his glare holding yours in an attempt to ignore that glimpse of your cleavage framed by his jacket. It's not an easy feat as your folded arms give it an extra push, the pendant of your necklace sitting neatly atop of it.

"Yoongi, it's not like any of you are exactly subtle about it."

The words leave your lips in such a deadpan way, that trace of indifference within your answer shocking Yoongi as if you don't share the same sentiment. "Then why do you ask if you're so sure about it?" he fends in retaliation, finding no energy in himself to fight against your rebuttal. There's no reason to backtrack now. "Why do you ask me and not Namjoon?"

"I guess I..." The space in between your eyebrows creases. "I don't wanna have to break his heart."

Now it's Yoongi's turn to look at you in confusion. "W-what do you mean?"

He doesn't miss the way you roll your bottom lip in between your teeth, your eyes once dead set on him now avoiding the intensity of his. "Don't get me wrong. I like Namjoon, I really do – just not in that way."

For a second the world seems to stand still, your words slowly sinking into Yoongi's mind. He had it all wrong this entire time since you were dead convincing. Were you just playing some sick, twisted mind game all along?

You continue, "He's a great guy and everything, and I'm probably stupid for not seeing something that could potentially be there. But it's not him I'm interested in." Running a hand through your hair, you let out a loud huff. "I know I'm gonna have to tell him eventually. The thought already stresses me out."

"Namjoon appreciates honesty. Just right out tell him how you feel," Yoongi explains calmly despite the chaos raging inside of him. Honesty. His and Namjoon's friendship has never been of the complicated type, built on nothing but trust. Now he's committing the biggest crime in their twenty years of brotherhood, his eyes lingering on the sparkly sheen of your lips for a second too long wondering what they would taste like contradicting every principle he's trying to uphold. But wait – what do you mean it's not him I'm interested in?

"Yeah, you're right." Your words pull him out of his trance. "I'll talk to him as soon as I can."

Yoongi mirrors that weak smirk spreading across your face. "What's the other question?"

"Huh?"

"You said you had two questions," he recalls.

"Oh, yeah..."

It's quiet for an instance as he watches you deep in thought, struggling with whatever occupies your mind before you shake your head.

"Nevermind."

"Come on." His brows furrow at your curt reply. "Tell me."

"No, it's stupid," you counter, an embarrassed expression taking over your features.

"Nothing you say could ever be stupid." He doesn't think twice about the words leaving his lips, ignoring this weird mixture of regret and shame surging through him. "You brought it up, so just–"

"Do you have a crush on me, too?" you blurt out, eyes set on Yoongi's like your life depends on it.

It's almost as if all sense of being leaves him, his limbs growing rigid and his breath being knocked out of his lungs. How the fuck is he going to go about this? "What?" he merely responds, still in shock.

You blink up at him a couple of times, lips trembling as if you're about to elaborate – though you retract instead. "Forget it." Still facing him, you take a step backward before turning on your heel.

It can't be more than a split second, but within that time frame a million thoughts cross through Yoongi's mind. You have to suspect him for you to ask this question in the first place which poses several questions: how obvious has he been this entire time and why would you want to know the answer? Is it to ridicule him? Is it something entirely else? Whatever the answer may be, Yoongi needs to know – no matter the cost. "Don't," he croaks out, almost unconvincing in the way his voice wavers. "Don't go."

You watch him with wistful eyes as you turn around again, arms still crossed in front of your chest.

"What would you do if I said yes?" Usually, he would set the record straight right away, but this is unlike any other situation Yoongi has ever experienced before. Your presence alone renders him insecure yet the alcohol coursing through his veins causes him to come up with somewhat courageous statements like these.

Taking another step closer towards him, you lean against the wall beside you, one leg leisurely resting in front of the other. "I guess you're gonna find out."

With an incredulous chuckle, he mirrors your movements though his hands bury into the pockets of his jeans instead. You're not even two feet apart from each other, enough for him to feel the heat radiating off of your body. "What makes you so sure about that?"

Despite the shake of your head, the man can still make out the smirk stretching across your face. "Two things: one, you're stalling. If you wanted to say no, you already would've said so. And two," you lick your lips before drawing them into a thin line, "simple intuition."

"Intuition?" he repeats.

"Mhm," you hum out. "Maybe."

Another chortle escapes him. How has this turned into a cat and mouse game? And who is who?

"Or maybe you're just insanely obvious," you fend, a mischievous grin finding its way onto your features.

"Me?" He scoffs. "Obvious?"

A sole nod of your head seals your answer, and maybe his mind is playing tricks on him, but Yoongi swears he can sense some sort of chemistry brewing in between the both of you. But then again, why would you show any signs of interest in him? He's him and you're...you. Perfect, stellar _____ whom his best friend is pining for. He's stuck between a rock and a hard place, unable to deny his feelings yet the idea of Namjoon's heart being crushed comes to the forefront of his mind. Although the sheer thought of losing you tears him apart equally as bad as hypothetically losing his closest companion since childhood.

In hindsight, he wonders if things would've turned out different, if things could've been avoided, had Namjoon confessed to you and had you reciprocated. Yoongi wouldn't have developed feelings for you – at least he believes so. Now he's so deep in shit he doesn't see any way out of it without someone getting the short end of the stick. Either way someone's going to get hurt, and he decides it rather be him instead.

"Cat got your tongue?"

Yoongi comes back to life at the sound of your voice, the soft lilt alluding to your ignorance.

"Would it make things easier for you if–"

His brows furrow in surprise when you step closer to him, so close that you're almost chest to chest.

"–I said I liked you back?"

Did he hear you right? Did you just imply that you– There's no way. This can't be real. "What kinda sick joke is this?" The words leave his lips without much thought.

Now it's your turn to look at him in confusion, eyebrows creased with a deep-set frown. "What?"

Huffing out in frustration, Yoongi declares more deadpan than he prefers, "You're right – I like you, _____. And you say you like me, but..." He stalls, the residue of alcohol complicating the process of keeping his emotions in check. He can't have an outburst happen in front of you. The situation is already complicated enough as is. "Why do you act like that around Namjoon? I don't understand."

You look like you're about to reply with the way your bottom lip quivers, a hint of tears forming in the corners of your eyes, but a rusty creak along with a loud slam of metal and an all-too-familiar deep voice have you both turning your heads towards the door.

Shit.

"Namjoon," you two mumble in unison before rushing back inside.

Yoongi can already hear the commotion when you enter the hallway connecting the back entrance with the main room.

"Dude, calm down. What's going on?" Hoseok holds the younger man by the arm to stop him from storming past the crowd.

Namjoon looks back at the two of you. His nostrils are flared and his jaw set – Yoongi is scared he might pounce on him any second.

When his friend finally releases himself from Hoseok's hold and stalks over to you, he instinctively pulls you behind him. He knows Namjoon would never hurt anybody, but the thought of you being in this mess in your vulnerable state sends him into protector mode.

"I should've known," he starts. "It was crystal clear this entire time, but I didn't wanna accept it. Well," running a hand through his dirty blonde strands, he continues, "now I have proof."

"Joon, let me explain." Yoongi tries to defuse the situation. "It's not–"

"It's not what it looks like? Is that what you're trying to say?" Letting out a scoff, his stare shoots even more daggers at the shorter male now. "So I didn't see you confessing your feelings to the girl I like just seconds ago? This was all in my imagination then?"

Yoongi's mouth turns dry, a lump forming in his throat. "Joon, just hear me out–"

"Oh, I think I've heard more than enough." Clasping his head in his hands, he continues, "I didn't think you would stab me in the fucking back like that."

"Namjoon!" It's Hoseok's voice now calling the male's name in warning.

Another curse escapes him before he leans in closer towards you.

He might be mistaken, but Yoongi's hand suddenly feels heavier, another set of fingers weaving their way through his in search of comfort.

"Good luck with the virgin," Namjoon snarls, his eyes traveling from you to the male beside you.

"Kim Namjoon!" Seokjin steps in this time, fury evident in his face before said man can make his way to the exit, leaving everyone in shock.

Yoongi's ears fall deaf after that, a pit opening in the depths of his stomach, every fiber of his being becoming numb. He's neither particularly ashamed nor proud of this fact, but the way the words came out of Namjoon's mouth has him almost toppling over in disbelief.

He doesn't understand what's happening around him, but when what he believes to be your head drops onto his shoulder, he comes back to his senses. The contact is fleeting though as you detangle yourself from his grip.

"I'm sorry," you murmur, and without taking a look back, you disappear within the crowd, someone calling your name over and over again without an answer.

It's then that Yoongi realizes he and Seokjin are the only ones left.

"Stay here," the elder signalizes him, following your trail through the club.

Fuck. Fuck! How could things have gotten so uncontrollably out of hand? There's an uncomfortable tightness forming in Yoongi's chest, wrapping around him like a rope. Is this going to be the end of his and Namjoon's two-decade-old friendship? Is he going to lose one of his closest confidants because of a girl? The thought leaves a bitter taste on his tongue. You're not just some random girl – you're far more than that. He despises himself for even thinking of diminishing your worth, his heart clenching in disgust, yet there's no way this can be the end of things. He should've never fallen for you.

Your mind must be racing as well though, Yoongi concludes. You basically confirmed that you have feelings for him as well – if what you said was the truth because, after all, you have been heavily flirting with Namjoon in front of Yoongi. If so, how are they going to hold up after this mess? And – the idea has him swallowing down hard – are you turned off by the fact that he's a virgin?

His priorities are all over the place right now. Is he going to have to make a choice between you and his friend? Or are you both going to abandon him maybe? Fuck...

"Yoongi!" The familiar sound of Seokjin's voice appears at the perfect time, catching him before he can fall deeper into despair. "Let's go home."

"What about _____?" he inquires, not realizing your name slipping off his tongue first instead of Namjoon's.

"She's in the car," the elder explains. "Hoseok and Namjoon are taking an Uber home."

There's nothing much Yoongi can offer besides a solemn nod before following Seokjin outside to the parking lot.

The dusty green of his roommate's old Honda Civic comes into view, and for a second Yoongi considers taking the seat next to you when he catches a glimpse of you through the window, head hung low and hair falling in front of your face. The sight has him opting for the passenger seat instead.

Most of the car ride remains calm, not even the radio playing any sort of music. An incoming call from Hoseok informs everyone that he and Namjoon arrived at home safely and that the man – though still somewhat in distress – will be alright and won't do anything stupid in his drunken state. Yoongi is more than thankful for the eldest's sobriety and clear mind in this situation though it only does so much easing the nervous shaking of his leg and the incessant picking of his cuticles.

It's not long before you arrive at your apartment complex, once the car comes to a halt your fragile voice filling the silence. "Thanks for the ride. Goodnight." And without sparing one single glance, you climb out of the vehicle, shutting the door with a loud thud.

Silence settles again, no one daring to speak until Seokjin moves to ignite the engine again. It comes to life with a spluttering roar when suddenly the door to the passenger seat opens.

"Yoongi!" Seokjin calls out for the younger male only to be answered by the door slamming shut again.

You're already rummaging around for your house keys when his voice stops you in your tracks.

"_____, wait." He breathes out, a cloud of mist forming in the air. It's only then that he realizes how cold it has actually become – and that he's still without his jacket.

You slowly turn around, your arms wrapped around you for comfort.

The look you send Yoongi hits him straight in the chest. It's dim under the light of the entrance to your apartment complex, yet he can spot the streaks of runny mascara around your eyes. "Are you okay?" he asks, his voice small and unsure.

Your arms fall to your sides lethargically. It's quiet for a long time before you speak up. "I didn't mean for any of this to happen. I'm sorry, I messed everything up."

Yoongi vehemently shakes his head at your apology. "You have nothing to apologize for. It's not your fault."

At that, you mimic his gesture, a small whimper resonating from you as fresh tears start to form again. "Earlier, you asked me why I act that way when I'm with Namjoon..." You stall, visibly swallowing down a lump in your throat. "At first it was because I wanted to give it a serious shot. I could tell he liked me, and I was actually considering it. But my heart just wasn't in the right place."

The first tears trickle down your cheeks. "So I thought if I ended things early I wouldn't have a reason to stick around anymore."

The space in between Yoongi's brows furrows at your explanation, but he lets you continue without interjecting.

"I was scared I wasn't gonna be able to be around you anymore, so instead I led Namjoon on and then this whole mess happened." In between heavy sniffles, the tears flow uncontrollably now.

Never in his life has Yoongi been so dumbfounded, so struck to silence by a hurtful truth. Words don't even come close to describing what he's experiencing in this moment, a mixture of frustration and disappointment concentrated in the core of his body, but something tugs on his heartstrings at the sight of you. Your presence comes across as frail, that damn black leather jacket almost swallowing you up entirely, engulfing you in darkness. It's kind of ironic, this comparison of images: Yoongi in his initial head-to-toe black attire if it wasn't for the white, slim-fit t-shirt on his torso, and you in your skimpy, white dress as your centerpiece though it's now being dominated by that foreign black piece of clothing. It's as if you traded pieces of each other, innocence and corruption cohabitating within the two of you – no one entirely good, no one entirely evil.

"God, I feel like such a whore!" you suddenly exclaim, your whines becoming louder. Burying your face in your hands, you cry with reckless abandon.

Yoongi is stunned at your response – and heartbroken that you would call yourself names like that. It wasn't an ideal approach, but at the end of the day everyone had their wrong-doings. He should've never given in to your advances, and Namjoon should've confessed to you.

It takes you a while to regain composure, and Yoongi feels compelled to console you though he refrains from it when you strut over to him, shrugging off the jacket in the process. "I'm not sure what kinda outcome I was expecting, but I didn't think it would tear you two apart like this." A huge question mark appears in Yoongi's head when you elaborate, your fist thrusting the heavy leather towards him which he takes with a slight delay. "I don't wanna take part in this if it means your friendship's on the line."

His soul leaves him in an instant, that unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach tightening, tenfold in severity now. The worst-case scenario has come to life – he lost his best friend and he lost you.

"I'm so sorry," you murmur for the umpteenth time this night, and with that you turn around, unlocking the front door and leaving Yoongi alone in the dark as it clicks shut behind you.

Seconds upon seconds pass by as Yoongi tries to come to terms with what happened, a lightheaded sensation creeping up on him, causing him to collapse at the knees. Now he's in a crouched position on the concrete platform, dismissing the freezing cold nipping at his exposed skin. His elbows come to a rest on his bent joints, his hands clasping around his head as if to shield himself from the outside world. Fuck... Fuck! There's no way things are going to go back to the way they were. Everything's fucked.

"Hey, man." Yoongi discerns Seokjin's voice beside him. "Come on, let's get you home."

The elder hoists him up by the shoulders, retrieving the leather garment that lifelessly lies on the ground to throw it over his shivering form.

"Hyung..." Yoongi mumbles out. "I fucked up."

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the-illiterate-pirate · 2 years ago

Text

Well, that hiatus didn't last long. Anyway enjoy more priest porn

Worship Like a Dog

Notes: NSFW, fem!reader in mind, use of vibrators, priestly worship, dom Pucci, improper use of Stands, ⚠️spoilers for the Heavy Weather arc are included, if yk, yk.

You listened to him softly speak the words of the lord in a voice so elegant it made your spine tingle. His voice echoed through the quiet church for all to hear. But he wasn't alone.

Maybe it was just you. Maybe nerves made you think the soft vibration coming from your panties was a lot louder than it actually was.

You tried to keep still. But the pleasant vibration inside you was far too good to ignore.

The way it rubbed against your clit. The way the vibration tickled your walls so continuously without fail made you want to double over and moan to the heavens. But you were in public... Sat next to his brother, no less.

"Are you all right? Your face is flushed."

Domenico. Sweet, so caring Domenico. How he moved his face close to yours so you could hear his whisper over Pucci's sermon only made you feel worse.

"I'm f-fine. Just a little queasy."

"Are you sure? I know Enrico wouldn't mind if I took you home early."

"Not a problem!" You squeaked out once Pucci put the vibrator on twofold suddenly. The weight of his gaze on you was suddenly very noticable. "Thank you, Dom. But I couldn't bare to miss one of his services. I'll be fine." You tried to give him what you hoped was a reassuring smile and he finally seemed to back off.

You both settled back into silence as the priest finished his first reading from the great book.

"Thank you. Now, please rise for the mornings first pray."

Oh boy.

The church stood together with bowed heads and closed eyes. All except for you. Not with this thing in you, even standing was making it worse, like your legs crossing was forcing it deeper in you.

You forced yourself to fold your hands in front of you, but didn't close your eyes. You kept your hooded gaze forward to look at Pucci, who looked right back with a lustful wink. Between his own clasped hands was the remote to his vibrator, where only you could see it.

Minutes ticked by like hours. You could've sworn you felt sweat bead down your neck. Throughout the service he wouldn't let the toy in your panties reach over a medium buzz. Pucci would switch it between barely felt and just enough to drive you crazy but not enough to satisfy you. Your panties had to be soaked now.

It was the last hour of the mornings service. Pucci's melodic voice continued to drone on about biblical themes. You couldn't understand any of it. You were too busy watching the hands on the clock tick by so slowly. It was like he could tell, as the vibrations rocketed again.

Everyone's head came up from the final pray and began to make small talk around the church. You on the other hand had places to be now that the priest wasn't on stage.

You said your quick goodbye to Domenico before speeding away out of sight. The church grew colder as you made away from the main hall, taking some twists and a turns to the private room where Pucci waited for you.

He was sat in a love seat on the farthest wall, a book in hand as he pretended to read. Pucci put the book down after you walked, legs shaking like hell still. He stared at you with those beautiful eyes of his, shining in the bright light from above.

"My dear what's wrong? You look a little sick."

He clicked a hidden button and the buzzing became louder than ever before. The force of the new sensation on your clit sent you to your knees crying out his name. He took his damn sweet time making it over to you. He only watched while you became a wet moaning mess at his feet.

"Pleeaaase Enrico! I can't take it, I'm gonna die if I keep this thing in me for any longer! Take it out, please!"

"You're so needy, dear." Pucci leaned down the slightest bit to cup your chin in his hand. His hold was soft like a feather, barely felt but cold like a ghost's. "Maybe if there was some way you could show me your appreciation for me, show me how much you need my help, maybe I could lend myself to you."

"Y-You, you want me to beg? I'll beg then! I'll kiss your shoes. Please help me, Enrico! You're incredible, the most amazing priest, a beautiful man of God. Please give yourself to me, I'm so incredibly in need of you, your body, your everything! A sinner like me doesn't deserve you, but could you let me indulge in you if only for this moment?"

It all spewed out like water over a cliff. You needed all of him so bad, to feel his thick cock force itself into your hole, pressing against everything all at once and overstimulate you until you're nothing but a babbling mess on his dick.

He pressed his thumb against your lips, not letting you speak another word. Everything he did was so elegant, so poised and perfect. It fucking made you hornier.

"Now, now, my dear. I can't have you sounding like some common harlot... I'll help you this once, just open your self to me and get ready for our session together." How he licked his lips after speaking made you feel like you were going to combust.

You did as he told and fervently undressed of all your clothes excluding your panties. He told you he wanted to do that himself. So he picked you up and strode to the alter in the middle of the room. With a gentleness he hadn't shown before he laid you down on the pedestal between your open legs. He raked over your needy body with his beautiful eyes before slowly peeling off your panties from your wet bottom half.

"My dear girl, so needy for me...Now now, don't whine, I'll take care of you." In a swift move he took out your vibrator, still going and letting of it's small noise. Pucci watched it for a second before turning it off, then putting it to his lips, taking it into his mouth to suck it clean and lick at the part that had just been inside you. He let out the most delicious moans, hearing them made you feel wetter. "Love, your juices can rival even the blood of God."

Enrico pulled you closer by your thighs until the v of your legs pressed against his hard crotch. The impact of hitting his dick just right let loose a moan.

"And that voice... It's more beautiful than any choir. I simply can't get enough of you."

He trailed his tongue up from your collar to your neck to nibble at your ear. His hot breaths mixed with yours while he clambered on top of you. You didn't hear his belt or his pants hit the floor, but you felt it as he thrusted all of him deep inside you in one move.

"I could just devour you whole."

His voice rattled with his alluring words as he drank up all of you. His eyes fluttered shut while he indulged in your wet heat before he began his merciless thrusts. You held on to his shoulders for dear life, sobbing his name as his cock pressed into your most sensitive spots. He filled you entirely and didn't let up for a second.

"Oh, God. God. God. Fuck, yes! Enrico please give me more!"

He was silent, but did as you asked. The hands that had wandered to your hips made it down to your thighs and legs, and forced them close to your chest. You cried out in extasy as this new angle forced all of him deeper inside you. Pucci drank in the cock hungry face you had, with tears staining your cheeks and drool falling down your neck. Your breasts heaved with every intake of breath you couldn't catch, your senses were overloading, thinking and feeling and smelling and seeing only him, him, him, him... Until it was too much and you came like a freight train, squeezing so tight around his dick, screaming his name like a righteous hymn and clawing down his back.

Pucci took his own time coming to his end. He ignored the strangled overstimulated whimpers creeping from your throat until he silenced you by putting his thumb in your mouth. By subconscious habbit you started to suck.

His thrusts grew harder, bruising your pelvis with every sharp burst forward. He finally came with a low groan, his cum poured from his tip deep inside of you, filling you up in slow, thick bursts.

He left you shaking on the podium while he fixed his robes and cleaned the rest of the room of evidence. Once he was done his gaze swept over you with bored but satisfied eyes. "That was good fun, my dear. I thank you for your time... But unfortunately I have to bring it to an end."

You were too out of it to reply. He suddenly cupped your face in his hand, the cool contact had you nuzzling deeper into his palm despite his threatening words. You grew drowsy, and as your eyes slid close for sleep the unmistakable sound of a disc slipping from your temple was heard. "You wouldn't forgive me for being so forceful on you... But make no mistake, I'll be sure to keep these hidden away for more private affairs." Pucci chuckled lightly, staring down adoringly at your unconscious body. He'd make sure to take care of you, of course. Maybe some day he could give you back the memory of this lovely scene, and make more with you. Until then, his sinful use of your body would be his own little secret.

#jojo no kimyou na bouken #jjba #stone ocean #enrico pucci #pucci x reader #steamy #jjba x reader

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villainousshakespeare · 2 years ago

Text

Therapy Fit for a God Chapter 8

Loki/OFC Rated M (may go up to E in future chapters) Trigger Warnings: Angst, talk of suicide, therapy, unhealthy family dynamics, mention of torture and mind control

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6

Loki’s plans to conquer and rule Midgard have come to a disastrous end. After being captured by the Avengers, he is being held on Earth. Odin has refused to interfere, and the outlook for the God of Mischief appear bleak. His only hope may lie in one mortal woman, a Psychiatric expert brought in to interrogate him.

Dr. Caroline Thorpe is intrigued by Loki and thinks that more lies beneath his actions than is commonly known. Can she find out the truth before he is shipped off to die for crimes against the Earth? And can Loki bring himself to care?

@yespolkadotkitty @just-the-hiddles @hopelessromanticspoonie @wine-and-whines @arch-venus25 @caffiend-queen @devilish–doll @enchantedbyhiddles @hiddlesholic @i-do-not-fangirl-i-fanwoman @kellatron55 @ladyoftheteaandblood @latent-thoughts @yespolkadotkitty@maryxglz @myoxisbroken @nuggsmum @nildespirandum @pedeka @redfoxwritesstuff @sinfully-lustful-darling @vodka-and-some-sass @wrathkitty @kingtwhiddleston @wolfsmom1 @poetic-fiasco @shiningloki @dangertoozmanykids101 @bookworm-christina @amwolowicz @delightfulheartdream @frostbitten-written @what-a-flammable-heart @tom-hlover @nonsensicalobsessions @myraiswack @loki-yoursaviourishere @ghostypau @ms-cellanies @colorfulfreakstudentpizza @mareebird @colorfulfreakstudentpizza @szycha22 @chokemedaddyloki @queenofallhobos @just-the-hiddles-reads @alwida10

"So, where were you today?" Caroline asked as they sat down to begin eating the delicious meal she had prepared.

"Why?" Loki replied, deflecting the question out of habit. "Did you miss me?"

"Considering I have no idea where I am and you are the only other person here, yes. I did miss you quite a bit."

She was confoundingly forthright. Loki had expected her to be flustered by his question, or at least embarrassed, but instead her answer was completely practical.

"I can help with one part of that," he told her, leaning over to pull a bottle of red wine out of the bag he had left near the table. "We are in a quiet area in remote Scandanavia."

"Scandinavia?" That did seem to shock her, he was pleased to discover.

"Yes. I have had a residence here going back for some time. It comes in handy on occasion."

"How much time is some?"

"Well, if memory serves, there used to be an altar where they would sacrifice village virgins to me within half a day's walk from here."

"Really?" she squeaked, eyes going big.

"Of course not," he chuckled uncorking the bottle without need of a corkscrew. "What would I want with a virgin? You mortals are much more fun to play with when you've had a bit of practice. But there was a temple to me quite close. A small town sits there now. I ventured out to get us some supplies and take the pulse of the area."

"And?" she prompted after several minutes as he returned to his meal, a satisfied smile on his face. She really was marvelously fun to tease.

"And they were distressingly short on sweets. There was once an old woman who made the most delicious confections. Apparently, she passed on and none of her children took up her craft. A travesty if ever there was one."

"Loki!" she came close to snapping.

"Yes, my dear?" he asked obnoxiously, raising his brow.

"What did you find out about the pulse of the area, as you put it? Is anyone looking for us?"

"I'm sure they are, but they have not found us yet, nor even come close. As far as I know, not even Thor knows the location of this place. Oh, he is aware I have a hideaway somewhere in this part of the world, but he can barely keep track of his own homes, much less mine. It will take quite some time for anyone to track us down. I would think we can live here quite comfortably for a decade or so."

Really, a decade living with Caroline would hardly be the worst fate he could wish for. The dinner was excellent, she was a lively conversationalist when she wasn't trying to delve into his worst memories, and he was sure that he could find many pleasurable activities for the two of them to pass the time.

"A decade? I can't stay here for a decade!" she burst into his imaginings.

"Why not? I assure you, I have more than enough funds to keep the two of us quite cozily for as long as we need. And if you get antsy, we can always use the Tesseract to pop off to Paris or perhaps Venice. As long as I altered our appearance a bit short trips after some time would be safe enough."

"Loki, I have a job! I have patients! I can't just abandon them!" she insisted.

"I hate to point this out, dear doctor," he said with a sigh that he almost meant, "but I very much doubt you have any patients left after your actions yesterday."

"They will blame me, won't they," she looked down at her plate and set her fork next to it, her face taking on an expression that went straight to a part of his chest he tried to keep locked away.

"I fear so. You broke into Fury's office, stole the keys to my bindings and the Tesseract, and gave them to me, enabling my escape. I regret to say that very few people will be able to see any good in those actions."

"It does sound bad when you put it that way," she admitted.

"Perhaps you could convince them that I had mind controlled you, but only if they are even more stupid than I give them credit for. And that is very, very stupid."

"No, I wouldn't do that. I committed my actions of my own free will, and I would do the same if the situation presented itself again. I will not have them adding manipulating me to your list of false crimes."

He was touched but really, he didn't much care what those fools thought. They already laid so many sins at his door, what was one more? Still, he liked that Caroline was insistent that everyone know she was with him of her own free will. The idea that a woman as intelligent and well respected as she would choose to champion Loki to the point of breaking several laws for him was a balm to his bruised ego.

"Are you sure I did not manipulate you?" he asked perversely, trying to test her for reasons beyond his understanding. "Maybe I am not the innocent you think me to be."

To his surprise, Caroline looked at him and burst out laughing at his suggestion. Loki drew back, affronted that a mortal, even one as charming as she, would have the audacity to laugh at him.

"You look like a cat that sprayed with the hose," she giggled, staring at him as he continued to bristle. "Loki, I think you about as far from 'innocent' as a person could be!"

"Then why help me?" he asked sulkily.

"Because not innocent does not mean guilty," she sobered a bit. "At least, not of the crimes they wanted to accuse you of. You might be, make that are, full of mischief and a nightmare for anyone wanting to maintain order of any sort, but you are not evil. I've seen evil. It's people who want to watch the world burn and view the suffering as sport. Who find entertainment in the suffering of those who never did them any harm. Not because of past trauma, but just because they like the power it gives them to keep others down. That is not you."

"Are you so sure?" he asked quietly. "Others would disagree with you."

"They would be wrong," she said with a surety he wished he shared. "You don't hate others, Loki. You hate yourself."

"Nonsense," he said quickly, scowling. "I am divine."

"Even though you are a Frost Giant?" she asked, prodding where he was most sensitive.

"I might hate my origins, dear doctor, but I have surpassed them. They do not define who I am."

He wanted to stop this conversation. It was spoiling the evening he had been hoping for.

"I sincerely wish that so," she replied, looking him in the eye. "Someday, I will be the first in line to congratulate you for achieving that state. But if that is the case, why were you so upset when you thought I was taunting you with the snowman?"

"A reflexive reaction, nothing more," he tried to shrug off the incident.

"You don't have to hide from the truth, Loki. Not from me. You loathe the fact that you were born Jotun."

"Well, wouldn't you?" he snapped, rising and bringing his plate to the sink so that he could evade her eyes.

"I don't know," she shrugged, following with her own dish. "I have no idea what Jotuns are like. They don't exactly teach courses on them here."

"You are fortunate. They are hideous, dull beasts. Interested only in war and destruction."

"Interesting," she hummed, "that's almost how you described Thor."

"It's different!"

"How?" she pressed.

"It just is! I can't explain it. If you are so interested, I'm sure the inter-realm species encyclopedia on the bookshelf could enlighten you on their many wonderous qualities. Now, if you will excuse me, I have had a long, tiring day. I think a soak in the tub would do me a world of good. Just leave the dishes in the sink, I will magic them clean later."

With that, he swept from the room, his good mood long since abandoned. Honestly! Why couldn't the woman just let things be? Why did she have to poke and prod at the areas he least wanted to think about. There was nothing he could do about his Jotun blood. It was a truth of biology. That said, it did not mean that he had to wallow in it. Could Caroline not put aside being a therapist for one evening and let them enjoy a meal?

***

Well, that had not gone very well. Caroline had honestly not meant to harangue Loki about his origins over dinner! Especially not after his reaction to her snowman. But he was so obviously hurting that she just could not sit back and ignore his pain.

There was so much in the Alien God to admire. He was smart, charming, quick, and at least in his present form devastatingly handsome. It was tragic to her that he could see none of this himself. Or, no, that was not quite true. Loki did obviously see those traits in himself. He was even more than a touch vain about them in fact. But he clearly didn't believe them to be enough that anyone else would see him as worthy. Silently, and not for the first time, she cursed his father under her breath for his atrocious parenting.

And yet, people across the galaxy seemed to think that Odin was a model ruler. Forget the fact that he had emotionally damaged both of his sons by setting goals for them that they were destined to spend their lives failing to live up to. Loki, she was sure of it, would never do that to his child. He would be kind and gentle with a son or daughter, letting them find their own strengths, forge their own paths. Thinking of him with a serious, dark haired little girl, Caroline felt her stomach flip over in a disturbing fashion. He would make an excellent parent, she had no doubt.

And an absolutely impossible coparent, she told herself sternly. A person would have to be unendingly patient to put up with him. He would beyond a doubt drive his lover to distraction.

But wasn't sanity overrated anyhow? a traitorous voice in her head whispered.

Determined to stave off this line of thinking, she wandered into the living room and knelt down in front of the large shelves of books. She hadn't paid much attention to them earlier, but now she felt like a kid in a candy store. The titles were all new to her, and happily most of them were in English. She wondered for a moment if they really were, or if there was some Asgardian translation magic involved, but either way she would be able to keep herself occupied for some time with the selections before her.

Deciding that Loki's idea was not such a bad one, she searched through the volumes until she found a book purporting to chronicle the cultures of every species in the nine realms. Pulling out the huge book, she settled herself down on the couch and began thumbing through. The bits she saw regarding Asgard did not do much to change her opinion of the militaristic society, although they did seem to have a good science establishment. She decided to come back to it later, and instead flipped ahead until she came to the chapter on Jotuns.

"Ah, there you are."

Startling from the page, Caroline looked up, completely befuddled. She had lost track of all time, so engrossed had she become in the book. Now she realized that she had come almost to the end of the lengthy section on Frost Giants, and her mind was spinning with all of the information she had taken in.

Tearing her eyes away, she looked up to Loki looming over the sofa and her breath caught in her throat. He was inches away from her, dressed only in a pair of low-slung pants of soft green material. It was obvious from the quick glance she had as her eyes traveled up the length of him that he was not wearing anything underneath them, as she could clearly see the outline of what was a dauntingly long piece of anatomy through them. His pale chest was bare, showing clearly the well defined muscles that she had felt when he held her in his arms. Several scars were just barely visible on his skin, and knowing what she did about his healing powers, she winced thinking about what could possibly have left them. His dark hair was still damp, and fell curling around his face, softening his features somewhat. He was beyond any human words for beautiful that she could think of.

"Hi," she said, stupidly, and swore silently at herself.

"You look ridiculous in my clothing," he told her, making her feel even more like some poor rodent in comparison to his glorious appearance. "Here, I bought you some more suitable garments in town today. They should fit - I was able to remember how you felt - but if not, I can always altar them."

"You sew?" she blinked at him as her mind grimaced at how heavy he must have thought her. Not that she was huge, but she was not one of the little waifish girls that men seemed to love to toss about.

"I do not," he sounded offended.

"Then how..."

With a raised brow, Loki made a small gesture and the blanket she was curled up in became the size of a napkin and then changed back again. Of course. He had magic. She was a colossal idiot.

"Right. Well, Thank you. I will pay you back for them."

"No need. You saved my life. I think a new wardrobe is the least I can do for you in return."

He seemed to have recovered some of his good humor, she was happy to see. Even if it came at her expense, it was nice to see him smile. Standing up, she took the collection of bags that he was holding out to her. From the looks of it, he had bought out every clothing store in the town.

"Um," she hated how nervous she sounded, just from being so close to him in his partially undressed state, "I assume there is something for bed?"

He nodded, a small smile on his face. Of course there would be. Stupid question.

"Well then, I'll just go change and then I think I will turn in. Would you mind if I took the foam pillow from the bedroom? It was particularly comfy."

"What do you mean?" he asked. "Take it where?"

"Out here," she gestured to the couch. "You are obviously too big for the... couch."

Caroline felt her face grow warm as her mind drifted to what parts of him would obviously be too big for. Or maybe not quite too big, she thought, treacherously. The smug tilt of his mouth showed all too clear that he had caught her errant thought, and she squirmed even more.

"You are my guest," he insisted, hands on his hips emphasizing the triangle shape of his torso. "I cannot allow you to sleep on the sofa."

"Cannot allow?" that was better, she could channel her discomfort into affront. "I don't recall asking for you permission."

"This is my home," he countered. "My mother would disown me."

"Perhaps you should stop worrying so much about what your parents think of you," she felt a small sting of conscience for resorting to such a low blow, but it was hard to think straight when so much of him was right there.

"Unsporting, Caroline," he retorted. "I will not be moved on this. You will sleep in the bed."

"And I say that is stupid because I am a foot shorter than you at least and you will sleep in the bed."

"Then it looks as though we will be sharing," he sniped.

"Fine by me," she spit back in reply, refusing to give in.

"After you, my dear," he waved his arm towards the bedroom.

"If you wait for me to go in and then sleep out here, I will make you regret it," she warned him, eyes narrowing.

"I was merely going to allow you privacy to change. But if you prefer..." he began to walk towards the bedroom.

"No!" she squeaked out. "I trust you. But if you are not in in five minutes, I am coming out to get you."

"Oh, don't worry," his grin did unsettling things to her. "I will be there."

Caroline held the bags close and tromped into the bedroom. What, she wondered, mind reeling, had she just gotten herself into?

#Loki #Loki Fan Fic #Loki/OFC #Friends to Lovers #Slow Burn #Therapy #Loki needs a hug #Loki gets a hug #Loki gets therapy #Therapist/patient inapropriate relationship #just one bed!#flirting #Odin's A+ parenting #mentions of trauma #pining #shirtless loki #who could resist him?

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christall77 · 2 years ago

Text

~❦Dear Friend of Mine Pt. 2❦~

|M!Genie x F!Reader|

Here's the continuation of my short Genie story. I'm not sure if I'll make another part or not but for now here's part 2, enjoy! (⁠ㆁ⁠ω⁠ㆁ⁠)

WARNING: SWEARING, BULLYING, MINOR INJURIES!

Part 1

“What's this?”

“A toaster.”

“What's that?”

“Microwave.”

“And this?”

“TV.”

“And that black thing with strange circles on top?”

“TV remote with which you turn the TV on or off and control the channels.”

You answer tiredly as you watch him play with the remote, his red eyes scanning everything with child like curiousity. After what happened yesterday, your motivation to watch one of your favorite Netflix shows disappeared into thin air.

Having a supernatural being just appear in your room was enough for the day, so you decided to go to sleep earlier than usual. That morning you woke up late as usual on the weekends, staying in the warm sheets just a little while longer in hopes to doze off again and continue dreaming about a genie you all of a sudden released from a lamp.

Turns out it wasn't a dream at all when a certain ravenette woke you up again by jumping in your bed and hitting you with a pillow. You almost fell out and onto the floor while yelling out a whole bunch of curses, if he hadn't been nice enough to catch you with his magic. And when you were going to ask him what all of that was for, he grinned and said with his voice full of sarcasm- “My apologies for waking you up too early. I thought you were dead!”

Yeah thanks for that. Right now he watches flabbergasted once one of his fingers accidentally switches the television on. “What kind of strange magic is this?”, taking the remote away from him and turning it off again you answer. “Not magic, electricity. The remote sends a signal over to the television, which then it detects it and in response turns on.”

Dhabruan watches you lay the remote down on the table where it belonged and head towards the kitchen, presumably to make breakfast. With a poof he disappears, leaving nothing but a black cloud of smoke that vanishes soon after behind, only to reappear in the kitchen. Paying him no mind you continue scrambling the eggs in the pan.

“So...” you can feel his gaze on you as he speaks, “Have you come up with a wish yet?” With a sigh you shook your head and glance at his dark form hovering beside you, head tilted to the side.

“No I haven't.”, your answer was short and straight to the point. But Dhabruan was not satisfied with that answer, shrinking himself he flies in front of your face his voice more high pitched now. “Not even a little bit?”

“As I told you yesterday. I won't give my wishes up so easily, and it has only been a day jeez... Are all Genies that persistent like you?”, he was glaring at you for a second but calmed himself down again, his lips now forming into a pout instead before he shrugs. “Worth a shot.”

~*~*

“Oh my...”, “What, you never seen buildings like this before? When was the last time you were summoned out of that lamp?”. As you make your way towards the grocery store, the ravenette paces beside you. Eying up each building and everything foreign to him. “I don't know, which king or sultan is in reign at the moment? Hm? What's this?”, he grabs a yellow plastic bag that's been sticking out between someone's groceries. Earlier that day you discovered Dhabruan's invisibility to others, you guessed he was only visible to you since you were the one freeing him from the lamp.

“Lays..? Must be peasant food, no doubt.”, with a small huff he opens the package of chips with ease and takes a taste of a smaller one.

Your (e/c) gaze turns towards him once he started silently moaning from the taste, his eyes brightening up. “It tastes magnificent!”, letting out a chuckle you tell him much to his delight, “Well we can get more of these where we're heading now. If you want.”

With his cheeks now full of chips and small crumbs falling from his lips he nods. You think it's quite ironic that Dhabruan is now the one asking lots of questions when he was the one who was answering yours just yesterday. All the while not really hiding his irritation at the same time.

At the end of the day he's still rude and pushy towards you, but you have a feeling that he'll warm up to you in time.

~*~*

It has been a few weeks since the Genie has been with you and he would be lying if he told you he's not enjoying your company. Sure you take your sweet sweet time for your first wish but it could've been worse. You're not the worst master he has ever had to serve actually, it's also really fun to tease and annoy you.

Especially at the very first minutes of your days. This morning he woke you up with a trumpet, well you did tell him you had to get up early for school and this so called "phone" as you call it, didn't manage to do the job.

“Argh what the hell?!”, “Good afternoon!”

His red ringed eyes watch your reaction in amusement. “Afternoon?!”, “I'm joking, it's morning sleepy head.” If looks could kill he would already be more than six feet under the ground and buried alive, him smiling innocently in response.

Dhabruan pulls you out of the bed, a little to quick for comfort and poofs you away into your bathroom with a bundle of clothes in your arms. Once he notices you entering the living room where he has been waiting, he points towards the kitchen. “I thought I'll make you some toast and coffee, because you seem to have this almost every morning.”, the Genie says between his mouthfuls of Lays.

Ever since the first time trying them he seems to enjoy these a lot.

As you brush a few strands of (h/l) (h/c) hair back you take a look at the kitchen table and low and behold, said food and drink are standing there. “What is with the sudden nice gesture? Surely you must've something planned.”, you know he didn't mean any harm up until now.

But that doesn't mean he won't be pulling some type of prank on you again or something. With an exaggerated gasp he disappears from his comfortable spot on the couch, reappearing next to you with an arm around your shoulders.

“Can't a Genie be a little nice and help their master for once without being called suspicious? I'm hurt...”, leaning against your frame, the being floats the food and drink over to him and forces your mouth to open and eat your breakfast with his magic. “Now if I remember correctly you have school so we can't waste anymore time right? Oh! I have an idea, why don't you wish-”, “No.”

He looks back at your face with a deadpan, “You didn't even let me finish.”

~*~*

'God, when is this day going to end... Who in their right mind decided it's better to have three hours of math as the last subject of the day. On mondays. For the rest of the few weeks we have left here.' you think in disbelief once hearing the news from your teacher before the lunchbell rings.

“Why the long face?”, you hear Dhabruan tease after he left his lamp in your bag and made himself comfortable on your right shoulder. Shrinked to a smaller size again and letting his feet dangle.

“You heard what our teacher said, three whole hours of math as the last subject of the day. God sometimes I just wish-”, “Yes?” noticing what you just said your (e/c) gaze turns towards the smiling genie who's batting his dark eyelashes at you.

Shaking your head with a small sigh you mutter, “Dhabruan I'm not going to waste a wish for this!”, he crosses his arms but doesn't shake off his smile. “Whatever master.”, “Stop calling me that I told you it's fine if you just call me by my name.”

The two of you keep having conversations casually as you get yourself some food in the cafeteria and head to the rooftop. You were in the middle of a sentence when someone bumps into your shoulder. Luckily you didn't spill anything, your genie on the other hand had to get a hold of your (h/l) hair, the sudden contact surprising him and almost making him fall to the ground. Though he quickly recovered and reappeared on your shoulder again.

“Hey watch where you're going!”, and if the day hasn't been bad already now you had to bump into Bethany of all people. “Sorry.”

The brunette picks up the phone she dropped and glares at you as she now stands before you with her hands sassily on her hips. “Ugh it's the weirdo (y/n) again. Have you become this lonely to be talking to yourself now? Pathetic.”, she checks her phone for any damages then gasps. “Are you serious!? Do you know how much that case costs? Now it's ruined because of you!”, with a blank expression you listen to her rant about it, other students giving you looks of confusion as they pass by.

She practically shoves her phone to your face, the many gems and rings glittering a little to much for your taste. 'Ruined is not really the right word... It's just a damn scratch, who in their right mind would even buy a case like that?'

Meanwhile Dhabruan is confused from this whole ordeal, even sharing a glance with you before he snaps his fingers, stopping everything around you and then transporting the both of you to the rooftop. Snapping his fingers again to unfreeze everything, probably leaving Bethany alone in the hall. “Well that was certainly... Interesting.”, you nod in response and thank him for the help.

“What did this girl even mean with "this lonely"? Pretty much anyone your age has someone! You do have friends right?”

There was silence between you two before you sit down on a bench keeping your (e/c) on the floor, Dhabruan joining beside you. His red gaze not leaving you and listening attentively. But before you could tell him the door to the rooftop opens with a loud bang.

“There she is!”, great she's back and by the looks of it she's not alone. “That's the one who shoved me!” Ok first of all, it wasn't a shove and second, it's not like anyone or anything got harmed.

The group of five girls surround you. You don't want to deal with any of this, so you get up and try to get out of here. Only to be grabbed by your (h/l) hair and shoved to the ground, away from the bench and your Genie.

You take in a sharp inhale when you feel your palms scrape against the floor. Two of the girls hold you in place while Bethany and the others begin to laugh at the display. One of the blondes by her sides searches through your pockets until she pulls out your own phone and hands it to her. “If you think you can get away with this then you're dead wrong!”

Bethany holds your phone up in the air, and with all her might throws it to the ground, screen shattering. “There. That's what you get for being a rude bitch, I can't believe that I've been friends with the likes of you.”, she huffs satisfied, a victorious grin plastered upon her face.

That last comment brought back some unwanted memories which you wish you could forget. But if you did, you wouldn't learn and maybe even do the same mistake all over again.

You glare up at her, “Can't believe it either but, you know what? At least I learned to hang around with the right people and not the ones who are just being my friend because they can.”, you grin, “Having no friends at all is way better than having so many that won't even really consider you as one.”, the two girls who've been keeping you still glance at each other nervously. “Thinking back it made me realize how full of shit certain people are.”

This caused a few gasps to erupt among the group. The brunette grits her teeth in anger, “What the hell did you just say?!”, “Did I stutter? Right, you only listen if you want to hear it.” you respond nonchalantly.

That's when Bethany has had enough. Shoving the blonde, who's been watching the situation silently unfold, out of the way when she tried to calm her down. Shutting your eyes you brace for the impact of her hand coming down towards you.

But it never came. Your (e/c) widen slightly, seeing a familiar pale hand holding your bully's own in a tight grip. Just inches away from your face by the wrist. Bethany struggles to free herself, not even knowing what's holding her down. Slowly thick smoke surrounds the group and the girls let go of you in surprise before all run off in fright. Leaving you alone with Bethany and the supernatural being.

“W-What?! What's happening? Something's grabbing my hand! Why-!”, Bethany quickly stops her struggles when the dark haired figure decides to make himself visible for her. You've never seen Dhabruan like this before, yes, he did get frustrated and annoyed a lot and had his moments. Granted you've known him only for this long, but he looks just downright... terrifying. His hair and attire flowing as if caught in the wind, while a dark aura surrounds him.

“Humans like you... Make me sick.”, he seethes in a low tone, his voice seeming to echo just like when you first met him. Eyes glowing a dark red. The brunette only shakes under his intimidating gaze, frozen in place.

“Consider yourself lucky. If I would happen to be free and not under my master's command, who knows if your pathetic little being would still be standing here. Now get out of here.”, Dhabruan releases her from his tight hold and watches her scurry off with tears in her eyes.

You can't believe he protected you and went as far as even threaten your ex best friend. It made you feel a little bit warm inside to see him actually stand up and reveal himself for your sake. It's strange, you can't really decipher that feeling yet because you've never felt like this for someone ever before, so you shake off these thoughts when he turns towards you, now back to his normal calmer looking self.

“Do you need any assistance?”, getting a hold of your hand he pulls you to your feet and fixes your messy self with a quick snap of his fingers. “Thank you-”, “You idiot!” You blink once. Then twice. Letting out a confused sound as he looks down at you like a scolding parent.

“Why didn't you wish for me to help you?! Or maybe wish for some kind of self defense skills or- whatever! It has been an emergency situation, the perfect opportunity and yet you let yourself almost get beaten!”, with a heavy sigh and a shake of his head he reaches out and ruffles your hair. With his gaze turned away he mumbles, “At least you're safe now...”

You smile, “You didn't have to help me, but you did. Don't tell me... Have you finally warmed up to me? Aww!” a faint red tint appears on his pale cheeks and he immediately clears his throat. Not denying anything you just said.

Dhabruan snaps his fingers again, your phone appearing in your hands fixed up and as good as new. “There, I figured you would appreciate it if it's fixed. You humans do make a lot of fuss about your tiny screens alot if something happens. But no more free wishes anymore!”

With a poof of smoke the ravenette disappears and reappears on your shoulder in his smaller self, “We can continue our talk some other time when you're ready.”, pulling lightly on your (h/c) strands he signals for you to move. Which you do once the bell rings, signalling the end of your break. On your way back you glance down towards him, the Genie still avoiding your gaze.

“Seriously, thank you for doing this though.”, “Yeah, yeah whatever. Quit saying all that mushy stuff.” he turns so you can't see his face, a small smile forming on his lips. 'You're welcome (y/n)...'

Extra:

~Back at home~

“By the way, what happens to Bethany and the other girls? They saw you didn't they? Should we be worried?”, you ask. Dhabruan turns his attention away from the chips he's eating and waves a dismissive hand towards you. “Don't worry my friend. That won't be a problem.”

...

“So I am your friend-?”

“Shut up and keep watching that... Whatever that is you're watching! What even is this abomination?”

Le gasp, “Don't say that to poor Pingu!”

~Meanwhile~

“Now Bethany, how did you get that bruise?”, the nurse asks as she examines the brunette's wrist. “I was at the rooftop a-and then!”, the girl pauses and furrows her eyebrows.

“I can't really remember...” The nurse sighs and shakes her head. “Not even a little bit?”, “I-I'm not sure! There was a ghost or something? Maybe it's haunting me because of all I did!” Bethany keeps rambling about and the nurse sits in front of her with a tired face listening to her talk more of the nonsense.

“I'm not getting paid enough for this. Wait... I don't even get paid...”

#genie x reader #genie #x reader #multiple parts #mythical beings #mythical creatures #short story #female reader #male character #reader insert

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free-pool-trash · 3 years ago

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x of swords - george weasley

part one of three

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

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

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

Word count: 22.9k

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

mastelist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Scotland.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dear Harry,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lots of love,

(Y/n) xoxo

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Harry shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, “Dunno.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dear (Y/n),

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

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

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

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

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

Take care,

Harry.

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

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

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

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

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

Hello, Harry’s Pretty Neighbour.

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

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

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

Don’t break my heart, write back?

Yours truly,

George Weasley x

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah he did.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Harry nodded, “He will be.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Harry,

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

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

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

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

Lots of love,

Y/n.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dear Y/n,

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

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

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

Thank you again for the warning.

See you soon,

Love, Harry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s her name?” You asked.

“Her name was Marlene,” Sirius answered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s just a friend!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ready, George.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hello,” he replied, returning the gesture.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Harry grinned, “I missed you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Remus’ eyes widened in horror.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course,” he confirmed.

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

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

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

“Hm?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s one way to put it.”

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

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

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

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

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

You shrugged your shoulders lightly, “Just talk.”

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

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

“Nothing smaller than a king. What else?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Like what, Haz?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“As I’ll ever be I suppose.”

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

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

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

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

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

“And die you will, my dear. But not yet-“ your eyes sealed themselves shut and you did your best to shake yourself out of the vision before what you knew was coming took place, as usual, your attempts were fruitless, “-Crucio.” Just like that your body was consumed by pain, the likes of which you’d never imagined possible, until you couldn’t even register yourself screaming anymore.

You bolted upright, clutching at the sheets of your new bed. Laboured breaths left your mouth and you aimlessly gripped at your neck, where the wand had been pressed, and let the tears spill freely. Momentarily disoriented, you’d forgotten where you were. Deep, heavy bursts of air left your mouth as you hastily scurried out of bed and towards the door. Somewhat aimlessly, you gravitated to the door across the hall. A yellow hue seeped from under the frame into the otherwise dark hallway. Light flooded the hall once you managed to fumble the handle down and pull the door ajar, a discombobulated ginger greeting you with half lidded eyes, obviously having been dozing off before you disturbed his peace.

“Sorry,” you rasped once your peace of mind returned to you and you realised where you were. Despite knowing that you shouldn’t have been standing numbly in his doorway, your feet seemed to be rooted in place, you couldn’t have walked away if you wanted to.

“S’alright,” George called out to you softly, sitting up in his bed, his back against the headboard. “You can come in, you know.”

Shutting the door behind you, you nervously shuffled into the room, stopping when you reached the side of his bed. George’s eyes roamed your face and he took notice of your still somewhat panicked expression, he drew his covers to the side and patted the empty space by his side. Something that always intrigued you was people’s preferred side of the bed, some people gravitated towards the left while others were more biased towards the right, but George Weasley? He slept right in the middle. The twin slept with a huge number of pillows, to the point where it was almost laughable, many of which you could only guess he’d smuggled from the Burrow.

Far too wound up to save face, you slid into his bed and didn’t shy away when he guided you into his side and tucked you tenderly beneath his lean arm. His embrace offered a greatly appreciated warmth as the chill of the dank dungeon always lingered long after the vision itself was over.

“What’re you doing up so late?” You asked, your voice gravelly. As you spoke, George effortlessly shuffled your body and his down so that your backs were resting on the mattress and not the headboard. Your head found it’s home against George’s shoulder and your hair was being tentatively twirled between his fingers.

“It’s our first night actually sleeping here. I couldn’t get to sleep,” he explained, his voice low and laced with fatigue. “I’m not really used to having my own room. It’s strange not hearing Freddie snoring or breathing.”

“I get that,” you whispered, “it’s quite comforting knowing for certain that someone is there with you.”

George nodded then. His eyes were glued to your face and he hadn’t even registered his own thought process before his lips were pressing delicately against your forehead. Today had appeared to be the day for laying all your cards out on the table, yourself and George hadn’t danced around your feelings for each other half as much as you usually did when you’d be in each other’s presence. Neither of you had the energy anymore, besides, if today’s events proved anything it was that; things were getting seriously messy as the war built momentum and it was clear that time was something that could very well be running out.

“Yeah,” he regarded you carefully, a little grin growing on his lips, “It is.”

A comfortable silence overtook the room. George’s twirling of your hair never ceased, every now and then his fingers would ghost over your shoulder and you’d catch yourself smiling against the cotton of his shirt as your eyes grew tired enough that they were close to falling shut.

Just as you were working up the motivation to lift yourself up and trudge back to your own bed, George spoke, “You can sleep here if you want, with me,” there was that innocent vulnerability again. There was never an ulterior motive when it came to him, he did things purely for the sake of making others happy, if he felt he could make a difference he simply needed to. Especially when it came to you, he realised.

“You don’t mind?” You asked, daring to peek up at him.

“Course not. I could use some company anyway.” He reassured you, his lips returning to your forehead, only this time the action held far more intention. “You don’t snore do you, love?”

You snorted out a giggle, looking up at the ginger cheekily, mischief dripping from your little grin that forced George’s heart to stutter rather violently and he hoped you hadn’t noticed. “No. But I drool.”

George’s face contorted, his nose scrunching up adorably in disgust, “Do you really?”

“Suppose you’ll have to find out, won’t you?” You teased and he sighed deeply, his disgruntled expression melting into a soft, adoring smile.

“I should’ve expected this, I knew you couldn’t have been completely perfect,” he said, mockingly sorrowful.

You scoffed, pushing his chest lightly, “You’re doing a lot of sweet talking tonight, Mr. Weasley,” you told him and he shrugged innocently.

“Just wanted to see you smiling again, darling.”

“Yeah, well, you’re doing a good job,” you assured him, the bashful yet tired smile that stretched your lips as you gazed up at him proved that you meant what you’d just said. “I like it by the way, the sweet talking.”

At your words, a huge, shit eating smirk grew on the boy’s freckled face. He managed to rearrange your bodies so that you were still tucked under his arm but you were now facing each other at eye level. “I knew it,” he proclaimed cockily.

You raised a challenging eyebrow, biting back a smirk, “Oh did you?”

George nodded pridefully, “‘Course I did. You see, I’m a little bit psychic,” his words forced a booming laugh from your lips, your cheeks hurting from the smile he’d orchestrated.

You shook your head, smile never dulling as you let out a chastising whisper, “oh sod off.”

“I love your smile,” he said suddenly, his eyes widened in horror when he realised he’d uttered the words out loud. The world could’ve stopped in that moment and you wouldn’t have noticed, all you could take in was George’s face, his eyes searching yours for something.

Carefully, you slid from hand from his chest to his red, blushing face. You cupped his cheek gently, moving your thumb against his cheek bone, almost swooning where you lay when he nuzzled against your touch. Working up some Gryffindor courage, George mimicked your movement, removing his arm from around your shoulder and bringing his palm to rest against the curve of your jaw.

As you stared at each other, you weighed up the pros and cons of telling him that you were completely head over heels for him. Your decision, apparently taking far too long, was made for you when George tugged you impossibly closer to him.

“I wasn’t going to tell you… you’ve had so much going on I didn’t want to overwhelm you,” he said, brown eyes boring into your soul.

“Tell me what?”

He took a deep breath, preparing himself for every possible outcome that may spring once the words on the tip of his tongue are spoken aloud, “That I love you.”

#george weasley x reader #harry potter x reader #sirius black x reader #remus lupin x reader #marauders x reader #fred weasly x reader

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hansolmates · 4 years ago

Text

distance learning (m)

banner done by the beautiful @eerieedits

summary; after their first hookup, jungkook isn’t so sure whether you’re serious about being exclusive. after all, people say things during sex. jungkook takes it in his own hands to figure out where you stand, and he realizes soon enough that eavesdropping is a bad habit pairing; neighbor!jungkook x (f) reader genre/warnings; fluff, humor, crack, insecure!jk, unresolved sexual tension, stressed!mc, this is really just unnecessary drama bc drama is fun™, sexting, dom kook’s still a meanie in control, posession kink, cock slapping, a blowjob, cockwarming, unprotected, creampie, squirting, (wrap the pickle before u tickle folks) and of course the excessive use of the petname [redacted] w/c; 6.1k a/n; haaaaaa three months later im finally posting pt 2! i figured that no matter how many times i edit/reread at this point i think it’s time to finally let this beast go!!! enjoyyy click here for part 1: remote learning drabbles; 01

if you enjoy this, please considering giving our pasta couple a like n’share💚

It’s been a week since the thing.

The remote-controlled vibrator thing.

The whole sappy-love-confesion-during-sex thing.

Jungkook is antsy, tail tucked in, perpetually wondering whether he went too far. You seemed to like it, and Jungkook definitely loved it. It was spicy and dirty and hot, and at the same time Jungkook thought he really made progress in expressing his feelings for you. Not only that, you said you liked him back!

At least, he thought you did.

“I really said I’d feed her lasagna and cum in the same sentence,” Jungkook bemoans into his pillow, which still lingers faintly of your Redken shampoo. “I’m disgusting. She thinks I’m disgusting.”

People say things during sex, Jungkook knows that. In the throes of passion and pleasure, people will say anything that comes to their mind, anything that fits the mood. Of course, you’d be tied in and say you like him back. But did you like him back as a friend? As a fuckbuddy? As something more?

“Fucking text her,” Taehyung is tired of Jungkook’s wallowing, everytime he checks in on the app developer he’s brooding in one of three places. Today’s his bedroom. Taehyung dips under the blankets, and steals Jungkook’s pillow right under his nose.

Jungkook suppresses a whimper, face melding into the blankets. Now that pillow is going to smell like Taehyung.

“Text her what,” Jungkook replies despondently.

“I don’t know, something along the lines of ‘I wanna follow through with my proposition of feeding you my cum and lasagna—not simultaneously. Wanna go on a date this weekend?’ It’s that simple,” Taehyung gets up in Jungkook’s face, dark eyes forcing him to bore right in. “Want me to do it for you?”

“Noo, I’m an adult I can—”

“I did it for you.”

Jungkook nearly knocks into Taehyung’s hard head, sitting up straight when he notices his phone behind his roommate’s back. This is what he gets for sharing passwords. Thankfully, the message is cleaner than Taehyung’s words, and you’ve already replied.

[1:23] Jungkook: would you like to go out for dinner this weekend? pasta and wine?

[1:25] You: it’s a busy week this week 🥺 raincheck?

“Was the sex that bad?” Taehyung frowns, reading the message twice.

“N-no,” Jungkook is sweating. He isn’t sure anymore.

Taehyung hands Jungkook back his phone, slowly, as if you’ll reply back with a change of your mind. Jungkook is a deflated balloon on his bed, feeling like a bum in his ratty sweater and a dateless weekend.

“It’s just that,” Taehyung puts a hand on his lip, mulling, “busy people don’t reply that fast. Like even if she wasn’t busy, there’s a fifteen-minute leeway before replying.”

This silly rule overrides Jungkook’s mind for the rest of the week.

The gyms have been reopened for months, and Jungkook’s trainer misses him dearly. Jungkook meets with Saeroyi in the morning, eager to get a few jabs in with some fresh equipment. He tries to move on, distract himself with a couple of pumps and a match with Saeroyi. It feels great to sweat it off, but it doesn’t help sway Jungkook’s incessant thoughts.

The ball is in your court now, Jungkook has nothing to do but wait. Some people are just bad texters, maybe you just happened to have your phone near you when Taehyung sent the message. Maybe you just wanted to cut Jungkook off as quickly as possible so you decided to reply fast and rip the band-aid.

No, you’re definitely not that cold-hearted.

Re-entering his apartment complex, his eyes linger towards where your room lies on the first floor. It’s all the way at the end of the hallway, and he’s tempted to just confront you and make sure that what you and him really had is indeed, over. Conversely, you could just really be having a bad week and you genuinely do want a raincheck.

Jungkook’s eyes trail to his form. Still in his gym clothes, and a little sweaty from the travel time. If he gets caught, he can just tell you he’s doing a cooldown by running across the hallways. Not the first time it’s happened, afterall it led him to you at one point.

He breaks into a soft jog, making a beeline to your front door. His feet squish against your old welcome mat. You haven’t changed it since Halloween, and he smiles fondly at the black scripted “Boo Y’all” written in script next to a chibi-ghost.

His heart beats faster as his hand lingers by the door, ready to knock. Deep breaths. Who knows, he could just be overthinking (like usual.)

“Fuck, Hobi!”

Jungkook freezes, his knuckles a centimeter away from your door. He backs up as if he’s been burned. His heart has fallen all the way down to his ass, and intends to stay there because now he feels like a damn fool.

The bed is creaking relentlessly, a rhythmic pattern that has Jungkook’s face crumbling at every spring. Jungkook’s face hovers over the door, his ear brushing against the wood.

“C’mon, bunny,” the male voice is teasing, “you know you love having me over. It would satisfy both of us if you’d just let it go.”

Bunny. A cute pet name, for sure. The way it rolls off the stranger’s tongue is natural, as if he’s been saying it for years. But what about being his doll, is that not good enough?

You’re huffy, taking deep breaths. He doesn’t want to hear anymore. Jungkook has put himself through enough self-wallowing for the week. What if he was just a stepping stone to meeting new people that will satisfy you better? What if you just needed one good orgasm to get your flow back, and Jungkook’s job is done? Sure, there were no strings attached when he proposed to have sex with you, but he thought…

No more thinking. Jungkook jogs away from the door, even going so far is to jog all the way up to the penthouse.

He hates this.

You hate this.

It’s been five days since Hoseok’s arrival, and you are going bonkers. Why couldn’t he get a hotel or an AirBnB? Because he’s cheap as fuck, that’s why. Your dinky cousin has been clinging to you like a lonely koala, and while you found it cute in the 5th grade, it doesn’t translate well nearly two decades later.

Every morning is the same. You make a subpar toast and Nutella breakfast, letting Hoseok’s slices go cold as you log in for work. You’ve been clocking in earlier in the hopes to finish the majority of your tasks before Hoseok wakes up, because by then you can barely function. Once he wakes up, he’s relentless, bouncing on the bed and talking your head off while you try to concentrate on whatever your boss is telling you. Whenever he jumps too hard, your cheap mattress causes your laptop to fly, and the only thing you can do is curse him out. Sometimes he plays Disney movies and sings in tandem, choreography and all.

You know that Hoseok is stressed and this is his outlet, and you don’t have it in you to stop his incessant habits. He’s visiting your area because of a lucrative job offer nearby and the interviews are sporadic, making Hoseok linger in your apartment for hours at a time until he’s summoned for whatever test they want to throw at him.

Most of the interviews are in the evening, and it’s when you can clock back in and finish your leftover assignments while Hoseok is also working. By the time he returns, you’re dog tired and so is he.

Every night, you try to move away from Hoseok’s clingy self, as he grapples onto your waist and slings a thigh over your belly. You wish it were someone else sharing the bed with you.

If you bring Jungkook into the picture however, you’d be burnt for the week. Complete crumbs. It would be too much stimulation for you, having to balance work, Hoseok’s incessant attitude, and putting on a face for Jungkook. Your relationship with the penthouse neighbor is barely budding, hardly watered considering Hoseok’s sudden visit. You cling to the fact that in a couple days you would be giving your undivided attention to Jungkook, most of your priorities out of the way, and most importantly, you’ll have your own room back.

Maybe you could surprise him by giving him a pasta dinner, just like he proposed.

Unable to get the thought out of your head, you blindly reach for your phone on the nightstand. It’s late, very late for a workday. The blue screen burns your eyes a bit, but you're determined to at least check up on Jungkook. You can’t take too long, otherwise you won’t be able to sleep and get him out of your head. Dear, unassuming cousin Hoseok is fast asleep next to you, due to the fact it’s nearly midnight. Making sure not to disrupt him, you carefully cup your phone in your hands, putting it on the lowest light setting.

[11:54] You: hey, hope work hasnt been as draining for u as it’s been for me ☠️ what’s your opinion on pasta sauces, red or white?

Jungkook is normally a fast texter, at least from your experience. It’s you that’s the sporadic texter, sometimes taking hours to reply, other times in seconds. It never really mattered until now, however. But it takes five, ten, and finally fifteen minutes before you get a response.

[12:09] Jungkook: ???

You frown, wondering what you said wrong.

[12:10] You: do you not wanna do pasta anymore? Are you craving something else now?

[12:10] Jungkook: i don’t think it’d work out

[12:10] You: why?

[12:11] Jungkook: im sure you know why, bunny.

Strange. He’s never called you bunny before, and in your opinion you think he’d be the bunny in the relationship—soft and cuddly on the outside, and an absolute horn ball in bed. Is this some sort of weird power play? Is he being passive aggressive on purpose? Whatever this game is, you’re not into it. Grumbling under your breath, you snake out of bed, looking blindly for your slippers in the dark. You’ll be in and out of Jungkook’s apartment in ten minutes.

Just as your hand brushes the doorknob, your new roommate calls for you.

“Bunny?” Hoseok calls blearily, and you’re staring straight at his cookie-printed eye mask, “what time is it, where are you going?”

“Um, out,” you reply shortly, “I forgot I left my laundry in the dryer.”

“Oh, m’kay. Come back soon, y’know I can’t sleep alone.”

It’s then you realize. Bunny. Jungkook thinks that Hoseok and you are a thing. He really needs to stop eavesdropping on you.

You feel your pussy frown. Your cousin is such a cockblock and he doesn’t even know it. Without an answer, you slip through your door and into the first free elevator. As you zing up the floors with the magical 1234 code, you work and rework your hair in and out of its style, wondering if you’ll look more presentable with your hair messy or thrown back.

As soon as you reach the penthouse, you burst into action. “Jungkook!” you cry, pounding the front door, “it’s a misunderstanding, open up!”

The door immediately swings open after the first three knocks, and you punch Taehyung in the chest.

“You look awful,” Kim Taehyung drawls. Taehyung is wearing nothing but a cranberry red silk kimono, and you have to avert your eyes and focus on his face, which is even worse because he’s looking at you like an all-knowing psychic.

“Gee, thanks,” you try to move past him, but he’s blocking the door.

“Jungkook’s in a meeting with some foriegn developers,” Taehyung talks with his hands, pretending like he has any idea of the nature of his roommate’s job, “when it’s this late he doesn’t leave his office until morning. Door’s locked.”

“Well then, can you relay a message?”

“Depends, is this message going to hurt him further?”

Oh my goodness, when Taehyung wants to be he is such an enabler. “Tell Jungkook he’s done wallowing. Instead of jumping to conclusions, maybe he should’ve just asked me why we couldn’t go on a date this week.”

“You could’ve also just told him you have a man on the side.”

“Ohmygod you two are two iotas of a combined braincell!” you shove your hands in your pocket, hotly scrolling through your phone so you can shove a picture in his face. “This is Jung Hoseok, my cousin who derailed my plans this week by crashing in my too-tiny apartment and forced me to raincheck with Jungkook. He’s a blabbermouth and would tell everyone—my parents, my grandparents, my great-aunts—about Jungkook if he found out I was dating, and I’m not ready for that,” you zoom in on the picture, despite the fact that the screen is practically touching Taehyung’s nose, “and the reason Hoseok calls me bunny is not sexual—you two are fucking gross—I had front tooth problems in elementary school and I had a brace on my two big teeth, it was not pretty.”

“Ah, bunny.” Taehyung echoes with wide eyes, looking at you as if you’re now the one with sage wisdom, “it all makes sense now.” He gulps, taking in the old photo of a mini-Hoseok and you, yourself frowning to cover your huge braces and Hoseok trying to pull your gums apart with his greasy little fingers.

Satisfied by Taehyung’s evident squirming, you decide you’re too tired to further this interaction. “Tell the other half of your cell for me, will ya?” You’re already turning away, pressing repeatedly at the elevator button, “I would love to go on a date with him as soon as he gets his head out of his ass.”

Jungkook is tired, but not tired enough to murder Taehyung and make it look like an accident.

When he has late meetings, Taehyung is usually quieter around the apartment, and even gets Jungkook a hot meal once he wakes up in the afternoons. Today, Jungkook slept through and through. Normally he’d wake up midway to Taehyung’s television dramas, or the clanging of last night’s dishes but nope, not a peep.

And today’s hot meal is takeout from Jungkook’s favorite ramen restaurant. That only means one thing—something has gone to shit and Taehyung feels guilty.

Jungkook sips his tonkotsu impossibly slow, hearing Taehyung’s words—your words from last night—clear as day. Taehyung even describes in detail where the nickname bunny comes from, down to how miserable you looked in the photo with your monstrously metal-bent teeth. Oh, how he wishes he can swaddle you between the blankets, hold you and comfort you while you deal with your family.

[2:45] Jungkook: doll, im so sorry

[2:45] Jungkook: please, i booked us a weekend at that new spa that just opened downtown. The tickets are flex, so if your cousin doesn’t leave by then week we can always reschedule

[2:51] Jungkook: baby doll…

This is far worse than believing you didn’t like him. Now Jungkook is antsy, knowing you deserve all the space in the world because of how silly he was being. You owe him nothing. If he just waited it out until you were ready, he wouldn’t be in this mess. He’s potato-esque throughout the day, thankfully Taehyung gives him space as he watches hours of mindless television.

You don’t reply until very late into the night.

[10:10] You: IM ALIVE--barely!! And mr. jeon, you’re not only a triple texter, but an ellipsis texter???? You’re asking for trouble

Jungkook has no shame, immediately texting you back. He can’t help it, he’s smitten.

[10:12] Jungkook: taehyung explained everything. It’s all his fault. Don’t ask why, it’s his fault. Im so sorry.

[10:12] You: mm, it’s okay. Just a misunderstanding. I was pretty upset last night, but i’ve been pretty tired this week so my fuse is short.

[10:14] Jungkook: you should go to sleep now, doll. We’ll have time together after your cousin leaves

[10:14] You: just a couple more minutes. Miss u and your cute face

[10:16] Jungkook:

[10:16] Jungkook: will this hold u off until saturday?

Jungkook is a pile of goo. Pink, warm, happy heart-glittered goo. It takes a minute for you to reply, and for that whole minute Jungkook is kicking his legs under the sheets of his bed like an eager five-year old who just gave his crush his Valentine. Maybe it’s taking you so long to reply because you’re trying to send a selfie of your own, running off to the bathroom to take a cute selfie if your cousin is asleep in bed.

[10:19] You: fuck, i kno that’s supposed to be a cute selfie, but i want you so bad. I want to sit on your face, let your lips glisten with my pussy as i cum all over that pretty face

[10:19] You: i wanna touch myself so badly but fuckin’ hoseok is out here snoring like he’s gon hack a lung. Panties are so wet 🥺🥺 your doll is needy for you, wanna be played with

[10:20] Jungkook: lfjsdl;fkjs;fjsoisfoisljsdfsdklfjsdklf

He throws his phone across the bed, feeling himself twitch in his red flannel pyjama bottoms. The thought of you so hot and needy when you’re ten floors down has Jungkook absolutely livid. He doesn’t know how he’s going to talk to you, comfort you without missing you like crazy.

Jungkook thinks back to what he has in his fridge. His contractor sent him a cheese assortment, maybe he can bring it down pretending to be a friendly neighbor. Maybe Hoseok can go to the convenience store to conveniently grab a bottle of wine. He can make both of you cum in five minutes, flat.

Akin to a dumb, horny teenager, he sighs. He rubs his palm longingly over his member. He’s horny, but he’s also eager to see your face. Talk to you, get reacquainted with your routine and sneak his way into it. He wants to be a part of your life, and he’s hoping you will too.

[5:02] You: Jungkook, you left me hanging last night

[5:05] Jungkook: baby doll… i wouldnt have been able to handle myself if we continued

[5:06] You: so you decided to dip :(

[5:06] You: could u play with your doll a lil bit, kook? Hobi left for another interview

[5:08] You: PNG.0901

Jungkook was a fool to believe that you would drop him like that. No, Jungkook can see now that you two are a match made in heaven. You have a bite, never afraid to speak your mind when needed. This translates to a hunger you shamelessly share with Jungkook, both sexual and romantically intimate. He almost wishes he could’ve seen you act like a bitch to Taehyung last night, he can only imagine how sexy you looked telling him off.

He has the technology to blow up your picture, the one that’s currently having him close his laptop and shove it to the side. He spreads his legs further across his glass desk, trying to find comfort between his tight pants as he absorbs every bit of your skin.

It’s nothing too risque, but it’s nothing short of sensual. The room is dark, but it’s very clearly a picture of your hand between your thighs. Again, you’re between your wall and bed, squished between your office chair with your legs spread as far as they can go. Your skin is so soft looking, plush as you press two fingers between your damp panties. Adorable.

[5:12] Jungkook: you know why i never replied last night? Because i was too busy jacking off to your dirty words doll. U really need your mouth washed

[5:12] You: wanna wash it with something else🍆

[5:12] You: please kook, i need something. Hoseok will come home soon and i might rip his head off. Help prevent a murder

Jungkook chuckles, clutching his phone closer to his body. He loves how much you’re opening up to him. Last week feels like so long ago, how you were all flushed and wide-eyed at the proposition of sex. He thinks you two can have a lot of fun getting to know each other, both emotionally and physically.

[5:15] Jungkook: i was gonna wait until i sent this, but i think my doll needs it. Here’s what i was doing last night

[5:17] Jungkook: MP4.13

He… has a meeting in five minutes. A very important, very serious meeting. Jungkook jacked off enough last night, now it’s your turn. He hopes you like it. It’s not a very long video, barely a twenty-second clip of him fisting his cock. Taehyung was still home at the time, so he had to keep quiet. However, he couldn’t get the image of you out of his head that night, rubbing your thighs together in a cramped mattress as you try to erase the dirty thoughts of him. A murmur of your name, and the image of his precum dripping down his knuckles. You hope it’s enough.

[5:34] You: u make everything so much easier💜✨

[5:35] You: MP4.234

Two minutes. The video you send is even shorter than his, barely fifteen seconds. You’re in a much more comfortable position, horizontal on the bed. Your shirt is ridden up to the underside of your breasts, one hand clutching your bare breast so hard he can see your cotton plush skin bulging between your fingers. The other hand has your panties shifted to the side, three fingers in your sopping cunt.

“Mmh—fuck, f-uck Jungkook—” the words are mere breaths, puffs of air as you reach your orgasm.

His call connects. He nearly drops his phone on the glass.

“Jungkook!” Andreas from Germany wishes him brightly, “you look great, glowing even!”

Jungkook blushes, and mutters something about having to go to the bathroom before they start.

Taehyung makes himself scarce on Saturday. He packs a duffel bag for himself and takes the PlayStation, knowing it’ll be a long weekend at Jimin’s.

Jungkook is on livewire for the morning. He even express-delivers a pasta roller to his house, and he spends all morning testing out the perfect pasta dough. His black apron is covered in flour, and he can barely comprehend the tutorial that’s teaching him on his flatscreen.

He’s on autopilot. He hasn’t contacted you since he sent that selfie, and he doesn’t intend to. Jungkook understands why you made yourself scarce in the beginning of the week, preferring to raincheck and pin your relationship for a better time. Jungkook’s brain is overridden with you, swollen with thoughts of you. You would never be able to focus if you kept in contact like you did last night, especially if you can’t get away from Hoseok.

Absence surely makes the heart grow fonder.

Slapping his hands against his trousers, he surveys his handiwork. His pasta is appropriately floured and wrung, each handful of fresh dough wrapped in little nests. Off the stove is a bechamel sauce, a base ready to be cooked in whatever kind of pasta dish you want. He thinks the two of you would have fun making your own non-traditional pasta dishes.

The soft knocks on his front door interrupts his train of thought, and he knows it’s you.

You stand in front of the door, impossibly small in a large shirt and a plain pair of leggings. At the sight of Jungkook, a smile as warm and sweet as hot chocolate worms its way to your face, and you collapse into his arms.

He sighs gratefully, sinking into your small body. When he pulls away, he can’t help but frown at your apparent exhaustion. You must’ve come back from something tedious, because sweat dots your brow and your eyes are still puffy and dark. Your chest arches bonelessly into his, hoping to melt in his embrace.

“Hi,” you say.

“Hey,” he replies.

“It’s Saturday.”

“It is Saturday.”

You rub your nose between the fabric of his button down, “I should’ve been more specific when I wanted to raincheck on you,” you murmur into the white cotton.

“No, I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions,” Jungkook whispers, even though you’re the only two people on the floor, “I’ll make it better, yeah? I’m going to love you so good tonight, won’t have to lift a finger—”

You shake your head, looking at him calmly. “Jungkook, it’s been a long week. Hobi got the job, I spent all this morning moving his two-ton speaker set into his new apartment. I don’t want anything gentle. I want you to rail me into next week,” Jungkook chokes on his saliva when you reach to cup his dick through his pants, already sporting a chub, “fuck me breathless. I want—no, I need this.”

Anything for you, but Jungkook isn’t going to let your mouth runneth over that easily. He wants that too, obviously. But again, you’ve made him wait.

Bending slightly, Jungkook whispers darkly into your ear, “Who said you can decide the rules here, doll?” he’s been waiting all week to slip back into this persona, one that has you shivering delightfully under his touch. A small, secret smile tucks itself under your lips as you tilt your head down, but Jungkook catches it. It shows you’ve missed it too. He lets your sneaky smile slide for now, only because he’s missed you so much and you’ve had a long day.

“If I wanna fuck you rough, I’ll fuck you rough. If I want to edge you until you're sobbing on the corner of the kitchen table, I’ll do it,” Jungkook spits every declaration into your skin, biting at your shoulder so hard you cry deliciously.

He drags you over to the living room, and he could sing at how easily you follow directions. Both of you have been tied up this week, and some hard sex would definitely ease that frustration, “Knees,” Jungkook commands, and you waste no time sinking to the floor, hands atop your knees.

You look up through your lashes, eyes big and glassy. His poor girl is tired, and he finds it all the more attractive that you’re willing to push that aside to make eachother feel good.

“Pretty, pretty,” he chants, pulling down his pants and letting his dick spring free, “suck.”

You waste no time, and he watches as your eyes dilate over the expanse of his cock, half-hard and ready for your mouth. Your nails dig into your knees as you start with featherlight kisses, finally turning into sloppy smacks as you lick all over his dick.

Jungkook groans, weaving a hand into your hair to force his dick down your throat. You gag at the sudden intrusion, but it doesn’t stop you from taking it like a champ. Hard, deep thrusts that he’s sure you can feel all the way in your stomach. You gag at each thrust, but don’t let up as your hot tongue wraps him up and licks at the pre-cum.

“Fuuuuck, doll,” he rips you away, his now hard dick springing away. He’s a little shaky on his knees, but he plants his feet down as he grips his cock, slapping the tip of it across your cheek. It smears your face, glossing your flushed cheeks in a mixture of your saliva and pre-cum. “Are you trying to make me cum first? So sweet, you don’t even care if you cum tonight, hmm? You owe me, making you believe you had another man.”

This isn’t true, of course. The both of you know it was just miscommunication, but it doesn’t hurt to play it up for pleasure.

“N-no Kook, I’m yours,” you grapple at his pants, pulling them down so he can get them off completely.

“Right. You’re. Mine.” With every punctuated word is a light slap to your cheek, and you take it. His cock bounces right off of you, until you finally move your head to suckle at the engorged tip, “I’m keeping you forever, doll. Don’t you know that?”

Throughout this whole process, you don’t move, other than the minute clawing at your knees. You’re so good to him. Jungkook pulls away and ignores the ache in his member for now, taking off your clothes for himself. It’s like unwrapping a gift, revealing every bit of skin reserved for his viewing. “So sexy,” he remarks once he’s got you bare, pulling you onto the couch. He’s still in his button down shirt, his date night shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbow. However, he lets your hands inch under the stiff fabric, feeling for his taut muscle.

He guides your aching cunt to his cock, sinking you down. It’s a tight fit, and you both moan at the brush of contact. Despite not being prepped, you’re still slick, and it makes up for it. He doesn’t thrust up or anything, just guides his lips to yours with a threadbare brush of his finger.

“Kook, d-do you want me to move?” you mumble against his cherry-flavored lip balm.

“Good dolls don’t move until they’re told,” your eyes widen innocently at the statement, and you crumple against his mouth, at his next words, “cum like this.”

“Awh shit, please no,” you tear up, burying your head between the crook of his neck, “I can’t wait.”

“Thought you wanted me to fuck you into next week. You can’t do this one little favor for me?” he’s being so mean, and you hate him for it. Haven’t you earned it? “C’mon baby, I thought you wanted me?”

It’s silent, save for the soft Italian restaurant music playing from whatever tutorial he’s hooked up to his television. It’s terribly cliche, like you’re in the porno version of a European romance movie. He thinks nothing of it, not when your juices are dripping on his thighs, your skin soft and pliant in his grip. Jungkook drums his fingers against your spine, seemingly uncaring that you’re stuffed deep into your womb.

On the other hand, it’s the only thing you’re acutely aware of. His thick, warm cock is nestled between your folds, right where it should be. You clench once, twice, thankful that this isn’t some crazed wet dream. States of sleep and consciousness have blurred this week, you’re lucky that you made it all the way up to Jungkook’s apartment.

You can’t cum like this. You need to bait him. You moan, the sound slow and rumbly against your throat as you weave your fingers through his dark tresses. Moving the strands aside to kiss his cold metal earrings you murmur, “I love this, Kookoo. I’ve wanted you all week, I was going crazy. I kept playing last week in my head over and over. I even put in my little vibrator, hoping you’d pull up the app.”

Jungkook’s teeth clench, and his grip is borderline painful as it digs into your hips.

“I haven’t been able to cum all week, and I want to do it all over you,” you husk, playing with the roots of his hair.

You can feel yourself dripping, wetness lubricating you even further and probably staining his thighs and couch with your arousal. Every second that passes is killer, and the fluttering towards your pussy tighten further as Jungkook’s cock twitches in response. Your pussy continues its ministrations, butterfly-like flaps against his hot member that have you vibrating.

“Mm, oh, I’ll cum for you,” and surprisingly, you might be able to. All this dirty talking has gotten you riled up. Just a little bit more and—

Jungkook shoves you off his cock, forcing you to land on the couch.

“No!” you cry, wiping your face. Your cheeks are ruddied, and you’re annoyed. The coolness of the autumn air has you feeling chilly, and you want to scream at Jungkook for disrupting your orgasm. You feel empty.

You’re not annoyed for long however, as Jungkook flips you on your back and gives you what you’ve been craving.

“You glide right in, don’t ya doll,” the friction is deliciously blazing, his hands pushing you further into the large couch as he takes you from behind. Hot, fast smacks against your ass come from the way his balls bounce back and forth as he pistons his cock in and out. “F-fuck, you’re so good to me. So good, I love having you like this. All pretty and dripping, you really know how to make a guy wait, huh?”

“Mmph! N-no—hng, but I’m y-yours, Kook,” you garble out, and you’re practically eating the throw pillow you’re propped up on as he slams you further into the cushions, so hard you may fall off, “all yours, honey. N-no more waiting. I want you, want you so badly—ah fuck!”

“It’s worth it, you’re worth it,” he says over and over, his thrusts becoming sporadic and losing their rhythm once he feels you clenching uncontrollably. He presses his two fingers to your sloppy bud, swirling around the juices eagerly. “C-cum, baby doll. You deserve it, yeah? Cum on this cock, let go.”

You’re starting to see spots, black and white alike. Finally shying away from his cock you rest on your back, but Jungkook doesn’t stop his fingers from flying across your clit. One look at his face and you’re gone. Pretty brown eyes, overflowing with affection. The feeling is different, and it’s the acute pressure between your stomach and pussy that makes you notice what’s going on with your body. The pressure finally releases, your eyes fluttering shut as you rest your cheek on the cushions. You dissolve, a mess on the couch as white hot liquid ejects from your body, spraying Jungkook’s thighs and cushions.

“Y-you just,” your lover’s mouth is parted open like a baby kitten, uncaring as to how the dark liquid stains his couch fabric.

“Squirted?” you answer breathlessly, a melty smile on your lips, “y-yeah.”

It sets him off, a button left dormant until now. The thatches of hair that surround his cock are dripping with your mess, a cold reminder that he got you to this high. He doesn’t hesitate to slip his cock back into you, and you gasp at the overstimulation. You try not to focus on how your body is a bundle of lit nerves, only to help Jungkook reach his completion.

“S-so perfect,” he warbles, pressing kisses to your jaw, chin, lips. Each thrust is deep, thick and heady with emotion. “Mm, I wanna cream this pussy sooo badly—mm, all mine, all wet and warm and so so sweet—”

He cries out your name, biting into your shoulder as your walls fill further with his hot cream. Your thighs are shaking from sensory overload, and Jungkook has to hold you down and soothe you into a state of reality to cling on.

Satiated, he nuzzles into your chest, feeling absolutely featherlight.

“T-thank you,” you say gratefully, when at least three out of your five senses return to your body. Your hands dip down to clutch his cheek, pinching lightly at the warm skin.

“Don’t thank me yet,” Jungkook exhales into your breasts, “d-didn’t even feed you my cum yet.”

You scoff, pinching his cheek again. You’re aware of his softening cock between your folds, ready to seep the efforts of today’s coupling, but your stomach says otherwise. You crane your neck to make note of the kitchen island, staring curiously at the metal pasta roller and the little nests of carby goodness that decorate the cutting board.

“Feed me pasta first, please. You have all night to feed me dessert.”

Jungkook giggles into your stomach, he doesn’t mind feeding you in that order.

bonus.

“So.”

“So?” you have cream sauce on your lips, happily slurping on an angel hair.

“You haven’t told me you liked me back yet,” Jungkook rests his palm in the swell of his cheek, content with watching you eat from where he’s standing on the counter. He leans his upper body across the marble table, muscles rippling against his white shirt.

“Oh, I did!” you’re affronted, swinging your legs on the high chair, “I totally did last week!”

“Yeah, well. Can you say it while I’m not inside you?”

“Okay,” you blink, quirking him with a simple smile, “I like you.”

“That was anticlimactic,” Jungkook jokes at the brevity of your confession, yet his heart betrays the charm he finds in the three words.

You scoff, jabbing your fork in the little next of springy noodles. “What do you want to hear? I’ve wanted you since I’ve moved in? I think you’re really handsome when you pace the hallway doing work on your phone? I like the way you cook?”

“Keep going,” Jungkook sing songs, walking over to hug you from behind.

The stool swings back and forth as he rocks the two of you, softly and slowly so you don’t throw up your dinner. He noses into your neck, inhaling your scent and committing it to your memory.

“Mm, dessert first,” you insist, twirling around the stool so you can wrap your legs around his waist. “And then I can tell you exactly how much I like you,” your fingers play with the buttons of his shirt, walking the pads of your fingers across his chest.

Jungkook grins, hands reaching to cup your bottom and bring you to his bedroom. Of course, he’s always willing to satisfy your insatiable appetite.

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