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enhaflixer · 3 months ago

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hogwarts time travel au! traveling to the future and waking up MARRIED PART 1

slytherin!riki x gryffindor!reader PART 2 HERE

warnings: time travel, sex, kissing, lots of kissing, kinda angsty, they have two kids, there are pranks and rivalry and its just real cute im ngl

The library had been blissfully quiet for exactly forty-three minutes. You'd counted. Forty-three minutes of peaceful study, undisturbed concentration, and actual progress on your Transfiguration essay. Which meant you were overdue for—

A paper crane swooped down from nowhere, circling your head three times before unfolding itself atop your carefully organized notes. The parchment fluttered open to reveal a doodle of what appeared to be you with steam coming out of your ears and your hair standing on end. Beneath it, elegant script that you unfortunately recognized immediately:

Looking a bit tense today, Gryffindork. Did someone hide your color-coded study schedule again?

You closed your eyes and counted to ten, but only made it to four before the sound of poorly suppressed laughter broke your concentration. Across the library, lounging in a chair as though he owned the place, sat Nishimura Riki. The bane of your existence for seven consecutive years.

"Real mature," you muttered, crumpling the parchment and tossing it over your shoulder.

The paper froze mid-air, reversed direction, and neatly unfolded itself before landing back on your textbook.

"That's littering, you know," Riki called, just loud enough to make Madam Pince shoot you both a warning glare. "Not very environmentally conscious of you."

You stabbed your quill into your inkpot with unnecessary force. "Some of us are trying to study for our N.E.W.T.s like responsible seventh-years."

Riki stretched, his Slytherin tie deliberately loosened, black hair artfully tousled in that way that made half the school swoon and made you want to hex him bald. "Ah yes, another thrilling evening of revising information you memorized three months ago. Living the dream."

"Not everyone coasts by on natural talent and family connections," you shot back.

Something flashed in his dark eyes – irritation, perhaps – but his smirk never faltered. "Is that what you think? That I don't work for my grades?"

"I think," you said, gathering your belongings with precise movements, "that you spend more time planning elaborate pranks than studying, yet somehow maintain your position as second in our class."

"Second only to you," he said with an exaggerated bow. "Though not for lack of trying."

Your academic rivalry was legendary – seven years of trading the top spot back and forth, never more than a few points separating you. It would have been admirable if he wasn't so insufferable about it.

"Well, some of us can't afford to waste time," you said, shoving your books into your bag.

Riki pushed off his chair and sauntered over, dropping into the seat across from you without invitation. "You know what your problem is?"

"Currently? You're sitting at my table."

He leaned forward, undeterred. "You've forgotten how to have fun. When was the last time you did something just because it made you laugh?"

"I laugh plenty," you insisted, though the defensive tone in your voice betrayed you.

"At jokes in textbooks, maybe." He twirled his wand between his fingers – a nervous habit he'd had since first year. "You're seventeen going on seventy."

"And you're seventeen going on seven," you countered. "Wasn't it your enchanted water balloons that flooded the third floor yesterday?"

His grin widened. "Can't prove it was me."

"Professor Flitwick literally said, 'Impressive charm work, Mr. Nishimura, but please reserve it for your classwork.'"

"He appreciates creativity," Riki shrugged, then lowered his voice conspiratorially. "But that was nothing. Tomorrow's prank will be legendary."

Despite yourself, curiosity piqued. "What are you planning now?"

"Concerned for my academic future?" he teased. "Worried I might finally surpass you if I get expelled?"

"Worried about innocent bystanders," you corrected. "Your last 'legendary' prank turned the entire Ravenclaw Quidditch team purple for a week."

"That was an accident," he protested, though his smile suggested otherwise. "The color was supposed to fade after twenty-four hours."

You rolled your eyes and stood up. "Well, whatever you're planning, leave me out of it. Some of us have actual goals beyond being remembered as Hogwarts' most annoying student."

His laugh followed you as you headed for the exit. "Come on! You know you'd be much happier if you loosened up a little!"

You resolutely ignored him, which was your standard approach to Nishimura Riki. Seven years of practice had proven it was the only way to maintain your sanity.

You should have known ignoring him wouldn't work. It never did.

The next morning, you woke to find every single one of your quills had been enchanted to write nothing but love poems. About him.

Eyes dark as midnight, smile sharp as wit, Nishimura Riki, quite the perfect fit...

"That's IT!" You stormed into the Great Hall, marching directly to the Slytherin table where Riki sat surrounded by his usual admirers. You slammed the offending quill down in front of him.

He looked up with infuriating innocence. "Problem?"

"Fix. My. Quills." Each word came through gritted teeth.

He inspected the quill with exaggerated care. "I'm flattered, truly, but I don't think I inspired this passionate declaration. Perhaps you've been harboring secret feelings?"

Several of his friends snickered. Your cheeks burned, but whether from anger or embarrassment, you refused to analyze.

"This isn't funny," you hissed. "I have a Charms practical in twenty minutes."

"Hmm." He tapped his chin thoughtfully. "That is a problem."

"A problem you created!"

"I suppose I could fix it..." he mused, "for a price."

You crossed your arms. "What price?"

His smile turned mischievous. "Admit that I'm the better duelist."

This was an ongoing point of contention. You'd been evenly matched in Defense Against the Dark Arts since third year, much to both your frustrations.

"Never," you declared. "I beat you fair and square last week."

"You caught me off-guard with that modified Impediment Jinx."

"Which is called strategy," you countered. "Something you might understand if you spent more time studying and less time being an insufferable prat."

He clutched his heart dramatically. "You wound me. And here I thought we were friends."

"We are not friends," you said firmly. "We have never been friends."

Something shifted in his expression – so briefly you might have imagined it – before his usual smirk returned. "Fine. I'll fix your quills because I'm magnanimous and mature."

You snorted.

He flicked his wand, muttering an incantation under his breath. "There. Crisis averted. Though I was looking forward to Professor Flitwick reading poetry about my 'raven locks' and 'quicksilver reflexes.'"

"You're impossible," you said, snatching back your quill.

He winked. "Yet somehow you put up with me."

"Not by choice," you grumbled, turning to leave.

"Oh, by the way," he called after you, "pink is definitely your color!"

You frowned, then caught your reflection in a silver platter. Your hair had turned bright, bubblegum pink.

"NISHIMURA!"

It took three counter-charms to fix your hair, making you late for Charms and costing Gryffindor five points. Which was exactly what Riki had intended, no doubt. Your houses were neck-and-neck for the cup, and every point mattered in these final weeks.

Retaliation was necessary. And for once, you decided to beat him at his own game.

It took careful planning, timed precisely to the Slytherin Quidditch practice. A specialized color-changing potion in his shampoo (courtesy of a reluctant Slughorn, who thought you were doing "extra credit research"). By dinner, every Slytherin at the table was staring at Riki's violently pink hair and robes.

The best part? The potion was keyed to only activate for clothing in Slytherin colors and hair of his exact shade. No innocent bystanders.

His expression when he realized what had happened was worth the three nights of sleep you'd sacrificed to perfect the potion.

"Well played," he conceded when he cornered you after dinner, his robes still resolutely pink despite numerous attempts to change them back.

You allowed yourself a satisfied smile. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"This means war, you know." But he didn't sound angry – if anything, he seemed impressed.

"We've been at war since you turned my cauldron into a toad in first year," you reminded him.

"Good times," he sighed nostalgically. "Though I think you're forgetting that I never leave a prank unanswered."

You shrugged. "Do your worst, Nishimura. I'll be ready."

You were not, in fact, ready.

Three days later, whispers followed you through the corridors. Students giggled behind their hands as you passed. Even the professors were giving you strange looks.

It wasn't until Luna Lovegood approached you at lunch with her dreamy expression that you discovered why.

"I think it's very brave of you to be so public with your feelings," she said, patting your hand. "Though the singing Valentine might have been a bit much."

"What singing Valentine?" you asked, a sense of dread building.

She blinked owlishly. "The one you sent to Riki Nishimura this morning. With the cherubs and rose petals? It performed in the middle of the entrance hall."

Your blood ran cold. "I didn't send—"

But Luna had already drifted away, leaving you to face the horrified realization that Riki had successfully framed you for sending him the most over-the-top, public declaration of love in Hogwarts history.

The smug look on his face when you found him confirmed everything.

"That was LOW," you growled, jabbing a finger into his chest. "Even for you."

He captured your finger, gently pushing it away. "Just giving the people what they want. Half the school already thinks we're secretly in love, given how obsessed we are with each other."

"We are NOT—" you spluttered, then lowered your voice when you realized people were watching. "We are not obsessed with each other."

"Seven years of elaborate pranks suggests otherwise," he pointed out.

"Seven years of you being an absolute menace," you corrected.

He leaned against the wall, studying you with unexpected seriousness. "You know, anyone else would have reported me to McGonagall years ago. Yet you always retaliate instead. Why is that?"

The question caught you off guard. Why hadn't you ever reported him? It would have been the sensible thing to do.

"Because," you said finally, "that would be admitting you've won."

His slow smile was different from his usual smirk – smaller, more genuine. "And we can't have that, can we?"

"Never," you agreed, finding yourself smiling back despite everything.

The moment stretched, something unspoken passing between you before you broke the spell. "This isn't over, Nishimura. I'm going to make you regret that Valentine stunt."

"Looking forward to it," he called as you walked away.

Your opportunity came sooner than expected. You discovered quite by accident that Riki had been working on a modified time-distortion spell – not an actual Time-Turner, but a charm that created the illusion of time passing. His plan, according to the notes you'd "borrowed" from his bag during Potions, was to make you think you'd slept through your Arithmancy N.E.W.T.

Clever, but not clever enough.

You spent a week developing a counter-charm, designed to reflect the spell back on its caster. It was advanced magic, beyond N.E.W.T. level really, but the thought of beating Riki at his own game was too tempting to resist.

The night before the Arithmancy exam, you stayed up late in the library, knowing he'd make his move when you were exhausted and vulnerable. Sure enough, just after midnight, you detected the subtle shimmer of disillusionment as he crept toward your table.

You pretended to be dozing on your textbook, wand concealed but ready beneath the pages.

You felt rather than saw the moment he cast the spell – a strange ripple in the air, the whispered Latin incantation. In one fluid motion, you raised your wand and cast your counter-charm.

"Tempus Reflectum!"

Your spells collided in midair with a sound like shattering glass. Golden light erupted between you, blinding in its intensity. You felt a strange pulling sensation behind your navel, similar to a Portkey but stronger, as if something was yanking you through dimensions rather than mere space.

The last thing you saw was Riki's shocked face, his hand reaching toward you as the magic engulfed you both.

Then darkness.

You woke to sunlight on your face and the unfamiliar sensation of high-thread-count sheets against your skin. Your head pounded viciously, like the aftermath of a poorly brewed Wit-Sharpening Potion. Groggily, you rolled over, burying your face in a pillow that smelled of lavender and something else – a woody, spicy scent that was strangely familiar.

"Five more minutes," you mumbled, pulling blankets over your head.

Wait. These weren't your Gryffindor dormitory blankets.

Your eyes snapped open, heart racing. This wasn't your bed in Gryffindor Tower. The room was unfamiliar - spacious with burgundy accents and photographs you didn't recognize.

Worse, you weren't alone.

A warm weight pressed against your side. You turned your head slowly and froze. Nishimura Riki - your sworn enemy - was asleep next to you, his dark hair tousled, face relaxed in sleep, looking several years older than he should.

"What the—" you started, voice dying as your brain struggled to process the impossible sight before you. This wasn't right. This couldn't be happening.

Riki stirred beside you, mumbling something incoherent. His eyes fluttered open, unfocused at first. Then he blinked rapidly, confusion washing over his features as he registered the unfamiliar surroundings. When his gaze finally landed on you, he froze.

"Wait..." he said groggily, rubbing his eyes like he might be dreaming. "What's going on?"

You scrambled backward, nearly falling off the bed in your haste. "Why are you— Where are we—" The questions tumbled over each other, none completing themselves.

Riki seemed equally disoriented, looking down at his own body, touching his face. "I feel... different. Older?" His voice was deeper, his shoulders broader. This wasn't the lanky seventeen-year-old who'd been tormenting you yesterday.

"This isn't Hogwarts," you whispered, taking in the room. "This isn't my dormitory. Why are we in a bed? Together?" Your voice rose with each question.

Realization dawned on his face, horror quickly replacing confusion. "No. No way. Tell me this isn't..."

The fog of sleep dissipated completely, replaced by rising panic. "You!" he finally accused, pointing a shaking finger. "What did you do? Where did you bring us?"

"ME?" Indignation cut through your shock. "You think I did this?" You grabbed a pillow and threw it at his head with all your strength. "This is clearly one of your stupid pranks gone wrong!"

"My pranks are never stupid," he shot back automatically, then looked wildly around the room at the photographs, at the clothing visible in the open wardrobe, at the obvious signs of a shared life. "And I definitely wouldn't prank myself into... whatever this nightmare is."

You noticed a wand on the nightstand - your wand, but somehow more worn - and lunged for it. As you did, something gold caught the light. A wedding ring on your finger.

"No," you whispered, staring at your hand. "No, no, no."

Riki noticed his own matching band and went pale. "This isn't possible."

You rushed to the mirror and gasped. Your reflection was you, but older - mid-twenties at least, with different hair and a confidence in your eyes your seventeen-year-old self had never possessed.

"If this is your idea of funny, Nishimura—" you began, whirling back toward him.

"For the last time, this isn't me!" he snapped, running a hand through his hair. "I was trying to prank you with a time-distortion spell, not..." he gestured between you wildly, "whatever nightmare this is!"

"Time-distortion?" Your eyes narrowed. "That spell you were working on in the library! The one I countered with—"

"You countered it?" Riki jumped to his feet. "What did you use? What exactly did you cast?"

"A reflection charm. It was supposed to bounce your stupid prank back at you!"

"You interfered with experimental magic?" He looked genuinely appalled. "Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?"

"Oh, that's rich coming from you! The walking disaster who once turned the entire Great Hall ceiling into a swamp!"

"That was brilliant spellwork and you know it!"

Your shouting match escalated until you barely noticed the small figure appearing in the doorway. It wasn't until you heard a heartbroken sob that you both fell silent and turned.

A little girl stood there, maybe three years old, with tears streaming down her chubby cheeks. She had Riki's deep, dark eyes—so dark they were almost black—but your nose and mouth. Her black hair fell in messy waves to her shoulders, with a stubborn cowlick at the crown that somehow looked familiar. She wore mismatched pajamas—a Holyhead Harpies top and bottoms covered in tiny golden snitches. She was clutching a well-loved stuffed dragon, its once-vibrant green scales faded from countless hugs.

"Mama, Dada, no fight," she hiccupped, her lower lip trembling so dramatically that your heart clenched in response. "No fight, please."

The raw distress in her voice hit you like a physical blow. This child—your child, somehow—was devastated by your argument. And though your rational mind insisted she was a stranger, something deeper, more instinctive, recognized her as yours.

You caught Riki's expression changing from confusion to concern, his usual smirk melting away completely. His entire body language transformed in an instant—shoulders relaxing, voice softening to a tone you'd never heard him use before.

"Hey, it's okay," he said gently, approaching her with cautious steps and kneeling down to her level. "We're not fighting. We're just... talking loud."

His hand reached out to smooth her hair in a gesture that seemed so natural it startled you. The tenderness in his touch was nothing like the Riki you knew—the prankster, the rival, the perpetual thorn in your side.

"Loud scary," she whimpered, clutching her dragon tighter. Its head was tucked under her chin in a practiced motion of self-comfort. "Suki no like." Her voice broke on the last word, fresh tears spilling down her already damp cheeks.

Something powerful and overwhelming surged through you—a fierce, protective instinct you'd never felt before. Without thinking, you moved toward her, your body acting before your mind could catch up. It felt like gravity—like you physically couldn't stay across the room while she was crying.

You knelt beside Riki, your shoulders almost touching as you both hunched down to her height. "We're sorry we scared you, Suki," you said, your voice coming out gentle and soothing, as if you'd comforted this child a thousand times before.

She looked up at you with those big, tear-filled eyes—Riki's eyes, unmistakably—and something twisted in your chest. Recognition flashed between you, soul-deep, impossible to explain. You'd never met this child before today, but your heart knew her.

Your hand reached out of its own volition to wipe a tear from her soft cheek. The moment your skin touched hers, a rush of emotion flooded through you—love, protectiveness, and a bone-deep certainty that whatever else was happening, this connection was real.

"Dragon scared too," she said solemnly, holding up the stuffed toy. Now that you looked more closely, you noticed the dragon had a tiny Gryffindor scarf around its neck, clearly handknitted. "Puff needs hugs when scared."

"Puff?" you asked softly.

"Short for Puffskein," Riki explained automatically, then looked surprised at his own knowledge. "I think... I gave it to her on her second birthday."

Suki nodded vigorously. "Daddy said... said Puff keeps bad dreams away."

Your eyes met Riki's over her head, a moment of mutual bewilderment passing between you. How could he know that? How could either of you feel such instant recognition of a child you'd just met?

"Well," you said, finding your voice again. "Puff is right. Hugs do help when you're scared."

Suki looked at you hopefully, arms lifting in an unmistakable request. The gesture was so innocent, so trusting, that you couldn't refuse. You gathered her small body against yours, surprised by how naturally she fit in your arms, how right her weight felt. She smelled of baby shampoo and that indefinable sweet scent that seemed to belong only to children.

When she reached one arm out to include Riki in the hug, you watched his face cycle through confusion, hesitation, and then surrender. He moved closer, completing the circle, his arm brushing yours as he embraced both you and Suki.

For one strange, suspended moment, the three of you stayed like that—a tableau of family comfort that felt both foreign and achingly familiar. You caught Riki's eyes over Suki's head, and the confusion in them mirrored your own, but there was something else there too—a vulnerability you'd never seen before.

Suki's small hand patted your cheek. "Better now?" she asked, her tears already drying as children's often do, her resilience astonishing. She looked between you with such hope, such complete faith that her parents could fix anything, that you felt a lump form in your throat.

"Yes," you managed, though nothing was better, nothing made sense. "Much better."

Riki nodded, his voice slightly hoarse when he added, "All better, Suki."

She beamed then, her whole face lighting up with such joy that it physically hurt to look at. Her smile—your smile, undeniably—transformed her tear-stained face. "Suki fixed it," she declared proudly, patting her own chest. "Suki good helper."

"The best helper," Riki agreed, with a sincerity that sounded strange coming from him.

She wiggled out of the embrace, suddenly energized now that the crisis had passed. "Hungry now," she announced, as if the emotional storm had never happened. "Pancakes? With chocolate?"

"And berries," you found yourself adding, the words coming from nowhere. "You need something healthy with all that chocolate."

"Always saying that," Suki said with a dramatic sigh that was so reminiscent of Riki's that you almost laughed despite everything. "Boring."

Riki smothered what might have been a chuckle. "Some things never change," he murmured, so quietly only you could hear.

Suki grabbed both your hands in her small ones, tugging with surprising strength. "Come on! Sara waiting!"

As she mentioned the other child, another voice called out from somewhere down the hall—a younger, less articulate voice that nevertheless commanded attention.

"MAMA! DADA! UP!"

Riki's eyes met yours again, a silent question passing between you. Neither of you had to say it aloud: how could something feel so wrong and so right at the same time? How could these children be strangers and yet feel like they were pieces of your own heart?

Suki tugged more insistently. "Sara awake. She hungry too."

You allowed yourself to be pulled to your feet, noticing as you rose that Riki's hand lingered near your elbow, steadying you as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He snatched it back when he realized what he was doing, but not before you felt the warmth of his touch—so different from the antagonistic shoves and playful jabs you were used to exchanging.

"We should..." he began awkwardly.

"Yeah," you agreed, equally uncomfortable. "The other one—Sara—she sounds..."

"Impatient," Riki finished, a hint of his usual wry humor returning. "Wonder where she gets that from."

"Certainly not from me," you retorted automatically, falling into your familiar pattern of banter before you could stop yourself.

Suki looked up at you both, her dark eyes narrowing with that uncanny perceptiveness again. "No more fighting," she warned, squeezing your hands. "Promise?"

The way she said it—like she was the parent and you were the children—made something catch in your throat. This tiny person somehow had the power to make you feel both chastised and protected.

"Promise," you said softly, and meant it.

"For now," Riki added with a ghost of his usual mischief, but when Suki's eyes narrowed further, he quickly amended, "I mean, yes, I promise too."

Suki nodded, satisfied with your compliance. "Good," she declared. "Now pancakes."

She pulled you both toward the door with the confidence of someone who knew exactly where she was going and expected the rest of the world to follow. And somehow, despite everything—the confusion, the impossibility of the situation, the fact that you were in a strange house with the person you'd spent seven years despising—you found yourself following her lead.

As you passed through the doorway, your arm brushed against Riki's, and instead of flinching away as you normally would, you felt an odd sense of reassurance from the contact. You were both lost here, both confused, but at least you were lost together.

"Temporary truce?" you whispered to him, just low enough that Suki couldn't hear.

"Absolutely," he agreed, his voice equally soft. "But for the record, I still think this is somehow your fault."

"And I'm certain it's yours," you countered, but there was no real heat in it.

Suki glanced back, caught you whispering, and gave you both a look of such knowing approval that you wondered if she'd somehow orchestrated this whole bizarre situation. For a three-year-old, she seemed remarkably in control.

"Come on, slow pokes!" she called, tugging you forward. "Sara waiting!"

The voice from down the hall called again, more insistently this time:

"DADA! UP NOW!"

You followed in stunned silence, wondering what cosmic joke had landed you in a future where you and Nishimura Riki had not only married but created this earnest little peacemaker and her baby sister.

After a chaotic breakfast involving Sara wearing more pancake than she ate and Suki demonstrating her surprisingly advanced levitation skills ("No, Suki, we don't float the syrup to the ceiling"), you finally managed to settle the children with enchanted coloring books in the living room.

"We have approximately seven minutes before disaster strikes again," Riki muttered, watching Sara scribble with determined focus. "Let's use them wisely."

"We need to search the house," you whispered. "Find anything that might explain what happened or how to reverse it."

You split up, Riki taking the study while you explored the sitting room. The cottage was larger than it appeared from outside—clearly magically extended—with comfortable, lived-in furnishings that blended wizarding and Muggle styles seamlessly.

The walls were covered with photographs—magical ones that moved and Muggle ones that didn't. They told the story of a life you couldn't remember living: graduation from Hogwarts (standing suspiciously close to Riki), your wedding (looking disgustingly happy), Riki in formal Auror robes receiving some kind of commendation, you in professor's robes surrounded by students.

You paused at a series of photos displaying Suki's early days. There was one of you in a hospital bed, looking exhausted but radiant, cradling a newborn bundle while Riki sat beside you, one arm around your shoulders. The look on his face—pure wonder mixed with what could only be described as adoration—was so unlike any expression you'd ever seen him wear that you had to look away.

"Found something," Riki called softly from the study. "Photo albums. Lots of them."

You joined him, settling on the floor as he spread several leather-bound albums before you. Each was meticulously labeled in what appeared to be your handwriting: "Wedding," "Suki's First Year," "Sara's Birth," "Family Holidays."

"This is surreal," you muttered, opening the one labeled "Sara's Birth."

The images inside showed a progression: you with a rounded belly, Riki's hand resting on it with a proud smile; you in labor, gripping Riki's hand so tightly his fingers were white (that one gave you a small satisfaction); and finally, Riki holding newborn Sara, tears streaming unashamedly down his face while Suki peered curiously at her new sister.

"I look...happy," Riki said quietly, touching the edge of the photo.

"We both do," you admitted reluctantly.

You flipped through more pages, watching your impossible family life unfold. Holidays at what appeared to be his parents' home in Japan. Suki's first steps. Sara's naming ceremony.

"Look at this one," Riki said, pointing to a photo of both of you asleep on a couch, Suki as a baby nestled between you. The image captured pure exhaustion, but also undeniable contentment.

"This can't be real," you whispered, but the evidence was overwhelming. "How did we go from hexing each other to...this?"

Riki closed the album carefully. "More importantly, how do we get back to our time?"

You stood abruptly, pacing the study. "There must be something in this house—your research notes, my lesson plans, anything that might explain the magic that sent us here."

"Or how to reverse it," Riki added, rising to his feet.

"Exactly," you agreed, turning too quickly and colliding with him. His hands automatically steadied you, fingers wrapping around your upper arms.

You jerked away. "Don't touch me, Nishimura," you hissed. "Get your filthy fingers off me. God knows where they've been."

Something flickered in his eyes—hurt, perhaps?—before his usual smirk reappeared. He leaned closer, voice dropping to a whisper. "I don't know about God, but judging by these photos, I think I know where you'd like them to be."

Your face burned. "You're disgusting."

"And yet, apparently, you married me," he countered, gesturing to the ring on your finger. "Enthusiastically, from the looks of these albums."

You were about to deliver a scathing retort when a small sniffle from the doorway froze you both. Suki stood there, clutching Puff, her bottom lip wobbling dangerously.

"Mama and Dada fighting again?" she asked, voice trembling.

Pure panic flashed across Riki's face—the same feeling coursing through you. You had exactly two seconds to prevent another meltdown.

Without thinking, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around Riki's waist, plastering what you hoped was a convincing smile on your face.

"Not fighting, sweetheart," you said quickly. "Dada and I were just...playing."

Riki, to his credit, recovered quickly. His arm slid around your shoulders, pulling you close against his side.

"That's right," he agreed, smiling down at Suki. "Mama and I were just being silly."

Suki didn't look entirely convinced. "No more loud voices?"

"No more loud voices," you promised.

She studied you both with those unnervingly perceptive eyes, then nodded slowly. "Okay. Sara made mess. Big mess."

You exchanged an alarmed glance with Riki before hurrying to the living room, where you discovered Sara had somehow gotten hold of a pot of Everlasting Ink. The black liquid covered the toddler, the carpet, and most of a nearby armchair.

"How—" you began.

"I left for one minute!" Suki defended herself. "One minute!"

You bit back a laugh at her indignant tone—so reminiscent of your own when dealing with Riki's pranks—and turned to assess the damage.

"I'll take Sara for a bath," Riki offered, gingerly lifting the ink-covered toddler. "You tackle the furniture?"

You nodded, surprised by how easily you both fell into problem-solving mode. "Suki, can you show me where we keep the cleaning supplies?"

The crisis was half-managed when a bright silver light burst through the window. A tabby cat Patronus landed gracefully on the coffee table, fixing you both with a stern, familiar gaze.

"Mr. Nishimura. Miss L/N ]," came Professor McGonagall's voice from the ethereal cat. "Or should I say, Professor and Auror Nishimura? I am aware of your...temporal predicament. Report to my office at Hogwarts immediately. Without the children, if you please. Eight o'clock this evening. Do try not to destroy anything else in the meantime."

The Patronus dissolved, leaving a stunned silence in its wake.

"She knows," you whispered.

"Of course she does," Riki said, Sara squirming in his arms, leaving ink stains on his shirt. "She's McGonagall."

"But how? And what did she mean 'destroy anything else'?" A thought struck you. "Merlin's beard—what if our spell did more than just send us through time? What if we changed something important?"

Riki frowned. "Or broke something magical."

"The timeline itself, perhaps," you suggested, feeling sick.

"Well," he said, shifting Sara to his other hip, "at least we don't have to figure this out alone now."

You looked around at the chaotic scene—the ink-stained room, the confused children, the evidence of a life neither of you remembered building—and felt a wave of hysterical laughter bubble up.

"What's so funny?" Riki asked, eyebrows raised.

"Just picturing McGonagall's face when we have to explain that this all started because you tried to make me miss an exam."

He opened his mouth to argue, then shook his head with a rueful smile. "We are so getting detention. For a month. Possibly the rest of our lives."

Suki tugged at your hand. "Who was the cat lady?"

You knelt down to her level. "That was Headmistress McGonagall. She's...an old friend."

"The scary one from your stories?" Suki asked, eyes wide. "The one who can turn into a cat?"

"Exactly that one," Riki confirmed.

Suki considered this information solemnly. "She mad at you?"

You exchanged a look with Riki. "Probably," you admitted.

"Definitely," he corrected.

"You need timeout?" Suki asked seriously.

This time, when your eyes met Riki's, you couldn't help it—you both burst out laughing, the tension of the morning finally breaking. Suki looked between you, confused but pleased that her parents were laughing instead of fighting.

"Yes, Suki," you managed when you could speak again. "I think Dada and I are in a very long timeout."

"The longest," Riki agreed, his smile—his real smile, not the smirk you were used to—making something flutter strangely in your chest.

You quickly looked away, focusing on the ink stain. Whatever was happening, whatever McGonagall knew, one thing was certain—you needed to fix this mess and get back where you belonged. Before you started getting used to Riki's genuine smile, or the way Suki's hand felt in yours, or the strange sense of rightness that kept creeping in despite your best efforts to ignore it.

Because this wasn't your life. It couldn't be. No matter what the photographs showed or how natural it sometimes felt.

...Could it?

Meeting with McGonagall had been exactly as intimidating as expected. Even as adults—or at least, in adult bodies—you both found yourselves fidgeting under her stern gaze like first-years caught out after curfew.

"Of all the reckless, irresponsible applications of magic," she'd said, pacing her office while portraits of former headmasters watched with varying degrees of amusement. "A temporal displacement caused by a schoolyard rivalry. Albus would have found this terribly entertaining." Her tone made it clear she did not share this sentiment.

McGonagall had explained, with remarkable patience, that your spell collision had created a rare but not unprecedented magical phenomenon. You had essentially switched places with your future selves—who were now presumably navigating your teenage lives at Hogwarts.

"So does that mean we can go back?" you'd asked hopefully.

Her answer had crushed that hope. "The magic will resolve itself naturally in approximately four weeks. Any attempt to force a reversal could cause irreparable damage to both timelines."

"Four WEEKS?" Riki had choked out.

"Consider it an educational opportunity, Mr. Nishimura," McGonagall had replied, the ghost of a smile playing at her lips. "A chance to see where your choices lead. Perhaps it will inspire better decision-making in your youth."

And with that decidedly unhelpful advice, she'd sent you both back to your cottage and your borrowed life, with instructions to maintain your professional obligations and "try not to destroy the timeline."

Which was how you found yourself standing in front of a classroom of third-year students the next morning, trying to remember anything useful about shield charms beyond the basics you'd learned in fifth year.

"Professor?" A Ravenclaw girl in the front row raised her hand. "You said last week we'd be practicing against minor hexes today."

"Right," you said, stalling. "But first, let's review. Can anyone tell me the three key principles of effective shielding?"

Thank Merlin for eager students. As they rattled off answers, you discreetly consulted the lesson plans you'd found in your desk drawer. Apparently, your future self was exceptionally organized—each lesson meticulously planned with notes on individual students' progress.

Meanwhile, Riki had reluctantly departed for the Ministry, armed with a crash course in current Auror protocols courtesy of a surprisingly helpful portrait of a former Head of Magical Law Enforcement hanging in McGonagall's office.

"Just act important and delegate everything," the portrait had advised with a wink. "Standard procedure for department heads after a vacation."

Department head. Apparently, Riki had risen quickly through Auror ranks to lead a specialized unit focused on magical smuggling and illegal enchantments. Your respect for your future husband's abilities had increased considerably—not that you'd admit it aloud.

The day passed in a blur of classes, staff meetings, and trying not to reveal your temporal displacement to colleagues who clearly knew you well. By evening, you were mentally exhausted but strangely exhilarated. You'd always secretly considered teaching, and discovering that you'd achieved that ambition was oddly satisfying.

Riki returned home via Floo just before dinner, looking shell-shocked but intact. The children greeted him with enthusiasm, Suki launching herself at his legs while Sara babbled excitedly from her high chair.

"How was it?" you asked once the initial chaos subsided.

"Terrifying," he admitted quietly, accepting the cup of tea you offered. "I'm apparently in charge of seventeen Aurors and coordinating with magical law enforcement across Europe. Me. The guy who once transfigured all the Slytherin common room furniture into rubber ducks."

"Well, you always were good at transfiguration," you pointed out, surprising yourself with the compliment.

He looked equally surprised. "Did you just acknowledge one of my skills without adding an insult?"

"Don't get used to it." But you found yourself smiling anyway.

Suki, ever watchful, observed this exchange with obvious approval. "Dada catch bad wizards today?" she asked, climbing onto his lap.

"Sort of," Riki answered, automatically adjusting to accommodate her. "Dada mostly signed papers and pretended to know what he was doing."

"That's what you always say," Suki giggled, clearly accustomed to this joke.

You watched them together, struck again by how naturally Riki had adapted to fatherhood. The boy who'd once charmed your quills to write nothing but love poems about himself was now patiently listening to a toddler's detailed description of her day at magical daycare.

"Miss Penny let me feed the pygmy puffs," Suki was explaining earnestly. "And I didn't even squeeze them too hard this time."

"That's my girl," Riki said, genuine pride in his voice. "Always improving."

Later, after you'd managed bathtime (Sara could apparently generate tsunamis with minimal water) and bedtime stories (Suki insisted on three, with different voices for each character), you and Riki faced the awkward reality of sleeping arrangements.

"I'll take the sofa," he offered, hovering in the bedroom doorway.

"Don't be ridiculous," you said practically. "That sofa is barely long enough for Suki. We're adults. We can share a bed without it being... weird."

Both of you knew this was a lie, but neither acknowledged it.

You established firm boundaries—a pillow wall down the center of the mattress and strict adherence to respective sides. You changed in the bathroom, emerging in pajamas you'd found in a drawer (thankfully modest), while Riki wore sweatpants and a t-shirt that he'd clearly transfigured to be baggier than its original fit.

"Goodnight," you said stiffly, turning your back to the pillow barrier.

"Goodnight," he replied from his side. "Try not to snore."

"I do not snore!"

"How would you know? You're asleep when it happens."

Just like that, you were arguing again—the familiar pattern a strange comfort in this unfamiliar situation.

You must have eventually fallen asleep, because the next thing you knew, you were waking to a small voice and the mattress dipping slightly.

"Mama? Dada? Bad dream."

Suki stood beside the bed in her Holyhead Harpies pajamas, Puff clutched tightly to her chest, eyes wide and frightened in the dim wandlight that automatically illuminated at her distress.

Riki sat up immediately, all traces of sleep vanishing. "What kind of bad dream, Suki-bean?"

The casual endearment slipped out so naturally that neither of you remarked on it.

"Monsters," she whispered dramatically. "In the closet. And under bed. And in curtains."

"That's a lot of monsters," you said, sitting up as well.

"So many," she agreed solemnly. "Need both Mama and Dada."

She was already climbing onto the bed, worming her way directly into the center—right over your carefully constructed pillow barrier. She settled between you, looking from one to the other expectantly.

"Both stay," she insisted. "Both keep monsters away."

Riki met your eyes over her head, silently communicating in that strange way you'd developed over the past few days. You nodded slightly.

"We'll both stay," he promised. "No monsters allowed."

"That's right," you agreed. "Mama and Dada are scarier than any monsters."

Suki considered this, then nodded decisively. "Mama has scary voice when Sara draws on walls."

Riki bit back a laugh. "She certainly does."

You elbowed him lightly, but couldn't help smiling. Suki snuggled down between you, one small hand gripping your pajama top, the other clutching Riki's shirt.

"Night-night," she murmured, already drifting back to sleep, secure in the knowledge that her parents would keep her safe.

You lay awake long after her breathing deepened, acutely aware of Riki doing the same on the other side of your daughter. Your daughter. The thought still sent a jolt through you.

"This is strange, isn't it?" he whispered finally. "How quickly this starts feeling..."

"Normal," you finished when he trailed off. "I know."

"I'm not as terrible at this as I would have expected," he admitted.

"And I'm not hexing you every five minutes, which shows remarkable restraint on my part."

His low chuckle vibrated through the mattress. "Perhaps we've matured. A little."

"Apparently enough to create this," you said softly, gently brushing a strand of hair from Suki's forehead.

"She's pretty amazing, isn't she?" The naked pride in his voice made your throat tighten.

"Both of them are."

Silence fell again, but it was different now—contemplative rather than awkward. Eventually, you drifted off to sleep, the last sensation being Suki's warm weight against your side and, just beyond her, the steady rhythm of Riki's breathing.

The next few days established a strange new routine. You taught Defense Against the Dark Arts by day, gradually growing more comfortable as muscle memory and your future self's excellent notes guided you. Your colleagues clearly respected you—Professor Flitwick even mentioned your recent paper on practical defensive applications of Charms work published in Transfiguration Today.

Riki adapted to Auror work with surprising skill, his natural talent for thinking outside conventional boundaries apparently serving him well in investigating magical smuggling operations. He returned home each evening with increasingly fewer looks of panic and more stories of actual accomplishment.

The children attended Little Sorcerers, a magical daycare in Hogsmeade run by a cheerful witch named Penny Clearwater who had apparently been a few years ahead of you at Hogwarts. Suki was in the "Developing Wands" group for magical children showing early signs of ability, while Sara stayed in the "Baby Beasts" room.

Domestic life fell into place with unexpected ease. You discovered household charms you'd never known, apparently perfected by your future self. Riki, much to your surprise, was an excellent cook—another skill his future self had developed.

"My mother always said cooking is just like potions, but with less chance of explosion," he explained one evening as he expertly charmed knives to chop vegetables. "Usually less chance, anyway."

One week into your strange displacement, you were sitting at the kitchen table grading essays while Riki played with the girls in the living room. His patient voice floated through the doorway as he explained, for what must have been the thousandth time, why Sara couldn't ride the toy broomstick Suki had received for her birthday.

"Because she's too little, Suki. Remember when you were her age and tried to ride Uncle Jake's broom? What happened?"

"I falled in rosebushes," Suki recited reluctantly. "And needed ouchie potion."

"Exactly. So Sara needs to wait until she's bigger, just like you did."

You found yourself smiling at the exchange. The Riki you knew from Hogwarts had never shown this kind of patience. But then, you'd never really looked for it either, had you? You'd been so busy competing, bickering, retaliating for pranks, that you'd never considered there might be more to him.

Later that night, after the children were asleep, you found yourself lingering in the study, examining framed certificates and photographs. Your teaching credentials from a specialized Defense mastery program. Riki's Auror certification, with honors. A joint commendation from the Ministry for some collaborative project.

Riki found you there, two mugs of tea in hand. He offered one silently, and you accepted with a nod of thanks.

"Strange to see what we become," he said finally, examining a photo of you both at what appeared to be a Ministry function.

"Not what I expected," you admitted.

"No?"

You gestured around the study. "Look at all this. Professional success. Academic recognition. A home, a family..." You trailed off, not quite able to complete the thought.

Riki did it for you. "Everything we secretly wanted but were too proud to admit?"

You looked at him sharply. "What do you mean?"

He shrugged, suddenly looking vulnerable in a way the seventeen-year-old Riki never would have allowed. "I never hated you, you know. I was just..."

"Competitive?" you supplied.

"Immature," he corrected with a rueful smile. "And maybe a little intimidated. You always knew exactly what you wanted and how to get it. I just knew what I didn't want—to follow my father into the diplomatic service, to be serious all the time."

"So you became the class clown instead?"

"I became whatever would get a reaction." His honesty surprised you. "Especially from you."

You weren't ready for this conversation—this glimpse beneath the surface of your carefully maintained animosity. So you deflected.

"Well, apparently it worked out for both of us." You gestured to the evidence of your successful careers. "Though I still can't believe I married someone who once enchanted my hair to glow in the dark during exams."

"In my defense, you looked incredible. Like a vengeful goddess."

Despite yourself, you laughed. "I was so furious. I couldn't figure out how to counter it for three days."

"I know." His smile turned reminiscent. "McGonagall finally took pity on you. But not before I got to admire my handiwork for half a week."

The ease between you was new and unsettling. It felt like a betrayal of your properly antagonistic relationship, yet it also felt... right. As if your bodies remembered a friendship—and more—that your minds hadn't yet experienced.

"We should sleep," you said abruptly, uncomfortable with the direction of your thoughts. "Early classes tomorrow."

Riki nodded, the moment broken. "Right. Of course."

You both headed to the bedroom, maintaining the pretense of the pillow barrier even though Suki had demolished it the past three nights in a row, inevitably climbing into your bed with complaints of monsters, bad dreams, or simply "missing Mama and Dada."

But as you lay in the darkness, listening to Riki's breathing slow on the other side of the useless barrier, you couldn't help wondering: If this was your future—a respected career, beautiful children, and an unexpectedly supportive partner—was it really something you wanted to undo?

The thought followed you into dreams where seventeen-year-old Riki laughed as he turned your hair pink, but adult Riki smiled as he helped you wash it out, his fingers gentle against your scalp and his eyes holding something you weren't ready to name.

Morning sunlight filtered through the curtains as you carefully extracted yourself from the bed, trying not to disturb Riki. Over the past ten days, you'd fallen into an uneasy routine—you rose early to prepare for your classes while he handled the nighttime wake-ups with Sara, who still wasn't sleeping through the night.

Today you had a particularly early staff meeting to review the upcoming O.W.L. practical examinations. You gathered your teaching robes and had just started toward the bathroom when a loud chiming sound filled the room.

A glowing orb materialized above the dresser—something like a remembrall but larger and pulsing with magical energy. You approached it cautiously, poking it with your wand.

The orb expanded, revealing the face of a woman you didn't recognize—though she clearly knew you, judging by her broad smile.

"Fucking finally! I've been trying to reach you since yesterday!" the woman exclaimed. Her curly hair was piled haphazardly atop her head, and she appeared to be wearing pajamas. "Did you get my message about Friday? Because Marcus is taking the kids to his mother's, and I'm desperate for a girls' night."

You froze, desperately trying to place her. This must be a friend of your future self—possibly your best friend, given her casual manner.

"I, um—" you stammered.

"Oh shit, did I wake you? What time is it there?" She squinted, then gasped dramatically. "Is that Riki in bed behind you? Sorry! Although..." her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, "since I've got you both, I might as well ask. That thing you mentioned last month? The tongue thing?"

Your face burned as you realized what kind of "thing" she was referring to.

"I tried it with Marcus but I must be doing something wrong because he just looked confused, and honestly, after three kids you'd think I'd have figured out how to keep things interesting," she continued, seemingly oblivious to your discomfort. "But you always seem to have Riki thoroughly fucked—he practically glows every time I see him—so clearly you're doing something right."

You heard a muffled sound from the bed and glanced back to see Riki stirring, his eyes opening with confusion that quickly transformed to interest as he caught snippets of the conversation.

"I mean," your friend continued, lowering her voice even more, "last time we talked, you said it was all about the pattern you use with your tongue and how you have to maintain eye contact the whole time? And something about using a specific angle? I tried but Marcus kept laughing and saying it tickled."

Riki's eyebrows shot up, and he propped himself on his elbows, now fully awake and listening intently.

"And then you mentioned that thing with the ice cube beforehand? Did you mean like directly on his—"

"I REALLY need to go," you interrupted desperately, but your friend was on a roll.

"—because that seemed extreme, but then again, your sex life is legendary. Remember at New Year's when you two disappeared for an hour and came back looking like you'd been mauled by something? And Riki couldn't stop smirking for the rest of the night? Merlin's balls, whatever you did to him must have been spectacular."

At this point, Riki had both hands clamped over his mouth, his entire body shaking with barely contained laughter.

"Anyway," your friend continued, blissfully unaware of the chaos she was causing, "I just need a refresher. When you grip his thighs, is it more about the pressure or the—"

"FOR FUCK'S SAKE!" you finally shouted, frantically tapping the orb, trying to end the call. "I'M ABOUT TO BE LATE FOR A MEETING!"

"Oh! Sorry!" she said, finally noticing your distress. "But just quickly—that position you mentioned, the one where you—"

"SILENCIO!" you bellowed, finally succeeding in muting her. But the call continued, her lips moving silently as she enthusiastically mimed what appeared to be a particularly athletic maneuver.

Behind you, Riki had lost his battle with composure. He was now howling with laughter, rolling on the bed and clutching his stomach.

"Holy shit," he gasped between fits of hysterical laughter. "Eye contact the whole time? Ice cubes? What the fuck do our future selves get up to?"

You finally located the deactivation rune and jabbed it violently. The orb vanished with a small pop, leaving mortified silence in its wake.

Well, silence except for Riki's continued uncontrollable laughter.

"I will hex you into next week," you threatened, your face burning hot enough to fry an egg.

"The fucking tongue thing!" he wheezed, tears streaming down his face. "And apparently I get 'thoroughly mauled' at New Year's? No wonder future-me always looks so damn pleased with himself!"

"Would you SHUT UP?" you hissed, grabbing a pillow and launching it at his head.

He caught it mid-air, his Quidditch reflexes intact even as he gasped for breath between laughs. "I can't—I can't breathe—"

"Good! Die, then!"

"Aww, don't be embarrassed," he teased, finally regaining some control. "Obviously our future selves enjoy fucking each other. We have two tiny munchkins as proof of that." He gestured toward the nursery with a grin. "Concrete evidence of at least two very successful encounters."

"This isn't funny, you absolute ass!" But your embarrassment was being overtaken by reluctant amusement at the absurdity of the situation.

"It's extremely funny," he countered, sitting up and wiping tears from his eyes. "Your face when she started mimicking that position—"

You launched yourself across the bed, determined to silence him before he could continue. Your hand clamped over his mouth as you landed half on top of him, using your body weight to pin him down.

"Not. Another. Goddamn. Word." You glared down at him, trying to look intimidating despite your undoubtedly bright red face.

His eyes crinkled at the corners, amusement evident even with his mouth covered. But then something shifted in his gaze—the laughter fading into something warmer, more intense. You suddenly became acutely aware of your position: straddling his lap, one hand over his mouth, your faces inches apart.

His breath was warm against your palm. You should move. You should definitely move. But your body seemed frozen, caught in the magnetic pull of his gaze.

Slowly, deliberately, he reached up and wrapped his fingers around your wrist, gently pulling your hand away from his mouth. The casual strength in his grip sent an unexpected shiver down your spine.

"Is this how you keep me thoroughly fucked and satisfied?" he murmured, voice pitched low in a way you'd never heard from seventeen-year-old Riki. "Pinning me down until I submit?"

Your breath caught. The air between you felt charged, crackling with a tension that had nothing to do with your usual animosity.

"I—" Whatever you might have said was lost as a piercing wail erupted from the nursery monitor on the nightstand.

"DAAAAADAAAA!" Sara's voice shattered the moment. "UP! UP NOW!"

Riki closed his eyes briefly, a mixture of frustration and resignation crossing his features. "Fuck. Perfect timing, as always," he muttered.

You scrambled off him, nearly falling in your haste to put distance between your bodies. "I should—shower. Meeting. Early."

Eloquence had apparently abandoned you entirely.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. "I'll check on Sara."

"Right. Good. Yes." You edged toward the bathroom, clutching your teaching robes like a shield.

At the door, he paused, throwing you a look over his shoulder. "You know we're going to have to continue this conversation eventually."

"What conversation?" you asked, aiming for innocent and missing by several miles.

His smile was slow and knowing. "The one about all the ways our future selves apparently enjoy fucking each other. And maybe that tongue thing. Seems like valuable information we shouldn't waste."

With that parting shot, he left to tend to Sara, leaving you leaning weakly against the bathroom door, your heart racing and your mind filled with images you had no business imagining.

You'd just finished putting Sara down for her nap when the distinct crack of apparition sounded from the front garden. Wand instantly in hand—a reflex from your Defense teaching—you moved cautiously toward the window.

A petite Japanese woman in elegant midnight-blue robes stood at your gate, a large ornate box floating beside her. Her hair was pulled into a sleek knot at the nape of her neck, and though she must have been in her fifties, she had the posture of someone half her age.

"Riki!" you called, recognizing her from the family photos. "Your mother's here!"

There was a crash from the kitchen, followed by a string of muffled curses.

"My WHAT?" he hissed, appearing in the doorway with a look of undisguised panic. "Why? Did you know she was coming?"

"How would I know that?" you whispered back frantically.

"You're the one who's apparently been married to me for years! Don't you have a schedule or something?"

Before you could argue further, an imperious knock sounded at the door. You both froze like guilty first-years caught out after curfew.

Suki, oblivious to your distress, came barreling down the hall. "GRANDMA!" she squealed, reaching for the doorknob before either of you could stop her.

The door swung open to reveal Riki's mother, her stern expression instantly transforming into a warm smile at the sight of her granddaughter.

"Suki!" she exclaimed, setting down her floating package to sweep the child into her arms. "Have you been practicing your Japanese?"

"Hai, Grandma!" Suki replied proudly.

"Good girl." She kissed Suki's forehead before setting her down, then turned her attention to you and Riki, who was hovering awkwardly behind you.

"Darling," she greeted you with unexpected warmth, moving forward to embrace you. "You look tired. Is my son helping enough with the children?" She didn't wait for an answer before turning to Riki. "Riki! Your hair is a mess. Are you still sleeping until noon? You have responsibilities now!"

Without warning, she reached up and slapped the back of his head—a feat requiring her to almost stand on tiptoe, given the height difference.

"Mom!" Riki protested, rubbing his head. "It's good to see you too."

"Is it? When was the last time you visited?" She grabbed his ear and tugged, pulling his head down to her level. "Do I need to remind you of the importance of family?"

You bit your lip, trying desperately not to laugh at the sight of fully-grown Auror Riki being treated like a naughty schoolboy. The look of helpless resignation on his face suggested this was a regular occurrence.

"We've been busy with work, Mom," you intervened, taking pity on him. "Please, come in. Would you like some tea?"

She released Riki's ear and beamed at you. "Always so polite. This one knows how to show respect, Riki. You should learn from your wife."

"Yes, Mom," Riki muttered, rubbing his ear.

"Grandma bring presents?" Suki asked hopefully, eyeing the box that had resumed floating beside her grandmother.

"Just one special delivery today," Hana replied, guiding the box into the living room with a flick of her wand. "For your parents."

You led everyone into the kitchen, where you busied yourself preparing tea. Riki, clearly trying to behave, pulled out a chair for his mother.

"Such good manners," Hana observed with mock surprise. "Did your wife teach you that, too?"

"Mom..." Riki began with a long-suffering sigh.

"I'm teasing, Riki," she said, but slapped his arm anyway. "Mostly."

You placed a teacup in front of her, grateful that your future self apparently knew how she took her tea.

"Now," Hana said after taking a delicate sip, "about the item you asked me to find."

You exchanged a quick glance with Riki, neither of you having any idea what she was referring to.

"I've brought it, just as promised," she continued. "Though why you couldn't have asked for it during your visit last month instead of by owl, I don't understand."

"Work has been... unpredictable," you improvised, hoping it was a plausible excuse.

Hana made a dismissive gesture. "Always work with you two. But I suppose that's why you're both so successful." There was genuine pride in her voice, despite her criticisms.

"Suki," she said, turning to her granddaughter who was attempting to climb onto Riki's lap, "would you show me your new drawings? The ones you told Grandma about in your message?"

Suki nodded eagerly. "In my room! I drawed a dragon eating ice cream!"

"Drew, Baby," Riki corrected automatically.

"That's what I said, Daddy," Suki replied with the confidence of a child who could never be wrong. She took her grandmother's hand and began tugging her toward the stairs.

"I'll just be a few minutes," Hana said, allowing herself to be led away. "Riki, make yourself useful and start dinner. Your wife works all day teaching those hopeless children to defend themselves. The least you can do is feed her properly."

"Yes, Mom," Riki replied with practiced patience.

The moment they disappeared upstairs, he turned to you. "What the hell is going on? What did you apparently ask her for?"

"How should I know?" you whispered back. "Maybe it's in that box she brought?"

You both turned to look at the ornate package still floating in the living room. It was wrapped in deep blue silk with silver constellations that actually twinkled and shifted across the fabric.

"Whatever it is, it's fancy," Riki observed. "And apparently important."

"We can't open it until we know what it is," you said reasonably. "Your mother might expect a specific reaction."

"I haven't seen her this... pleasant... in years," Riki admitted. "Usually there's at least twenty minutes of criticism before she even considers smiling."

"She seems quite fond of me," you couldn't help noting with a slight smirk.

"Of course she is," Riki grumbled. "You're exactly the type of person she wanted me to be—studious, responsible, organized. You probably color-code your lesson plans."

"I do not!" you protested, then caught yourself. "Well, future-me might, but that's beside the point."

Before you could continue, Hana reappeared, sans Suki. "She's showing Sara her drawings now," she explained. "That child could talk for England in the Olympics."

"Wonder where she gets that from," you said, giving Riki a pointed look.

Hana laughed. "Exactly what I was thinking." She moved to the box and gestured for you to join her. "Come, I'll show you what I found. Riki, start the rice. The women are talking."

Riki rolled his eyes but obediently moved to the kitchen, muttering something about "impossible women ganging up on him."

Hana drew you to the far side of the living room, lowering her voice. "I wanted to give this to you privately first," she said, untying the silk wrapping. "So you can decide how to present it to him for your anniversary."

Anniversary? Your heart rate picked up. Exactly how close was this supposedly important date?

The silk fell away, revealing a carved wooden box with the Nishimura family crest inlaid in mother-of-pearl. Hana opened it carefully to reveal a stunning platinum pocket watch nestled in velvet.

"It belonged to his grandfather," she explained, lifting it gently. "Riki adored it as a child. Used to beg to hold it, would sit for hours watching the constellation dial shift with the seasons."

She opened the watch's case, revealing an exquisitely detailed night sky in miniature, with tiny stars that glittered and moved in real-time. The craftsmanship was breathtaking.

"His grandfather promised it to him when he became a man worthy of it," Hana continued, a soft smile playing at her lips. "But he passed before Riki finished Hogwarts."

She pressed the watch into your hands. "When you wrote asking if I still had it—if I would consider letting you give it to him for your fifth anniversary—I admit I cried. You understand my son in ways I never could."

Fifth anniversary. The words echoed in your mind. You and Riki had been married for five years in this timeline.

"I..." you began, genuinely moved by both the gift and the sentiment behind it.

"No need for words," Hana said, patting your hand. "I know you'll present it perfectly. Just promise me you'll take a photograph of his face when he sees it."

"I promise," you said sincerely, carefully returning the watch to its case.

"Good. Now hide it away before he—"

"Before I what?" Riki asked, returning from the kitchen with a dish towel over his shoulder.

Hana moved with surprising speed, snatching the box and thrusting it behind you. "Before you stick your nose where it doesn't belong!" she scolded, reaching up to tug his ear again. "Honestly, Riki, eavesdropping at your age!"

"I wasn't—" he protested, bending awkwardly to accommodate her grip on his ear. "Mom, please!"

"Go back to the kitchen," she commanded. "The rice will burn."

"It's in a spelled pot, it can't burn," he argued.

She released his ear only to slap the back of his head again. "Don't contradict your mother. Go. Shoo."

Riki shot you a pleading look, but you merely shrugged, hiding your amusement poorly. He slouched back to the kitchen, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like "traitor."

Once he was out of earshot, Hana handed you the box again. "Hide this somewhere he won't look. Do you have such a place?"

You thought quickly. "My lesson plan cabinet. He'd rather face a Hungarian Horntail than look through teaching materials."

Hana nodded approvingly. "Smart girl. This is why I always said you were too good for him."

"I don't know about that," you said, surprising yourself with the sincerity in your voice.

Hana's expression softened. "Neither does he. That's what makes you perfect together." She straightened her robes briskly. "Now, I should supervise his cooking before he ruins dinner. His father was the same way—brilliant man, hopeless with domestic spells."

As she marched toward the kitchen, you heard her exclaim, "Riki! What are you doing to those poor vegetables? Here, let me show you again..."

You slipped the box into your teaching bag, mind reeling. Five years of marriage. A thoughtful anniversary gift that Riki would apparently treasure. A mother-in-law who clearly adored you and whom you called "Mom" with ease.

This life—this future—kept revealing layers that made it harder and harder to dismiss as a nightmare or a prank gone wrong. Because parts of it, if you were being honest with yourself, didn't feel wrong at all.

They felt alarmingly, confusingly right.

From the kitchen came the sound of Riki's protests, followed by his mother's firm instructions and what sounded like another light slap. Despite everything—your displacement in time, your confusion about your feelings, the lingering embarrassment from this morning's call—you found yourself smiling.

Some things, apparently, never changed. Even in a future where everything else had.

Two days after Hana's visit, you were grading essays in the study when the fireplace flared green. Instinctively, you reached for your wand, still not entirely comfortable with the casual magical security of your future home.A man's head appeared in the flames—mid-thirties, with an easy smile and close-cropped hair. "Riki! You home, mate?" he called.

You hesitated, unsure how to respond. Thankfully, Riki appeared from the kitchen, and you were surprised to see genuine delight spreading across his face.

"Jake!" He rushed to the fireplace, the dish towel in his hands forgotten. "Merlin, it's good to see you."

The relief in his voice was palpable—this wasn't just recognition of someone from this future timeline, but someone he genuinely knew.

"Good to see me? You saw me three days ago at the office," Jake's floating head laughed. "Listen, just checking about tomorrow night. Seera's been on my case all week about what time you two are arriving."

Riki blinked, momentarily thrown. "Tomorrow night?"

Jake's expression turned exasperated. "The department dinner? Don't tell me you forgot. You RSVPed weeks ago."

"Right. The department dinner," Riki repeated, shooting you a panicked glance.

"Unbelievable," Jake said, but his tone was affectionate rather than annoyed. "I've been reminding you about deadlines since you were nine, and you still forget. Good thing I called. Seera would hex me into next week if you two didn't show—she's been looking forward to catching up with the professor here." He nodded in your direction.

You gave a small wave, noting how Riki seemed to relax into the familiar dynamic with Jake.

"It's just..." Riki began, running a hand through his hair, "with the children and everything—"

"Don't even start," Jake cut him off. "You already arranged for Molly Weasley to watch the girls. You told me yourself last week. Said it was your anniversary gift to yourselves—an evening without sticky fingers and bedtime tantrums."

Your eyes met Riki's, a silent message passing between you. He looked both relieved to be talking to someone from his past and confused by the new information.

"Right," Riki said, recovering his composure. "Sorry, just a long week. What time is it again?"

"Seven for drinks, dinner at eight," Jake replied. "At Theodesia's in Diagon Alley. The private room upstairs." He paused, then added with a knowing smirk, "Formal dress. You know how the boss loves any excuse for everyone to get fancy."

"Great," Riki said with more genuine enthusiasm now. "Looking forward to it."

"You'd better be. Seera's been practicing her speech all week." Jake winked. "She's determined to toast the department's most disgustingly perfect couple on their anniversary milestone."

"Our... right." Riki's hand went back to his hair—a nervous tell you'd noticed over the past weeks. "Wouldn't miss it."

"Excellent! See you both tomorrow, then," Jake said. His head started to withdraw, then popped back. "Oh, and Riki? Wear the blue dress robes. Your wife once told Seera they make your ass look fantastic."

With that parting shot and a laugh, he disappeared, leaving the fireplace ordinary once more.

Riki stared at the empty fireplace for a moment, a complicated mix of emotions crossing his face.

"You know him," you said, not a question but an observation. "From before all this."

"Jake Sim," Riki nodded, sinking onto the sofa beside you. "He lived down the street from us when I was a kid. Seven years older than me, but he always let me tag along when his friends played Quidditch. Taught me how to fly, actually." His voice softened with fondness. "Kind of the big brother I never had."

"That must be nice," you said carefully. "Having someone familiar in all this strangeness."

"It is," he admitted. "Weird to see him so much older, though." He glanced at you. "Apparently he works in the Auror department with me. That explains a lot—he always said he wanted to be an Auror."

"So," you said, returning to practicalities, "department dinner tomorrow."

"Apparently." Riki looked less panicked now, almost reassured by the connection to his past. "Formal. With at least one person I actually know."

"And a toast to our anniversary." You groaned. "Perfect."

"Let me check the details," Riki said, summoning his work organizer from his bag and flipping through to tomorrow's date. "Here it is. 'Annual Auror Division Recognition Dinner. Special achievement acknowledgments.' And in smaller writing: 'Jake and Seera Sim confirmed, Table 3.'"

"Recognition dinner? Is your future self getting an award or something?"

"I have no idea." Riki looked genuinely alarmed by the possibility. "I'm still trying to figure out where to find case files in my office."

You rubbed your temples, feeling a headache forming. "So now we have to attend a formal dinner with people who know us—our future selves—well enough to comment on how your ass looks in dress robes, make anniversary toasts, and possibly present you with some kind of award."

"Don't forget we apparently arranged childcare with Molly Weasley," Riki added. "Whom neither of us has spoken to in this timeline."

"Shit." You dropped your head into your hands. "This is getting more complicated by the day."

Riki was quiet for a moment, then said thoughtfully, "Maybe we should look at this as an opportunity."

You raised your head. "An opportunity for what? Public humiliation?"

"Information gathering," he corrected, looking more confident than he had in days. "Jake knows me—the real me. And he obviously knows our future selves well too. He might be able to help us understand how we ended up... here." He gestured vaguely between you. "Plus, if this is some kind of work event, I might learn more about what my job actually entails."

He had a point. And if you were honest with yourself, you were a bit curious about your social circle in this future life—especially this childhood friend who had clearly remained important to Riki into adulthood.

"Fine," you conceded. "But we need a strategy. Signals if one of us is getting into conversational quicksand."

"I'll step on your foot if you start heading into dangerous territory," Riki suggested.

"And I'll spill my drink on you if you do the same."

"Seems fair," he agreed, then glanced at the clock. "Should we... call Molly? Confirm the childcare arrangement?"

"As much as I'm dreading it, probably," you admitted. "We also need to figure out what to wear to this thing."

Riki stood up. "I'll check the wardrobe for the allegedly ass-flattering blue robes. You handle Molly."

"Why do I get the hard job?" you protested.

"Because she already loves you, Professor," he said with a grin. "Everyone does, apparently."

You threw a quill at him, which he dodged easily as he headed upstairs.

After an awkward but ultimately successful Floo call to Molly Weasley—who indeed seemed already aware of your childcare needs and waved off your attempts to confirm details with a cheerful "Of course, dear, just bring them over before six like usual"—you headed upstairs to assess your own formal wear options.

The master bedroom closet revealed an impressive collection of teaching robes interspersed with more formal attire. Near the back, you found several elegant dress robes and gowns that your seventeen-year-old self would never have imagined owning.

You were examining a particularly stunning deep green gown when Riki emerged from the bathroom, holding up a set of formal midnight-blue dress robes with silver embroidery along the cuffs and collar.

"Found them," he announced. "Think these are the ones that make my ass look fantastic?"

"I wouldn't know," you said primly. "I've never made a habit of assessing that particular feature."

"Liar," he said with a smirk. "I've caught you looking."

"I have not—" you began, then stopped at his triumphant expression. "You're just trying to get a rise out of me!"

"And succeeding." He grinned, then nodded at the green gown in your hands. "That one. It's phenomenal."

You glanced down at the gown, surprised by his comment. "You think?"

"I know." His voice had lost its teasing edge. "You wore something similar to the Yule Ball in fourth year. I remembered thinking..." He trailed off, suddenly looking uncomfortable.

"Thinking what?" you prompted, curious despite yourself.

"Nothing important." He focused intently on his dress robes, inspecting them for non-existent lint. "Just that you looked... nice."

The admission hung in the air between you, unexpectedly weighty. You'd gone to the Yule Ball with a Ravenclaw boy whose name you barely remembered now. You hadn't even realized Riki had noticed you that night.

"Well," you said, trying to sound casual, "I suppose this will do, then."

"We should probably practice," Riki said abruptly.

"Practice what?"

"Acting like... you know. A couple." His cheeks had colored slightly. "If these people know us well, they'll expect certain behaviors. Interactions."

"Like what?" You weren't sure if the flutter in your stomach was anxiety or something else.

"I don't know, exactly. But probably more than the awkward distance we've been maintaining." He gestured between you. "People who've been married for five years don't flinch when they accidentally brush hands passing the salt."

He had a point, loath as you were to admit it. Your attempts at playing happy couple in front of the children were unconvincing enough; fooling adults who knew you well would be even harder.

"What did you have in mind?" you asked cautiously.

"Just... getting more comfortable. Small things." He stepped closer, tentatively reaching for your hand. "May I?"

Your heart stuttered as you nodded, allowing him to take your hand in his. His fingers were warm, slightly calloused—Auror training, perhaps, or years of Quidditch.

"See? Not so terrible." His voice had dropped to a lower register that sent an unexpected shiver through you.

"I suppose not," you managed.

He took another half step closer. "At an event like this, I might... put my arm around you." Slowly, telegraphing his movements, he released your hand and slid his arm around your waist.

You tensed briefly, then made yourself relax into the contact. It felt strange—Nishimura Riki touching you without it being part of some prank or competition—but not unpleasant.

"And you might lean into me a little," he suggested. "Like it's natural."

Hesitantly, you shifted your weight, allowing your body to rest slightly against his. He was solid, warm, his familiar scent—sandalwood and something uniquely him—enveloping you.

"Better," he murmured. "Almost convincing."

You looked up, intending to make some sarcastic remark, but the words died in your throat. His face was much closer than you'd realized, his dark eyes studying you with an intensity that made your pulse quicken.

"People might expect us to..." he began, then paused. "That is, married couples usually..."

"Usually what?" you whispered, though you knew perfectly well what he meant.

His gaze dropped briefly to your lips, then back to your eyes. "Dance," he finished, stepping back abruptly and breaking the moment. "We should practice dancing. For tomorrow."

"Right," you said, ignoring the confusing pang of disappointment. "Dancing. Good idea."

"I'll, um, let you finish looking through your options," he said, backing toward the door with his blue robes still clutched in one hand. "Need to check on the girls anyway."

He disappeared down the hall, leaving you alone with a racing heart and the lingering sensation of his arm around your waist.

You turned back to the closet, fingers brushing against the green fabric of the gown. A formal dinner with colleagues who knew your future selves intimately. An anniversary toast. And Riki in robes specifically noted for how well they fit him.

Tomorrow night promised to be interesting, to say the least.

part 2

TL: @ziiao @seonhoon @beariegyu @somuchdard @ddolleri @zzhengyu @annybah @elairah @dreamy-carat @geniejunn @kristynaaah @zoemeltigloos @mellowgalaxystrawberry @inlovewithningning @vveebee @m3wkledreamy @lovelycassy @highway-143 @koizekomi @tiny-shiny @simbabyikeu @cristy-101 @bloomiize @dearestdreamies @enhaverse713586 @cybe4ss @starniras @wonuziex @sol3chu @simj4k3 @jakewonist @azzy02 @addictedtohobi @cherrybeomm @urmomdotcom5678 @jaeyunsbimbo @yongbokified @changbinniescurlyhair @en-whims

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wileys-russo · 1 day ago

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filling the void (11) || a.putellas

latest installment in fresa's filling the void universe ft some sol @girlgenius1111 filling the void (11) || a.putellas

“mija! ¿necesitas algo?” you sighed as suddenly the paragraph you’d been furiously scribbling down disappeared from memory at the interruption. “to be left alone.” you mumbled under your breath with a roll of your eyes.

“no mami, gracias!” you called back within earshot now for the tenth time in an hour, finally allowed to study in your room, however the door had to be open and you may as well have been anywhere else with how often you were interrupted and the lack of any privacy.

you knew your mami meant well but every time she yelled for you your concentration was broken, and you’d barely made a dent into this report which was supposed to be submitted in a few days and counted quite significantly toward your overall grade for the semester.

you knew if you asked for an extension you’d be granted one, but with nothing else to do (not allowed to do anything else with your ankle really) you were determined to get it done by the deadline. especially with the champions league final this coming weekend you wanted to have it submitted and out of mind before you all packed up and headed to bilbao.

frankly you were shocked you were even being permitted to go with your boot and crutches. you could get around just fine having somewhat gotten the hang of it, even with the purple bruises beneath your arms which were starting to be spottled with green and yellow.

you knew alexia had her opinions on the matter given it was all the pair of you had gone back and forth about at dinner last night, until eli stepped in and firmly put a cork in the matter, banning the topic all together.

that hadn’t stopped you however from threatening to stab your eldest sister in the hand yet again, and alba very subtly moving your cutlery out of reach now that dinner was done. but come this morning it seemed there was some finality, your ticket on the bus secured and the itinerary your uncle made for everyone for the weekend sat in your email inbox.

spying your airpods case sat on your bed you used your good foot to push away from the desk, the roller chair you were sat on gliding across your carpet with ease causing you to grin, having found a few new ways to get around without assistance the last couple of days.

your attention was diverted by the repeated pinging of your phone, airpods in hand and once again using your good foot to push off your bed and go spinning back toward your desk, you pulled yourself back into position in front of your open laptop.

your eyebrows furrowed seeing a flurry of texts from the last person you’d guess to be responsible for them, the grumpy norwegian who despite your firm protests almost carried you back up to the front door after dropping you home post study session earlier this week.

‘hey peg leg’ your eyes rolled reading the first one, knowing she would have found the nickname hilarious despite how lame and unfunny you found it. ‘how is the boot?’was she asking how you were? ‘heavy. itchy. ugly. aren’t you in class?’

you realised the time and frowned a little, realising it wasn’t quite midday on a week day and solstrale should have been in school.

‘i skipped’‘

“to study. before you get on my ass about it.’

of course she skipped, your eyes almost rolled out of your head but before you could respond your phone pinged again with another two messages.

‘this book is missing the last two pages’ *picture attached*

a tiny smile graced your features looking at the all too familiar faded yellow cover, and maybe a little at the fact that for all her protests solstrale was actually reading the childrens books you’d instructed her to, but only a tiny bit.

‘so does the puppy make it home?’ the frown returned at that, eyebrows furrowed curiously as a few little dots appeared and you waited for another message, only as you started to type your reply, they disappeared.

‘puppy? did you even read it engen.’ you replied, leaning back in the roller chair and tucking your good leg up to your chest, wincing a little as you tried to roll your other foot that was cramping, encased in the stuffy itchy horrible awful boot with no sense of relief.

‘yes? its about a dog that runs away. i’m not stupid dr putellas’ the smallest puff of air left your nose at that, potentially mistaken for a snicker at the other much more familiar nickname.

‘...are you sure? did you mix the books up? are you colour blind?’ you fired off the questions in a few short texts, smiling at yourself as the three little dots appeared again and you could almost see the look of annoyance etched into the norwegians features on the other end of the line.

‘no. this is red, right?’ *picture attached*

a involuntary bark of laughter left your lips at the picture of the very green book, a smile playing at the corners of your mouth at the joke. exiting out of the text thread your smile grew, eventually sending back an image of your own.

*picture attached*

you smirked as the dots popped up and went away again, having sent her a messily photoshopped screenshot of a booked in fake eye test, fingers drumming your desk as you awaited her reply.

slightly offended she hadn’t found your joke as funny as you did, with a soured mood you put your phone down and exhaled, focus locking back into the half completed report, your curser blinking at you obnoxiously.

you fingered through the stack of papers to your right, trying to find a particular case study you remember seeing when you’d organised these last night. though that hadn’t lasted long and they were entirely out of order again.

your eyes darted back to your phone as it pinged, tapping the screen and leaning across to unlock it with your face, the text thread open again now with a new addition.

‘ha ha. i’ll leave that to you, four eyes.’

then it dawned on you just who you were actually texting and you mumbled something less than complimentary under your breath, huffing and picking your phone up again, paper once more abandoned in front of you.

‘you know the book is about a rabbit. not a dog, idiota.’

‘coneja = rabbit’

the reply came right away and your eyes almost rolled back into your head once they read it.

‘i thought the dogs name was coneja. its about a rabbit? why would a rabbit run away from home? thats dumb.’

“she’s dumb.” you mumbled to yourself, the norwegian seemingly able to get on your nerves from all the way across town.

‘its for ages 3-5, clearly too advanced for you.’

your attention was redirected by your stomach grumbling loudly. deciding you’d pick this back up after some brain food you reached over to close your laptop, placing your phone back down on the stack of papers you made a mental note to reorganise later.

with a grunt you stretched to grab your crutches, twisting around in the roller chair and pushing off, using the crutches like makeshift oars to propel the chair forward, out of your room and making your way down the hallway.

“fresa.” your mami sighed with a shake of her head as you came into view, coming to investigate the strange noise as you clunked and rolled your way toward the kitchen. “easier than walking.” you shrugged, stabbing at the sofa with one of your crutches and grinning as your chair spun around and flew backwards.

wheels almost catching on the small lipped edge of the tiled kitchen floor and tipping backwards, you were already bracing to fall but jolted with surprise as hands steadied the back of your chair, quickly saving you from toppling over.

“¿qué haces? ¡estúpido!” you whined as one of those hands smacked the back of your head, sheltering yourself as your crutches went cluttering to the floor and green eyes glared down at you as you spun around.

“mami she hit me!” you protested, still protecting your head as alba raised her hand again, eli clicking her tongue in warning as she lowered it, your older sister settling for flicking you sharply in the forehead instead and stepping back as you tried to swing back at her.

you heard the front door open and more footsteps enter, quiet murmur of a hushed conversation floating into the room. trying to grab one of your crutches to stab alba she quickly kicked them out of reach and shot you a smug smile.

rolling your chair now carefully over the bump in the tiles you stopped in the pantry, grabbing a bag of popcorn and pushing backwards out of the pantry, scooting yourself out of the kitchen as alba watched on with a weird look.

“pequeña why are-” alexia started with a sigh as she dropped her keys on the bookshelf and eyed you up in the roller chair, olga wandering in not long afterwards. “ale she hit me!” you immediately piped up, finger pointing accusingly at your other sister whose eyes rolled.

“such a baby.” alba mumbled, alexia moving to collect your crutches for you, eyes narrowed toward her younger sister who hurried to practically hide behind eli as olga hugged her hello. “no! estoy bien.” you smacked away the blondes hands who tried to manhandle you up and out of the chair.

“the idiota came flying in here and almost hit her head on the tiles.” alba now snitched you in as once again a hand smacked the back of your head and you hissed, sheltering yourself again and scoffing as alexia moved to kiss eli’s cheek.

“if you push me closer i will send you two photos of ale from the folder.” you whispered to olga whose hand squeezed your shoulder in hello, the older girl quirking an eyebrow curiously as you nodded. the little locked folder in your phone hardly a secret, filled with all sorts of unflattering and embarrassing photos of both your sisters you’d collected over the years for blackmail purposes.

hand moving to the back of the chair olga subtly rolled you a little closer as you gripped one of your crutches like a baseball bat, swinging it as soon as you were in striking distance and collecting alba across the back of her legs with a slap that echoed around the room.

your sister yelped in pain and spun toward you with venom in her eyes and curses dropping from her lips aimed at you, your own gaze narrowed at her challengingly with the crutch held up defensively like a sword, daring her to come any closer.

“oye! you, leave your hermana alone she is already in a boot. and you, stop using it as a weapon or i will take it away.” your mami raised her voice, staring the pair of you down as you huffed, lowering the crutch to lay across your lap.

“sí take them away, make the little worm crawl its way around.” alba taunted, flicking your ear as she passed and eli wasn’t looking, a smirk settling on your lips as alexias foot shot out from where she’d settled at the dining room table, leaving alba to stumble and almost fall flat on her face.

“why are you here? tienes casas?” you accused your sisters, alba moving to make herself comfortable on the sofa and flicking on the tv. “mami has work and you need supervision.” alexia answered, attention captured by her phone as you groaned loudly, head thumping back against the chair.

“you do not want to hang out?” alexia scoffed in offence as you mocked her under your breath. “not with you, olga can stay.” you shrugged honestly as your sisters girlfriend grinned. “pequeña!” alexia huffed as again you only shrugged.

“i need to study. so leave me alone, por favor!” you all but begged, alba already engrossed in some trashy reality show you’d probably join her watching if you didn’t wish to avoid yet another night of being fussed over and babied.

“but hermanita-” “i am rolling away.” you announced, using one of your crutches again like an oar to propel your rolling chair back out of the room, ignoring alexias calls after you.

“oh mami woke up with an ache in her chest today, and would not call the doctor.” you poked your head around the hall and announced loudly, diverting the attention off yourself as sure enough both of your sisters pounced, an argument errupting that for once you were not apart of as you quietly closed your door with a small sigh of relief.

rolling yourself back into your desk you grabbed your phone and opened your laptop, eyes scanning the incoming texts from solstrale that you’d missed while out of your room.

‘yeah i prefer picture books, no words.’

‘so does the rabbit make it home?’

‘you know since you, little miss intelligent, gave me a book…missing the last two pages.’

‘???’

‘im sorry for saying your book is dumb (it is)’

‘but i do have to know what happened to the rabbit. did it die?’

‘good life lessons for kids; the cycle of life, your pet will eventually die.’

‘except for scout, scout will never die.’

‘did you happen to take AP history, dr putellas?’

a small snort left your mouth and you shook your head, nails you noted desperately needed a new manicure tapping against the screen as you chalked up another mental note to con alba into taking you to the salon before bilbao.

‘yes. the rabbit dies. good job engen, very perceptive.’

‘you better take care of those books or the next thing you study will be my sisters fist in your face, they are hers’

‘what is a scout?’

‘i did. why?’

you placed your phone down and your gaze switched back to the laptop screen in front of you, cursor still blinking mockingly at you, eyes flickering down to your phone every few seconds awaiting a reply.

you huffed when you realised you were doing so, grabbing your phone and tossing it onto your bed with a thud, shaking your head and shifting in your seat, grabbing the case study you needed and flicking open your airpods.

connecting them to your laptop you clicked shuffle on your study playlist, finally finding a rhythm as the sound of typing filled the room, missing the repeated knocks on your door and squealing as a pillow hit the back of your head.

“he dicho que me dejes en paz!” you huffed as alexia leant in the doorway and you pulled out one of your airpods. “come watch a movie nena, alba wants to watch love island and i need another vote.” your sister nodded behind her pulling a face of disgust as you rolled your eyes.

“what about olga?” “she left, pilates.”

“well i’m busy. go away!” you retorted, spinning back around and ignoring the huffs and grumbles of your sister as she retreated, though not before asking about five questions about your foot and pain levels and stretches and blah blah.

“alexia, the door!” you yelled after her when she left it open. “stays open.” the older girl called back as you silently screamed up at the roof. “i will be back in ten for your stretches fres. mami said you have to walk around and you can’t use the chair all day!” rolling yourself over to the bed you very ungracefully flopped yourself out of the chair, burying your face in a pillow and yelling.

your previous motivation now gone you winced as you realised your phone was tucked under you, awkwardly pushing up with your good foot to grab it, seeing solstrale had replied and a few of your friends had also reached out to see how you were doing and that they missed you at work.

with a smile you replied to those first before clicking into your thread with the older girl and scanning her texts.

‘your sister doesn’t scare me’

‘but yes your precious books are safe putellas, dead rabits and all’

‘scout is not a what, he is a who’

‘are you busy today?’

“a who?” you mumbled to yourself as you quickly typed your own messages back, eyebrows creased with confusion.

‘WHO is scout?’

‘yes me and my one foot on house arrest are very very busy.’

‘again, why?’

you didn’t need to wait as the three dots appeared again, calling out you were fine as alba yelled if you needed anything, barely five minutes having passed since alexia had come to bother you and you sighed realising you had hours of this to look forward to.

‘this is scout. he is an angel. (and he is very offended you forgot about him)’

*picture attached*

‘sorry peg leg i forgot your social calendar is jammed.’

you watched as the three dots popped up, and went away, and popped up, and went away again, the girl on the other side of the line taking her time as you started to write a reply to her previous messages.

the photo was of a scruffy but adorable black and white cattle dog beaming at the camera and caused a smile to tug at your lips. you’d admittedly forgotten solstråle had a dog, or that his name was scout, but she had indeed shown you a photo of him before when she’d driven you to the library.

‘i have an exam tomorrow. would you be free for like an hour to help me study?’

‘if you can’t its fine.’

‘you probably have your own stuff to do.’

‘sorry forget i asked.’

or, maybe you wouldn’t be imprisoned here for hours after all, erasing your previous message and immediately clicking send on a new one.

‘pick me up in ten.’

you didn’t wait for a reply, instead spending the next few minutes trying to change out of the fluffy pyjama pants you’d lounged about in all day, determined not to ask for anyones help, especially either of your sisters.

“fresita! ven a ayudar con la cena.” you heard alexia call out for you, a little shocked she hadn’t just come and rolled you there herself, grabbing your crutches once you’d wrestled a sneaker onto your free foot.

your laptop and papers neatly stacked in your bag you awkwardly slung it over your shoulder best you could, tilting your body so it wouldn’t slide off as you very audibly crutched your way out of the room and down the hall.

alexia motioned you over as soon as you were within sight, alba still sprawled out on the couch glued to her reality show which given her shocked gasps every few seconds must have been good.

“i’m going out.” you announced, both of your sisters heads snapping up and eyes training on you, tv paused and alexia staring you down with a knife in hand, stood in the kitchen chopping vegetables.

“no, you are going to cut these. your ankle is broken, your hands work.” your eldest sister ordered gesturing to a few peppers sat on a cutting board on the dining room table. “no. i’m going out.” you held firm, straightening up slightly and jutting your chin out with a small huff.

“to do what? estás roto.” albas foot lightly tapped against one of your crutches as she passed you, disappearing into the pantry and ignoring alexias warnings not to eat anything before dinner, her motherly tone having you roll your eyes.

“to study with solstrale. you wanted me to help her ale, ¿sí?” you reminded with raised eyebrows, your sisters own eyes narrowing as she hummed, clearly displeased to have her own words used against her.

“sí, bien. alba will drive you then!” alexia announced, your other sisters head popping out of the pantry with a scowl, hand disappeared in a bag of popcorn as alexia told her off and threw a chunk of carrot at the younger girl which bounced harmlessly off her shoulder.

“solstrale is picking me up.” you informed, quickly checking your phone and noting the two new messages that the norwegian was in fact already here from a few minutes ago, eyes widening slightly.

“save me some food!” you ordered pointing sternly at your eldest sister who couldn’t help but snicker at the demand, agreeing with a curt nod of her head. but before anyone else could say a word there was a knock at the door and you turned, starting to hobble your way there and groaning as a blur of blonde shot past you on two good feet.

clearly the norwegian wasn’t expecting alexia as you watched surprise fill her face, your sister glaring down at the younger girl who greeted her awkwardly. “¡muévete!” you elbowed alexia out of the way with a huff and a glare of your own shot toward her.

“she cannot walk without the crutches. she must be home before dark. she cannot lift anything heavy. she cannot-” your sister started to rattle off stern warnings to solstrale who nodded along, grabbing your bag for you despite your assurances you had it.

“i know. your mami told me last time, i’ll make sure she is safe, stays off her ankle, and home on time.” solstrale promised, the confidence in her voice wiping the scowl temporarily off your sisters face and causing a slight smile to flicker across yours, alexia clearly shocked she hadn’t terrified the girl as much as she was clearly trying.

“solstrale no-” you started to protest but before you could even finish the sentence the girl had effortlessly lifted you, hands on your hips and carefully making her way down the front steps as you sighed.

“have fun pequeña.” alexia snickered and you turned your head to shoot her a dirty look as the norwegian gently placed you down. “i can walk!” you huffed the moment your feet touched the ground again, crutching away from her down the driveway toward your car. “you’re welcome.” the older girl muttered with a roll of her eyes.

“i can-” you started defensively as she hurried to catch up, leaning over to open your door for you. “you can open the door, i know putellas. but i have the keys to unlock it!” solstrale chuckled, pushing the key in the door and twisting, gesturing for you to open it yourself.

“do you need help?” the brunette mocked with a smile of amusement, watching you struggle to bend over and slide into the car with your crutches. “no! your car is just…too low.” you huffed, giving up and abandoning your crutches which clattered onto the cement, sliding in as sol ducked down to pick them up.

“well you’re low to the ground too.” she commented dryly, opening the back door and placing your crutches on the backseat before making her way around to the drivers seat as you scoffed. “was that a short joke?” you accused with raised eyebrows as she settled in and started up the car.

“sí, lo era.” “oh now you speak spanish?”

“oh por dios!” you groaned in disbelief, stopping in front of the double doors to the library and seeing the bright yellow closed for cleaning sign on the front. “what do they need to clean in a library?” solstrale commented from behind you with a frown and you gave her an annoyed look, turning around and starting to crutch your way back to the car.

“like do the books get dirty?” the girl continued to question as you rolled your eyes. “they are probably cleaning the carpets idiota, not the books! how would you clean a book eh? it is made of paper.” you scoffed, not protesting this time as solstrale took your crutches and opened the passenger door for you.

“well you obviously don’t use water. aren’t you supposed to be smart, dr putellas?” the norwegian accused as she slid into her own seat and you mocked her under your breath. “i liked it better when you were quiet.” you grumbled, but if the girl across from you heard she made no move to acknowledge it.

“are you hungry?” solstrale asked suddenly, car roaring to life as you gave her an odd look. “did you not want to study? your exam solstrale?” you reminded as the taller girl shrugged. “well i’m hungry. i can’t study on an empty stomach.” the brunette shoved her keys into the ignition as the engine spluttered to life.

“this is…eh how do you say it? kidnapping!” you struggled for a moment before finding the right word in english, solstrale rolling her eyes and you grimaced as her arm shot behind your seat so she could lean across and look over her shoulder while she backed out.

“you asked me to come and get you. so maybe you kidnapped me?” the girl mused, turning back to face the road as she pulled out of the library parking lot. “you are the one driving!” you scoffed with an annoyed scowl, the often stoic girl beside you seemingly well out of character today as she snickered.

“well i could just take you home to your sisters and-” “no! its fine. take a left, i know somewhere good to eat.”

“do you know the answer yet?” solstrale asked impatiently causing you to lose your place in the book, slowly lifting your eyes and narrowing them in her direction. “you ask me two minutes ago engen!” you accused, grabbing a fry and throwing it at her with a huff, the girl insisting on getting burgers despite your protests there were plenty of other good places around for more local tastes.

she won out when yet again she threatened to just take you home, causing you to slump into the passenger seat with a silent but simmering anger that she’d so easily figured out a way to manipulate you, hating that she seemed to have the upper hand.

“you said you read fast.” the norwegian defended herself with a grumble, busying herself finishing off your burger when you’d taken your attention off of it for a few seconds and she’d deemed you were finished.

which you were, but you wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of knowing that as you’d still yelled at her for it in spanish, knowing she understood most of what you said even if she pretended not to as she took a large bite and returned her attention to her phone.

you were interrupted from scanning her history textbook when solstrale let out a noise of disgust, spitting out a mouthful of food causing your face to scrunch up in disdain at the action. “you got pickles on yours?” the norwegian asked in disbelief, quickly opening the leftover burger and flicking the remaining two off as if they were an active bomb.

“¿sí? son la mejor parte.” you defended, dropping the pickles into your mouth as solstrale faked a gag. “i hate pickles.” the brunette shook her head, shoveling the last bite of burger in her mouth and wiping her hands on her pants.

“vale! this chapter, read it and take notes.” you finally found what you were looking for, nails tapping on the page as you turned the book back around and slid it across the table. you were expecting pushback or for her to ask you to read and answer it for her, but to your surprise solstrale actually did what you asked.

you were pulled from your thoughts by your phone chiming a few times, rolling your eyes when it was alexia checking in for easily the fifteenth time since you left the house. you’d think you’d gone international and weren’t about twenty minutes away.

“alexia?” solstrale guessed at the sour look on your face as you only hummed, ignoring your eldest sisters request that you share your location with her and exiting out of your message thread. “puta!” you swore suddenly as your eyes scanned the texts from alba, eyebrows furrowing angrily as your nails clacked furiously against your phone screen.

“what engen?” you could feel her eyes piercing into your forehead as you stopped and looked up, solstrales cheeks flushing slightly pink as your gaze locked momentarily. “what solstrale?” you asked a little less aggressively and with a sigh, picking up that clearly she wanted to ask something.

“do you not understand or-” you motioned to the textbook as the norwegian shook her head. “no i just-don’t worry.” she shook her head and dropped her eyes down to the page as you didn’t bother to press her for it, resuming your very sharp tongued message to your older sister.

“what?” you felt her eyes on you once again as you clicked send and dropped your phone to the table, raising an eyebrow as her mouth opened and closed a couple of times. “those.” she nodded down to your nails with a slight frown.

“those…” you repeated as you weren’t quite following what she was getting at. “they’re kinda sharp? or like…long? how do you…” she made a few hand gestures as your eyes widened finally clicking what it was she was trying to say. “wipe my ass? like a normal person does sol! i do not stick them up there, dios mío!” you cringed at the insinuation as it went quiet.

then all of a sudden you heard some strange noises, glancing up and seeing the girl across from you bite down hard on her bottom lip, clearly trying to suppress herself from laughing. But it must have been contagious as then you felt your own lip twitch, a hand coming to cover your mouth but a slight snicker leaving it before you could.

within seconds the pair of you gave up on that, solstrale breaking first and you joining in right away, your laughter echoing around the small park you were sat at in the sun, books and food sprawled across a picnic table you’d commandeered.

“i knew you had a stick up your ass putellas.” solstrale smirked once you both got a little more control over yourselves. “shut up and do your homework engen.” you snarked back but there wasn’t any bite behind it, tossing a cold fry at her head as she batted it away and looked back to her textbook still with a small smile.

you sat in a comfortable silence for awhile, eyes closed and head tilted backward, soaking up the last of the mid afternoon sun while you rolled your boot encased ankle and tried to pretend it didn’t hurt, knowing the moment you got home alexia would be on you in a millisecond about your rehab exercises you’d not yet done today.

“so why is alexia a puta?” you were pulled from your thoughts, cracking an eye open and shielding your face from the sun. “not alexia, my other hermana alba. we watch a show and normally we sit and watch together but she watched ahead without me!” you puffed air from your nose with annoyance, your sister texting you the spoilers for the last two episodes you had been waiting for her to watch with you.

“then she texted me spoilers and i have been avoiding them all week but they are everywhere. so now i know anita cheated on montoya and i will have to catch up alone because alba will not watch it again with me!” you huffed, crossing your arms and glaring off into the distance.

“temptation island?” solstrale spoke without realising, colour filling her cheeks again as your head whipped toward her like lightning. “la isla de las tentaciones. you watch it?” you gasped, solstrale scoffing and shaking her head no immediately.

“no! ingrid and mapi watch it.” she rolled her eyes as you looked on unconvinced. “but you know the contestant names?” you asked with a small smile as the norwegian mocked you under her breath. “you so watch it. admítelo engen!” you grinned as she shot you a glare, snapping her textbook closed and starting to hastily shove her things into her backpack.

“vamos, you are throwing a tantrum?” you mocked with a pout, solstrale again shooting you a dirty look as she slung her backpack over her shoulder and rounded the table. “no. its almost your curfew, peg leg.” the older girl grumbled, a slight squeal leaving your mouth as she grabbed your hands and hauled you up, steadying you on your crutches which almost slipped.

“so which couple do you think will last?” you asked as she took off and you crutched after her across the park toward the car, loving that this was clearly getting under her skin and she was obviously trying to hide the fact she enjoyed spanish reality shows.

you asked a few more questions teasingly but all remained unanswered as solstrale stayed silent, opening the door and helping you into the car without a word, tossing your crutches in the back as you did up your seatbelt.

your opportunity to annoy her further was smothered as solstrale plugged her phone in and turned the volume of the sound system right up, having you wince slightly as the car engine roared and she pushed the hand brake down.

you were shocked that a few of the songs which played during the ride home you actually knew, a couple you even liked enough that they already sat on rotation in some of your playlists, but you wouldn’t let her know that.

you took the chance where there was a break in between songs and you were almost back home, leaning forward and turning down the sound as solstrale gave you a look and reached to turn it back up, surprise flickering across her face as you smacked her hand away when she tried.

“my car. my music. don’t touch putellas!” but again when she tried to turn it up you slapped at her hand. “i need to ask you something. it is important.” you warned seriously, solstrale turning onto your street and nodding slowly for you to continue, intrigued by whatever it was you had to say.

you let out a sigh as if collecting yourself for a moment, the norwegian pulling into the driveway and if you’d been looking you’d have seen your eldest sisters head pop through the curtains like a guard dog at the sound of the engine.

“well?” solstrale waved for you to speak as you turned to look at her, inhaling deeply as her eyebrows furrowed together with slight concern. “do you think montoya will cheat on anita for revenge?” you asked seriously, solstrales face morphing into a scowl as yours perked up into an innocent smile.

“get out.” the norwegian sighed with a roll of her eyes as your smile grew, sufficiently satisfied you’d gotten under her skin again. “do not help me! i have it.” your smile dropped as you heard her unbuckle herself to get out, huffing in determination and though it took a minute or two managing to shuffle out of your seat.

balancing on your good foot you hopped a couple paces to the left, opening the back door and reaching in for your crutches, steadying yourself on them and kicking the door closed again with your good foot.

“well…adiós.” you spoke a little awkwardly, unsure quite what to say as solstrale simply gave you a small salute, you crutching your way down the driveway before she could have had the chance to say anything, watching to make sure you got inside okay before she took off home.

the front door was already open and alexia leant across the frame the moment you got out of the car, sending your sister a fierce glare when she stepped forward to help you up the stairs once you were closer. “i will stab you with them alexia.” you warned seriously when your first look went ignored.

“la actitud.” the older girl muttered with an unapproving shake of her head, but of course still ignoring you, an arm wrapping around your torso and practically carrying you up the stairs and back into the house.

“a la mierda!” your sister cried out when she let go of you and true to your word you suddenly jabbed her in the ribs with the end of one of your crutches, alba laughing from the sofa behind you as you turned and held up your crutch threateningly, your sister ooohing sarcastically.

though before you could launch the crutch at alba like a javelin it was snatched from your grasp, causing you to lose your balance and lurch to the side, collapsing into your eldest sisters awaiting grasp as she helped you slowly make your way around to sit down.

“you can have these back later.” the blonde warned seriously, confiscating your crutches you muttered something less than kind under your breath as she took them away. “boot off pequeña! do your exercises!” her voice echoed in from the kitchen as you groaned, body sliding down the sofa until you were slumped over in a weird angle, well aware you had maybe two or three minutes to do so of your own free will before it was done for you.

“how was your study date diablillo?” alba questioned from the other end of the sofa, eyebrows raised curiously as you scoffed. “it was not a date!” you emphasized, pulling a face that had your sisters lips curling up into a smirk.

“i did not mean it was a date.” your sister started, turning around a little more to look you over as you rolled your eyes, reaching for the remote which sat between you and scowling as her foot kicked out to knock it away and out of reach.

“did you want it to be a date?” your older sister continued to question with a teasing tone, crossing her arms and grinning as you chose to ignore her, pushing your torso up to grab your phone from your back pocket.

“are you going to text your date hermanita?” aba pouted mockingly as you gave her a filthy look. “date? who went on a date? you went on a date? when? where? with who?” alexia practically flew into the room as you exhaled heavily, dropping your phone onto your stomach and sliding even further down the sofa.

“no. la idiota is talking about solstrale, ingrids sister.” alexia seemed to relax at that, telling off your other sister for teasing you and smacking her legs out of the way, occupying the empty seat between you. “ale!” you protested as she grabbed your legs, manhandling them into her lap and unlacing your sneaker and starting to undo the velcro clasps of your moon boot.

but your protests fell on deaf ears as sure enough your sister expertly started to roll and rotate your broken ankle, knowing your rehab plan like the back of her hand as you gave in with another deep sigh, reporting back how the pain was out of ten after each exercise.

“oye! ¿para qué era eso?” alba accused with a groan as you grabbed your now unlaced sneaker from your good foot and threw it over alexias shoulder, smacking your sister perfectly in the side of the head with a satisfied nod.

“for spoiling la isla de las tentaciones, puta!”

#🍓☀️#alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso blurbs #woso fanfics

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